Page 74 of Red Line

Red tested those waters, “I’m private security. My job is to watch over you and protect your free movement until the transaction that you are arranging with Zayd Ali Kamal is accomplished. For example, I am sure Joel Brighton informed you that you will leave tomorrow morning to start the trip to Marrakech.” Red sent Elena a wry smile. “I’ll be making the same journey with you. It’ll be a long day with all the legs we have to take. But you will be far more comfortable than I in that while you have first-class seating, Brighton arranged for my tickets—well, his secretary, Mr. Brighton delegates that kind of work—in coach.” These were all details that should settle her nerves and help Elena to believe.

Elena nodded. “I need a drink.”

Thankfully, from the information in Elena’s phone, Langley had pinged Red and Grey with Elena’s hotel, directions, suite number and layout as well as a list of available amenities. Having scanned over the information at the ball, Red was prepared. “There’s a bar in your suite. When we go up, I’ll make you one. Once you’re more comfortable, I’ll head to my room. Your suite has extra security through the hotel. Brighton knows I need to sleep at some point.” Red grinned, hoping to make a human connection, but failed. “I’ll be available when you wake up tomorrow.”

They arrived at the hotel, and Red checked the car with the valet, which took a bit of brio since it was a five-star hotel, and she was driving a stolen car that she jacked from some poor guy who stopped to help back at the van accident.

As she’d driven after the Pied Piper to retake Elena, Red had touched base with Grey. He wanted Elena roofied if possible, so they’d have planning time. And they decided Redshould take Elena to the hotel if possible. That’s where they’d meet.

As Red and Elena made their way to the elevator, Grey did a brush pass with a hotel room key card—presumably so she could access the elevator, and a small vial with meds.

So far, so good.

Up in the suite, Elena kicked off her shoes and draped herself across the couch like a Regency damsel who had collapsed and was calling for her smelling salts.

Red made Elena a drink and roofied her with the pills. Granted, waiting for Elena to get herself undressed and tucked into bed first would have been so much easier.

A quick call to Grey, and he arrived to move Elena from the salon to bed. “I say we pull off her gown, and everything else stays on. Tuck her in, call it a day.”

“Fine,” Red agreed.

Grey held a noodley Elena up while Red unzipped her, then tugged the tight-fitting black velvet sheath over her head with a lot of hands shifting and teamwork. This was not their first rodeo. Red didn’t know how many people she and Grey had undressed and put to bed over the years.

After Red pulled back the covers, Grey laid Elena down and tucked her in.

Then, both started pulling out the pins that held Elena’s chignon in place and piled them on the bedside table.

Grey gathered Elena’s dress and shoes and threw them out the window.

“The ring?” Red stared down at them. “We could take it now. It’s a risk to continue with the mission as we outlined it. But the fake is somewhere in the back of the van. It fell from my pocket, and I didn’t take the time to try to find it.”

Grey pulled a foil packet from his pocket, shook it, and tipped his ear toward the door. Together, they moved into thesalon, Grey shutting the bedroom door behind them. “I might take aknownbite of pie over apossibleslice on some occasions.” He moved to the sofa. “But not this one ...” he let the thought trail off.

“Oh, this sounds good. Orange juice?” Red moved to the fridge and poured them each a glass.

Grey waited until she was sitting next to him, then said in a low tone. “The phone you picked up at the blast site belonged to Imraan el-Jafri.”

Red leaned in. “I don’t know that name.”

“Interestingly, it was the DIA who identified him. One of your rescue crew recognized him in the blast zone when they were looking for you and took his fingerprints for confirmation. His team sent the information on to the DIA.”

“But why would the DIA know about el-Jafri?” Red asked.

“That I can’t tell you. What I can say is that el-Jafri is an exporter, mainly of opium. Very much in the ISIS fold. I understand he’s part of a new group out of Northern Afghanistan and is very busy making their name known worldwide. That you grabbed up his phone is gold.”

Red tucked her feet under her hip. “Good?”

“Excellent. First, el-Jafri is Elena’s fiancé.”

Red leaned forward, “Are you kidding me right now? It’s not Poole?” She leaned back. “I kind of felt like she was just using everyone to get to her own ends, whatever they might be. I had some begrudging respect for that. Fiancé? Yup,” she took a sip of her juice, “now I’ve lost all regard. Tell me about the intelligence. It must have something to do with the ring and the money, or we’d just take the damned ring.”

“The terror cell is planning three separate attacks. One is sending their people to various cities in the United States. Divide and conquer. They want to set off simultaneous events in different cities at a synchronized time.”

Red pressed her lips together as she listened.

“Langley is developing the data. They’re working with the FBI Joint Task Force on this.”

“Who’s leading that?” Red asked. “Frost?”

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