Dial by Elizabeth Cage Page B

progress you’ve made,” Uncle Sam was saying. “I didn’t want to undermine your confidence, but to tell you the truth, I wasn’t at all sure that these men would agree to give three young American women the opportunity to meet with their boss.”
    â€œGreat. Now you tell us.” Sometimes Theresa appreciated the way Uncle Sam let them find out whether or not a mission was a go on their own. Other times, she wished he would take a slightly more hands-on approach.
    â€œIf the rest of the mission goes as well as tonight, then this Big Boss—whoever he is—can look forward to spending the rest of his life in the ole hoosegow.” The satisfaction in Caylin’s voice was evident. Already each of the girls had poured her soul into their latest adventure.
    â€œSo what are our chances of making it out of this thing alive?” Theresa asked.
    â€œThe Tower is prepared to back you up every step ofthe way,” Uncle Sam assured them. “We can offer you a suitcase full of cash at a moment’s notice.”
    â€œCash is all well and good,” Theresa responded. “But I think I’d like a bullet-proof vest, thank you very much. Or maybe a force field. Can you whip that up for me, Sammo?”
    â€œJust sit tight, Theresa.” Uncle Sam was using his patronizing I-know-everything-there-is-to-know-about-­international-espionage voice. “A veritable army of ­Brazilian and United States agents are on twenty-four-hour call. When you need the team behind you, they’ll be there.”
    Caylin sat up a little straighter. “Whoa. That sounds so official.”
    â€œIt is official. Each of these men and women has received special training in order to maximize the effectiveness of their actions while minimizing any risk of bodily harm.”
    Theresa noted that the term bodily harm sounded significantly less clinical when applied to her body. Her pain threshold was high—but not that high.
    â€œI’m just relieved everything turned out okay tonight,” Jo said with a deep sigh. “I can’t believe I flaked.” She had told Uncle Sam about her “little moment,” but he hadassured her that sometimes it happened to even the best spies.
    â€œThere was no harm done, Jo, I assure you,” Uncle Sam soothed. “But I am wondering what went down at the end of the night.”
    â€œTheir convo was all in Portuguese,” Caylin informed him. “I couldn’t understand a word.”
    â€œJo, were you able to hear what Diva said to this man Armand? Was it something to allay any of his remaining fears or questions about associating with you three?” Uncle Sam asked.
    â€œSort of,” Jo replied. “Basically Diva said, ‘Just get them set up. . . . It’ll all be over soon, anyway.’ ”
    Theresa frowned. “Doesn’t that sound just a tiny bit suspicious?” she asked the group at large. “I mean, I’m not thrilled with the idea of us being so-called set up.”
    â€œDiva is on the level,” Jo insisted. “I’m as positive about that as I am about my own dress size.”
    Uncle Sam cleared his throat, interrupting Jo’s defense of Wonder Diva. “Let’s not speculate too much. It’s safer to act based on what we know. And what weknow is that everything is going according to plan. At least for now.”
    â€œAmen to that,” Caylin piped up.
    â€œGet some rest, you three. You’re going to need all of your strength.” With that, Uncle Sam hung up with his usual lack of the niceties.
    Jo reached over and squeezed Theresa’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, T. Diva’s a stand-up chick. Like we said ­earlier, she could practically be a Spy Girl herself.”
    She was right. Diva had all of the qualities that made a good spy. She was smart, she was likable, and she had an innate ability to lie through her teeth.