Blonde Ops (31 page)

Frantically I scouted around for scissors or a knife, but there was nothing in the room I could use to cut the ties. I was going to have to do it the same way I got out. I did Sophie first; it was so much easier and faster when I could see what I was doing.

“Cheap,” I said as I freed Kevin. “You'd think with such an important job they'd know not to put us against something that could saw through the ties.”

“They didn't count on you,” said Sophie with a big grin.

I opened the door that led to the staircase and then the alley.

“You're not going after them, are you?” said Kevin incredulously, rubbing his reddened wrists. That's what he got for wiggling around and tightening the ties.

“Ortiz bugged my phone. She may have done it to yours too, if you loaned it to her once or left it lying around.”

Their deflated faces told me all I needed to know. “There's no way to track them, so we have to follow.” I ran down the stairs and was glad to hear Sophie and Kevin following me. I was tired, but I vowed to keep running. I could sleep all day tomorrow. Fear for Mrs. Jennings gave me the boost of adrenaline I needed.

“They weren't speaking Italian up there,” I said as I clomped down the stairs.

“It was Portuguese,” said Kevin.

I glanced over my shoulder at him. “How do you know?”

He arched a brow. “I work at
Edge
. World travel. International models. I pay attention.”

Okay, so score one for Kevin.

“I thought Taj was from India,” Sophie said.

“I think that's what he wants people to think. He could be from anywhere, but I think South America is a fair guess, maybe Brazil,” I added, remembering his comment at the Forte about summering in Brazil as a little kid. Details dropped into place as we ran. If Taj was Brazilian, he'd done a good job of keeping it quiet. This whole operation wasn't amateur night; he'd hidden his tracks so well he'd thrown everyone off, even the pros. Who would be so bold as to kidnap the American First Lady? A common criminal couldn't pull it off, but someone with access to the world. And big money. That usually meant drugs. Or weapons. Or fraud of some type.

And then there was that brother; how did he fit in all this?

If you were in my position, I think you might do the same thing.

Family would be the only reason I would even think about doing something as crazy as this.

Why would Taj tell me anything at all? Could I believe anything he told me? But then why lie about a brother, of all things? Taj had told me things that I knew were true: the hacking skills, not leaving traces, little snippets like having a plan B. Why? Whether I wanted it or not, I was caught up in his scheme. There was no way I would sit back and do nothing.

Huffing heavily, we reached the alley. There was the barest hint of a red scrape on the ground by the door that led down into the tunnels. Chasing Taj and his crew wasn't the best way to help Mrs. Jennings. After all, they had guns. I should make sure Candace knew what was going on and what she was dealing with, as much as I could tell her.

We exited into the street. A crowd of people, both tourists and locals, shuffled past. No wonder they'd taken the sewer route. Luca and Ortiz could blend into the crowd, but Taj and Mrs. Jennings would be instantly recognizable. Looking around wildly, we crossed in front of the hotel. “Let's find Candace and—”

I slammed hard into someone who stepped into my path.

Dante!

 

TRICKS AND TIPS FOR
THE EDGE-Y GIRL

A hat for summer? Sure, but make sure you choose one that keeps the sun off your face. Save the beanies for your next ski trip or a snowy day.

29

“Nice dress,
bella
,” said Dante uncertainly, checking me out, then Sophie and Kevin. What a sight we must have been; Sophie in a Creamsicle-colored top and skinny pants, Kevin in his powder blue silk shirt and tan slacks, and me in my pink dress—our clothes grubby with dirt and our shoes wet with sewer water.

“Do you have
any
idea how glad I am to see you?” I wanted to throw my arms around him but thought better of it. “Wait. What are you doing here?” The timing was disconcerting.

He held up an envelope and frowned. “Delivering a letter. Why are you here? This is—”

“—where Taj is staying,” I finished for him. Of course Dante had to know—this was his delivery area. How often had he bumped into Taj? Did they have confrontations—or meetings—that I didn't see? I searched Dante's face. Could I trust him?

It was time for an executive decision.

“Dante—”

“We have to do something urgent,” said Kevin brusquely, and then pulling me aside, added in a lower voice, “He's a
messenger
—you can't just tell him what happened with Mrs. Jennings. The Secret Service—”

“I know we can trust him,” I said firmly. “We need his help.” No one knew about Candace's real job; I never said anything and I'd only been told after I stumbled upon the meeting in that warehouse. I turned to Dante. “Taj has kidnapped Mrs. Jennings. Ortiz is helping him. He has at least one guy with him, but there may be more.”

Dante frowned. “Where are they now?”

“We don't know where they were going, only that they're traveling underground. In the sewers.”

Dante looked shocked.

“They only left minutes ago. I'm pretty sure they want to get her out of the city,” I said. “Probably to an airport or a boat or something.”

He spun around, studying the area. “These streets all around are too narrow for cars, everyone must walk. If he brought her out here, everyone would recognize the American First Lady,” he said, thinking aloud and confirming what I thought.

Kevin nodded. “They definitely took her underground. We saw the shoe scrapes.”

“They need a road where they can drive away. The closest street would be…” Dante's finger wagged as he concentrated. Suddenly he looked at me and grabbed my hand. “I think I know where they are—hurry!”

He pulled me with him. I looked over my shoulder at Sophie and Kevin. “Coming?”

“Wouldn't miss it,” Kevin said dryly. He and Sophie stayed close behind as we pushed through the crowds, ignoring stares and curses when we bumped and jostled people out of our way.

My heart ached with Taj's betrayal. I tried not to think about the clues I'd missed, the plotting and planning that was happening right under my nose.

“Here,” said Dante as we approached a cross street, a narrow one-way lane lined with cars. At the top, at a little distance from the other vehicles, we saw a sleek black van: nondescript, large enough to hold at least five people. The vehicle, unlike the other cars on the street, was occupied. An arm dangled from the driver's-side window.

We hunkered in a doorway, all mashed together.

“We can take him, there's four of us,” Kevin whispered.

Finally, all of this adventure had gotten to him and he was thinking he was a superhero. Dante brought him crashing down to reality.

“You can run faster than he can shoot?” Dante asked doubtfully. “No, it's not safe for Bec and Sophie. We must wait for the
polizia
.”

The question was, if this was the getaway van for the kidnapping, how could it still be here? Taj left before us … Ah! But he was going
underground
with a bound prisoner. They'd have to climb ladders and go around fallen walls. Who knew how long that could take? I peeked around the corner again. No way could one of us walk over, check out the situation, and report back to the group.
That
wouldn't be suspicious!

But the question remained. If that was the van, what was taking Taj so long? Time was against them, they had to move fast. Soon the whole world would be scouring the country looking for Mrs. Theresa Jennings, American First Lady, political, cultural, and fashion icon, one of the most recognizable women in the world.

He would have to disguise her first, and that would eat up some precious minutes.

“I will call
polizia
,” said Dante, pulling out his phone and stopping my logic train.

“Hold on,” I said, stilling his hand. “We can't. If the police get here before Taj, he'll run scared, and we might lose him. I think that Taj might be trying to disguise Mrs. Jennings. Like you said, everyone knows her. The authorities have to be looking for her now. If that van is the getaway car, Taj could be here any second. We don't have much time. I have an idea. Quick!” I held out my hand. “Give me your phone!”

He passed it to me and I scrolled through the settings.

“I thought you said we weren't calling the police,” Kevin said.

“I'm not. I'm calling a car.”

“What?” Sophie laughed.

“You wanted me to show you something,” I said, brandishing the phone. “Well, here's something. Watch this.”

I showed her the settings screen. “First, you put the phone in promiscuous mode.” Sophie raised both red brows. “Not that kind of promiscuous,” I said, scowling. “When your phone is on its normal mode it only gets signals sent to you—texts, e-mails, you know.”

She nodded.

“You put it in promiscuous mode, and it's open to everything—you pick up all the signals in the area—Internet connections, phones, and cars.”

I flicked my finger across the screen. “And look. Here they are.”

Sophie, and now Kevin and Dante, examined the list of numbers that came up.

“These are the numbers I've picked up. The ones with the 00876 prefix are phones. Prefix 0388 are land-based wi-fi connections, like for an apartment or business. And 00271 are cars—we've picked up five of those. One of them has to be that van.”

“There's more than five cars on the block, genius,” Kevin griped.

Holding my temper in check, I replied, “But it looks like only five are newer cars—ones that would have things like satellite radio, a built-in GPS—platforms that have to be connected to the Internet. We're only interested in the van, not the others,”

“So … you're going to … call the van?” Sophie said, working it out.

“Actually, I'm going to text—but it's going to be a bit of trial and error. I can't tell from the list which one is the van.”

I copied the first car number, opened messaging, pasted it in, and tapped in a text. A few feet from us, there was a click.

“What was that?” Dante said.

I sent the text again, and the car, a Fiat, made the sound again. “That was me. I locked the door. Cross that number off the list.”

“That is amazing,” Sophie said with delight.

“I take back what I said.” Kevin shook his head. “You are smart.”

“I'll try the next one.”

I flashed the lights on a Lancia and rolled down the window of another Fiat. Only two more possibilities.

I sent the text to the next number. The arm dangling out of the van jerked back.

Pay dirt!

We were too far away to hear if the van's door unlocked, but it was an excellent chance we'd found the right vehicle. To be sure, I made the lights flash on the last number on the list: a Porsche. We were good to go.

“I have the van's number,” I said.

“Yes!” Kevin, Dante, and Sophie whispered, but then they turned to me. “Now what?”

“Watch.”

I fired off a string of text messages, one after the other.

Passenger window down.

Headlights on.

Headlights off.

Headlights on.

Wipers on.

Lock doors.

Unlock doors.

I could see the head of the person in the van dart this way and that—he had no idea what was happening.

“And now, for the grand finale.”

The van's horn blared out. Kevin shook his head and Dante laughed.

“Wait for it,” I said as I hit send.

The horn sounded again. And again. And again and again and again.

“Oh my God, what did you do?” Sophie put her hand over her mouth.

“I told the horn to beep fifty times. Now, if I were him I would…”

Yes! He got out of the car and opened the hood. The beeping continued.

“Dante, I think you and I should help him out,” said Kevin. “You up for it?” He flexed his appreciable biceps.

“Yes!” Dante replied, his face stony.

“Just make sure it's the right guy!” I warned.

Kevin nodded meaningfully, then he and Dante casually walked into the street and started making their way toward the van. His head under the hood, the driver didn't see them coming. When they reached the bumper, I grabbed Sophie's arm and tugged her along. The van was parked right in front of a manhole. So far everything added up: sole van on the street, manhole for access, only street wide enough for cars and vans.

We came around just in time to see that, yes, this was Taj's accomplice—and even better, to see Dante grab him from behind so that Kevin could deliver a stunning blow to his jaw, knocking him out cold. Kevin yelped and shook his fist.

Dante clapped him on the shoulder. “
Buono!
”

“Quick, get him inside!” I urged, looking around to see if anyone had witnessed our assault or was coming to check on the blaring horn. I didn't think so. Up to now, my plan was working, my guesses were good.

Sophie slammed the hood shut, and I texted the van to stop the horn.

Throwing open the van's back door, Kevin and Dante shoved Luca in, and Sophie and I tied him up with rope that was probably intended for the First Lady. There were also some zip ties, chloroform—no doubt in case she got feisty or noisy—and a blindfold, which I used to gag him. A deep breath and I was feeling better about the situation. The kidnapping supplies that no normal person carried were additional incriminating evidence.

“Dante, you have to drive, you know Rome better than any of us.” I peeled the knit cap off Luca's head. “Put this on quick, and hide your hair.” I threw the cap to him and he pulled it on, tucking up his pale mane. Dante was bigger than Luca, but hopefully Taj and Ortiz wouldn't notice that until it was too late.