venom, and Grace shivered at his tone.
“Let’s talk about now,” Gene said, “and forget my past. It’s not relevant here.”
Grace forced herself to speak. If she didn’t get some answers, these men would leave her in the dark. And she’d be damned if she’d go to Colombia as a clueless messenger. She was done playing around.
“Exactly what is relevant, then?” she asked, her voice apparently startling the two men again. She laughed, her tone on edge. “Listen, you people involved me in this. You’re going to have to start expecting me to speak.”
They exchanged glances, Marco looking amused and Gene looking tired. Finally, the photographer cleared his throat.
“Okay, so let’s start from the beginning. But remember, I’m only telling you what you need to know.”
Grace snorted. “I’ll settle for anything more than nothing.”
“Remember the files you delivered to Rinkleton?”
Grace nodded. How could she forget?
“Rinkleton is a mole stationed in the Angel’s Drug Cartel that operates out of the city. He’s been there for years, quietly gaining trust and slowly trickling information back to us and to the IIB. We pay him handsomely for our info. Agents don’t like to work with us.” He jerked his head at Marco.
“Why not?” Grace asked.
“I have a history with the IIB that I’m not going to go into,” Gene replied. “And barring that, the organization thinks it walks on water and is the only operation that can bring in results.” He laughed out of the side of his mouth. “If you ever meet an FBI agent, ask him about the IIB and enjoy the grimace of disgust on his face.”
“Shut up, Gene,” Marco interjected. “There’s a reason we think we’re good.”
Gene nodded. “True, but you need help this time, and Marco, I’m trusting you as a friend on this one, not as an agent. You involve me in your little organization’s political games, and there will be consequences.”
Marco made a motion as if to shake in his boots, and Grace laughed.
“So are you guys friends, or what?”
“Yes,” they answered in unison.
She took a large gulp of wine, thinking about just how friendly they were, then her mind flitted to the danger she was taking on by working with them.
“And what about me?” she asked. “Are you going to kill me?”
“What? No!” Marco exclaimed. “We were just playing with you.”
“Well, don’t.” Grace’s voice was monotone. “I don’t want to be played with.”
Her face heated at the obvious double entendre, but the men let it slide.
“Our job at Hardy Photography is to help any organization willing to pay us find information they seek in the form of photographs and intel. Right now, we are to secure photos for CableNette that will help Warren Bell break the cartel story, and break it first. The pictures you saw were going to the hands of the cartel members to help convince them that Bell was just killed and not heading down there.”
“Why doesn’t he just break the story?”
“He’s a newsman. And a television newsman, at that. He can do liveshots, but he can’t go forward with any actual allegations until he’s got the evidence all lined up. What I mean is, he’s got to report the story, and the IIB has to go in and bust them within moments of the video. Right now, he’s just gathering information. That info has to get back to the IIB. And Bell couldn’t care less about them.”
Marco rolled his eyes.
“But, without their protection, Bell is basically a dead man. CableNette knows that. So, to protect their star, they’re willing to pay a lot of money. And they have to ensure that they actually receive the information and the photo evidence, because once the government gets it, you can be sure it’s not going to share it with the press. Even if it was the press that helped get the info.”
“But don’t they have their own guys working on this?” Grace asked.
“Well, yes,” Marco said. “But Bell has been able to get
“Let’s talk about now,” Gene said, “and forget my past. It’s not relevant here.”
Grace forced herself to speak. If she didn’t get some answers, these men would leave her in the dark. And she’d be damned if she’d go to Colombia as a clueless messenger. She was done playing around.
“Exactly what is relevant, then?” she asked, her voice apparently startling the two men again. She laughed, her tone on edge. “Listen, you people involved me in this. You’re going to have to start expecting me to speak.”
They exchanged glances, Marco looking amused and Gene looking tired. Finally, the photographer cleared his throat.
“Okay, so let’s start from the beginning. But remember, I’m only telling you what you need to know.”
Grace snorted. “I’ll settle for anything more than nothing.”
“Remember the files you delivered to Rinkleton?”
Grace nodded. How could she forget?
“Rinkleton is a mole stationed in the Angel’s Drug Cartel that operates out of the city. He’s been there for years, quietly gaining trust and slowly trickling information back to us and to the IIB. We pay him handsomely for our info. Agents don’t like to work with us.” He jerked his head at Marco.
“Why not?” Grace asked.
“I have a history with the IIB that I’m not going to go into,” Gene replied. “And barring that, the organization thinks it walks on water and is the only operation that can bring in results.” He laughed out of the side of his mouth. “If you ever meet an FBI agent, ask him about the IIB and enjoy the grimace of disgust on his face.”
“Shut up, Gene,” Marco interjected. “There’s a reason we think we’re good.”
Gene nodded. “True, but you need help this time, and Marco, I’m trusting you as a friend on this one, not as an agent. You involve me in your little organization’s political games, and there will be consequences.”
Marco made a motion as if to shake in his boots, and Grace laughed.
“So are you guys friends, or what?”
“Yes,” they answered in unison.
She took a large gulp of wine, thinking about just how friendly they were, then her mind flitted to the danger she was taking on by working with them.
“And what about me?” she asked. “Are you going to kill me?”
“What? No!” Marco exclaimed. “We were just playing with you.”
“Well, don’t.” Grace’s voice was monotone. “I don’t want to be played with.”
Her face heated at the obvious double entendre, but the men let it slide.
“Our job at Hardy Photography is to help any organization willing to pay us find information they seek in the form of photographs and intel. Right now, we are to secure photos for CableNette that will help Warren Bell break the cartel story, and break it first. The pictures you saw were going to the hands of the cartel members to help convince them that Bell was just killed and not heading down there.”
“Why doesn’t he just break the story?”
“He’s a newsman. And a television newsman, at that. He can do liveshots, but he can’t go forward with any actual allegations until he’s got the evidence all lined up. What I mean is, he’s got to report the story, and the IIB has to go in and bust them within moments of the video. Right now, he’s just gathering information. That info has to get back to the IIB. And Bell couldn’t care less about them.”
Marco rolled his eyes.
“But, without their protection, Bell is basically a dead man. CableNette knows that. So, to protect their star, they’re willing to pay a lot of money. And they have to ensure that they actually receive the information and the photo evidence, because once the government gets it, you can be sure it’s not going to share it with the press. Even if it was the press that helped get the info.”
“But don’t they have their own guys working on this?” Grace asked.
“Well, yes,” Marco said. “But Bell has been able to get
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