Learning to Trust (20 page)

“So why haven’t you arrested them yet?” Jon wanted to know. “It seems to me that you have enough.”

“Because we don’t know enough. We can put them away for a year or two, sure, but that’s nothing. We want to block this weak spot for good. If we block this gap in the nation’s security, we stop even more dangerous substances coming through. If we can link the Farinas with the death of Byron Brantley, we have something on them.”

Lina gasped and clapped her hand to her mouth. Her new ring clinked against a tooth, reminding her what they had done so recently, how happy she’d been. She examined her feelings. Deep inside, that happiness remained, a bedrock she’d never had in her life before.

But shit, terrorists?

Luckily she didn’t have to say anything because Hayes continued to speak. “The Farinas are the weak spot in the chain. They have no loyalty to anyone but themselves.”

“But you think they’re involved in international terrorism?”

Hayes shrugged. “Maybe. At the least, they’re facilitating their activities. Until we find that out, we need to take care of you.”

Jon rested his hands on Lina’s waist. “Protective custody?”

“Something like that.”

“Just me?”

Hayes rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “Mr. Brantley couldn’t run his company from that kind of constraint.”

Both she and Jon said “No” at the same time. Spending an indefinite amount of time apart—no. But Hayes was right; Jon couldn’t run his business from a hidden location. They’d find him if he logged on to his company account, if they were half as dangerous as the agents were making out. So she wouldn’t go, either.

Lina had another thought. “What made you realize I wasn’t involved?”

Faraday answered this time. “A lot of in-depth investigation. We were about to approach you in Naples and ask for your cooperation when Mr. Brantley appeared on the scene. Now we want to ask for it again.”

She got the message hidden in that sentence. They knew about Franco, knew about her working for them. They could send him home if they wanted to. Home to die at the hands of the Colleghi.

“We investigated Byron Brantley’s death. It was done very carefully. It can’t be proved as murder, though we can use the circumstantial evidence in the case we’re building against them. We want you to do something else for us.”

Yes, of course.
The knowledge seeped into her mind. “You want me to go in wired up?”

Faraday sent her colleague a grin. “She’s been watching TV.” Then back to Lina. “Actually, yes. We have a wire system that looks like an MP3 player. If you wear that, they’re less likely to catch you. And you can put your phone on, too.”

“No,” Jon said.

She ignored him for now. “Will this make us safe?”

The woman shrugged. “Probably. We believe the Farinas are being manipulated by the Colleghi. So if we catch the Farinas, you’re safe anyway. The Colleghi won’t come after you because they won’t know you were involved in catching the Farinas. We’re stopping up a hole. Chances are the Colleghi will shrug and look for another.”

It sounded specious to Lina, but she couldn’t see any more possibilities. Protective custody was out. No way would she leave Jon, or force anyone to separate them. He was still saying no, so now she turned to soothe him.

Harder than it sounded. The only way she could persuade him was to tell him that she had things she wanted to collect, sentimental things. While it was true that her old teddy bear lived in her new bedroom at the Dakota, she’d long ago learned to travel light. She could have walked away without a qualm, but then Jon wouldn’t have let her go back to the Dakota.

Lina had the MP3 player, draped the earphones around her neck and clipped the device to her jeans pocket. She was ready.

They took a cab to the Dakota, listening to the driver complain about the traffic and the foreigners and the regulations that meant he could hardly put a crust on the table these days. With her hand in Jon’s, Lina felt almost normal.

At the last minute, he said he’d go in with her. Now it was her turn to say no. But she kissed him, long and sweet, and told him she’d be back. Then she slipped her ring into his hand. “Look after this for me.”

Before he could stop her, she darted across the pavement and into the building.

It all seemed so normal, the lobby of the building the usual quiet haven from the bustle outside. She took the phone the agents had given her and flipped it open, hitting speed dial and leaving it open. She muted it so no accidental sound could come through. It was a backup to the MP3 player and safer than wiring her. If they discovered that, she’d be dead. This way, she could get in and out. And they told her not to force it, not to be a heroine. Strange that one word should mean something good, but without the “e” it had been the evil that had destroyed her life for so long. From heroin to heroine. Maybe. At least she’d get out of this. And maybe help her mother, too. She’d thought her feelings for her only living parent dead by now, but recently she’d found pleasure in her mother’s rehabilitation.

This news might devastate her, send her back to the bottle. But as she pressed the button for the elevator, Lina knew that had to be up to her mother. Just as her decision to give up the drugs had to be hers alone. You couldn’t do it for someone else.

Stepping out of the elevator on her floor, Lina knew a moment of panic. She recognized it and dealt with it, took a couple of deep breaths and thought of a field of flowers. Just like the nun who had been her therapist had taught her. She hadn’t used the technique for a while, hadn’t needed to. Jon brought her everything she needed. But he wasn’t with her now, although it had taken a lot of persuasion to get him to agree to her going in alone. He was on his way back to his apartment across the park. Or sitting outside. Or maybe sitting on one of the seats at Strawberry Fields, just across the way.

If she died here today, she’d be in good company. But she had no intention of dying. She had too much to live for.

“Hey.” She walked in as if nothing was wrong. She’d had practice at that, back in the day. Back when her mom brought a new man home, someone who’d stared at her with lust in his eyes.

Her mother, in the act of pouring some amber liquid into a cut-glass tumbler, almost dropped it. “Bellina, darling! We were just thinking of you. Where have you been?”

“I stayed at the hotel last night.” True as far as it went. And they probably thought she’d spent it with Gary. “Have you seen Gary?”

“Haven’t you?” Her mother gave her a roguish smile—grotesque on her overly made-up face, especially with that dead-eyed stare.

“Not for a few hours.” They could presume what they wanted. If it made them think she was on their side, then so be it. Maybe pushing the button now meant she was saving them from something worse. And certainly she’d be helping her country. For all her close connections with Italy, Lina thought of herself as American. Her country had given her education, shelter and a means to earn a living. The least she could do was to pay a little back. Like many of her fellow citizens, she’d watched the attack on the Twin Towers with horror and sworn that if it were in her power, that would never happen again. Well, now was her chance to prove she meant it.

Even if her stepfather wasn’t a terrorist, he was facilitating them. In the name of greed.

“I’m tired. Could you put some coffee on for me?” She hardly ever asked when the maid wasn’t here, and this was her day off.

Her mother protested, but her stepfather raised his hand in a placatory gesture. “I think we can manage that. Can’t we, darling?”

“Yes.” With a shake of her head, Anna crossed the room in the direction of the kitchen, pulling her tight skirt into place and smoothing it with her palms.

Alone with Ritchie Farina, Lina became suddenly shy, a flush heating her skin. Ritchie gave her a fatherly smile. “So are you and Gary planning anything else?”

She licked lips suddenly gone dry. “Not right now.” Should she pretend they spent the night together?
Probably
. “But I need to get a few things together. He said something about leaving for a few days’ break.”

Ritchie’s gaze sharpened. “Did he say where?”

“Somewhere warm,” she improvised. “Miami, San Diego, somewhere like that.” She giggled and watched his eyes narrow with speculation.

“Not going abroad?”

Oh shit, what was this? Maybe he’d planned to go abroad on an errand for his father. She had no choice. She had to go along with him. “I don’t know. A break, he said, that’s all.”

“Maybe back to Italy?”

She forced a smile. “I‘ve had enough of Italy for now.”

Ritchie shrugged. “But it’s very different seen from the best penthouse suite in a hotel.”

“I guess it is.” She tried to warm her smile, but couldn’t quite cope. “Sorry, I’m a bit tired.”

The glow in Ritchie’s dark eyes increased. “Don’t worry, baby. And you have a hangover?”

“I did. I feel better now. I took some pills.” The bastard. He knew she’d have a hangover because he slipped her the rufies. “Gary helped.” She had to give him that much, though she was far from trusting Ritchie Farina’s son completely. But it wouldn’t hurt for Ritchie to think that Gary was facilitating her habit. A habit that would put him at his ease, make her less of a threat, more of a tool for him to use.

Ritchie leaned back. “You know I’m happy for you, sweetie. Cozy, isn’t it? Maybe we’ll all go away together. How would you like that?”

Alerted to a possible lead, she gave him the answer he wanted. “That sounds fine. Are you planning a holiday?”

“Maybe an extended one.” He didn’t take his attention off her for a second. Her tension rose as panic made her pulse rate increase. She saw the little throb in her wrist and concentrated on getting it down. “To be honest, your mother and me are thinking of retiring.”

“Really?”

“Sure. I expect some investments I’ve made to come into play soon. When they do, I’m thinking of handing off to Gary. It’s time he learned what sitting at the head of the table means. He’s wanted it long enough.”

She’d liked Gary, actually liked him. “Don’t you resent that?”

“The opposite. It shows me he’s ready. I want somebody young and keen. Gary has some new ideas he wants to try, but I’m not completely in favor. The best way to cure that is for me to get out of his way and see how he manages.”

She wondered if his father was really planning to drop his son into the deepest shit he could contrive, or pass over a thriving criminal empire to him. She had no way of knowing right now. But Gary wasn’t here—Ritchie was. She should work on one thing at a time.

She let her face relax into a loose smile. “And you wanted to bring me home?”

“Sure we did. You’re smart, you’re pretty—”

“And my money was gathering interest and dust in the trust account.” His hypocrisy made her feel ill, although her headache of the morning had long gone.

Ritchie smiled broadly. “Now you get it.” Oh yeah, she got it. It wasn’t her they wanted, it was her money. And if she married Gary, they’d have it.

An opening. “How did you find me?”

Ritchie watched her closely. She had to keep up the appearance of being high. “Through Byron, of course. We knew where he was, my connections told me. So we located him and asked him. He didn’t know, but he said he’d find out. And he did. Clever boy. A shame he wrecked himself. He broke into the convent and found your address on the computer.”

Oh shit, yes, he could do that. The nuns’ idea of a computer password was “Jesusisgood.” It wouldn’t take a genius to work that out. And their office wasn’t where anyone slept. They paid a security firm to drop by during the night, but they had nothing of value on the premises. So yes, even high, Byron could have done that. So he’d gotten her address and headed for Naples. Had he wanted to warn her? “Did he tell you the address?”

Ritchie grimaced. “No, he forgot that part. But we had him followed.”

“And they caught up with him at the station.” She let her eyes droop, as if she were feeling tired.

“Sure we did.”

“Byron was sweet.” She let her lids drop as the door opened and the tap of high heels told her that her mother had come in. She’d give Ritchie and Anna five, maybe ten minutes before she “came around” and slurred some more questions. If she interrogated him like she was a cop, he’d get suspicious. Maybe they’d talk more freely if she pretended to snooze, to be still under the influence a little.

“Byron was stupid,” she heard Anna say. “He should have told you where Bella was.”

“He should.” She knew by the sound that Ritchie was still watching her. She concentrated on breathing deeply, let her head fall back against the soft back of the sofa. Tried not to swallow, a clear sign that she was awake. Ritchie spoke softly. “But he was nothing by then. On the road to death. We just helped him along a little.”

Triumph soared through her at that confession. Was that enough?

“Fuck, she did it,” Jon said. “Can we get her out of there?”

Someone pounded on the door and he jerked in shock. Already disturbed by the possible danger to Lina, the knocking echoed the way his heart leaped. He straightened up, and Neil straightened with him. “Who’s that?” asked the agent.

“How should I know?”

“Are you expecting anyone?”

He gave the man a pitying sneer. “What do you think?”

When Jon headed to the door, he closed the lounge door carefully behind him. Neil came with him, standing to one side. He kept a camera to scan visitors and now, clearly outlined in the tiny screen, he saw Gary Farina. He murmured the name to Neil, who nodded. “Yeah, I know.” Of course he would. Then, almost soundlessly, he added, “Let him in. At least we’ll have one of them.”

Jon saw the sense in that. He unlocked the door and stood aside as a clearly agitated Gary strode in. The door closed behind him and Neil stood against it. “Gary Farina.”

Gary spun around to confront the man. He stared. “The Feds?” So he was expecting something.

“Homeland Security.”

Gary ran a hand over his already disheveled hair. “What have you done? I called home just now and Anna said that Lina was there, high. She told me to come home and claim her and said Ritchie was pleased with me.
What the fuck have you done?
”

Since there was no sense hiding anything, Jon led the way to the lounge and flung open the door. The agents had set their listening and recording equipment on the side table, and the two agents who remained were huddled over it, listening. They’d put the sound on speaker and as they entered, they heard Anna’s voice. “You are so good to us, Ritchie.”

“I know, baby.” And the sound of a kiss, grotesquely magnified.

Gary closed his eyes. “You sent her in, didn’t you?”

While Faraday hastily changed from speakers to headphones, Neil blocked Gary’s view and confronted him.

“You know about this, don’t you?” Neil said. “You’re minor players in something you can’t understand. Get out now while you can. We know that you’re starting to smuggle illegal goods to supplement a bad time for your business. It’s not too late. You can save yourself, and your company.”

Gary spun around to face Neil, his eyes blazing fire. “Minor players? What the fuck are you talking about?” He paused and glanced at Jon. “We have to get her out of there.” Then he addressed the agents again, his lip curling in a sneer. “Just how much research have you done?”

Neil shrugged, his massive shoulders straining the seams of his plain navy suit. “Enough to know you’re getting involved in something you don’t understand.”

If anything, that drove Gary wilder. “Oh my God! Don’t they teach you guys history where you come from?” He stood alone in the center of the room, his hands curled into fists. Jon felt an unreasoning desire to stand with him. Probably his natural instinct to side with the underdog. He resisted the urge, but Gary’s previous behavior when he’d left him with Lina in the hotel encouraged him to believe him.

“Okay.” Gary hissed air through his teeth, took a couple of deep breaths and opened his eyes, fixing Neil in his basilisk stare. “Let me tell you a little bit of family history. My great-grandfather and his family came to the States as immigrants from Italy. They didn’t bring much and they didn’t have cases, so they put their belongings in flour sacks. The official decided that since the sacks were labeled “farina,” the Italian for flour, that was their name. They decided to keep it. Any idea what the family name was before that?”

With a sinking heart, Jon said it. “Colleghi.”

“So there’s one less bozo in here,” Gary said. “My great-grandfather started by selling newspapers on the street. And selling numbers. He expanded, bought booths. And carried on with the illegal betting scams. The cops closed the booths, they’d start another one. My dad took us out of the numbers game. Now he’s dragging us back.” Fury filled his eyes. “And you sent Lina in with them?”

“Not for long.” Jon headed for the door. He’d haul her out of there himself.

“No!” The alarm in Gary’s voice made him jerk around. “They’ll know something’s wrong for sure if you go get her. Let me do it.”

The agents exchanged alarmed looks. The woman spoke. “We had no idea. We thought the Farinas were accessories being bulldozed into doing the Colleghi a favor.” She ignored Gary’s snort. “We need to get her out. We have all the information we need, anyway.”

“I can give you more.” Gary spread his palms. “But not if they hurt Lina. If they do that, I’ll hold you responsible and you’ll get nothing from me.”

The other man, who up to now had remained relatively silent, snapped his head around to stare at Gary. “What do you mean?”

Gary met his gaze. “I have no intention of allowing my family to sink back into the mess we came from. We’ve been clean for twenty-five years, and either it remains that way, or I leave. I’ll tell you what you need to know. What I won’t do is appear as a witness in open court.”

The man nodded. “We can accept that, as long as you provide us with alternate witnesses.”

Gary gave him a narrow-eyed stare and lifted his chin. The light streaming through the wide windows glinted off the lenses of his spectacles, giving Gary the appearance of a statue, or something not quite real. “I’ll do as I think fit. I won’t take part in any entrapment, and I won’t appear as a witness. If you subpoena me, I’ll take the fifth. Better a short term in jail than death in a dark alley one night.” The agent opened his mouth, but Gary wouldn’t let him speak. “Don’t bother to suggest witness protection. I don’t run.”