All Due Respect (28 page)

“The chairman is not denied prescription medication. I know that, Anthony.” She pressed the brown bottle into his hand, curled his fingers around it. “Take them. Promise me you’ll take them.”

Anthony looked at the bottle. Xanax. For anxiety. Three per day. A weak dosage. It seemed important to her, and he had experienced trouble sleeping and eating lately. And he supposed he had frightened Daisy, being short-tempered. “I’ll take them.”

“Thank you, darling.” She stood up, kissed his forehead, then went back inside.

Anthony walked to his office, asked Roger for a glass of water, and sat down at his desk.

When he passed the glass, Anthony said, “Get me our friend at Grayton on the phone.”

“Yes, sir.” Roger stepped into the outer office.

The intercom buzzed. Anthony punched down the lit line and lifted the receiver.

“Yes. Mr. Benedetto?”

“What are you doing down there?” Anthony demanded to know. “I need that system operational.”

“I’m doing my best.”

“Your best is lacking. You have the finest lab and staff money can buy, so what—”

“Things just aren’t working as they should.”

Not working as they should? The idiot had been fed false information. Had to be. The bastards were on to them. “Do what you have to do, but get that system operational now.”

He slammed down the phone and, feeling his blood beat at his temples, he unscrewed the cap on the bottle and took a pill. That inept idiot was going to screw around and cost Anthony everything. Why couldn’t a loyalist have been assigned to the project at Grayton and spared him from dealing with a damn inept idiot?

Frustrated, Anthony looked at the prescription bottle and tried to remember whether or not he had taken a pill. Unsure, he swallowed one, and then looked at his father’s photograph. “I’m doing this for you, but if I go down, I am not going alone.” Unlike his father, he had no son. No successor. Damn Elise for her inability to have more children. Damn America. Damn them all.

“Mr. Benedetto.” Roger walked in, his face pale and waxy. “The council has called an emergency meeting in one hour.”

“For what?”

“To talk to you about the kidnapped boy, Jeffrey Camden.”

Someone had made the connection, damn it. Anthony would have to forfeit their friend at Gray ton. But first he needed the rest of the project intel. “Fine.”

“There’s more, sir.”

“More?”

Roger nodded. “While you were on the line, your Eastern associate called. He said something … puzzling.”

“What?” Anthony asked, knowing the news could only mean more trouble.

“He said you missed your delivery date on the exchange. He gave you the Rogue and you promised to deliver Home Base and didn’t.” Disdain edged into Roger’s voice. “He’s disappointed that you broke your word.”

Roger’s distaste for the lapse was clear. Anthony attempted to reassure him. If any one person in the coalition could hang him, aside from his mother, it was Roger. “Odd. I thought I had notified them. There’s been an unavoidable project delay. The scientists are working on it. Call and explain, Roger.”

“Yes, sir. But they’ve given you a second deadline. Forty-eight hours. Either you produce then, or they seize assets.”

Roger was puzzled by the seizure threat.

Anthony was not. The Eastern associate would seize Two West’s arms. And Anthony would die, just like his father.

He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t!

“Forty-eight hours should be fine, Roger. But tell them it really depends on the scientists. I can’t deliver what they haven’t yet developed. If they want what we already have, I’ll be happy to pass that along now.” - “Yes, sir.” Roger turned and went back to his office.

Having no intention of turning anything over before the package was complete, Anthony debated strategies.

And dry-swallowed two pills.

JULIA sat down at the OSI conference table.

Her stomach in knots, she looked over at Seth, and then at Matthew. They both appeared calm. How could they be calm? Karl, the bastard, had Jeff.

Matthew dropped the point of his pencil to the yellow legal pad. Along with the scribbles only he and God could decipher were peppered dots where he had dropped the pencil point over and again, as if venting a nervous tic. “We’ve got the project intel ready to go.”

“You can’t be serious.” Julia’s skin crawled. Had they lost their minds? She stared at Seth. “With the Home Base intel—”

“Benedetto can launch the Rogue and he can return any U.S. missile to its launch site,” Seth interceded, leaning forward and lacing his hands atop the table. “We know, Julia.”

“And,” a man said from the doorway, “we have no idea where he’ll target.”

Julia looked over at the man. Blond, early forties, weary eyed and dressed in Class-A blues. He stood very erect, even more so than the habitual military posture, and she figured he had to, to keep from tipping over due to the weight of the medals on his chest. From the eagles on his shoulders, she knew he was a very young full-bird colonel,

but she’d rarely seen that many medals on anyone’s uniform, including most generals.

“Colonel Kane.” Matthew stood up and offered his hand. “Come in, sir.”

The AID officer handling the intel aspects of the Benedetto operation. Definitely Special Forces. She sensed it in him, and in the way Seth looked at the man while not looking at him.

Colonel Kane walked over and took a seat. “Dr. Warner.” He nodded. “Seth. Wish we could have had this little reunion under different circumstances.” Something akin to pain flashed in Kane’s eyes. “I understand the boy is Bravo One.”

“Yeah.” Seth’s misery and worry over Jeff surfaced. “He’s mine—and Julia’s.”

That remark surprised her, but once it sank in, it felt good. Actually, it felt right. Jeff should be theirs. They loved him… and each other.

“Whatever it takes.” Kane nodded his understanding. “Benedetto’s up against the wall. We figure he’s going to launch. What’s your best guess on his target?”

“D. C.” Seth hiked a shoulder. “He can take out the Pentagon, Congress, and the White House.”

Julia’s skin crawled. Targeting the seat of America’s federal government would severely damage the nation’s operations and, in Benedetto’s eyes, would vindicate his father’s death. But even with a gutful of hate, how could he justify the utter chaos and extensive destruction he would create?

“D. C. would cover most of his objectives,” Kane said.

“Unfortunately,” Matthew added, “I agree.”

“Intel is reporting disturbing news.” Colonel Kane straightened in his seat, next to Matthew.

“About the Rogue?” Seth asked.

Julia glanced from Seth to Kane and waited for his response.

“About Benedetto.” Kane gave Seth a concerned look laced with deep worry. “He’s getting frustrated.”

“Why?” Julia didn’t get*it. “If he’s got Morse, he’s got everything, so what does he have to get frustrated about? And why does he need Karl?”

Matthew answered first. “He doesn’t. Morse needs Karl to protect his facade of innocence. Karl goes down—I think the original plan called for him to go down with you—and Morse sells Home Base to hostiles. Probably to the same hostiles who sold Benedetto the Rogue. He makes millions, Morse makes millions and he holds on to Slicer Industries, staying lily-white.”

But Morse didn’t have the launching sequence, which is why Karl had demanded everything on Home Base. “That explains Karl,” she said. “But not Benedetto’s frustration.”

Colonel Kane answered. “Having the project info and intel is one thing, Dr. Warner. Putting it into operation is another. Aside from the tracking sequence, Morse has all technology and technical info, but he lacks your skills. Yours and Seth’s.

Seth rapped the table. “Benedetto being frustrated raises some hairy possibilities.”

Julia looked at Kane. “Can’t you just arrest him?”

“We could, but we don’t know the location of the Rogue or the project intel. And we don’t have enough evidence on Morse to assure a conviction.” Kane shifted on his seat. “Initially, Benedetto didn’t intend to launch the Rogue.”

“He only wanted the ability to launch it,” Seth speculated. “To prove to his people that he could protect them.”

“Right.” Kane shifted his gaze to Seth. “Benedetto had two objectives. To rebuild his arsenal, and to get the Home Base technology. But he did intend to sell the technology to hostiles without developing it. Money for him, headaches for us.”

“Then Morse came along,” Seth said.

“And Karl Hyde,” Kane added.

Matthew had been silent. Now, his worry shone clearly in his eyes. “If Benedetto feels frustrated by failed attempts to get Home Base operational, he could get violent.”

“He could get desperate.” Seth pursed his lips. “Each failure puts his honor at risk.”

“We’re certain of one thing.” Kane let out a sigh, rubbed at his neck. “He’s breaking down. We picked up a prescription issued for him. Xanax. It’s an anti anxiety drug.”

Julia’s stomach lurched. “There’s another thing you can be sure of, Colonel. Anthony Benedetto is not going to follow in his father’s footsteps and commit suicide without exploiting every possible alternative. He wouldn’t recruit Karl, or allow Morse to, if he considered it a risk to his honor.”

“The profilers agree,” Matthew said.

“So does Intel.” Kane grimaced. “Hyde covers for Morse, and Morse for Benedetto. Benedetto is protected. That was the plan. But things haven’t gone off as planned.”

Finally, Julia thought. Common sense. “Which makes it totally asinine to even consider giving Karl project intel to get Jeff back.” The words hurt her throat. “We have to get him back somehow, but we can’t jeopardize the country to do it.”

Seth turned on his seat to face her. “We’ll give Karl project intel, Julia, just not Home Base’s intel.”

Julia processed that, saw the wisdom and the risks in it. She rubbed at her temple. “What I don’t understand is why they want everything rather than just the launching sequence. Morse has access.”

“But he’s only had access to bogus reports,” Kane said.

Surprise rippled up Julia’s backbone. “Since when?”

Matthew responded. “Since the sensor-codes theft.”

Her blood chilled. “Benedetto knows it.”

She darted a fearful look at Seth. He didn’t tug at his earlobe. “I know-you want to do some covert operation on this, but I won’t allow it, Seth. Benedetto, Morse, and Karl know Matthew’s involved; they’ll expect one. Jeff would be in even more danger.” She looked at each man at the table. “I’m meeting Karl alone.”

Colonel Kane shot her a level look. “Can you kill him?”

Julia hesitated, then answered honestly. “I don’t know.

But I do know he’ll expect a covert-op trap. I’ll do my best for Jeff. That’s all I can promise.” And she’d pray her best was good enough.

“That’s an acceptable response, Dr. Warner.” Kane nodded. “We’ll be in the distant vicinity with a team. With the lack of mental stability going on in the Two West camp, I think that’s best. The risks of us moving in are unacceptable. After you secure Jeff’s release, then we’ll pick up Karl and advance on other fronts.”

Other fronts. Morse and maybe Benedetto himself. “Fine.”

Seth watched Kane, doing his damnedest to remain passive and not feel disloyal to Julia. It was difficult because Colonel Kane was lying through his teeth. But his rationale was honorable—he was trying to save her life, and Jeff’s— which was the only reason Seth could keep silent. If brought into the covert-op loop, Julia would give away the fact that the team was near. Her actions would reflect their presence and, trained, Karl would pick up on it. Julia wouldn’t intend for that to happen, but it would happen. And Jeff would lose his life. Julia might, too.

She wouldn’t see the situation that way, of course. But that’s the way it was and, after this was over, Seth would explain his rationale for maintaining secrecy over and again until she forgave him for not telling her the truth.

Odds of her forgiveness were iffy at best. Particularly if anything happened to Jeff. But in that case, the point would be moot. Regardless of what she did, Seth would never forgive himself.

THEY’D lied to her.

Julia knew it. Sensed it as surely as she sensed Benedetto was about to lose it and go on a killing spree. She felt it as strongly as she felt the Camry’s steering wheel under her clenched hands. Colonel Kane, Matthew, and Seth had all lied.

She could forgive Kane and Matthew; with them, lying wasn’t personal. But Seth? She loved him in a way she

thought she would never again love any man. Not after Karl. And that made Seth’s deception not only personal. It hurt. Deep.

Okay, be fair. He doesn’t know you love him.

She wasn’t crazy enough to tell him. Hell, she’d just accepted it herself. Loving again, after Karl, was scary. Hard. But Seth’s knowing or not knowing didn’t change anything. He had lied to her.

Checking the rearview mirror, she pressed a hand to the project disks in her bra and frowned, grasping for the first time exactly how Seth must have felt when she had left New Orleans without saying a word. She had regretted leaving him, resented having to leave him, missed him, but only now did she feel the sense of betrayal he must have felt then. She hated it.

The weed-infested ditches gave way to the turnoff to the cabin. Julia hooked a right, her heart rate hiking a healthy notch, and checked for signs of anyone following. The dirt road kicked up a mountain of dust behind her. A herd of elephants could be tailing her and she wouldn’t know it.

But Karl would know. He would have night vision gear. From the cabin, he would be able to see separate dust clouds.

She began to sweat. Fear and doubt that she was up to this challenge swarmed through her, shrouding her.

You can’t fail, Julia. You have to stand up to him. You can’t let the old fears intrude. Not this time. Not with Jeff’s life in your hands.

She inched into her purse, felt the gun, and prayed Seth was right, that the bullet would penetrate the leather, because she had finally accepted the inevitable. Hate was a burden too heavy to carry. It was dark and ugly and it consumed everything good until only hate was left. She had to let go of the hate—and she could. She could forgive Karl for what he had done to her. If he would just leave her alone, she could accept what had happened and put it to bed in her past. Chalk it up to lessons learned. But she could not and would not forgive him for what he’d done