Deadly Games - Cate Noble [64]
Harry grinned. Yeah, Ian Brown had earned his Krugerrands today. First Ian had managed to intercept a communiqué between two of Minh Tran’s top aides. Tran had changed his game plan, demanding the formula for SugarCane in exchange for a pregnant Maddy Kohlmeyer.
Then in a stunning one-two follow-up, Ian had also detected Catalina Dion’s incursion into a low-security Agency database. It didn’t take much to figure out that she was doing so on Rocco’s behalf.
Rocco was apparently seeking help from an old INTERPOL connection. It had also been easy to learn what arrangements the connection had made for Rocco. Everything was for sale in Mexico. Loyalty was a commodity here. Bought and sold like pork bellies on the Chicago Mercantile Exchange.
Rocco had wanted an enforcer and a safe house, someone who worked freelance. A dependable, private mercenary who operated outside of INTERPOL to avoid the exact traceability problems Ian had exploited inside the CIA.
It had taken some serious cash, but Harry had learned who the enforcer was and intercepted him. Then Harry had assumed Clay Watkins’s identity and assignment. Clay had Rocco’s cell phone numbers, so they could speak directly. Using a nasal-pitched drawl to disguise his voice had become second nature for Harry, and Rocco showed no hesitation.
Taking Gena from Rocco here in Monterrey had been deemed too risky since Rocco’s INTERPOL connection was nearby. Better to get them in an environment Harry controlled.
The door to the hangar opened as Rocco and Gena entered, each carrying one bag. This was it. Harry peeled off his sunglasses and extended his hand confidently.
Harry had had a new face for long enough to know he looked unrecognizable. Chin implants, nose job, new cheeks. A little peroxide and colored contacts had him blond and blue-eyed.
Just like Rocco. Better than Rocco.
“You must be Mr. and Mrs. Swanson. I’m Clay Watkins,” Harry said.
Rocco nodded, moving slightly closer to Gena, who edged away. The hostility between these two was tangible even after all these years.
“This is my wife, Jill. I’m Mike.” Rocco shook hands after introducing Gena.
Don’t call her by her real name, Harry reminded himself.
“The pilot says we should take off before that storm front moves in,” Harry said. “Let me stow your luggage.”
While Harry loaded their suitcases, Rocco helped Gena into the twin-engine Cessna. It seemed she couldn’t get away fast enough.
Then Rocco walked back to Harry. “You’re supposed to have something for me.”
Harry nodded and grabbed the holstered Beretta nine millimeter from the cargo hold. Rocco hadn’t risked crossing the border with a firearm and had asked that a piece be supplied.
Rocco had always hated Berettas, but Harry couldn’t let on that he knew. Rocco frowned at the nylon clip-on holster, but didn’t complain. Harry watched as Rocco slipped the gun’s magazine free and verified that it was fully loaded.
Harry held out two additional clips. “If you need more when we land, no problem.”
Rocco clipped the holster at his waist beneath his shirt and pocketed the extra magazines. “This will do for now.”
It would do fine until he tried to shoot someone, Harry thought. The bullets were blanks.
“Thanks,” Rocco said. “We’re ready to go.”
“I’ll tell the pilot.”
A few minutes later, the plane left the hangar and meandered through the maze of runways.
The Cessna’s four passenger seats faced each other. Harry sat directly across from Gena. Wouldn’t they both shit to know who he was?
Outside the small window lightning flashed on the horizon, which elicited a sharp intake of breath from Gena. Rocco took her hand. “We’ll be fine, Jill. Try closing your eyes and relaxing.”
“Jill” gritted her teeth and looked out the window instead.
Oh, yeah, this was going to be fun to watch. Harry sat back and flipped through a newspaper.
Clearly distracted, Gena continued gazing out the window. Harry wondered what Rocco thought of this Gena. Harry preferred the beauty queen Gena. The dependent Gena. Or his favorite, the guilt-ridden Gena who believed she needed