In the Enemy's Sights. Marta Perry

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      The only light in the abandoned tunnel came from a battery lantern on the rickety table, and the woman picked her way across the littered tunnel floor carefully. She wasn’t about to ruin a new pair of Italian shoes just because he had summoned her.

      Most people had heard rumors of the tunnels that had once run from The Springs to what had then been Colorado City, the rowdy, wide-open town in frontier days. Colorado City had long since been absorbed into Colorado Springs proper, and the tunnels forgotten, until he had found a use for them. That was like him, to take something and pervert its ordinary purpose to something bent.

      She stopped at the table. He’d have heard her come down—he had ears like a fox.

      “Stop playing games and come out here. I don’t have much time.”

      A footstep grated, and he appeared in the archway. “You always have time for me, don’t you, querida?”

      She forced a smile, trying to show an affection she didn’t feel. “You sound even hoarser than usual. These tunnels aren’t good for your throat.”

      “Yet another thing for which I have to thank the Vances and Montgomerys. Making me hide like a rat in these tunnels, while they live the high life.” He yanked out a chair and slumped into it. “I understand Kenneth Vance is back in town.”

      “So I’ve heard.” She said the words cautiously, not wanting to stir his icy rage to life. He’d been livid at the failure of the attack he’d engineered on Vance’s plane through his drug contacts in South America.

      “These Vances have more lives than a cat. Just like my new name.” He gave a bark of gravelly laughter. “Funny, isn’t it?”

      “If you say so.” She shifted position, careful not to touch the dusty table. “You have something you want me to take care of?”

      “Yes.” He slapped his palms down on the tabletop. “Kenneth Vance is about to discover that Colorado Springs is just as dangerous as his missions over South America. And since he’s spending so much time there, it will be a pleasure to bring Montgomery Construction down with him.”

      She knew better than to argue, or to wonder how he knew so much about what Kenneth Vance was doing. He had his methods, and he didn’t tolerate disagreement with his plans.

      “What do you want me to do?”

      “Step up the vandalism—not enough to make the police take notice, just enough to make them nervous. I don’t want a full-scale investigation at this point. You can use that fool O’Brien.”

      “He’s getting scared. The police are paying too much attention to him.”

      He glared at her. “He’ll do as I say if he knows what’s good for him. So will you.”

      She shrugged. “Of course. Don’t I always? I just don’t see the point of breaking windows and painting on walls.”

      “I told you. Make them nervous. Make them wonder. And then, just when the Montgomerys and Vances think success is within their grasp—” He slammed his palm down on the tabletop again, so hard it shuddered. “Then we finish them.”