Formula for Danger, page 8
part #6 of The Phoenix Agency Series
More silence.
Cassandra waited to see who would speak next. None of them knew how deeply upstart companies had cut into Grigsby’s profits. Or how bad it would be if someone else got the production contract for this miracle grain. When no one spoke, she leaned forward in her chair.
“Didn’t you mention some guy up here from Argentina last month?” Tony asked. “That he came to an association meeting and worked the project into the conversation?”
She nodded. “Thanks for reminding me. I dismissed him because he was only here for a few days.”
“Do you remember his name?” Tony asked.
Cass frowned. “Cezas. Cervas. Something like that.” She snapped her fingers. “No, Cervantes. From Argentina. And I think he’s more than a rancher. I think he has something to do with grain.” She shifted her gaze to Gene Dempsey. “Use your contacts. Find out everything you can about him.”
He made some notes on his tablet. “Okay.”
“And quickly.” She scanned the others. “Anyone know why this woman moved back from Seattle? From what I hear, it was pretty sudden.”
Leda shrugged. “It didn’t seem important to the situation. Word has it her father’s health hasn’t been the best and she wanted to spend time with him.”
“So she came home without a job or any prospect of one? Does that make sense?”
“I’m sure she had some financial resources,” Tony told her. “Her job in Seattle paid her well.”
Maybe she’d have to step into this herself. None of these idiots seemed to be able to get the job done. And she did have a tenuous connection with the woman through A&M. She hated to play the sexist card, but maybe this needed a woman’s touch.
“There’s a reason she came back here.” Cassandra looked at each of her staff. “Maybe the association approached her with it while she still worked at the lab in Washington. Or maybe . . .” She shrugged. “Maybe anything. Check it out. There might be something there.”
If not, we’ll find another angle. I will not lose out on this.
Cole filled his coffee mug from the handy one-cup dispenser and leaned his hip against the counter. JL sat at a microscope, staring intently at whatever the lens focused on. He had never thought of white lab coats as being sexy, but the one she wore over her jeans and T-shirt tantalized him with what lay beneath it.
Just last night, they had made slow, delicious love in his big king-size bed. His hands had mapped every inch of her body, touching, caressing, squeezing. Just thinking about it made him hard as a rock, and he surreptitiously adjusted his jacket to cover his fly.
They had both risen early that morning, JL heading to the lab and Cole to oversee the construction going on in the farthest parcel of land from his house, the site chosen to be home to equipment for Lone Star Phoenix. A steel building that would serve as a shelter for two SUVs with four-wheel drive, firearms and ammunition, and other equipment, like night-vision goggles and comm units, would also house the brand-new Bell Huey II, the helo they had ordered mission ready. Cole knew all about the rescue and extraction of Mark Halloran in the Peruvian jungle. About Rick Latrobe’s shoot-out on a Caribbean Island with a man who had framed him for weapons theft. About the Carpenter Techtronics magic robot liberated from its thieves, the heart-stopping retrieval of Kat D’Antoni’s kidnapped sister, and Summer Arsenault’s movie-worthy rescue from an evil egomaniac.
But the helo used on those missions stayed in Maryland, along with the fixed-wing aircraft, in three large hangars in a field with a twelve-foot-high chain-link fence around it. Everything was protected by a state-of-the-art security system and a caretaker who would just as soon shoot first and ask questions later. The new Phoenix Bell Huey II would be at his disposal. Mike had texted him a photo of the chopper with the logo painted on the side.
NODT.
The first time he saw, it he frowned and asked what the hell it meant. Mike laughed and explained sometimes the contracts they took required some kind of company identification. Obviously, using Phoenix was out of the question. The name might be more well known than it used to be, but it still flew under the radar. So Mike had designed the NODT logo, telling him it stood for Not One Damn Thing. Cole had laughed his ass off, especially when Mike told him they had flight jackets and carry bags with the same design.
The only exception, he learned, was when they were on a critical mission such as hostage rescue and needed to identify themselves to the victims. Then they could peel back the Velcro flap on the sleeve with NODT on it and reveal the Phoenix Agency logo. But no other time.
Cole was qualified to fly the bird they’d purchased, but he was on the hunt for just the right addition to his new team. Someone who was a flyboy, a crack shot, and a master of stealth—not exactly a job description you could advertise for. He did, however, have a line on someone. He had a lunch meeting set up, and since the building housing the lab was on the way, he’d taken the opportunity to stop and check on JL.
You are so sunk, cowboy. She owns you now.
And he embraced the feeling. They had been working toward it, and now it seemed the most natural thing in the world. He wanted to get to the point where they could make their living arrangement permanent, but something was still holding her back. He needed to find out what.
The security guard who kept watch during the day—one of the two she’d finally agreed to talk the association into hiring—buzzed him into the inner rooms, and he’d walked into the lab just in time to hear the end of a phone conversation. Another one, he thought. He could tell by her rigid posture she’d been irritated. He was becoming more and more itchy about the sudden flurry of calls she’d been receiving. And he didn’t like the fact she tried to blow them off as little more than a nuisance.
“No,” JL had said. “Thank you very much, but again, I’m very happy with where I am and what I’m doing. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call again.”
She’d hung up and turned around, a frown creasing her forehead.
“Trouble?” Cole had asked, “More job offers?”
“Just the pesky kind.” She brushed a strand of hair back from her face. “All of a sudden, people want to shower me with money. Have me come to work for them. They’ll give me a state-of-the-art lab. Whatever I want.”
“People talk. Word gets out.” Cole gave a casual shrug. “I’ve seen it too many times. I don’t like the persistence in all of these.”
She gave a half laugh. “I told you, they’re nothing. People are greedy and can’t understand I’m not doing this to line someone’s pockets. I want to prevent a recurrence of a problem with feed, like when drought almost caused us to lose our ranch. That’s why I’m so committed to it.”
He pulled her against his body, wrapping his arms around her, his chin resting on her head.
“You should stop answering the phone,” he told her. “Get a secretary.”
She grinned. “To answer the phones? What would she do the other eight and a half hours in the day?”
“Type up your notes. Enter your information. Test results.”
“I do my own,” she reminded him. “And Miles does his.”
Miles was the research assistant she’d hired, who—she’d told Cole often enough—was worth his weight in newborn calves.
“I don’t know why you have a landline, anyway,” he protested. “You’ve got your cell, and there’s good reception in this area. Just give the number out to the few people who really need it. Like me and your dad and Grant.”
She waved a hand in the air. “I know you’re all up in your spook mode, but I think you’re seeing bogey men where there aren’t any. Nobody who calls me threatens me, and I need a landline for members of the committee to reach me and to call suppliers when I need materials and equipment. Also for the DSL line for the computer hooked up to the Internet.”
“Then get an answering machine.” He planted himself next to her and cupped her cheeks. “People shouldn’t be bothering you while you’re working, anyway.”
She gently disentangled herself from his grasp. “Mostly nobody does. But like I said, Grant checks in regularly, and so do one or two other members of the committee. I need to be available to them.”
As president of the Texas chapter of the Cattlemen’s Association, Grant Summerfield was the driving force behind this project, heading the committee that pushed through the funding for it. A sharp, no-nonsense rancher, he’d seen an opportunity to help others in drought-prone Texas. A building he owned in downtown Mission Hills housed the lab, outfitted according to JL’s specs.
“And does Grant know someone’s pestering you?”
“It’s not exactly a pester. More like an irritation. They’ll get tired of hearing me say no after a while and go away.” She’d brushed her mouth over his, then handed him a cup. “Here. Have some coffee while I check this slide.”
And she’d gone back to work.
JL might be blowing this off, Cole thought now while he waited for her to finish, but he knew the simplest things could often turn out to be the most dangerous. Greed made people do vicious, dangerous things. Somehow he’d have to find a way to improve her situation.
“You know, if someone wanted to break in here,” he said slowly, “a third grader could get past what you’ve got for security.”
“Cole.” She gave a sigh of frustration. “I think you’re going a little overboard here. This isn’t a vaccine to save mankind, just a formula for drought-resistant grain. Nothing’s going to happen.” She held out a hand, one finger up in a wait-a-sec signal, scribbled in the notebook next to her microscope, then turned to face him. “Okay. This is an agricultural lab. No one is going to disturb us.”
“Someone obviously wants something from you very badly.” He inclined his head toward the phone. “Darlin’, you need to understand how valuable this formula can be. These phone calls worry me. You don’t know what desperate people will do.”
“They’re just—nothing. They don’t sound desperate at all. For example, one is an offer to bring the project to their feed-manufacturing company. To develop it for them.”
“But that’s in direct opposition to the association’s plan to patent the formula, then lease it around the world.”
She nodded. “But only to companies who will make the product affordable, especially to Third World countries. And like I said the other night, the contracts are renewable every year, giving us the ability to check on compliance with guidelines.”
He set his cup down and went to stand beside her lab stool, turning her so he could bracket her face with his hands. “I worry about you. You know that, right?”
She smiled, and heat shot through him. That smile just did things to him.
“I know you’re the big bad super spy now,” she told him. “And you see villains everywhere. But I don’t think we have to worry about them here.”
“Will you at least let me talk to Grant?”
“I don’t want them to have to spend the money,” she protested.
Damn. What a stubborn woman.
“JL, they’re getting money from other groups around the country. They know how critical this setup is and how important it is to protect it. And you.”
“It’s just feed,” she insisted.
“And damn valuable feed,” he pointed out. “Okay, what about this? Maybe I can get Phoenix to set up a state-of-the-art system with some of the new stuff we want to try out. Use this as a test operation. Then we could cut the association a break. Maybe even do it for nothing.”
“Grant won’t take handouts,” she told him.
“And it won’t be one.” He looked hard into her eyes. “It’s what I do, JL. And if I’m going to keep anyone safe, you’re going to be at the top of the list.” He gave her a hard kiss. “I’ll see you later.”
“Don’t you have things to do today?”
“And I’ll get them done. But I’ve got a funny feeling here. When I finish my lunch meeting and my other errands, I’m going to drive out and talk to Grant. Then I’ll be by to pick you up.”
“But I have my car here,” she protested. “And I might not be finished when you get here.”
“Then I’ll just have to wait.” He winked. “And drive you to work in the morning. Guess we know where you’ll be spending the night.”
JL was already immersed in her work again even before he left the lab. The prickling feeling chasing across his neck remained. Maybe she was right. Maybe the phone call had just been someone trying to make a buck off this project, and if she told whoever it was to go away enough times, they would. But Cole had the edgy sense it might be more. And he’d survived as a marine by listening to his gut.
Back in his truck, he did a search on his cell for Grant Summerfield’s phone number. Summerfield was smart, savvy, and a realist, and this project with important to him. If the lab—and JL—needed better protection, Cole believed the man would agree to do whatever it took.
Chapter Four
JL settled herself in the passenger seat and slid a sideways glance at Cole. “How was your lunch meeting today?”
“Actually, it went real well.” He pulled out into the flow of traffic. “I’ll have to thank Jace for the recommendation.”
“Jace?”
“Jace Whitney. Former Border Patrol. I recruited him for my team, and he suggested this other guy, Mitch Parker.”
“Tell me about him,” JL urged.
“In a nutshell, I need a helicopter pilot, and Mitch has all the right creds.” Cole turned off the highway onto a two-lane country road. “He flew with Naval Special Warfare, and they don’t come much better than that.”
“What’s he been doing since then?” she asked.
“Working for a private flying service. Said he thought about training for Search and Rescue, but this is more what he wants. He can come on as a full-time agent, with use of his piloting skills being the first priority.”
“And you like him?”
“I do. And since he and Jace already know each other, it makes for a good blend.”
He’d told her he was anxious to get the core of his team together. They had nothing on the horizon at the moment, but he wanted to be prepared for when something came out of nowhere for them.
“So.” She fiddled with her seat belt. “You had a chat with Grant today.”
Cole laughed. “He called you, right?”
She chuckled. “Of course. He wanted to tell me how lucky I am to have hooked up with someone like you.”
A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Jackass.”
He is that.” She swallowed a sigh. “I tried to tell you I didn’t think these were more than nuisance calls, but then you gave that nice speech to Grant about how important I am, as is the project, and how can I be mad?”
“I don’t want you to feel as if I’m ignoring your input,” he said slowly. “But this is my business.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “And so are you.”
She knew that. Just as she knew anticipating potential problems was part of his makeup, and that he was in the business of seeing bad guys behind every door. Though privately less dismissive of the calls than she pretended to be, she still didn’t think there was any inherent danger. She had a way to figure it out, but Cole would give her an argument. She’d have to convince him. Get him to understand.
“I know this can be a hot button for some people,” she told him in what she hoped was an even voice. “And people can certainly be unpredictable. I just have a hard time seeing it as something they would go after like diamonds or precious metals or things like that.”
“Oh, darlin’. Think about it. You’ve been in science all your adult life. How many discoveries have caused corporate wars and pitted people against each other? Is it such a stretch to believe desperate folks out there want to get their greedy paws on a formula sure to revolutionize the grain industry?”
She leaned her head back against the seat. “Probably not. I just think you may be going a little overboard.”
“Better too much than too little,” he pointed out.
“Grant said you’re getting back to him with a proposal.”
“I am. By the end of the week.” He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “But in the meantime, I picked up an answering machine today. When I take you to the lab in the morning, I’m going to set it up.”
“I hate those damn things,” she grumbled.
“But at least you can filter your calls,” he pointed out. “You can check the caller ID on the incoming and let the ones you dnlt want to answer go to voice mail.
JL had tried to blow them off, to minimize them, but the persistence of the people had begun to trouble her. She knew how critical this formula was, how important to the ranchers. And not just in a drought-prone state like Texas but also across the country. Even globally. While Cole worried about actual bodily harm, she worried they’d somehow convince the association to cut the funding, forcing her to accept one of the offers. But it was likely an unrealistic fear, with the ranchers totally committed to this project. They’d actually sought her out for it.
But these people who were calling—all of them . . . Greed motivated them, and she’d seen the terrible things greed could do to people. Seen it in Seattle, when . . .
Stop it. That’s behind you.
She’d thought about this for a while, figured out a way to see whether real danger lurked in the calls. In these people who were so damn persistent. But she had to present this just right. She sat in silence for a long moment, trying to figure the best way to tell Cole what she wanted to do. He’d pitch a fit, but if he felt so strongly about the element of danger, maybe she could pinpoint it a little better for him. Only following through would mean meeting each of the people involved face-to-face.
Cole broke the silence. “I called Andy and asked him to do a deeper background check on everyone. At first blush, they all came up squeaky clean, although I don’t think I’d like any of them personally. But everyone’s got stuff under the surface. I want to find it.”
