Endgame (Last Chance Series) (8 page)

"Just because I work as a profiler doesn't mean I'm not a
real
FBI agent, Mr. Roarke." She stood up and adjusted her clothing, wishing him to hell and back.

"I thought we'd moved beyond the formality of last names, Madison." He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture amazingly intimate.

She stepped back, struggling to keep her expression neutral. "I don't know anything of the sort. To date, you've insulted me, my profession, my godfather, my apartment..." She trailed off, realizing her voice was rising with each pronouncement.

Gabriel held up his hands. "I call it like I see it
. Sometimes being direct is the best way to cut through all the bullshit."

"By insulting me."

He narrowed his eyes, as if considering his response, then smiled at her, the gesture again disarming. "I think that had more to do with chemistry."

She didn't have an answer. Couldn't even think straight
, truth be told. This man had a way of unnerving her like no one she'd ever met. One moment threatening, the next taunting, and the next well—sexy as hell.

Shit
.

She drew in a breath and pasted on a sweet social smile. The kind she reserved for boring old le
eches. "All right then,
Gabriel
, what do you say we start over?" No way in hell was she letting him come out on top. If he could be disarming, so could she. "You said you wanted to know me better. What exactly would you like to know?"

He frowned, obviously not expecting Pollyanna, and she mentally gave herself the point
. Sitting on the arm of the sofa, she reached for her wineglass and took a sip, waiting. But she had underestimated her opponent.

With the hint of a smile, he, too, sat down, crossing one leg over the other, equally prepared to wait her out
. Their gazes met and held, neither wanting to be the first to break the silence. It would have been funny, except for the tension stretching between them, an energy that hummed through her with surprising intensity.

"What say I save you the questions and just fill in the details?" she asked finally, certain if she didn't speak they'd be sitting there until they were old and gray. A prospect she didn't relish for any number of reasons.

"Fine." He nodded, his scowl firmly back in place.

"Okay, here it is." She leaned forward slightly, and sucked in a breath. "My father is Philip Merrick. And his best friend is Cullen Pulaski. And as is custom, when I was born, my father asked Cullen to be my godfather. In the real, bona fide, stand-up-in-church-and-say-so kind of way. There is no other relationship between
the two of us. None at all. He asked me to be on the task force because I have expertise that he believes will be useful."

Gabriel opened his mouth to respond, but she held a hand up to stop him.

"As to my career. I graduated magna cum laude from Vassar, then attended Harvard Law to please my father. Upon graduating,
with honors
, I went to work for the FBI—for exactly the opposite reason. After finishing my training, I worked for three years as a special agent, received two awards of distinction, and then transferred to the Investigative Support Unit, where, to date, I have played a major role in bringing fifteen serial killers to justice. Without my profiles, these men would have continued to prey upon innocent victims. And while I don't mean to blow my own horn,
Gabriel
, I believe you'll find that I'm at the top of my game."

"Nice to know there's something beneath the window dressing." He dismissed her tirade as simply as that, and she bit her tongue to keep from lashing out at him again. There was simply no winning with Gabriel Roarke, and letting him goad her into revealing more of herself was certainly not a strategic move.

"More than you'll ever know." She bit the words out, knowing she sounded like a petulant child.

"We'll just have to see about that." His gaze caught hers, pinning her like a butterfly on linen, and her heart fluttered in protest. Slowly he leaned forward until his breath caressed her cheek. She knew she should move. Ge
t up off the sofa. But she didn't. Instead she shivered in anticipation.

And then the phone rang, the shrill sound like ice water in the face.

She pulled back, almost falling off the sofa in the process. Fumbling for the phone, she listened to the other end, holding on to the connection like a lifeline. Then working to control her trembling hand, she put the receiver back in the cradle.

"That was Harrison," she said, still struggling for composure. "There's a problem with the computers."

"What kind of problem?" He was instantly alert, his voice disturbingly normal.

"The disk array has been wiped."

"Sabotage." It wasn't a question, but she answered anyway.

"He thinks so." She drew in a breath, feeling calmer, her thoughts on the problem at hand. "Cullen's with him. And they want us there as soon as possible."

"All right then, let's go." He stood up, closing the space between them, reaching out to trace the line of her lower lip. "But make no mistake, Madison, we're not finished here."

"HOW BAD IS IT?" Gabe asked, striding into the room, Madison at his side.

"Nothing's retrievable. It's been wiped clean." Harrison swiveled his chair to face them. "Everything was backed up, of course. But it'll take time to get it all running again."

"Is it just our system? Or Cullen's, as well?" Gabe asked, trying to assimilate the consequences of the crash.

"Cullen's was hit
, but not to the same extent." Harrison shot a glance at the man who was standing in the corner, talking on the phone. "With his people working on it, he should be back up by morning."

"Thank goodness we've got you here to work on ours," Madison said, moving to stand behind Harrison as he resumed working at the computer.

Gabe fought a surge of irritation. She'd hardly spoken to him since they'd left her apartment, and here she was practically fawning over Harrison. He shook his head, dismissing the thought. What the hell did he care who she shacked up with? "What caused the crash?"

"It wasn't a crash. At least not in the sense of mechanical failure." Harrison pulled up a diagnostics screen. "This was definitely sabotage. A virus, maybe. I don't know. After I restore the system, I can run more detailed diagnostics."

"You think it was a prank?" Madison asked, leaning over for a better look at the screen.

"No way." Harrison shook his head. "We've got a firewall, a secure Internet connection and about a dozen other security measures. If someone got into the system
, it's because they wanted to."

"But if it was intentional, why didn't it do more damage? You've already said everything was backed up. Surely a hacker would be aware of that fact." Gabe was far from an expert at computers, but this seemed a blinding glimpse of the obvious.

"That's exactly the question I've been asking." Cullen walked over to the computer bank. "If they were trying to destroy my system, why attack you? And if they were after your system, why didn't they do a better job?"

Madison shrugged. "Maybe they were just inept."

"No way." Harrison shook his head, underscoring his words. "This was deliberate. If they knew enough to get in, they knew enough to do more damage."

"So what was the point? To send a message?" Gabe couldn't contain his growl. It had been a hell of a day.

"No." Madison turned to face him, her brows drawn together in thought. "They wanted to cover something up."

"That doesn't—"

"Think about it," she said, cutting him off. "They wiped our system clean. And hit parts of Cullen's, as well. But didn't do any lasting damage. All that's lost is the record of activity after the backup."

"Which I did before I left for the night," Harrison said. "But I'm still not with you."

"Okay. Think about an intentional crime. I'm talking about something planned. Like a murder or a robbery."

Gabe watched as Harrison and Cullen considered her words. He wasn't sure
exactly where she was going, but he was definitely interested in seeing how she presented her case.

"What's the last thing the
unsub would do? After completing his objective?" Her gaze encompassed them all, waiting, and Gabe fought against the urge to answer, to win her approval, knowing he was just caught up in the moment. He needed Madison Harper's approval like he needed another assignment in Iraq.

"I get it." Harrison said, his enthusiasm rising. "He wipes the room down. Gets rid of any evidence
that he's been there at all."

"Exactly." Madison beamed, her attention still on Harrison.

"And that's what our perpetrator did," Cullen said. "He hacked into the system, then covered his tracks."

"Seems a big leap to me," Gabe said, watching as Madison's smile turned to a scowl.

"I think it makes a lot of sense, actually." Harrison was quick to jump to Madison's defense. "When you access a computer—any computer—you leave a trail. Sometimes it's really obscure. But it's there. And if a programmer knows where to look, he can find it."

"But if the system has been erased, there's nothing to find." Cullen, too, was obviously on Madison's side.

"All right," Gabe said, his tone grudging. "I'll admit the idea has merit. But in order for it to have value, we need to find out what he was after."

"That's going to be a bit trickier." Harrison turned back to the computer. "Once I've restored the system, all traces of the failure will be eliminated. I've run almost all the diagnostics I can without rebooting. So it's sort of a rock and a hard place."

"What about tackling it from Cullen's end?" Madison had moved over to look at the computer screen. "You said they had damage, as well. But his system wasn't wiped clean, right? Maybe you can work backward from there."

Gabe had to admit it was sound thinking. "Is that possible?"

"It might work." Harrison frowned, obviously considering the idea. "A lot of it depends on if they actually accessed Cullen's computer or if the failure there was merely a proximity problem. Our servers are linked by necessity."

"You certainly have my authorization to have a look. Anything we can do to find out what's going on. If an unauthorized access was made to either computer I want to know about it
." Cullen's expression was grim. "Could the problem have generated from my computer system?"

Harrison shook his head. "Based on what I'm seeing I'd say it definitely started with us."

"Which leaves some really big questions. Not that many people know we're here, right?" Gabe asked.

"I haven't broadcast it, if that's what you mean." Cullen shrugged. "But I haven't kept it a secret, either. I thought your presence might actually act as a deterrent
. So I imagine most of the employees here are aware of your existence. And of course, the consortium members know."

"So we're talking at least a couple hundred people." Madison sighed. "Which means finding the culprit will be next to impossible."

"At the moment, I'm more interested in what they wanted." Gabe walked over to Harrison. "I want you to see if you can use Cullen's system to back in to the information. We need to get someone over here to check for physical evidence. Although I suspect it's been destroyed." He glanced down at the keyboard.

Harrison winced. "Sorry. I should have thought about that. I was just so shocked to find the system failure."

"It's totally understandable," Gabe said. "I'd have probably reacted the same way. Still, it's worth checking out. I'll put a call in to Nigel."

"I already contacted him." Madison's gaze held just a hint of one-upmanship, and despite himself, he smiled. "He's on the way."

Yeah, he'd definitely underestimated her. But the jury was still out on whether that was a good or a bad thing.

*****

"YOU'RE WIRED tighter than the Energizer Bunny. Something else going on?" Harrison asked, his keen eyes seeing far more than Madison wanted him to.

They were sitting in the Marriott's bar. Harrison had gone as far as he could with Cullen's computer system, the rest would have to wait until morning. She hadn't wanted to go back to her apartment and hadn't been up to staying at the scene. Besides, her expertise was putting together who from what, so she was better off letting the others work on the
what
.

"
Just three murders, a hacked computer, and an apparent conspiracy with the potential to affect all international trade as we know it. Not to mention Cullen's involvement. I don't like the idea that he might be a target."

"How about your dad? He have any dealings with th
is consortium?"

Madison shook her head. "He's not interested in China. Not until they're more technologically advanced, anyway. I think the truth is that he doesn't want the political ramifications. His bread is buttered on the other side."

"Frankly, I don't see how you keep up without a scorecard."

She allowed herself a smile. "I've had lots of practice."

They sat for the moment, letting the sound of the bar wash over them, happy conventioneers whose only care was which seminar to attend in the morning.

"Have you formed any impressions about who might be behind all of this?"

"Isn't that the question of the hour?" Madison sighed, and took a sip of wine. "The first two deaths point to someone with experience and contacts. Either someone in the medical field, or a pro. And based on the way things went down with Bingham Smith, I'd lean toward assassin. But the fire is another thing entirely. Really messy. Hit the man, then burn the evidence."

"Seems logical to me."

"In a situation where the murder was unplanned, or unintentional maybe. But if we're to believe it was planned, then it doesn't follow. The fire didn't destroy the evidence. Granted, the first M.E. missed the details, but Tracy didn't."

"She didn't miss the potassium chloride, either. So does that count as a mistake?"

"No. A pro. He doesn't care if the method is discovered as long as it doesn't point to him. Ultimately, he just wants the man dead—preferably with as little fanfare as possible. That's the problem with all three murders really. If it was terrorists, why not a more dramatic attack? Something to really hit the news and make waves. Surely that would be the best way to guarantee the accord failed."

"Maybe not." Gabriel's baritone filtered down from above her, and she looked up to meet his glacial stare. "Mind if I join you?"

Yes
came to mind, but it probably wouldn't stop him, so she resisted the urge to voice it. Instead she waved at the empty chair next to Harrison, but he ignored it and sat beside her, his thigh grazing hers in the process. She waited for him to move it, but he didn't, instead leaning back, the movement pressing him closer. With a feigned sigh, she shifted her chair away from him.

Gabriel lifted an eyebrow in amusement, but stayed put, signaling a passing waitress and ordering a whiskey on the rocks. "You were saying that the obvious ploy for a terrorist is to make a splash."

"And you, as usual, were disagreeing." She hadn't meant to snap, but the man was trying, to say the least.

Harrison's
lips quivered as he tried to contain a laugh.

"The problem with your logic is that there is more than one kind of terrorist." Gabriel went on as if they were having a normal conversation. "The first is the kind you referenced. They're in it for the impact. And publicity only helps that. They jump at the opportunity to claim responsibility."

He paused to pay for his drink, then continued. "But some terrorists are more like soldiers. Attacking an enemy using less-than-acceptable means to achieve their goals."

"How does that differ from Delta Force, or black ops?" Madison voiced the question before she thought about how it sounded. Or maybe some part of her had asked it on purpose, wanting to goad him the same way he did her.

"It doesn't, really." He shrugged, ignoring her barb. "It's all a matter of perspective. If someone is fighting for your interests you're much less likely to question their methods or label them. If it's the enemy, then…"

"Surely there's a difference between someone righteously striking an enemy even under clandestine circumstances, and someone who randomly blows away innocents." Harrison leaned forward, interested.

"Morally, there is definitely a difference. But righteousness is in the eye of the beholder. And in either case the attackers could be termed terrorists."

"While I appreciate the lesson, I don't see how it applies here." She still sounded snippy and hated herself for it. She'd always prided herself on her self-control. "We're not talking about either flagrant attacks, or anything remotely righteous. In fact, if I had to call it, I'd say that greed was the most likely motivation."

"Bigger crimes than this have been committed for less." Gabriel shrugged. "The point is that even with the lack of splash, this could still be considered terrorism. If some entity is determined to stop the accord, and killing the consortium's key members to do it, then the methodology doesn't matter. They're still considered acts of terror. Especially in today's political climate."

Madison nodded, not really listening to his argument, a new thought having occurred to her. "Has anyone thought to check the Chinese delegation? Maybe they're having the same kind of problem."

"One step ahead of you." His smile was smug, or maybe it was just a trick of the shadows. "Payton did some checking before he left China. He knows Beijing and he's familiar with most of the players on that end."

"I suppose there's no point in asking why he knows so much about them?" Harrison queried, idly turning his beer glass with his fingers.

"None at all." Gabriel grimaced. "And believe me, I tried. But according to his intel, none of the Chinese involved have died from natural causes or otherwise."

"So whatever is happening here, it's targeted at the American side of things." Madison took another sip of wine, her mind turning over all that they knew, trying to assemble pieces into a recognizable whole. "At least that limits the investigation."

"But it still leaves us with a lot to prove. Although it goes a long way, three of six doesn't establish conspiracy." Gabriel's icy gaze encompassed them both.