Page 65 of Red Line

“Forty million euros.”

Forty million could fund extremism in a big way. “She has red rings on all her fingers. One of them could be it. Or she might have handed it to this Joel guy already.”

T-Rex said. “Asad and his team at the DIA are monitoring the mic you placed before their dance. Outstanding effort.”

It didn’t feel like an outstanding effort to Nomad. It was pretty rudimentary stuff. “Should I get the rings? Or is the plan still to entice the woman? Because I’m going to be straight with you. I don’t seem to be her type.”

“It’s being debated by the brass. Right now, the job is to keep eyes on.”

“Speaking of which, I’m not the only one interested in this woman. Do you know this couple?”

Nomad pulled his phone from his pocket and held it by his leg as he pulled up a photo of the not-ambassador and theback of the woman in red. He’d tried a few times to get not-Mrs. Bland in a photo, but it seemed she had a sixth sense and kept her face averted.

“I can’t tell from the woman’s back, but the guy is John Grey from the Color Code,” T-Rex said as soon as the photo pinged into his messages. “Interesting that you’re in the same sphere.”

“And focused on the same woman. I mean, he’s subtle, but once you’ve seen how a magic trick is performed, you know how the CIA handles their rabbits.”

So that was the legendary John Grey, pulled from the upper cell of a prison before his secrets could be tortured out of him.

“Grey,” Nomad pitched his voice so that it could be picked up by his comms but wouldn’t carry to others around him, “He’s good people? Trustworthy?”

“All his team were handpicked for skill and ethic,” T-Rex explained.

“Should I let him know I’m here?”

“Not the assignment,” T-Rex said. “You do you.”

“Right now, I’ve accomplished Plan A. The electronics have been planted. Elena’s obviously working tonight and focused. I’m not going to be able to offer to whisk her away on my helicopter into the sunset. I think we need to take that off the table. What’s our next move?”

Colonel Watts’s voice joined the conversation. “I’ll have the DIA reach out to the Color Code leader at Langley and see if they’ll tell us why Grey is at the ball. If the CIA, Interpol, or anyone else is interested in Elena, you might need to get more aggressive. We need Elena more. Poole isourguy. We needourquestions answered without dicking around.”

“Copy.” He was in Vienna, Austria. What did Watts mean by ‘get more aggressive?’ “Wilco.”

“For now,” Colonel Watts finished, “keep an eye on Elena. We’ll work out a strategy and get back to you.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Red

After Elena’s dance partner bowed to kiss her hand. “Enchanté,”the murmured word came over the earbud in Red’s ear. The man had been counting steps under his breath the whole time—one, two, three. One, two, three. There had been no chatter. Red had learned nothing new about Elena.

As Elena rose from her curtsy, her dance partner lost himself in the crowd. Dancers shifted, some moving off the floor like Elena, others moving into place as a violinist drew her bow along the string, testing a C note.

And now Elena stopped, facing the wall in front of a woman wearing a dress constructed from an enormous cloud of white feathers that seemed improbably difficult—and hot—to dance in. That woman was both the chicken and the egg.

Elena wasn’t speaking to cloud woman. Instead, she focused over the woman’s shoulder into the surface of a gilded mirror, using the reflection to adjust her dress strap and then a tendril of hair curling down her cheek to the delicate bones of her clavicle, softening the austerity of her French chignon.

With a tilt of her chin, Elena scanned the entirety of the room.

Suddenly, she visibly braced. Red would swear Elena had stopped breathing. Her brows drew upward, and she held her eyes wide and unblinking. It was a survival reaction.

Elena had transformed into a mouse by the chair leg as a cat slunk through the room.

She was terrified.

Red decided to take the risk of moving her focus off Elena to scan the room and see if she couldn’t find the person who had elicited this reaction.

Ah, not one, four.

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