Line Of Sight Part 19

"You called, yes?"

"I'm not even sure she heard me. We had a bad connection."

"The two of you? No such thing." His mother dismissed the subject and went back to her newspaper, crossing her legs and dangling a jeweled slipper from one red-nailed big toe. "Do you want me to tell you what I see?"

"No!" Stefan sat up, sucked down the rest of the gin and tonic, and stood up. He was already heading for the stairs, unb.u.t.toning his shirt, when he heard his mother's chuckle. She loved doing that to him, he knew. And he fell for it, every single time. She wouldn't have told him anything. He wasn't absolutely sure that she actually knew.

But just the possibility of it was enough to get him moving, as she'd no doubt planned.

Stefan always kept a few things at home in the closet of the room he'd once shared with Angelo-shirts, pants, a couple of battered pairs of shoes that had seen their best days, even for a street-addicted wanderer. He stripped completely, had a two-minute shower-his specialty, which had always made him a favorite in a house of people who seemed to take hours to wash their hands-and slipped into an ancient pair of blue jeans, comfortably threadbare, with a gray T-shirt. He left his feet bare, thinking, I'm not going anywhere. He had no doubt that Katie would categorically refuse to be seen anywhere with him. He couldn't blame her, not really. She had a reputation and a career to protect.

He was leaning on the bathroom counter, staring at his bloodshot eyes in the mirror and wondering what to say to her when the doorbell rang downstairs. A sigh worked its way up from deep inside him. As always, Mom was right.

Stefan took his time coming downstairs, and stopped four steps into his descent because he could see Katie standing in the entry hall. She looked...different. No longer exhausted, no longer beaten, the way she'd seemed at the warehouse.

Most importantly, no longer angry.

She was talking with Dad, and smiling at him-not just the strained, polite smile she'd shown before, but something real.

And then, as if she'd felt his eyes on her, she looked up, and the smile was for him.

"Careful," Stefan said. "I might think you still like me."

"Come here," Katie said and held out her hand. He padded down the steps, never taking his gaze from hers, and came right into her s.p.a.ce, close enough to feel her warmth. Their fingers tangled together, warm and sweet, and he leaned forward to place a kiss just so, at the sensitive juncture of her ear and her neck.

"I thought you hated me," he murmured.

"I do," she murmured back, but there was a catch in her voice, a breathless thrill that roused something dangerous inside him. "But you called me, remember?"

"Oh, get a room," Stefan's dad said, but he was smiling, and his eyes were kind. "I was just telling Katie that you've been resting most of the day, but there was this vision-"

"Dad. I can tell it myself." Stefan sighed. His dad held up his hands in surrender and went into the kitchen. Mom had already gone there, but then she always knew the right move. Part of her gift.

Which left him, and Katie. Up close, she looked worn and tired, and badly in need of a shower; he thought she was the most lovely thing he'd ever seen, and thought about telling her so.

Instead, he told her about his vision.

"Teal reached out," he said, settling Katie on the sofa and fetching her the extra gin and tonic his mother had conveniently mixed and left on the counter. "I think that last time we were in contact, she learned something about how and when to send information. She definitely wasn't overwhelming this time, and she communicated a lot in a very short burst. She isn't on the ship anymore. I don't know how that happened, but-"

"Seaplane," Katie said. "But more significantly, somebody with access took down the surveillance long enough for the plane to land, board the girls and take off without being detected. And that means somebody at high levels inside of the FBI, or another government organization with access. That's why I came, Stefan. The game's rigged. The FBI isn't going to find these kids because key people have been bought, or suborned in some way, and there's no way I can prove it in a court of law. Even if I could, it wouldn't help get Teal and Lena back safely. G.o.d, I hate this. Every time we get close, some other evil surprise pops out, and it's worse than the last. Bad enough when they had somebody inside the Academy, but then the cops, and now the FBI..." Katie shook her head and sc.r.a.ped her hair back from her weary face. "There's got to be a way."

"Maybe there is," Stefan said. "That's why I called. I think from the level of control Teal had this last time that I can stay with her and still relay information to you, too. It's a real breakthrough."

Katie blinked, clearly surprised. "But-you're sure? I don't want you to risk-"

"I think Teal realized she was hurting me. She backed off the power, and we've got a clear lock now. It's like a door, I can open it when I need to. If you want me to." He searched her face, fascinated by the colors sparking in her eyes, the sweetness hiding in the corners of her smile. "Do you? Want me?"

"Yes," she said. "I want."

He'd drawn closer to her, somehow, although it hadn't been a conscious decision, and now their lips were touching, a ghost kiss, teasing and torturous. "Want," he repeated. "You mean, you want me for my information."

"Yes," Katie murmured, so quietly it was more of a tremor of her lips than a word. "Maybe not...exclusively for the information."

He let himself off the leash, just a bit, and the kiss deepened and sweetened. Her lips felt ripe and damp under his, and he couldn't believe that he'd ever thought about letting her walk away from him.

"Teal's plane," he said, and kissed his way down the side of her neck, paying special attention to every place that made her shiver. "It's still in the air."

"Meaning?" Her hands were in his hair now, combing through curls, and it felt so unbelievably good. She slid her palm around the back of his neck, that special, gentle caress he remembered from the car, when he'd been so lost and alone.

"Meaning that we have some time before she can tell us anything more. She's looking at cloud cover."

"Ah," Katie breathed. "Cloud cover. Ah!" That last was more of a gasp, and he grinned against the soft skin of her neck and continued to explore. "Wait. Wait. Stefan-your parents-"

Oh, ouch. Cold water. He pulled back, remembering where he was...on Dad's favorite couch, with Mom's patented G and Ts frosting on the coffee table in front of them. Parents fifteen feet away, in the kitchen. Or maybe spying even closer.

"Upstairs," he said.

Katie clung to some last shred of professional dignity. "Just until you get more intel about the plane," she said. "Then I have to go."

"I won't stop you," he said.

"Good," she said, and gripped his hand tightly, pulling him to his feet. "Then let's see what's upstairs. If there's a shower, I'm yours."

Stefan brushed his lips by her ear. "You're mine anyway, Katie."

She smiled. "We'll see."

Katie was drifting off to sleep, cradling warm and clean and tingling against the smooth warm skin of Stefan's bare chest. He stroked his fingers up and down her spine, and if she hadn't believed he was a magician before, that light, constant caress convinced her. Only magic could possibly feel that good.

She was so closely tuned to him that when his fingers stuttered, hesitated and then resumed their rhythm, she opened her eyes and said, "Teal?"

Stefan nodded. "Her plane's landing." Silence. She sat up slowly, watching him, and got out of bed to put on her bra and panties. Stefan had ransacked the family's storage to find some clothes left by-he said-a female cousin; Katie generously overflowed the bra, but the blue jeans were almost a perfect fit. One of Stefan's silk shirts completed her change. She b.u.t.toned it quickly, watching him as he lay quietly, staring up at the ceiling. There was a difference now in the visions, no question about it; he was still drifting, but it was a controlled drift, not a tornado pulling him apart.

He blinked, put his arm behind his head, and focused on her. "You're already dressed. Disappointing."

"Where are they?"

"What are you going to do, Katie? Go off on your own? Alone?"

"That's what I have to do," she said. "Not as an FBI agent. As a private citizen. You tell me what you know, and I'll take it from there."

He looked thoughtful, and then he said, "No."

She stopped in the act of tucking in his shirt. "What?"

"I said no," he repeated and sat up. He began to dress while he talked. "You're not going alone, Katie, and that's not even up for discussion. You'll need me along, and apart from that, you're going to need to access FBI files for me, so I need you, too."

She didn't answer. He pulled on his jeans and T-shirt, retrieved a battered pair of running shoes and socks from beneath the bed.

"You're not asking why," he said.

"Because I'm afraid you're going to say something that I'll regret." Don't break my heart, Stefan. Not now, not after you made me feel so much.

He finished with his shoes and sat, hands dangling limply between his knees. Not looking at her. "They're in Colombia," he said. "I got a good look at some of the men who came to look the girls over. I can identify them for you, if the FBI has pictures. So you need to show me the files."

She sank down on the bed beside him, trying to get a good look at his face. "Is she-are they all right?"

"Yes." He sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands. "Every time I think they're not, somebody backs off, or gets backed off. I think these girls are important. Too important to risk damaging. At least, somebody thinks so. That's all that's keeping them safe, Katie. If they find out differently..."

If they found out differently, he'd be trapped in Teal's visions, unable to escape. Like before. Living a nightmare of an especially horrible kind.

She put the back of her hand against his beard-rough cheek. "Colombia," she said. "I'd better check flights."

This time, Stefan looked up. "You won't have to," he said. "Mom will let us borrow the plane."

She frankly laughed in shock. "The plane? Stefan, we can't take some Cessna to-"

"It's a Learjet," he said. "Gift from a grateful client. Not in our name, it's leased through a blind corporation, so it can't be traced back to the family. We only use it about twice a year, but it's always available. Now, do you want to show me some photographs? Because Colombia's a big country, and it'd be nice to know exactly where we were going before I tell the pilot."

He wasn't wrong, but there was no way she could waltz Stefan into the FBI field office and log on to the system; remote access was out of the question, too, considering just how angry her bosses were likely to be when this was over. Instead, Katie commandeered the broadband connection upstairs and logged into AA.gov, and sent a coded instant message to Allison Gracelyn. Allison was at her desk, as always; a few exchanges, and windows began opening on Katie's desktop. The NSA, Allison's playground, had access to just about anything it wanted, on any system that counted, including the FBI's files. Katie pulled up the Colombian files, which were-of course-dominated by drug cartels. She began paging through photographs, working quickly, as Stefan pulled up a chair next to her. Nothing in the Cali cartel files sparked recognition from him. She moved on to the Medellin files, but again, nothing.

The instant she pulled up the first page of the Tumaco photographs, Stefan grabbed her arm. "Him," he said and nodded at the man on the screen.

"Juan Mercado Tulio. You're sure you saw him? Teal saw him?"

"Definitely."

Mercado was middle-aged, fit, with the hard look and shallow, sharklike eyes necessary to his profession. Katie was only vaguely familiar with him, but she scanned his file quickly for the high points. "He's one of the top three narcotic kingpins in Colombia," she said. "His organization's almost as ruthless and widespread as the Cali cartel, but more focused. He's been implicated in a lot of deaths, including DEA agents, judges, prosecutors-you name it. She rubbed her forehead, thinking. "He's the reason Timmons Kent was involved, and why Kent put his network and contacts at risk. What Mercado wants, he gets."

"And he wants the girls. Why?"

"I honestly have no idea."

"Because they're like you?" Stefan asked. "Teal's got one of the strongest psychic abilities I've ever seen. I don't know about Lena, but these kids are exceptional, and somebody knows it. Somebody wants it."

"Mercado? Doesn't track. If he wants something, he just buys it. This feels like some kind of strong-arm pressure to me. Mercado had to step out into the limelight to bring this off, and that is not his style. I think someone else is pulling his strings."

"Which means maybe the girls won't be there for long," Stefan said. "Maybe it's just another way station..."

His eyes went blank again, this time for longer than before. When he came back, he bowed his head for a moment. His voice sounded unsteady.

"The other guy," he said. "Keep looking. I want this guy's name."

Katie paged down through the file until Stefan made a sound-not an affirmation, more of a low, vicious growl. She looked at him in surprise, but he was staring at the screen. She hadn't thought she'd ever seen that look on his face, but in that moment, she realized that Stefan Blackman, one of the gentlest men she'd ever met, was also capable of violence. Cold, calculated violence, and it was directed at Rudolpho Mercado Ruiz.

"Juan Mercado's son," she said. "He's only twenty-five, but he's making a name for himself as a total b.a.s.t.a.r.d. His father's grooming him as his heir, but Rudolpho is unpredictable."

"Steroids will do that," Stefan said. G.o.d, he sounded cold now, cold and hard and genuinely chilling. "Turn little paranoid men into big, paranoid men with muscles."

In the photograph, Rudolpho Mercado looked frightening enough.... Big, overbuilt, with a clear vicious light in his eyes.

"What did you see?" Katie asked.

"Teal saw," Stefan said flatly. "He wanted to make a point to the girls that he wasn't going to put up with any c.r.a.p. So he dragged one of the servants out of the kitchen and beat her. I don't know if she's dead. They took her away."

"Oh Christ," Katie whispered. "I'm sorry."

Stefan continued to stare at the photograph. "Katie. I know it's crazy, but what if there's a way to get to the girls? To at least try?"

"In the middle of a drug lord's compound? There isn't a way. There wouldn't be a way if we had the Army Rangers parachuting in at our backs."

"Trust me," Stefan said. "I think there might be. What do you know about tigers?"

It was a two-part self-working trick, driven less by any difficult stage magic than simple gullibility; Stefan had worked with the cage before, but not often, because he preferred up-close magic to stage. But in his early days, when he'd thought every magician needed to put on a David Copperfield show, he'd invested in some elaborate set pieces, including a pretty fair lady-and-tiger.

And he still had it, in the barn, under the tarps next to the s.p.a.ce where Angelo's Jaguar should have been parked.

"I don't understand," Katie said, frowning, as he pulled the canvas down to reveal the plain-looking iron-barred cage. "It's a cage. So?"

"You're looking in the wrong place," Stefan said and pointed. Of course, she looked, and the second she looked, he stepped behind the illusion, and when she turned her head back, he was...gone.

He walked out from the other side of the cage, circled behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. She whirled, mouth opening in astonishment.

"It's not just a cage," he said. "It's a way to get Teal and Lena out. Trust me. I can make people disappear. I do it for a living."

"But-" Katie was struggling to get her head around things. "What kind of excuse is there to get this cage into their compound?"

"Simple. You didn't read the file?"

"I skimmed it!"

He smiled. "Juan Mercado Tulio likes to collect exotic animals. He especially likes tigers. And this cage was built for a tiger illusion, so it's exactly like the best transportation cages ever made, unless you know where to look. And the job of an illusionist is to make sure you don't know where to look." Stefan raised his left hand, shot his cuff back and wiggled his fingers. When he was sure she was looking there, he performed a little sleight of hand, palming and then displaying the key to the cage in his right. "Mercado's bringing in a new tiger tomorrow. It was in the FBI file. Nothing more natural than bringing in a backup cage, too. All we have to do is get it close and park it near the compound, close to an exit. You go in, get the girls, get them out the gate, and I hide them in plain sight."

"That's crazy!" Katie blurted. She looked scandalized. And maybe a little intrigued.

"That's show business. It beats bringing in squads of guys with automatic weapons and staging a pitched battle." He snapped a queen of hearts out of the air and handed it to her. "Come on. You love me right now, don't you?"

He strongly suspected she would have, graphically, if they hadn't been in a hurry.

Chapter 13.

I t took surprisingly little time to organize things; Katie was used to bureaucracy, where requisitioning a paper clip took two weeks. Stefan had a cartage firm at the hacienda in an hour, the plane fueled and ready in two, and they were wheels up before midnight. It was about an eight-hour flight, and she was surprised to find that although she usually found flying confining, the Learjet felt...restful. Maybe it was that she spent the hours curled next to Stefan, planning and drilling until they fell asleep with the folders spread open between them.