A Deadly Lesson (novella). Paul Gitsham

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СКАЧАТЬ it possible that Bennington was a changeling? Wearing a white dinner jacket and a smile that half the men in Hollywood would kill for, he looked utterly charming. But Tory knew better. She’d met Alex’s brother several times, and the man had been totally annoying. He had been in the military for a short time but had said the tailoring didn’t suit him.

      His hair was swept back from his forehead, and he had a look in his blue eyes that promised decadence and pleasure. The caption of the photo said it had been taken in Manhattan at a charity event sponsored by his family’s foundation.

      Bennington had charisma, something that Tory had always thought was wasted on him. That kind of power should have gone to a man who would use it for more than his own ends.

      She shook her head. Flipping the page, she saw the envelope. Tory glanced around to make sure no one was watching her. The tables nearby were empty. She opened the envelope. It contained a small leather pouch and a note addressed to her. Tomorrow night, Thursday, she was to meet her contact in Cabo de la Vela, a small mountain town on Puerto Isla.

      The information included longitude and latitude numbers, as well as instructions for what she was supposed to wear. She was to give the contact the leather pouch and leave. She committed the information to memory.

      One of the reasons Tory had come to the attention of the Athena Academy had been her photographic memory. She’d grown up in Placid Springs, Florida, a small ranching community, and the local weekly paper had done a story on Tory when she was ten, talking about how she could memorize anything and repeat it verbatim.

      Entertainment had been hard to come by in those days, and Tory had been a main source for the town, which doted on the Pattons’ only daughter. Her classes at Athena had honed her photographic memory and taught her to use it for intelligence gathering. She used it in her job at the network all the time.

      She folded the newspaper and slid it and the leather pouch into her large carry-on bag. Then she walked to the office area in the lounge and shredded her directions. She walked out of the lounge without a backward glance, feeling the familiar excitement pumping through her veins.

      Tory met up with her cameraman, Jay, in Miami. Their flight had been delayed overnight so it was Thursday morning when they arrived in Puerto Isla’s capital, Paraiso, via an Air Mexico flight. Tory had been surprised at how crowded the flight was. Puerto Isla still had a State Department warning against travel because the new government, though more stable than the last, had yet to prove itself.

      The coup four months earlier had brought an end to the reign of Diego Santiago. Alejandro Del Torro had taken power and established an interim military government. Tory had taken the time to do some Internet research on Del Torro last night in her hotel room. She’d also notified AA.gov that she’d be unable to make her courier drop until the following day.

      Del Torro’s government was getting different parties in place and would be holding elections within the next six months. The U.S. had sent troops to help restore order, but the majority of them had been pulled out in the past month. Tory knew from a conversation with her brother that the DEA still had agents in Central America and Puerto Isla.

      The U.S. Embassy had backed the new leader because he favored the policy of eradicating the coca-leaf plant. Tory had spoken to Juan Perez, Puerto Isla’s minister of foreign affairs, on the phone during her layover in Miami.

      Minister Perez had said that many locals weren’t happy with the new government’s policy on the coca plant, though they did like the money that the U.S. was pouring into the economy. He invited her to tour his office while she was on the island. Tory planned to do just that. An interview with Perez would be a nice detail to the feature story on the navy SEAL. He’d agreed to speak to her this afternoon at the presidential palace in Paraiso.

      Perez was also her main contact to connect with Thomas King. King had been found only a few days earlier and was in a military hospital in Paraiso, recovering from his harsh captivity. Tory was eager to get to the hospital and see King. Mr. Perez had warned her that King was still in pretty bad shape.

      Perez hadn’t answered any of her questions over the phone about how King had been found or why he’d still been imprisoned in the first place. But Tory didn’t plan to let Perez dodge her questions when they met in person.

      The hot island air brushed over her skin like a lover’s hands. She shed her jean jacket and smiled at Jay.

      “Not bad for November.” The weather was so different from the chill of November in Manhattan. She closed her eyes, inhaling the fragrances of wildflowers and sea breeze. The freshness of the air reminded her of her parents’ ranch and for a minute she felt as if she were back in Placid Springs and life was simpler.

      “Not bad at all. I knew there was a reason you were my favorite reporter,” Jay said.

      “Because I brought you to a warm place in November?”

      He just smiled at her. Jay moved with an easy grace through the airport terminal. He was almost six feet tall and had broad shoulders that tapered to a lean waist. Tory knew him to be a hard worker and a wicked poker player. He’d also spent the first few years of his career working at the Central American desk for the network. He was familiar with the people and the customs of this island nation.

      “You say that to everyone.” Tory liked Jay because he was easy to get along with and he was more of a photojournalist than just a cameraman. He’d gotten some film that was pure genius over the years. He was also incorrigible. He’d let Tory know a few times that he’d like to start something with her. But Tory had no interest in ruining a perfect reporter-cameraman relationship.

      “Yeah, but with you I mean it.”

      “Ha.” She deftly changed the subject. “Our visas should clear us through without too much problem.”

      They made their way through the airport. It wasn’t as crowded as LaGuardia had been or even as bad as Miami International, where they’d connected, but there were people here. The line at customs was short, and Tory scanned the people waiting ahead of them. Suddenly she did a double take.

      A familiar-looking blonde stood two people ahead of Tory. She had a few designer bags and the same Midwest generic American newscaster’s accent that Tory did. Shannon Conner. How had she gotten there without Tory seeing her? She must have been on their flight.

      Tory’s reporter’s mind started sorting through information and trying to find answers. Shannon must have flown first-class and gotten on at the last minute, so Tory and Jay hadn’t spotted her. Was she following Tory in the hopes of getting to a story before her? Or did she know where Tory was going? And if so, where was she getting her information?

      Shannon showing up at the same location couldn’t be a coincidence. This was the fourth time in as many weeks.

      Tory suspected Shannon was still sore about getting kicked out of Athena. That had been a long time ago, and Tory had tried to put the incident behind her. However, Shannon had never really wanted to bury the ax. Except maybe in Tory’s back.

      In college, they’d both interned with the same television station, and it was there that Tory realized that Shannon still had it in for her. Not that Tory really cared. Their business was highly competitive, and having Shannon nipping at her heels or a half pace ahead of her really kept Tory focused on her career. She didn’t plan on letting Shannon win.

      “There’s your buddy,” Jay said. It was common knowledge in the industry СКАЧАТЬ