License to Love (An Agent Ex Novel) (30 page)

Rock struggled against Tate’s vise grip on him as Tate spoke. “Calm down, you two. Nanny’s the best. If RIOT has them, Nanny will escape.

“You know Nanny, Lani. Nanny’s sharp and well-trained as an agent and great with kids. Nanny will protect Stone, no matter what.”

Rock calmed down and stopped struggling to get free. Tate released him. Lani couldn’t look at him. She’d underestimated Rock. She should have known he’d see through her ruse. It was part of her attraction to him that he seemed to get to the real her no matter what façade she put on. She should have known he’d try to find out where she’d been and what she’d been up to for those two years. She’d made a tactical mistake and now she was paying for it. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

“There’s only one thing to do now.” Tate’s gaze bounced between Rock and Lani. “Let our rescue team handle it. They’re specialists in rescuing hostages and agents in trouble. We have to go on with the mission and pretend that Rock will do Random’s bidding.

“We’ll foil Random’s master plan and make sure he has no further use of Rock’s talents. Once Rock isn’t valuable to him anymore, he and Stone will be safe.”

“Assuming he doesn’t come after us out of revenge,” Rock said.

Tate shook his head. “I’m not saying Random doesn’t like his revenge served cold. But in this case I believe your celebrity will save you. Your death would generate too much interest.”

“Not if I simply disappear. If that happens, my fans will be waiting for the ultimate prestige—when I reappear myself after a mysterious, prolonged absence,” Rock argued. “And why shouldn’t they think that? I’ve already done it with my wife.” He flicked a glance toward Lani.

He blamed her, but she didn’t feel guilty for protecting her child in the only way possible.

Tate shook his head again. “And all those millions would be looking for you. Random’s a psychopath, but he’s not crazy. Not that way. He doesn’t need the scrutiny. RIOT operates in the shadows until Random decides otherwise. When he goes public, it will be with a real sensation and a show of power. We’ve foiled his attempts before. We know what he wants.

“His goal is to terrify and control. No offense, but he won’t waste his one big splash on you.”

“None taken,” Rock said.

Tate stepped away from Rock. “Once you’re of no use to Random, he’ll leave you alone. Our best chance of getting Stone back safely now is to defang and neuter Random. At least as far as magic is concerned.”

Lani stared at Tate. He was right. She knew he was right. But it didn’t make her feel any better. Her arms ached for her baby boy. And crazily, for her husband’s warm, strong, tattooed arms around her, too.

Rock frowned. “There’s still the little matter of Emmett Nelson—is he also Archibald Random or not? Who do we trust?”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Random’s not the chief. He can’t be the chief.” Lani’s protests were purely reactionary. A world where the chief was a traitor wasn’t worth living in. And it meant her baby boy was in more danger than anyone could imagine.

Tate, however, shook his head adamantly as he leaned casually against Rock’s magician’s box, the box where a beautiful assistant was usually sawn in half. He crossed his arms and legs and smiled. “Emmett is
not
Random.”

“Do you know how esoteric that sounds?” Rock looked doubtful. “How can you be sure? I saw him
in person
and I have doubts. I don’t think he is. There’s that tiny scar around his ears that indicates plastic surgery. But even using my highly trained powers of observation, I can’t be one hundred percent certain.”

“I can,” Tate said.

Lani stared at Tate. He could be an arrogant bastard. He was born to privilege and played hard. But he was an amazingly talented spy and loyal. The rule in the spy business was to trust no one. Sometimes you had to break the rule. Her gut told her to trust Tate. At least in this instance.

Tate’s gaze bounced between Rock and Lani. He sighed, somewhat dramatically. But that was Tate for you. He laughed, even though Lani couldn’t find anything funny in the situation. “It’s obvious I’m going to have to prove it to you. Let’s just give the chief a call and see what he has to say for himself, shall we?”

“No!” Lani protested. “What if—”

“What if Emmett’s a double agent? Sounds like the plot of
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
. We can’t perform our mission without confidence in our chief. He’ll want to be apprised of this latest wrinkle in the plans.

“Rock, hand over that laptop you’re using to control the lights. Let’s Skype Emmett and see what he has to say for himself.”

Rock grabbed the laptop and held it out to Tate.

“If the chief isn’t Random, you’re committing career suicide,” Lani said. “And if he is, you’ve just betrayed your country. Either way, it’s your hide.”

Tate took the laptop from Rock. “The Kobayashi Maru scenario. Bring it on.”

Lani shook her head. “Didn’t know you were a
Star Trek
geek, Tate. Who would have thought?”

Tate put in a Skype call to the chief on his top-secret, for-emergency-use-only Skype address—Chief Among Problems.

Lani shook her head. “You’re calling on the equivalent of the red phone. Hope the chief doesn’t chew your head off.”

Tate ignored her. “Look closely for that scar,” he whispered to Rock. “If he’s an imposter, we hang up and call the director. Or the head of the Senate Intelligence Committee.”

Lani rolled her eyes.

“Oh, hell, what now?” Emmett picked up holding a putter in one hand and an expensive golf ball in the other. He wore a navy-blue golf shirt with the distinctive CIA emblem on the left where a pocket would ordinarily be. He looked directly into the camera.

“See any scar?” Tate whispered to Rock.

Rock tilted his head back and forth. “Hard to tell. The angle’s bad. It was more evident by his ears.”

The chief frowned into the camera. “What are you two whispering about?”

“Security protocol. Just verifying your identity. Chief, can you give us a profile from each side?” Tate said.

Emmett rolled his eyes and complied.

“He has good features,” Rock said.

“Yeah, a nice, dominant profile. Just what you want in a chief.”

“And no discernible scars.” Rock looked as relieved as Lani felt.

“Satisfied?” the chief said. “This had better be important. I have a game with the commander in chief, the chief justice, and the joint chiefs in less than an hour. I need to get the hang of this ball R and D gave me before I head out.” Emmett’s gleeful grin was positively evil.

“It’s not time for the chiefs’ tournament again, already?” Tate shook his head.

“It is indeed that time of year already. After suffering through the tight budget debacle these last years, I’m going to make sure Intelligence wins on points this time.” Emmett tossed his ball in the air and caught it.

“On points?” Rock looked confused. “Isn’t the point of golf to make as few points as possible?”

Tate shook his head. “That’s a roundabout way of saying the president and the chief justice have to win the actual game of golf.

“The points are figurative and depend on how much sport you can make of the president and chief justice while at the same time currying as much of their good favor for the Agency as possible. You want a kind eye during budget proposals and Supreme Court decisions.”

Emmett was swinging his putter. “I really got the rest of those so-called chiefs last year with that self-destructing ball. The vice chairman of the joint chiefs spent a good half hour looking in the rough for it. Then I handed him another and detonated it once it hit the green. You’d think a military man would be more savvy about weaponry.

“This year I expect one of the joint chiefs to play dirty with a drone ball. It would be just like them.” Emmett laughed again.

“What do you have for them this year?” Tate asked. “Anything special about your putter?”

Emmett looked at his putter and shrugged. “It’s top of the line. And has a nice semiautomatic rifle feature. For emergencies only if the Secret Service doesn’t do their job.”

Emmett leaned the putter against his desk and picked up his ball again. “This is our real secret weapon—a remote-controlled ball with GPS. It flies out of sand traps. Literally. With this baby,” he shook the ball at the camera, “I’m unbeatable.”

Emmett grinned. “And so is the commander in chief. I’m going to gift him some for the game. The guys at Langley will be playing his balls remotely and making sure they fly where they need to to guarantee the president lowers his handicap and comes out victorious. It allows me time to network without worrying about the president’s game.”

“Yeah,” Tate said with a twinkle in his eye. “That explains why the guys at HQ have been playing so much Wii golf on the job. They’ve been practicing for the chiefs’ tourney. You’ll be playing your own ball, sir?”

Emmett gave Tate a serious
shut your trap
look. “Naturally.” He scowled at Tate. “Enough of this bullshit. What’s up?”

“Not much,” Tate said.

He must have had a career death wish.

“Just thought you’d like to know Archibald Random is impersonating you. So if you run into yourself, don’t freak out. Reach for your gun.”

The chief cocked a brow. “How reliable is your source?”

Tate hitched a thumb at Rock. “Rock, tell the chief what you saw during your little audience with the RIOT chief.”

“You met with Random?” The chief sounded suddenly interested.

“You could say he issued an invitation I couldn’t resist,” Rock said.

“You mean he kidnapped you,” the chief said.

Rock nodded and explained about Random’s likeness to the chief and what had happened to PI Davo.

“Still using tiger fish and mansions.” The chief shook his head. “Someone should tell Archie to get a good villain’s cave like all maniacal supervillains. Have you located the mansion?”

“We’re on it, sir,” Lani said.

“Ah, Lani, you’re there, too. Good. Hang in there, kiddo. We’ll get your boy back safely. I promise.”

The chief’s promise made Lani feel marginally better. The chief kept his promises and if Stone was on the chief’s radar, he had at least a fighting chance.

Emmett turned his gaze back to the boys. “The mansion will be empty before you get there.”

The chief cursed beneath his breath and showed them his jawline and ears to erase any lingering doubts. “It was only a matter of time until Archie tried something like this.” The chief set his ball down. “With the high-tech state of makeup and plastic surgery, I’m surprised he hasn’t tried it sooner.”

The chief shrugged. “Damn. It appears I’m banned from Area 51 until we can clear this matter up. I’ll send out the memo and notify the appropriate authorities. If anyone bearing any resemblance to me is caught anywhere near the perimeters of Area 51, let alone inside, they’re to be arrested and confined immediately.”

The chief rolled his ball back and forth on his desk. It zigged and zagged in an unnatural manner. The chief was stealthily controlling it somehow. The man was a skilled magician. His sleight of hand was undetectable. “Good work, Rock. We’ve been waiting for a chance to apprehend Archie and catch him red-handed. You’ve just given us the golden opportunity.

“No doubt he plans to use this magical mission to get into 51 and personally retrieve what he’s looking for.”

As the chief spoke, Lani watched Rock. As angry as she was with him, she couldn’t really blame him for what he’d done. He wasn’t a seasoned spy. Curiosity was in his soul. And she’d hurt him terribly. Even so, he looked strong, stoic, and determined. The non-spy part of her, the purely womanly part, wanted to throw herself in his arms and feel his strength. As much as she craved the contact and the comfort, she pushed it below the surface and acted indifferent.

“What, exactly, does Random want you to do?” the chief asked.

Rock looked Lani directly in the eye. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have suspected he was trying to hypnotize her again. The truth was he’d had her under his spell from the beginning.

He turned his attention to the chief. “Random wants me to throw the prestige, bungle it or not perform it in time so the crowd panics and storms the perimeters of Dreamland, just like they’d planned for Sol to do when he was orchestrating this tactical illusion.”

“Predictable,” the chief said.

“How are the plans for the terror attack we need coming along?” Tate asked.

“We have an elevated terror alert out at Hoover Dam, Area 51, the casinos, anyplace that would be advantageous for Random to attack. I’m going to elevate it even further. We’ll make it nearly impossible for RIOT to strike.

“We have the intel leak to the media in the works. We’ll publicly raise the terror alert level to red.

“My theory is that people will still be expecting an attack, primed for one, even though there hasn’t been one. It’s safer this time than calling out the sonic illusion team.”

“Archie won’t order an attack unless he has to. It’s risky and expensive.”

“Expensive, Chief?” Rock asked.

The chief laughed. “Yeah, believe it or not, even dastardly villains have budgets.” The chief leaned back in his chair. “How close are you to being ready to perform, Rock, realizing this is the performance of your life? Are your baby magicians ready and up to the task?”

Rock flicked his hand and one of the flame cones behind them shot fire. “Sorry,” he said. “Just letting off a little steam.

“My young apprentices will be ready. They’re all hard workers, talented, and dedicated. How about my flying saucer—will it be ready?”

The chief grinned. “You’ll have your spy plane. The camofleurs are working night and day to make it even more UFO-like. The schedule’s tight. But they’ll have it ready.”

Rock whistled and mumbled something beneath his breath about spy planes being the ultimate flying saucers. “I hope it’s impressive.”

“It’ll blow your socks off.”

Rock tented his fingers in front of him, looking as if he was suddenly itching to get going. “We generate the crowd and the panic as we planned. We impress the NUFO group. But now…” He swallowed hard. “With this new wrinkle, do I still reveal the illusion for what it is—a trick? If my boy’s still in any danger then—”