a glance at the caller ID, he answered. The area code was from DC. “Hello?”
“Mac, its Howard.”
Howard Bishop, Deputy Director of the FBI’s Washington DC division, didn’t call unless it was important. Or if he needed a favor. “I don’t think I’m going to like this.”
Howard snorted. “There have been some people asking questions about Hope. Important people.”
He pushed up from his sitting position, beer forgotten. “Who?”
“Luke Romanov, for starters.”
Mac nodded as some of his tension ebbed. It made sense. The man worked with the family who had hired her. It was only natural they’d want to check her out. “What’s the big deal?”
“He ran an initial check before meeting her, but after they met he called a friend of his to run an extensive, off-the-record check.”
“Who’s his friend?”
“He works for me, and he’s not going to help him. I made sure of it.” Howard’s answer was curt.
“You’re sure?”
“As sure as I can be. That’s only part of the reason I called. Another man, Richard Taylor, has been looking into her.” His words deadpanned.
“Why does that name sound familiar?”
“He’s old money, but you probably recognize him because he’s made a killing in biotechnology in the past ten years.”
“Why would he be interested in Hope?” Silence. Mac’s grip on the phone tightened. “Don’t hold out on me Howard. I want answers.”
His friend sighed. “What I’m about to tell you is classified, and I don’t want you flying off the handle before I’ve finished. Okay?”
“Fine.”
“I can’t tell you why, but we’ve been watching Richard Taylor for the past two years. His son is a real loser and…shit Mac, I’m just going to say it. He’s put out a hit on Hope.”
He heard the words, but couldn’t believe they were true. “What?” He stood, sending the cheap plastic chair flying as his surroundings funneled out.
“Don’t worry about it.” Howard’s voice was provokingly calm.
“What the hell do you mean, don’t worry about it?” That was like telling him he had terminal cancer, but not to worry. He stormed into the house. The sliding glass door rattled behind him. He was going to be in Cuba by nightfall.
“I told you to let me finish. I’ve got a man on the inside.”
Mac paused with a T-shirt hovering over his opened suitcase. “What does that mean?” His heartbeat slowed, but only by a fraction.
“I can’t go into detail, and we don’t even know why Taylor is after her. My contact couldn’t get that much information out of him. The only thing we do know is he wants her dead. Immediately.”
“Tell me again why I shouldn’t be doing anything about this?” His hand balled into a tight fist around the shirt, wishing it was Richard Taylor’s neck. Whoever he was.
“Because you’ll blow my man’s cover and ruin one of our biggest undercover operations.” Howard’s voice rose a fraction.
“I don’t know about this,” Mac muttered.
“Don’t do anything stupid.” When Mac didn’t respond Howard pushed. “I want to hear you say it Mac.”
Against his better judgment Mac relented. “I won’t do anything stupid.” That didn’t mean he was going to sit by idly and do nothing.
“Good because there’s more.” His friend sighed again, a tiresome sound.
More? Nothing could be worse than what he’d already told him. “Lay it on me.”
“I’m sending you an email with old articles and pictures of the Santiagos.”
“Why should I care about them? Are they part of the reason this guy is after Hope?”
“Just check out what I’m sending you. With different people asking about Hope, I only checked them out to be thorough. Didn’t want any surprises later on. I think you might find the key to Hope’s past with them…If only we’d known all this years ago.” He sighed and Mac could feel his insides shredding to ribbons.
Mac fired up his laptop as the other man talked. He wasn’t sure
“Mac, its Howard.”
Howard Bishop, Deputy Director of the FBI’s Washington DC division, didn’t call unless it was important. Or if he needed a favor. “I don’t think I’m going to like this.”
Howard snorted. “There have been some people asking questions about Hope. Important people.”
He pushed up from his sitting position, beer forgotten. “Who?”
“Luke Romanov, for starters.”
Mac nodded as some of his tension ebbed. It made sense. The man worked with the family who had hired her. It was only natural they’d want to check her out. “What’s the big deal?”
“He ran an initial check before meeting her, but after they met he called a friend of his to run an extensive, off-the-record check.”
“Who’s his friend?”
“He works for me, and he’s not going to help him. I made sure of it.” Howard’s answer was curt.
“You’re sure?”
“As sure as I can be. That’s only part of the reason I called. Another man, Richard Taylor, has been looking into her.” His words deadpanned.
“Why does that name sound familiar?”
“He’s old money, but you probably recognize him because he’s made a killing in biotechnology in the past ten years.”
“Why would he be interested in Hope?” Silence. Mac’s grip on the phone tightened. “Don’t hold out on me Howard. I want answers.”
His friend sighed. “What I’m about to tell you is classified, and I don’t want you flying off the handle before I’ve finished. Okay?”
“Fine.”
“I can’t tell you why, but we’ve been watching Richard Taylor for the past two years. His son is a real loser and…shit Mac, I’m just going to say it. He’s put out a hit on Hope.”
He heard the words, but couldn’t believe they were true. “What?” He stood, sending the cheap plastic chair flying as his surroundings funneled out.
“Don’t worry about it.” Howard’s voice was provokingly calm.
“What the hell do you mean, don’t worry about it?” That was like telling him he had terminal cancer, but not to worry. He stormed into the house. The sliding glass door rattled behind him. He was going to be in Cuba by nightfall.
“I told you to let me finish. I’ve got a man on the inside.”
Mac paused with a T-shirt hovering over his opened suitcase. “What does that mean?” His heartbeat slowed, but only by a fraction.
“I can’t go into detail, and we don’t even know why Taylor is after her. My contact couldn’t get that much information out of him. The only thing we do know is he wants her dead. Immediately.”
“Tell me again why I shouldn’t be doing anything about this?” His hand balled into a tight fist around the shirt, wishing it was Richard Taylor’s neck. Whoever he was.
“Because you’ll blow my man’s cover and ruin one of our biggest undercover operations.” Howard’s voice rose a fraction.
“I don’t know about this,” Mac muttered.
“Don’t do anything stupid.” When Mac didn’t respond Howard pushed. “I want to hear you say it Mac.”
Against his better judgment Mac relented. “I won’t do anything stupid.” That didn’t mean he was going to sit by idly and do nothing.
“Good because there’s more.” His friend sighed again, a tiresome sound.
More? Nothing could be worse than what he’d already told him. “Lay it on me.”
“I’m sending you an email with old articles and pictures of the Santiagos.”
“Why should I care about them? Are they part of the reason this guy is after Hope?”
“Just check out what I’m sending you. With different people asking about Hope, I only checked them out to be thorough. Didn’t want any surprises later on. I think you might find the key to Hope’s past with them…If only we’d known all this years ago.” He sighed and Mac could feel his insides shredding to ribbons.
Mac fired up his laptop as the other man talked. He wasn’t sure
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