by Shayla Black
“Deep Throat,” she said as if the answer was obvious.
Gus stopped a few inches short of the stone stairs at the bottom of the crypt. “Hello.”
“Hello, Ms. Spencer.” Yes, the deep voice was definitely female. “I see you decided to bring along the Hitman. I rather thought you would be alone.”
“Why the hell would I let her come alone?” Roman ground out the question.
The shadow paused briefly. “Well, you have left her alone for years. I extended her invitation to include you, but didn’t really believe you would change your modus operandi.”
What the fuck was this asshole talking about? “I thought you were a man.”
“Sometimes you have problems with perception, Mr. Calder.” She stepped just out of the gloom, only enough to discern a hint of her features. She wore a long black coat and a jaunty cap on her head. He couldn’t tell if she had short hair or if she’d merely shoved it all under the hat to disguise its length and color. “I believe that’s why you’re in your current predicament.”
So it was all his fault? He was so sick of the subterfuge. “How the hell do I know you’re legit? That you know a damn thing? I thought I was meeting with the same person who contacted our friends previously. That’s obviously not true.”
“Those ladies didn’t meet the same informant, either. But they were given credible information. It wasn’t our fault the Russians followed Lara that night. Nor did we have anything to do with the woman who tried to kill Everly with her car.” There was an amused satisfaction to the woman’s voice. “Is that enough detail to satisfy you that I’m ‘legit,’ or do you need more? Just because the face changes doesn’t mean the purpose does. If you’ll let me, I’ll guide you in the right direction.”
He couldn’t argue that she knew what had happened at the past meetings, as well as things that hadn’t been in the police reports. “Get to your point. I’m not standing out here all night.”
“Of course. You’re always in a hurry. I wouldn’t want to keep you. If you need to get back to your work, I’ll speak to Ms. Spencer alone. She’s used to being without you, after all.”
Those words rubbed at a wound that had barely begun to heal. “You’re talking as if you know her.”
Gus laid a soothing hand on his arm. “Calm down, babe.” She looked to the woman. “Do we know each other?”
“We’ve never had the pleasure, but I know of you. In fact, I know about all of you. I’ve studied and done my homework,” the woman explained. “It’s rather like watching a soap opera play out in front of the nation. How well do I know you? I certainly know the two of you had an affair over a dozen years ago that ended in tragedy. It’s why I was so surprised to see you sharing a room.”
Gus went utterly still. “Tell me why you’re here.”
Roman wasn’t sure why Gus had suddenly become less amenable to idle chitchat with Deep Throat. Did she feel as if her privacy had been invaded? Did she object to the woman calling their breakup a tragedy? He did. Stupidity on his part, yes. It had been shitty, in fact. But no one had died. He would have dismissed the woman entirely…except he didn’t like how tight Gus’s expression had become. How still her body had gone. Something the woman said had set her off.
“I’m here because you’re close to the truth, but I suspect you’re going to give up before you find the real prize.”
“And what is the prize?” Roman asked.
“The tapes, of course,” the woman replied. “You’re almost there. Those tapes could explain so very much. If you find out what happened in Russia all those years ago, you’ll understand what’s happening today.”
“If you’re talking about the tapes of Constance Hayes’s therapy sessions, you’re out of luck. They’re missing. The hospital has no idea where they’ve gone,” Gus replied. “They were stolen along with the files.”
“The hospital is part of the problem,” the woman confided. “They think if they bury their heads in the sand, no one will discover exactly how complicit they were in Constance Hayes’s death. I know they have a professional, clinical demeanor, and perhaps they do good work from time to time, but they’re also infamous for handling the ‘problems’ of the world’s wealthiest men. Many a wayward wife or mistress has found herself locked up and drugged so she wouldn’t cause trouble during a delicate merger or political campaign. Often, she finds herself tossed into the hospital and not released until the doctor is satisfied. And by doctor, I really mean her husband or lover. I think even a couple of embarrassing daughters and sons have found their way here, as well. Don’t think because the world has changed that the wealthy have. They still rule the world, and Constance Hayes threatened everything her husband—and by extension, her son—had worked for. Ms. Spencer, did you know your father tried to visit her at Homewood?”
“I know he was in London before he died. It was his last trip, but Constance was dead by the time he flew over, so he couldn’t have seen her.”
“This was before her death, roughly three months into her treatment. He’d been in Paris for some meetings and took an extra day to stop by Homewood.”
“It doesn’t surprise me that he would try to see her while he was here,” Gus said. “He and Constance weren’t friends, per se. But they were friendly.”
“And yet the hospital refused to allow the visit. You won’t find Admiral Spencer’s name on any of the visitor logs. In fact, your father was on the list of people who weren’t allowed to see Constance. Don’t you find that unusual?”
Roman certainly did. “Who was allowed to visit? Are you sure it wasn’t simply a matter of her father not being on a list of approved visitors?”
“That’s not what happened, Calder. Stop trying to fix the optics and look at the truth instead. Constance Hayes didn’t have a short list of people the staff or family thought might help her progress. They cooked up a list of personae non gratae. The admiral was one. In fact, if any of the Spencer clan had shown up, even you, Augustine, they would have been denied access.”
“Why? I don’t understand.” Gus shook her head. “What did my father know about Constance?”
“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend? He knows. He’s been in on the investigation from the beginning, the one that proved your father was killed by a man working for the Bratva. In turn, I believe the Bratva is working for the Russian government. Strange bedfellows, I know, but not unheard of. All the Brotherhood wants is to make money and have influence. They don’t care who pays the bills. In this instance, the partnership will bring them both.”
Gus looked up at him. “Do you know something I don’t?”
Roman sighed. “You know the Russians have their fingers all over this conspiracy. I might not have gotten into all the details, but I did tell you that your father’s death was wrapped up in this mess.” He looked to the woman. “Are you trying to put a wedge between us? It won’t work. I won’t leave her vulnerable.”
“She’s more vulnerable than you can imagine, Calder. You’ve been looking in all the wrong places. Find the recordings and you’ll understand why Constance Hayes had to die. Figure out who’s leaking White House information and you’ll know who’s betrayed you. Who betrayed Maddox Crawford.”
An icy shiver went through Roman. “Are you telling me you know who killed him?”
A chuckle left the woman’s mouth, a humorless sound. “No singular entity killed Crawford. It was a group effort. But the reason he died is what’s important. He saw something, knew something, had started to put the pieces of the puzzle together. That threatened the group. These are powerful enemies. Think. Who could have acquired that bomb and put it on his plane? Who knew that Maddox Crawford was even flying that day? After all, he hadn’t planned in advance to do it.”
Zack had known. Zack had an argument with Mad over the phone. Roman assumed it was about Sara’s pregnancy. They’d both spoken to Gabe that day. It had been dramatic, then tragic because hours later Mad was gone forever. “It wasn’t Zack. He wouldn
’t have killed Mad.”
“Are you sure about that, Calder? Or do you have some niggling questions?”
“I have questions,” Gus admitted, her voice low.
In the moonlight, he saw the woman grin. So broad. It was a Cheshire cat smile, and he worried for a second that the informant would fade away now that she’d shaken everyone’s faith. “Of course you do. You’re the smart one here.”
“But why would Zack hurt Mad?” Gus asked, her chin raised stubbornly. Her stance worried him, despite how bravely she’d asked the question. “What could he possibly know about Constance—or anything else—that would threaten not only their friendship, but Zack himself?”
“That’s the question of the day,” the woman replied. “And precisely why someone needs to find those tapes. Someone who desperately wants to know the truth, not hide it. I have to take every opportunity possible to get those tapes in the right hands.”
“Yours, I presume,” Roman shot back.
“Of course you presume. That’s what you do. You think the world is black and white, but I’m here to tell you, Calder, it’s definitely not. Life would be so much simpler if it was. I wouldn’t have to plot and plan and have contingencies for my contingencies if the world was that simple.”
So he was dumb? This woman seemed to have it in for him. “Do you have something you want to say to me?”
“Just that our lives are all complex. Isn’t that right, Roman?” the woman asked. “I’m trying to figure out who to trust. I’m not sure I should trust someone so close to the presidency. That’s why I have redundancies in place. But I do trust Ms. Spencer. She’s above reproach. If she found evidence of the president’s wrongdoing, she would do whatever necessary to protect your country.”
“Yes, she’s an amazing woman,” Roman snapped. “I think you want to get her killed.”
“Not at all, though I think you’ll find she’s in a precarious position and she has no idea. And you’re the one who wants to keep her right where she is. But you’re pulling us off the point. You wanted information that isn’t complete shit. Here it is: someone at the White House is feeding the Bratva information.”
Gus started to open her mouth, but Roman reached for her hand. If Kemp worked for the Russians, he didn’t want to reveal that they knew he was the likely traitor. The agent was still a possible lead, so they couldn’t do or say anything to tip their hand yet. And she’d talked about redundancies. Kemp might not be the only treasonous bastard.
“Can you give us a name?” Gus asked, her mouth a flat line.
“I don’t think you’d like the possibilities I would throw out,” she said. “But I don’t have anything concrete. I only know that someone is leaking intel, someone very close to the heart of power. Zack Hayes knew about Maddox Crawford’s flight. He wasn’t the only one.”
“I knew,” Roman admitted. “But I certainly didn’t kill Mad. Neither did Zack.”
“So you say.” The woman turned directly to Gus. “Follow the trail. Constance Hayes was shoved into this hospital to shore up perceptions and shut her up. Her loving family ensured she couldn’t leave until she was ‘better.’ But she didn’t bounce back the way they thought she should. When she would no longer hide the truth about her past, she became expendable. And she was terminated. The truth is on those tapes.”
“Her stories about the dead baby are true?” Gus asked, horror all over her face.
“I believe so. I suspect the incident goes back to when the president was merely an infant.”
“Do you know who Sergei is?” Roman asked. Even forcing the question out of his mouth made him a little ill.
“Sergei?” Gus looked up at him.
Damn it. This meeting would end with one pissed-off girlfriend if he wasn’t careful. He hadn’t mentioned the name because he hadn’t been ready to drag her that deep into the danger, not until he knew something more concrete.
Through the shadows, the woman looked his way. “Isn’t that the question of the day? I wish I knew who Sergei was. I believe that’s the code name for the traitor in the White House.”
“Natalia Kuilikov talked about Sergei. She loved Sergei.” He couldn’t stop thinking about that woman. According to Connor, she’d talked about how Sergei would fix everything. Had she been talking about a sleeper agent? Or her child, taken to replace the one Constance Hayes had inadvertently killed?
He had to consider the possibility that she’d been talking about the man the world knew as Zachary Hayes, president of the United States.
The woman shrugged. “I can’t give you more on that. We need to listen to those tapes.”
“How do we find them?” Gus asked. “How can we be sure they still exist?”
The woman in black took a step back. “We can’t be, but I believe they’re still here in this village. Nurse House had a daughter. Talk to her. See what she knows, and don’t let her shrug you off. I suspect she’s got those tapes. Her mother took them as collateral, then found out the Bratva didn’t appreciate her demands. I think her daughter knows where the tapes are. She lives a few minutes away. Get her to give them to you. Then you’ll learn the truth.”
Did he want to know the truth? If that meant having one of his friends implicated? His illusions stripped away? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything except he hated this.
“If these recordings are so important, why don’t you retrieve them yourself?” Roman challenged.
“Unfortunately, my reach doesn’t extend everywhere, and it won’t be as easy as simply asking. Alas, I don’t have Ms. Spencer’s charm.”
“You’re obviously not the same contact who met with Lara and Everly.”
“It’s best to spread the information around, not to leave too much in the hands of any one person,” she explained.
Roman frowned at her. He’d been so focused on this woman and her yarn-spinning that he hadn’t been paying attention to their surroundings. Suddenly, he had the uncomfortable feeling they weren’t alone. He couldn’t explain the instinct, but he also couldn’t deny it. Someone was in those nearby woods, watching. Waiting.
“How many of you Deep Throats are there?” Gus demanded.
There was a small pause. “As many as required, Ms. Spencer.”
Now that he thought about it, there had been small pauses before the woman’s every response. As though she was waiting on something—or someone to coach her on the proper reply.
“Are you wearing a wire?” Roman was done playing games. If she knew something, she’d better damn well stop talking in riddles. And if she had some Oz behind her curtain, it was time to rip that sucker back. “Is there someone else out here?”
He couldn’t stand the thought that someone was watching their every move. It worried the hell out of him.
The woman stepped back. “Be careful, Ms. Spencer. Calder will always choose Zack over you. Always. Even if it means your life. Haven’t you lost enough because of this man?”
With that, the informant disappeared, darkness swallowing her up.
Fuck. He was sick of this crap. He would catch that woman and haul her back to London, let Connor find out what she really knew.
Roman lunged, but he’d already lost her in the shadows. Worse, he was more convinced than ever that they weren’t alone. His heart pounded in his chest. She could have a gun or a partner. Either could be deadly.
It didn’t matter anymore. He wanted more than riddles. He wanted the whole tangled mess of this conspiracy over, and that meant quitting the bullshit and getting down to actual business.
“What are you doing?” Gus reached for his arm.
He sidestepped her. He wasn’t going to allow her to sway him. This was precisely why the bastard who was running the show chose to approach the women. They wouldn’t take drastic measures. He was sure Gus wanted to talk to this infuriating woman more, but Roman already knew it wouldn’t get them anywhere.
He followed the informant deeper into the darkness. As he reached the top step
, the door to the crypt closed. He growled and gave it a mighty shove, but it wouldn’t budge.
Anger flashed through his system. It pulsed and snaked around him. He pounded a fist on the stone door. “You think I won’t stay here until you come out? I will. Hell, I’ll go get the police, and we’ll have a long talk.”
“She’s gone,” Gus said, her voice resigned.
“How? We have to get inside that damn crypt. Then she’ll tell me every goddamn thing I want to know.”
“There’s a tunnel inside.” Gus stared at him, her face as blank as a doll’s. “Just like the house we’re staying at in London. I read a pamphlet in our room about the ghost tours the cemetery gives during October. One of the highlights was this crypt and the secret passage the Brits used to move spies around during World War II.”
She’d known that and not mentioned it before now? “Where does it lead? We can catch her if we’re fast enough.”
Gus shook her head, her arms encircling her middle as though she was cold. “I didn’t read that far. But she’s gone. I can’t believe you scared her off. I had questions. This was my meeting, Roman, and you took it over, like you take over everything. The Hitman. You killed my chances to get answers, all right.”
He didn’t have time for this. If they couldn’t find the woman, then he wanted to search the woods to see if he’d been right. Had her accomplice been here, watching them all along?
He jogged down the steps and stared into the tree line. “I know you’re out there, you motherfucker. You think you can mess with me? You think I won’t find out who you are?”
He heard a pinging sound. A whoosh of air passed his ankle. The ground to the left of his foot shifted, vibrating under his loafer.
Someone was there. Someone was firing a gun at him.
“Roman!” Gus yelled.
A red dot appeared in the center of his chest. Roman stood stock-still, utterly frozen. A laser sight. He’d seen them used before but never had one pointed directly at him. His heart sawed with fear.