St Kilda Consulting 04 - Blue Smoke and Murder

smiled. “You are. Dessert.”
    She smiled and tried not to think about how much fun their shower had been. Zach in a playful mood was mind blowing.
    A beautifully groomed young woman stopped by their table. “Hello, I’m Lia Maitland. Mr. Tannahill asked me to give you a message. May I join you for a moment?”
    Jill waved her hand at the opposite side of the booth, which was empty, as she and Zach were sitting thigh to thigh.
    “Thank you.” Lia slid into the booth and continued speaking in her low, discreet voice. “Your suite was clean. Your apparel was clean. So was your duffel and backpack. As you suspected, the satellite phone in the belly bag has a locater and an eavesdropping bug.”
    Jill blinked. As who suspected? She looked at Zach.
    He was watching Lia.
    “The bugs are probably integrated into the satellite phone’s battery,” she continued, “but since we were told only to identify, not to neutralize, any bugs, I left the phone intact. The locater is broadcasting on a frequency anyone could pick up. The bug is voice-activated. We attempted to trace it. It’s shielded. Given enough time, we could break the security. If we can’t do it, Shane Tannahill can.”
    “Not necessary,” Zach said. “We’ll handle it on our end.”
    Lia nodded. “Will there be anything else you require?”
    “I’d appreciate it if you could relay your message to St. Kilda Consulting through the same coded channel they used to reach you,” Zach said.
    “Of course.”
    “And thank Mr. Tannahill for us,” Jill added.
    Lia nodded, slid out of the booth, and vanished.
    “What made you suspect my satellite phone was bugged?” Jill asked in a low voice.
    “I was wondering before the thumbprints got covered over,” Zach said, leaning close to Jill. “Then I was sure.”
    “Why?”
    “Flight plans are only good for airports, yet someone found us at Frost’s house.”
    “Did we mention Frost on the plane to Taos?” Jill asked.
    “No. I was thinking and you were mad. We didn’t talk much.”
    “But someone knew about the thumbprints in time to cover them on the Dunstan family paintings.”
    Zach nodded. “The only way I could have been bugged was if someone knew I would be assigned to this op. No one knew that until it happened, including yours truly.”
    “You were on vacation anyway.”
    “Yeah. Somebody could have sold out St. Kilda and bugged my phone,” Zach said, “but that’s not my first choice. Faroe is very, very careful who he employees. Steele is even worse. Everybody who works for St. Kilda gets the kind of vetting that makes sure secrets stay that way. Individual clearances are updated frequently and randomly.”
    “So you decided it was probably me,” Jill said.
    “Yeah, but I was damned if I could figure out how or where you were bugged. You came straight from the river to your ranch and then to Mesquite.”
    “Blanchard,” she said bitterly. “While I was in my hotel, I left the satellite phone in my car, shoved under the passenger seat.”
    “That was my next question—if your sat phone had ever been in a vulnerable place.”
    “Now what?” she asked.
    “We eat the first decent meal we’ve had since we met.”
    “But—” she began.
    “And we talk about options.”
    Zach was hoping they’d come up with one that didn’t include putting Jill on the firing line, but he didn’t expect it.
    Her sat phone was their only connection to whoever had shot Frost.

71
    LAS VEGAS
SEPTEMBER 17
12:31 A.M.
    T he sound of a satellite phone ringing in the next room brought Zach to full wakefulness. Automatically he started to get up, then realized it was Jill’s phone, not his. He turned on the bedside lamp and reached over to wake her.
    Her eyes were open, clear, watching him.
    “Do I answer?” she asked softly.
    Zach wanted to say no. He nodded his head.
    She fought her way through the luxurious pillows surrounding her like a flock of sleeping swans and walked toward the adjoining room.
    He watched her push open the door and wished she wasn’t walking closer to danger with every step.
    Maybe it’s a wrong number.
    But Zach’s gut knew it wasn’t. He kicked clear of the pillows and went to stand next to Jill.
    “Hello,” she said, angling the phone so that Zach could hear.
    “Ms. Breck?”
    The voice had an odd tone that told Zach it was being filtered. No voiceprints would be useful for making a case in court.
    “Who is this?” Jill asked.
    “I’m an art dealer. I