Double-Cross

  DOUBLE-CROSS

  MEREDITH FLETCHER

  Published by Silhouette Books

  America’s Publisher of Contemporary Romance

  Special thanks and acknowledgment

  are given to Meredith Fletcher for her contribution

  to the ATHENA FORCE series.

  Chapter 1

  Late August

  Munich, Germany

  “Y our target is at three o’clock, Sam. Coming down the stairs. Can you confirm visual?”

  Shifting amid the throng of celebrants gathered around the nearest open wet bar, Samantha St. John turned to her right and looked up the long winding stone staircase that connected the elegant ballroom to the castle’s second floor. Considering the ceiling was almost forty feet high, the staircase had plenty of meandering room. Other heads started to turn in the direction of the staircase as her target descended. Konrad Steiner loved to make an entrance.

  “Sam?”

  Riley McLane’s warm voice echoed in Sam’s ear as if he was standing right beside her. He’d caught her off guard even though she’d been expecting the audio contact through the micro ear transceiver she wore. She’d been standing idle, making the party scene with small talk for almost two hours without seeing her target or hearing much from Riley. She was good at waiting, but she didn’t like it.

  Sam’s partner on-site had met with the target briefly outside and had managed to tag Steiner with an ultraviolet mist that showed up on the thermal-imaging surveillance systems the support team was using through a geosynchronous weather satellite the Central Intelligence Agency had gotten access to. Riley and the support team in Langley, Virginia, back in the United States had followed the man through the castle, once the tag had been made.

  Only five feet, three inches tall, Sam had to peer over the crowd of guests around her. The spiked heels she wore gave her a boost. Of course, if she got into a footrace, she was in trouble.

  The plan is not to get into trouble, Sam reminded herself. Get in, install the computer program on the target’s computer and get out. Simple and trouble free. Stick with that. No trouble.

  Steiner, the party’s host and an international crime figure, although most of the attendees didn’t know that, descended the stairs with a svelte redhead on his arm. She trailed a hand down the wrought-iron banister, the movement as suggestive as her rolling hips. Her proximity staked her claim on the man at her side for every other woman in the ballroom. And perhaps that message was intended for some of the men, as well.

  Steiner was in his early fifties, but only the mission background Sam had read on the man gave that away. He took care of himself, and obviously considered his image one of his best attributes. His black hair was expertly groomed and his short-cropped goatee stood out proudly. A cruel smile curved his generous mouth. The dark blue tuxedo he wore fit him like a glove, delineating the broad shoulders and narrow waist.

  The man looks like a medieval lord, Sam thought as she watched Steiner. The castle suits him well. But then, he knows that, doesn’t he?

  Balloons and festive party decorations covered the walls. The chandelier in the ballroom glittered with a thousand points of light.

  The castle outside Munich, Germany, along with the landscaped grounds inside the walls and the forest beyond, was a recent acquisition that Steiner was showing off. He was also showing off the woman at his side, another recent—although more temporary, judging from past behavior—acquisition. His relationships with women tended to be perishable in all senses of the word. Tonight the castle and the woman both were intended to intimidate those Steiner planned to do business with.

  His slender companion was less than half his age. She wore a shimmering dark green evening gown that left little to the imagination. She clung to Steiner’s arm, dwarfed by his height. She laughed and talked freely, patting Steiner on the arm.

  Steiner paid polite interest to the young woman, but his sharp hazel eyes roved over his guests like those of a hawk swooping toward a nest of field mice. He was a predator going to work, sorting out the strongest and the weakest of his victims in a glance.

  Seven men in evening black met Steiner at the bottom of the stairs. All of the men started talking at once, in three different languages. Each of them had a deal he wanted to present. Asia, Africa, Australia and North America were represented in the delegation.

  Steiner was, Sam knew, fluent in those languages and a dozen others. Patiently and with diplomacy, Steiner shelved the topics for discussion, saying there would be plenty of time for business after the party. Sam barely heard the exchanges over the noise of the crowd and the roar of the speed metal rock band playing live in the next room.

  “Sam, do you copy?” Riley prodded. There was an unusual edge to his voice.

  “I’ve got him,” Sam whispered. The miniature sending and receiving unit tucked in her ear picked up her voice easily and filtered out the extraneous noise. The device broadcast on a satellite phone frequency. The signal made the trip to the limousine Sam had arrived in, was encrypted there on hidden Agency hardware, and sent on to her mission controller.

  Several of the partygoers used satellite phones to conduct business and keep in touch with their offices while at the castle. Steiner’s security allowed for those signals to come and go and didn’t jam them. That was a weak spot the intelligence division at the Agency had ferreted out to use for their own on-site sat-link communications.

  The true trick in penetrating Steiner’s stronghold had been in wangling an invitation to the party. Even the paparazzi hadn’t been able to break into the castle. Steiner’s estate security was top-notch. However, the man did like publicity that he could control. Sam had chosen that as her route into the castle party.

  “Bret?” Riley asked.

  “Affirmative.” Bret Horn, Sam’s partner on the mission, stood a few feet away. Blond and good-looking, Horn had immediately drawn the attention of several females attending the party. He masked his response with the glass of beer he held while pretending to listen to the two dark-haired women vying for his attention.

  “Sam, we’ve identified the target’s room and the computer he uses for his drops,” Riley said. Until Bret had marked Steiner with the ultraviolet spray, they hadn’t been able to ascertain that. “I’ll direct you there when you’re ready.”

  “Understood,” Sam said. Immediately, adrenaline spiked through her body, invigorating her. But she kept herself under tight rein. She liked being in control of herself. Some of her friends insisted she was a control freak, never quite able to let herself go.

  Sam didn’t agree with that assessment completely, but she understood how others could see her that way. Control was a big part of her life and her career. So many other things in her childhood—her abandonment and who her parents had been—remained mysteries and out of her reach. She’d had to focus on the here and now, not think about parents who had walked away from her or surrogate families that had provided for her but made certain they never got close to the strange child who was something of a genius.

  Growing up, Sam had only been a visitor in those homes. Not family. She hadn’t had that until she’d reached the Athena Academy for the Advancement of Women. Her friendship with the Cassandras, as she and the others in her orientation group had called themselves, had been deeper than anything she’d ever known, then or since leaving the academy. She didn’t trust the world to offer her anything like that again. She’d trained herself to be complete. Maybe she wasn’t always happy, but she was independent.

  “At the first sign of trouble,” Riley stated quietly, “I want the two of you out of there.”

  Irritated, Sam said, “Maybe we could concentrate on a successful mission before we throw in the towel.”

  “I am
concentrating on this mission’s success,” Riley stated sharply. “Getting you out of there alive is the greatest success.” He paused. “Both of you.”

  Sam felt guilty at once because she knew Riley wasn’t happy with getting sidelined from the action by his recent injury and didn’t care for the role of mission controller. He wasn’t cut out to be an observer. He was a player. Sending others into danger was hard for him.

  Riley had gotten shot on his last mission nearly a month ago. That mission had brought them closer to Steiner, finally giving them enough information to realize what the man was doing. That was also why Riley had been put into place as mission controller.

  Sam had served as part of the extraction team that had brought Riley out of downtown Munich, Germany, after his cover had been blown and he’d been wounded. Though he insisted he was now at one hundred percent and ready for fieldwork, Medical hadn’t yet released him.

  “I’m just reminding you of the mission parameters.” Riley’s voice took on an edge. “We’re not all or nothing on this take. We’ll have another chance. The target is a big fish, but he’s not going to pull a fade on us. He’s got too much to lose.”

  Sam knew that wasn’t entirely true. Konrad Steiner had operated for years without being discovered. The action that had resulted in Riley’s wounding had put the man close to ground for weeks. With all his money in Swiss and Cayman Islands banks, Steiner could slip away in an instant and become someone else.

  “You don’t have an extraction team there, Sam,” Riley reminded. “And you’re not exactly the most seasoned agent we could have sent.”

  Sam resisted the urge to argue the point. She was good at what she did; that was why she was there.

  If Riley knew he’d angered her, he didn’t act like it. He continued in the same commanding tone that grated on her nerves. “Tread lightly,” he ordered. “This is my show. My call.”

  Sam grew more irritated. She could be a team player when she needed to be, but she preferred calling her own shots. Because of her size and the way she kept to herself, most people underestimated her. They often thought she was too small, too shy. She didn’t like the fact that Riley seemed to be one of those people.

  During her six years with the CIA, Sam had been on several missions. Generally those missions had depended on her linguistic abilities, translating conversations and documents, rather than hands-on work that could get her killed. Only a few missions had actually required her to operate in the field and at such close proximity to a dangerous target.

  Steiner made his way through the crowd. He was known as an investor and a deal maker. His interests included developing music groups like the one playing in the next room, pharmaceuticals, transportation and genetic research. If a profit could be turned at an endeavor, Steiner seemed to find a way to become part of the enterprise. Everyone was eager to meet him.

  Even me.

  Sam knew that at least some of the others would not be so eager to make Steiner’s acquaintance if those people knew how many people the man had compromised over the past fifteen years. That was how Steiner had made so many business acquisitions.

  According to the files she’d read, Steiner’s actions had resulted in seventeen suicides, twenty-three murders and eight disappearances. Nine corporations had succumbed to hostile takeovers or been broken up after going bankrupt because of his actions.

  And that was only what the CIA intelligence services were successful in confirming. Estimations about the true number of those activities were likely to triple.

  “Heads up,” Riley said over the transmitter. “Sam, you’ve caught Steiner’s eye.”

  Sam sipped her drink and watched as Steiner worked his way through the crowd toward her. Her heart sped up a little. The response wasn’t out of anxiety, but rather her body getting ready for the unexpected encounter.

  “Making contact with Steiner at this juncture isn’t good,” Riley said.

  “I know,” Sam replied. “Running away at this point isn’t exactly acceptable behavior.”

  “Maybe if you had dressed more conservatively,” Riley growled.

  “If I’d dressed conservatively I’d have been more noticeable than I am now,” Sam replied. Every woman there with a figure flaunted it, and there apparently were no women without figures there that night. “And I might not have made it through the metal detectors.”

  All of the women at the party wore revealing and tight evening dresses and gowns. Sam honestly felt that she blended quite well with the crowd in an ice-blue, off-the-shoulder number. But her dress shouldn’t have caught the man’s attention.

  So what had put Konrad Steiner onto her scent?

  Steiner came to a stop in front of Sam and extended his hand. She offered hers in return and suffered through the obligatory hand kissing, which made her skin crawl.

  “Ah, Miss Werper, so good to meet you.” Steiner oozed charm. He spoke English with a trace of an accent.

  Sam was willing to bet Steiner knew about the accent and kept it on purpose. The man was polished and smooth, and the fact that he knew her, even though they had never been introduced proved that he did his homework.

  “I have looked forward to meeting you, Herr Steiner,” Sam responded.

  “Call me Konrad. I insist.”

  Sam smiled at him. Her senses coiled within her. Steiner’s three personal bodyguards remained a discreet distance away.

  “All right, Konrad,” Sam said, smiling again. “Then I insist that you call me Franziska.”

  “This is Odile.” Steiner gestured to the young redhead at his side.

  Sam told the young woman it was good to meet her, and Odile responded in kind. Both of them knew that neither of them cared.

  “I’m told you are a reporter,” Steiner said.

  “A writer, actually,” Sam corrected. “I write articles for different publications on a freelance basis.” That fit the cover she was using, and the note of pride embellished it.

  “I’m told you are quite good.”

  “Yes.” The Agency kept her cover name in the press through ghostwriters.

  “I was told you wanted to do a piece on the movie industry I have interests in.”

  “I would also like to do an interview with you, if possible.” Sam gestured at the castle. “Having seen this place, I’d like to do a piece on your home, as well.”

  Steiner shook his head and smiled sadly. “I’m sorry. Someone should have told you that I don’t give interviews.”

  “Someone did tell me that,” Sam replied, meeting his gaze. “Someone should have told you that I don’t take no for an answer. I’m here after all, aren’t I?”

  Steiner laughed. “Touché, Franziska.” He nodded to her. “Perhaps later I’ll allow you an opportunity to change my mind.”

  “I look forward to the challenge.” Sam ignored the scathing glance Odile gave her.

  “Enjoy the party.” Steiner nodded politely and kept moving through his guests.

  “Okay, Sam,” Riley urged. “Let’s go. The sooner you get out of there, the better I’ll feel.”

  Sam made brief eye contact with Bret, then threaded through the crowd. The staircase and the upper rooms were open to guests for business meetings as well as private recreation in any form they could have wanted.

  As she passed, Sam collected glances from men and from a few women. She reached the top of the stairs without incident.

  “Hold up,” Riley ordered.

  At the top of the stairs, Sam felt adrenaline rush through her body. The tension in Riley’s voice was unmistakable. She took a position beside the stairs and glanced down over the crowd as if checking the view.

  “What?” she whispered.

  “I thought I recognized someone there.”

  Sam scanned the faces as best as she could from the angle. “You probably did. A lot of those faces have been on magazine covers and CNN.”

  Below, rock stars chatted with business moguls while actors mixed with sports figures.
<
br />   “Not those faces,” Riley growled. “Someone from our line of work. Who do you know at MI-6?”

  MI-6 was Great Britain’s external espionage agency, a counterpart of the CIA. Sam scanned the crowd more closely. None of the faces she knew were in view.

  “Naming names right now might not be a good idea,” she said. “Their presence here doesn’t have to mean anything. They’ve got just as much interest in our target as we do.”

  Silence dragged over the connection.

  “I’m going for it,” Sam said. “Hesitation isn’t going to net us anything.”

  Riley growled unintelligibly for a moment, then added, “Go.”

  Quickly Sam turned and headed down the hallway. Her pulse beat at her temples. She kept her stride full and determined, listening to the soft tick of the mental clock inside her head, counting down and eradicating her safety zone. She was in no-man’s-land. There was no turning back now. She was off the hook and operating on the fly. Success and failure rode on the roll of the dice.

  If she was caught, she had no doubt that she’d be executed immediately.

  Chapter 2

  R iley McLane paced the raised section of the small, compact control room floor in the Langley, Virginia, CIA HQ. More than anything, he wanted to be inside Konrad Steiner’s castle-away-from-home. In Riley’s opinion, Sam simply wasn’t experienced enough to know what she was getting into.

  She’s a linguist, damn it, he thought. Not a trained field operative.

  High-definition plasma monitors lined the wall in front of him. Six operatives sat at workstations that held monitors on smaller scales. Some of those monitors matched the views presented on the wall across the room. All of them came from the button-cams on-site and the sat-link.

  The button-cams were miniaturized video sending units no bigger than a shirt button. Adhesive backs allowed their use almost anywhere. The confusion of the party atmosphere, as well as the electronic toys brought by the partygoers and those supplied by Steiner, had provided Sam and Bret with plenty of cover to activate the video surveillance equipment without discovery.