Page 36 of Tempting Tessa

“As you wish.” Moda’s footsteps faded away.

Tommy rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow as he grinned down at her. “We didn’t order breakfast.”

“It comes with the place.” She pushed at his shoulder and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Come on. We’ve got Russians to catch and ghosts to chase.”

His grin faltered. “Right. Russians, and ghosts. Can’t wait.”

They cleaned up quickly, and he held her hand as they wandered through hallways and landings until they found the dining room.

Breakfast was worthy of the estate, from poached eggs to freshly baked pastries that Tommy couldn’t resist. “So, this is how the other half lives,” he said around a bite of quiche and a swig of freshly squeezed orange juice.

Tessa gave him a wry look over her cup of tea. “Finish your proper English breakfast. We have a lot to do.”

As soon as the plates were cleared, they went to an office. It didn’t look like her—more like a stuffy older man’s den--one who had too much money.

But money provided high-end technology. Tommy commandeered her laptop from the desk, his fingers flying over the keys as he dug into surveillance footage, cross-referencing it with timestamps from his previous sightings of Jessie.

He’d never thought to look before, but one of the videos he found from a security camera across the street from the cemetery showed a woman who could pass for Jessie. She was dressed in black and wearing a large, flamboyant hat and sunglasses.

While he continued digging for footage from cameras around the embassy, Tessa made phone calls. Hearing only her side of them didn’t always make sense, but he lost himself in the following video clip from near the US Embassy in Bucharest—his last station. His gut twisted as he watched what appeared to be his sister approaching an older man in an impeccable suit a block from the embassy’s parking lot the day he’d spotted her. Their exchange was brief—a handshake, a few words—and then she’d climbed into a black Land Rover, and they’d driven off.

Tommy froze the frame on the license plate. “Got you,” he whispered. He zoomed in on it—diplomatic plates.

It didn’t take long for him to trace the vehicle. It was registered to the LLC shell company he’d been investigating before the embassy riots—Kaltrain. A quick review of company records showed ties to a network of other LLCs and businesses he’d already connected to the Russian investors. The diplomatic tie was nonexistent, a cover.

Searching public databases, he combed through layers of bullshit records to find what he needed. He leaned back in the chair, catching Tessa while she was on hold. “I’ve got an address for this LLC.”

“Ilford?” she asked.

He nodded, feeling the rush of adrenaline. Finally, they were on to something.

Tessa paced, the phone pressed to her ear as she worked an angle. She held up a finger to him as her call went through. Posing as a CIA employee, she introduced herself, putting the call on speaker for him to hear. “Dr. DeAnna Wyn.” She was using her professional librarian voice. “I’m Contessa Vulpe from the Counterterrorism Department at the CIA. I’m following up on your meeting with Jessica Mendoza last year. Could you tell me about that discussion involving the superconductors she inquired about?”

The woman on the other end took a moment before responding. “I’m sorry. Who did you say you are?”

Tessa repeated her fake credentials. They’d been real at one time. “I’m following up on Ms. Mendoza’s files. Can you confirm the manufacturer of the superconductors?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You met with her on July seventeenth, correct? She had concerns about the ones your company placed in a set of military computers. Those are top-secret, special orders. You don’t remember?”

The accusation riled the doctor, and her reply was gruff. “I can confirm that I spoke to her. She wanted to know the process for the orders and how many had been shipped to the Department of Defense. She had clearance papers, so I shared that information. Until you have the same papers, this conversation is over.”

“I can put you through to my boss right now if you’d prefer to speak to him. He’s the grumpy, stressed-out director of Intelligence. Not a pleasant fellow, but it’s up to you.”

Dr. Wyn seemed to weigh her options. “I’d have to look up the details.”

“Did Ms. Mendoza ask about a man named Viktor?”

A pregnant pause filled the air. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“Because she’s dead.”

There was a gasp, followed by a rushed response: “I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “I can’t help you.”

The line went dead.

Tessa cursed under her breath, slapping the desktop with her palm. “I can’t tell if she was unnerved about the name or about Jessie being dead. She must not have seen the video or realized from the social media outcry afterward that she’d spoken to the victim of it.” Tessa tapped her phone against her chin. “I sure would like to get a bug on her phone. We might have to go to Arizona after all.”

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