St Kilda Consulting 02 - Innocent as Sin

is such a dumb-ass thing as the Fast Draw?”
    “Sure is. And now you’re a part of it. Come on. Grace is waiting for us in Phoenix. She has more papers for you to sign.”
    “What?”
    “Employment contract.”
    Rand shook his head sharply. “If my word isn’t good enough—”
    “Your protection as well as ours,” Faroe cut in. “If you’re employed, you can claim confidentiality if the feds question you.”
    “Try it again, in English.”
    “I knew you’d ask, so I had her write it down.” Faroe reached into a hip pocket and drew out a file card the size of his palm. “She said, and I quote, ‘American law gives us some cover on the basis of trade secrecy, but only if Rand signs an employee confidentiality contract. Otherwise he would have no plausible basis for refusing to answer FBI questions.’”
    Rand blinked. “Was that English?”
    “Good as it gets. The original thing was two pages long.”
    Rand looked at the St. Kilda Consulting contract and read quickly. His only comment was, “‘Employed for a time to be mutually agreed upon.’”
    “That’s my Grace.” Faroe handed the other man a pen.
    For a moment Rand hesitated, remembering Reed’s bloody death and the smiling life of Kayla Shaw. He hadn’t been able to save Reed. Maybe he could help her.
    More likely not.
    Rand took the pen anyway.
    “Welcome back,” Faroe said.
    “Tell me that in a few days.”
    Faroe took the signed contract and nodded to a woman who had been waiting across the room. Freddie walked toward them briskly, scissors and comb in hand.
    Grinning, Faroe did a fast fade.

14
    Phoenix
Friday
7:10 P.M. MST
    I mpatiently Bertone tapped his fingers against his polished desk. Joao Fouquette might demand that everyone jump through hoops for him, but he took forever to answer his private satellite phone. Knowing the Brazilian’s lifestyle, he was probably enjoying a long, leisurely meal with his mistress and was reluctant to focus on business.
    Finally Fouquette answered, his voice rough, almost breathless. “Speak.”
    “The account has been set up at our Aruban bank.”
    “It took long enough.”
    “It went more quickly than you had any right to expect, and you know it,” Bertone said.
    In the background Bertone heard a woman’s voice say, “Joao, my soul, you promised me no business. It is my name day.”
    “I’ve sent all the information to your coded e-mail,” Bertone said over the sound of Fouquette soothing his mistress.
    “Expect the transfers within forty-eight hours,” Fouquette said almost absently.
    “But of course,” Bertone said. “I’ve alerted the men to begin gathering the cargo at the Ukrainian warehouse. When the full payment is transferred, the cargo will be flown immediately to Camgeria.”
    “Joao,” said a pouting voice. “I am cold without you.”
    Fouquette broke the satellite connection.
    Bertone set the unit aside, picked up a scrambled cell phone, and punched speed dial. Gabriel answered immediately.
    “All is well?” Bertone asked.
    “Ver’ quiet. She visit a taqueria and now drives back to her little ranch. Such a hot woman need a man.”
    “Business first.”
    Gabriel sighed. “ Sí. It is a long time I wait.”
    “Death is a lot longer. Keep it in your pants until I give you the signal.”
    “And if she goes sideways on you?”
    “Bring her to me immediately.”
    “Alive?”
    “If possible. If not, stupidity is a capital crime.”

15
    Phoenix
Saturday
2:30 P.M. MST
    K ayla sat at her desk and wanted to scream. The American Southwest Bank building was pretty much deserted. The only sound she’d heard in hours was the elevator opening and closing while guards or cleaners made their rounds. Everyone was off to enjoy the weekend.
    Except her.
    Damn it, Foley, where are you?
    She hadn’t seen her boss for twenty-four hours. As far as she could tell, Foley had left work shortly after he’d talked to her.
    Cash the check. I’ll put the rest of it in motion.
    She had.
    Had he?
    Anxiety crawled over her like needles, first hot and then cold.
    As she’d already done countless times already, she clicked on her e-mail icon. The answer hadn’t changed.
    Nothing new from her boss.
    Almost desperately she opened the last e-mail from Foley, the one from yesterday.
     
    Relax, Kayla. I’m working on it.
     
    “Okay, great,” she said under her breath. “But how hard can it be to consult with the corporate counsel and compliance department? Even if you have to