Vendetta Page 8

  It would have been an odd thing for anyone else to say but came perfectly natural from Brandon. She found herself grateful, and that also seemed unexpectedly commonplace. Which just showed how far their relationship had come in these hours.

  But she was too tired and wounded to decipher the nuances of those changes right now. She kept her head averted as she headed slowly toward the door he’d indicated. The tears were running down her cheeks, and she could barely see. She hoped that area belowdecks was small and cave-like, where she could hide like the animal in pain she felt like right now.

  How could she have known that out of all that agony and bitterness, the love would still remain …

  * * *

  The first gray light of dawn was just lightening the sky when Rachel came up the steps again.

  Brandon’s gaze was searching as she came on deck. “Better?”

  “Not good. Better.” She handed him a cup of coffee. “It’s black. I didn’t know how you took it. Though if you lived at all those places on the African coast, I figured black was pretty safe.” She sat down on the seat and cradled her own cup in her two hands. Hold on tight to the cup, she told herself. It was warm against her skin and would keep him from seeing that she was still trembling in spite of those hours she’d spent away from him. “The coffee I had in Morocco was so strong it almost curled my hair.”

  “I prefer your hair straight, but black is fine.” He sipped the coffee. “We’re not that far from Trinidad. Not more than an hour.”

  She nodded. “I thought that we might be close. That’s why I came up.” She swallowed hard. “You didn’t take me on this cruise to bond with me or tell me my father was dead. Though you did both very well. But I think maybe you might also be aiming at providing the atmosphere that you’d always found comforting to let me know what to expect.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know what to expect. We’ll have to find out. But I thought it would be fair to fill you in on what I know so far.”

  “Start with my father,” she said bluntly. “Start with Venable. You said he was shot in the chest.” She had to stop a moment at that image. “Who … did it?”

  “I think it was one of Max Huber’s snipers. I got a call from Venable that said he was in the woods near Huber’s compound on the Canadian border. He’d gotten close and was being stalked by one of Huber’s sentries. Nate and I were nearby, but not close enough to get to the property in time. He was already dying when we reached the cabin where he’d found shelter after he was shot.”

  “Max Huber.” It was what she had expected. He had always been the nightmare shadow over her father’s life. The monster he had obsessed about for years and never been able to touch. “And why did he think he could get near that compound? Surely it was too well guarded for him to target Huber there. Huber has several compounds in Canada and the Northwest, and he moves from one to the other so that no one will know where he is at any given time.”

  He gazed at her speculatively. “You know a good deal about Huber.”

  “Not really. Only in a general way. But there were reasons why my father kept me in the loop. Though I never asked him to do it.”

  He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. “He wasn’t actually targeting Huber. He was supposed to meet an informant there who had told him that Huber was planning a megabig job on the West Coast. He was hinting about maybe a nuclear explosion that would make 9/11 look like a pipe bomb.”

  “Informant? Do you have a name?”

  He shook his head. “And neither did Venable. Code name Nemesis. He hoped to get one during this meeting. Venable wanted to meet him someplace else, but he wouldn’t accept any other contact than Venable or any other location.”

  “A trap?”

  “Venable didn’t think so. He thought it could be a legitimate chance to get the info we needed.”

  “But now he’s dead,” she said dully.

  “Because he insisted on going himself. Two weeks ago, we had chatter that Huber had put out a million-dollar contract on Venable. It came out of the blue. Venable was always a threat and problem for Huber and Red Star, but the bastard didn’t think it was smart to target someone that important in the CIA. But all of a sudden that philosophy changed.” He paused. “I told Venable he was a fool to risk it, that they’d go after him like a pack of wolves for that kind of money. If he waited, there was a chance that Huber might decide the heat he’d take wouldn’t be worth it.”

  “But he paid no attention to you.” She looked down into the coffee in her cup. “He knew you were wrong.”

  “That’s what he told me,” he said quietly. “He said that Huber would consider risking anything to kill him now that he must know what had happened.” He paused again. “That it was a question of vendetta.”

  She nodded jerkily. “Then he shouldn’t have let Huber find out. He should have been more careful. All these years he was safe, then he let his guard slip.”

  “He said that he hadn’t made any mistakes. He didn’t know how Huber knew that he was the one.” His lips tightened. “Vendetta. Revenge. And you know exactly what happened, don’t you? Would you care to share it with me? Venable was very cagey up to the very end. He told me only what he had to tell me to get me to do what he wanted. Perhaps he was trying to protect you.” He lifted his cup to her. “But one thing he told me was that if anything happened to him, I should use it to go after Huber. And to get to you right away and protect you because he wasn’t the only one that Huber would be targeting.”

  “No, my father said no one would ever know about me, but I knew that someday I’d have to—” She broke off and said wearily, “Every action has consequences. This is no different.” That wasn’t true. It was different because those consequences had brought down her father. “But you did what you promised him. You kept me alive. And I owe you for more than that.” She raised her cup to her lips. “Share with you? Why not? What do you want to know, Brandon?”

  “Vendetta. I believe I know the victim, but I’d like it confirmed.”

  “Max Huber’s father, Conrad Huber,” she said curtly. “He was the powerhouse behind Red Star for the last twenty-five years. He had the brains and the influence and drive that kept it going. His son, Max, was just a shadow figure in comparison. No one could touch him. It was like chasing Bin Laden. Every time there was a terrorist episode with maximum fatalities, it was laid at Conrad’s door. My father was obsessed with catching him. But Conrad was very smart, and it went on for almost a decade before my father decided that he had to get rid of him. He thought that if Conrad wasn’t at the helm of Red Star, there was a good chance that it might fall apart.” She added, “So he made it happen. Assassination. But no snipers or drone attacks. He managed to do it in such a way that the death appeared natural, so that it wouldn’t cause the organization to go on an immediate terror and killing spree.”

  “But it didn’t work, did it? Max Huber stepped up to the plate and was almost more of a murdering scum than his father.”

  “No, it didn’t work.” Her hand tightened on her cup. “But no one suspected Conrad was murdered, so my father had a chance to work on getting rid of his son.”

  “Until Max learned it was Venable who authorized the hit.”

  She nodded. “Four years,” she said in frustration. “My father had four years to get rid of Max Huber and Red Star. Why would Huber have found out what happened now?”

  “An informant? Sloppy evidence surfacing?”

  “My father told me that no one knew. And there was nothing sloppy about Conrad Huber’s death.”

  His brows rose. “You say that with great conviction. Would you care to elaborate?”

  “No.” She met his eyes. “Other than to admit what you must have already figured out. I was the one responsible for assassinating Conrad Huber. Yes, my father was the guiding hand, but in the end, I was the one who did it.”

  He nodded slowly. “It was the natural conclusion from what you’ve told me. I’ve been biting my ton
gue to keep from asking all the usual questions. Though it’s not like me to be that sensitive. But you told me you had trouble with violence. So I’m finding it hard to accept.”

  “So did I. But it’s true, and there’s no way I can deny it. So Max Huber will definitely be on the hunt for me. Because on that day in Hong Kong four years ago, I was responsible for killing his monster of a father.” She smiled bitterly, “And that’s all you’re going to get from me on that subject at present. That’s all you need to know. It’s not a pleasant memory, and I’m already being bombarded with painful memories about my father.” Her lips twisted. “Not that Huber hasn’t been hunting busily already. I probably won’t be able to attend the two funerals for my friends that he’s orchestrated.” She looked out at the ocean. “Do you know I don’t even know what Max Huber looks like? I didn’t want to know. Not him, nor his father, nor anyone else connected to that day.”

  “Well, you will know him.” His voice was grim as he took out his phone. “I’m texting you his photo right now. The man with him is Adolf Kraus, who was Conrad’s chief supervisor and advisor. There’s not going to be any more hiding your head in the sand. It’s a good way to get it chopped off.”

  “I realize that. It was just that I wanted to forget it. I didn’t want it to be part of who I am. I suppose I thought if I ignored it, I could concentrate on saving lives not taking them. It’s what I’d been working toward since I was fifteen.” She looked down at the photo. The man who must be Huber was thirtysomething, light blond crew cut, gray eyes, fair skin, and thick lips. He appeared taller than usual and was dressed in a khaki shirt and black jeans. Kraus, the man with him, was in his early fifties, heavyset, dark-haired with a bold hooked nose and gray-streaked brows. “I’ll know them both now.” She looked up at him. “And judging by the way my photo was being shown around that rain forest, Huber knows me. Which means he knows the entire story of his father’s death. So how did he find out? When my father swore he hadn’t told anyone.”

  “There are always leaks. Maybe it came from you. Who did you talk to about it?”

  “No one. Just Hu Chang.”

  “There you are. It must have been Hu Chang.”

  “No,” she said fiercely. “He would never have told anyone. Never.”

  “Perhaps not intentionally.”

  “Don’t be stupid. Hu Chang never does anything without fully intending to do it.”

  “Then we’re back to square one.”

  “No we’re not. Hu Chang would know it would hurt me, and he would never do that. So stop talking about it.”

  “Easy.” He held up his hand. “No offense. Remember, I don’t know your Hu Chang as well as you do. I’m operating on logic and reason, not pure faith. You seem to be more willing to think Venable would talk than Hu Chang.”

  “Not willing, but your logic would be more accurate if you thought that as well. My father also had his agendas, and they tended to change as his situation changed. He was willing to adjust his needs to accommodate the general good. That’s what made him an effective CIA agent.” She shrugged. “Hu Chang wouldn’t do that. He’d set his course, then find a way to get exactly what he wanted. Though sometimes in a very convoluted fashion.”

  “Even though Venable promised you he would tell no one?”

  She met his eyes. “Even then. How well did you know my father?”

  “Not that well. We were allies. We worked together in the past year to take down two of Huber’s cells in the Northwest. I spread money and manpower, and Venable had contacts and spy satellites. He knew I’d do anything to destroy Huber’s entire organization. I knew the same about him. I thought he was a fine operative and more honest than some I’d run across.”

  She nodded. “He was totally dedicated. He’d spent thirty years being the perfect CIA operative. He probably died doing his duty to the CIA and to his country.” She paused. “And perfect CIA operatives don’t always think it necessary to keep their promises if another agenda crops up that would serve their cause more.”

  “I’d imagine he would think twice if it concerned you.”

  “And he probably did think twice.” She rubbed the back of her neck. She was feeling weary and hollow inside, yet the emotions were still sharp and terribly painful. “And perhaps he didn’t find another way to go. But I think we have to find out what happened. Because you said that Huber was planning something very big, and I’m finding I’m curious why at that very moment he suddenly found out something that would instantly distract him.”

  “I wondered that myself, but I’ve not pulled together a reasonable scenario as yet.” He smiled. “But that time you spent curled up on the bunk downstairs evidently proved valuable.”

  She shook her head. “I’m just letting anything and everything flow out of me. I’m not thinking clearly at all. So tell me what else I should know. Do you have details about this big job Huber is planning?”

  He shook his head. “Venable said it was supposed to be a major disaster to take place in San Francisco. He had a date and a city. He was supposed to get the rest of the details from the informant he met at the compound.”

  “San Francisco … I have a friend, Catherine Ling, who has contacts in San Francisco. I’d think my father would have asked her to talk to them. She took her orders from him.” She was thinking, remembering. “And Hu Chang told me tonight that she was on her way to a meeting in San Francisco with Operative Claire Warren.”

  He was silent. “Claire Warren?”

  “I’ve never met her. But she’s high-echelon CIA and worked some antiterrorist cases with my father. Catherine says that she’s very sharp.”

  “Then maybe Venable felt comfortable telling her about Conrad Huber.”

  “Perhaps. Or maybe she would know the same informant he was using to find out what’s going to happen in San Francisco.” She finished her coffee and put the cup in the holder on the stand beside her chair. “Either way, I think we should go to San Francisco and see how she’s involved.”

  “Do you?” He smiled. “From profound dejection, you appear to have bounced back with amazing strength and determination. Am I allowed to have a say in this?”

  “Yes. I haven’t forgotten what I promised you. But I have problems being passive.” She shook her head in wonder. “Particularly now. I’m … confused. For years I’ve worked at not being like my father, to not let violence rule my life. But this shouldn’t … have happened to him. None of it. It’s all wrong. And Huber shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.” She drew a deep breath. “I’m shaken and I’m unbearably sad but there’s so much more…” She stopped, trying to see clarity in all the hurt and anger and bewilderment. “You’ll have to accept that until I’m able to get my head together, you can’t expect me to be either meek or passive.”

  “Oh, I’ve already noticed passivity isn’t your strong suit.”

  “But if you tell me how you want to use me, I’ll let you do it.” Her lips curved in the ghost of a smile. “And I don’t think I’d mind at all. You can see I’m having a good deal of trouble with what you told me about my father’s death. I’d like to do anything that would keep me busy enough to forget it for just a little while. So if you think of a way to stake me out as a sacrificial goat, I’ll be there.”

  “Would you?” He slowly shook his head. “I think we’ll wait a little and use it as a wild card. You don’t remind me at all of a sacrificial goat. We might have to go in another direction.” He turned around and took the controls off auto. “In the meantime, I’ll set up a safe house in San Francisco, and we’ll see what we can come up with in the way of killing Huber and saving the Golden Gate Bridge.”

  “I forgot about the Golden Gate Bridge.” She smiled sadly. “I suppose that’s an actual possibility?”

  “I wasn’t serious, it’s a little obvious, but I wouldn’t put it past Huber after he took down that dam in Indonesia.” He checked his watch. “We’ll be in Trinidad in another thirty minutes. Why don’t you go do
wnstairs and get a little more rest?”

  She shook her head. “I can rest on the jet to San Francisco. I’ll go down and clean up, then see if I can get in touch with Catherine.”

  “No, don’t do that. I don’t want anyone to know we’re coming until I get you in that safe house.”

  “Catherine is my friend.” She made an impatient gesture when he just stared impassively at her. “All right, this time. But if you can’t be reasonable, this might get very old in no time, Brandon.”

  She turned and started for the door.

  “Rachel.”

  She looked back at him.

  “You said I handled telling you about Venable’s death very well,” he said quietly. “That was a lie. I was clumsy as hell. I probably made it worse than it would have been coming from someone else.” His lips twisted. “Maybe I should have had Nate tell you. But I didn’t think that it would affect you this strongly. The report I had said that you hadn’t lived with your father since you were fifteen and your mother was killed. I thought that meant you were estranged and it might not—”

  “I don’t want to talk about my father right now.” He was bringing up too many memories, and she had to shut him down. She had been fighting to keep those memories at bay since she had fled down those steps hours before. It was as if every word, every thought, brought her father closer when he’d never be close again. “You did as well as you could. You don’t know me or what my father and I were together. Our relationship wasn’t … the usual … things happened.” But she could see that he was genuinely troubled, and she tried to explain. “And some of those things hurt me and made me push him away. But I always loved him, and I think he loved me. We always wanted it to work. It was just … complicated.” She smiled unsteadily. “And I’d never think you’d react this way, Brandon.”

  “Neither would I.” He looked her in the eyes. “It comes as a complete surprise to me. I can’t seem to let it go.”