Page 76 of Midnight Secrets

“With me,” Joe said. “You go in with me.”

She didn’t even look at him. “You’re going to be with the others, Joe. All of you guys will be within a minute’s reach.”

Joe’s body hairs still hadn’t settled. Jacko knew the owner of Three Windows. They belonged to a biker club together. Which was weird because Three Windows was definitely upscale and trendy. Whatever. The owner was a former marine and was going to give them whatever they needed. Jacko was on the phone with him for half an hour, not telling exactly what the op was, but his marine buddy didn’t need to know. He’d offered his entire restaurant to them without asking questions.

“And we’re gonna be armed.”

“Well, of course.” Isabel deigned to look at him for a split second. “Because I’m secretly hoping that you’ll all shoot him full of holes. But I do understand that might create legal problems for you all, killing a man who could have been president. So we won’t kill him, we’ll just ruin him.”

“That’s my job,” Nick said grimly. “With any luck, he’ll never see the light of day again after tomorrow.”

“I would love it if he never saw the light of day again because he was in a box in the ground, but I’ll take what I can get.” Isabel consulted a notepad. She’d been listening very carefully as the plan took shape. “So, I’m wired up, the flowers on the table will be bugged, my earrings will be bugged, when they bring the Brie hamburger the French fries will be bugged. The entire place will have a billion hidden video cameras. The door will be surreptitiously turned into an invisible metal detector that gives a silent signal to—” The phone became a gun that Isabel pointed at Felicity. “You. You’ll be in a back room coordinating all the electronics.”

Felicity nodded. “Count on it. Every image will be crisp and all the sound will be crystal clear. Every word the man says will feature large in court. The jurors won’t have any trouble understanding every word that is spoken.”

“You guys.” Isabel looked at them all, then took his hand. “And you, Joe. You’ll be absolutely invisible until dear Uncle Hector confesses. That’s my job. To goad him until he spills his guts.”

Joe felt his own guts roil. “There, you see? That’s not a good idea. To goad a guy who’s responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people. Can’t you all see that?” He turned to people he’d considered his friends, people who had turned insane.

“We can,” Metal said gently. “But we can’t let this guy get away with murder.”

“So let Nick take care of this! That’s what he does, goddamn it! Nick—” He rounded on his FBI buddy. “You tell them.”

Nick rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, that’s the thing. There isn’t any hard evidence to prove his guilt. Our friend from the CIA has said as much. Blake has covered his tracks and is still covering his tracks beautifully. The instant evidence forms, the money disappears again. And I tell you, there’s no love lost for the CIA in the Bureau but we’re part of the game, as well. We can’t go tossing around accusations about moles in the CIA and the man who might have been president. If we’re wrong we’ll lose face, lose power.”

Nick held up a big hand as Isabel opened her mouth. “I’m sorry, Isabel, but that’s just the way power rolls. The big guys have an almost automatic get-out-of-jail-free card. You have to have some powerful proof to get at them. And though Sanders—” the current head of the FBI, “hates Blake, he’ll stand by him. Because power at the top stays at the top and that’s one of the ways it does that. They don’t attack each other. And before you say anything, I’m not protecting my career. To put the man responsible for the Washington Massacre behind bars, I’d trash my career in a heartbeat.”

“You’d always have a job here,” Senior said in his gravelly voice.

“Thanks. Though it would entail working with these bozos here. But they’re still better than most of the Bureau pukes I have to deal with.” He turned to the computer monitor. “So. Ex-CIA puke, do you have any evidence that would stand up in court? Because Blake would lawyer up fast with the best mouthpiece money can buy. They’d line up to defend him in a high-profile trial. Did you follow the laws of discovery in tracking down Blake?”

“No. I know he’s guilty but cannot prove it in a court of law.”

“There you have it,” Isabel said. “So when do I call? When do we start this?”

“Tomorrow,” Joe said.

“Right now,” Isabel said and picked up the phone and scrolled through her contacts again.

“It’s 11:00 p.m.,” Joe protested.

“That makes it 8:00 p.m. in Washington. And Hector is a night owl.”

Before Joe could stop her, she’d pressed the number, on speed dial. Everyone could hear the phone ringing, hear when someone picked up.

And Isabel’s body language changed instantly.

She’d been standing ramrod straight, eyes flashing, face tight. The instant Blake picked up, she seemed to lose a couple of inches in height. She slumped, her face grew soft and sad. Her hand trembled. Her voice trembled.

“Uncle Hector?” she sounded apprehensive, frightened. “It’s Isabel.” She sighed. “No, I’m still in Portland. You knew I moved over here, right? Yeah.” She listened. “Not too great, Uncle Hector, to tell you the truth. I can’t seem to move on. And I’m having…” She made an audible swallow. “I’m having nightmares, Uncle Hector. Terrible nightmares. Sleeping pills don’t help, alcohol doesn’t help, nothing helps. I keep having this same nightmare over and over and somehowyou’rein them. Always. It’s so…sohorrible.”

She started breathing heavily. Tears were in her voice. Joe had to check to make sure she wasn’t really crying. Her cheeks were bone-dry, but you’d swear she was crying. “I don’t know what to do, who to turn to.” A long sigh. Her face radiated sadness. She perked up. “Oh Godreally? You can? When? Tomorrow? Oh, thank you Uncle Hector, you have no idea what that means to me. I’ll text you my address. Thank you.” Her voice throbbed with gratitude. “I’m looking forward to it. Bye.”

She pressed End and straightened up, the lost look gone, voice strong, staring into the phone screen as if she was seeing him. “I’m looking forward to tearing your heart out and eating it, you scum-sucking son of a bitch.” She looked up. “We’re taking that fuckerdown.”

The new Isabel rode back with him in his SUV. It was icy, so Joe had to pay a little attention to the driving, but most of him was focused on her. On the Isabel who wanted to eat Hector Blake’s heart.

Of course, Joe was down with that. Blakewasan evil, scum-sucking douche bag, but Joe was used to being the one who planned revenge. It was all he’d done as a soldier. He’d joined as an eighteen-year-old, just like Metal.

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