Page 31 of Wired Target

“Pim Wat’s in Greece!”Mendoza howled.“Corfu!She wanted somewhere warm.Her new name is Lisabetta Scartuzzi.She won’t be expecting anyone; she’s had more work done on her face.”

Raveaux asked more questions, getting an address and specifics.

“Thank you, Monsieur Mendoza,” he said at last.“You’ll be driven to a secure location.”He nodded to his comrades again.

Rab and Sam gagged and hooded Mendoza.Ignoring his muffled protests, they untied his feet but bound his arms and put him back in the van.Raveaux came over and pinned an envelope to the man’s ruined shirt.“You’re going somewhere safe,” he said.“And don’t worry.Pim Wat won’t be able to reach you there.”

Mendoza roared impotently from behind his gag.

Sam got in the back of the van with him and slid the door shut; Rab turned on the vehicle, and Raveaux went ahead to open the warehouse door.

He peered out as the metal portal was retracted.

The streets, lit by the sultry yellow lights, remained deserted.He jogged forward and unlocked the gate to the street.

The van drove through and turned left, headed for the downtown police station, where the envelope of evidence pinned to Mendoza’s chest would make sure he went away for a long time for his crimes.

Raveaux walked back to the chair and wiped it down with a sanitary wipe.He rubbed down every surface their fingers had touched.He packed up the battery for disposal, putting it in a cardboard box.He turned off the lights and walked out to the front gate, then dropped the keys to the warehouse in the lockbox secured to the rolling portal for that purpose.

Finally, he walked to the corner and waited in the shadows against a building until the van drove back and picked him up again.

“Everything okay?”he asked Rab in English.

“Very good.That man roll to a police officer when Sam push him out,” Rab said with a grin that revealed very white, pointed canines.“He not a problem anymore.”

“I hope not, but sometimes men like him are connected.Friends in high places,” Raveaux said.

Rab looked blank.

Raveaux shrugged.“To the airport,s’il vous plait.We’re off to Greece.”

20

Lisabetta frowned down at her phone, irritated by its insistent buzzing vibration as she was in transit.No one had this number except her boss, Enrique Mendoza.She had to take the call.

She reached into the little summer Prada bag resting on her lap and retrieved the phone as she gazed out the window of the rideshare she rode in.“Hello?”

An automated voice came on.“To all my operatives: execute Alpha X.Hope to see you on the other side.”

The message ended.

“Thank you,” Lisabetta said automatically.She slid the phone back into her purse

Mendoza was blown.

He’d ordered the complete liquidation of their operation in Paris, destruction of all records, and for everyone to get their go-bags and scatter.

She squeezed the purse tightly in reflexive frustration; she’d worked so hard to create a peaceful sanctuary and begin a new phase of her life with her grandchildren!

Maybe Mendoza wouldn’t give her location up; she could always hope for that.Regardless, Lisabetta had a backup plan and an exit strategy.This news didn’t change her current trajectory, only her destination.

But there was one very important thing she had to do.

She took out the phone once more, called a number, and input a code.

A slow smile curved Lisabetta’s full lips as she put the device away.

Whoever had taken Mendoza and threatened her livelihood would regret it.

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