Killing Truth: A Leine Basso Thriller Prequel Read online

  Damn, she looks more like me every day. Disconcerting, to say the least.

  April gave Marta a hug goodbye. At five-nine she towered over the older woman. She glanced behind Leine. “Where’s Carlos?”

  “He’s still overseas, but should be back tomorrow.” Eric had given him a last-minute assignment, and instead of coming home with Leine he’d flown to an undisclosed location.

  April’s face fell and she let the backpack slide to the floor. “Darn. I wanted to talk to him about this really cool formula I learned in math.”

  Leine knew better than to suggest April talk to her. Not because Leine didn’t understand math—she’d taken advanced calculus and trigonometry in her early days as a trainee for the Agency—but because April reserved certain discussions solely for Carlos.

  “We’ll see him this weekend.”

  April brightened. “We’re going to the City? Awesome!”

  They said their goodbyes and walked out to the car. The sun was just beginning its descent toward the horizon, casting everything in a dusky orange hue.

  “Did you have a good time?” Leine asked.

  April shrugged. “I guess.”

  Leine tried again. “Should we get pizza for dinner?”

  Another noncommittal shrug.

  She’s angry with me again. What the hell did I do this time? Leine unlocked the doors and they both got in.

  Keep trying, Leine. It’s bound to work eventually, right?

  At one time best friends, somewhere around the age of eleven Leine’s relationship with April had taken a surly turn. More often than not, Leine found herself in what could only be described as enemy territory. Raising a daughter alone was enough of a challenge. This new quality to their relationship had Leine scratching her head and yearning for more jobs out of country.

  “Look. I get it. You’re unhappy with me. Is it because I was gone so long this time?” She peered at April, who was looking out the window at nothing in particular. “Because, you know, if it is, there isn’t much I can do about it right now. It’s my job.”

  Giving up for the time being, Leine started the car and pulled away from the curb. They drove in silence along eucalyptus-and oak-lined streets, past older, upper-class homes dotting the perimeter of a golf course. Soon the scenery turned to expansive vineyards and quaint wineries, and they passed several bicyclists in brightly colored shorts and helmets. Thirty-five minutes later, they turned left onto Main Street and drove through the picturesque town of Calistoga, headed for home.

  They pulled onto the gravel drive and made their way through the vineyard toward the house. The cabernet leaves had turned with the cooler temperatures, painting the landscape orange and yellow, with traces of deep red. Leine smiled at the welcome sight. She considered herself lucky to have found the private rental.

  As they neared the two-story farmhouse, a shiny black Mercedes Benz could be seen parked in the circular drive.

  “Is that Eric’s car?” April asked, sitting up straight.

  “Looks like it,” Leine replied. What is he doing here?

  She pulled into the detached garage and parked. April shot out of the car and ran for the house before Leine could shut off the engine. Leine gathered her things from the trunk and made her way toward the house. This is what you get for insisting on raising April alone.

  Understandably, her daughter became attached to whichever man April happened to spend the most time around. For the first few years after she was born, Eric was a constant, showing up when Leine needed a break, bringing all sorts of amusing toys and games to pass the time. Soon, though, the newness wore off and Eric grew more distant, citing a heavy workload and added responsibilities. Though young, April had felt his absence acutely, assuming his abandonment had been her fault no matter how much Leine assured her it was not. Now, every time she saw him, she did her best to recapture his attention.

  Maybe I can talk Carlos into moving up here. At least that way April would have the benefit of a more suitable male figure.

  The irony of an assassin as a role model for a preteen was not lost on Leine.

  She approached the wraparound porch to April’s squeal of delight. The two of them sat on rattan chairs, a small blue box between them on the low glass table. She turned to show Leine what Eric had brought her.

  “Isn’t it beautiful, Mom?”

  Leine eyed the diamond-and-topaz-encrusted tennis bracelet with a mixture of annoyance and trepidation. “It is that.” She turned her attention to Eric. “What’s the occasion?”

  Eric smiled modestly and shrugged. “Do I need a reason to give a gift to my favorite girl?” April beamed as she held out her wrist so he could close the latch.

  After so many years of knowing him, Leine found it easy to see through his boyish good looks and aw-shucks demeanor. He didn’t do gifts without some kind of agenda attached. Now that Carlos had planted a seed of doubt in her mind, she was on high alert to any kind of undercurrent. She leveled her gaze at him, making it plain with a look what she thought of giving a twelve-year-old such an expensive gift. Eric averted his eyes and smiled at April, the tips of his ears turning pink.

  “Can I wear it to school?” April asked Leine, happiness practically oozing from her pores.

  “Probably not, honey. I think you should save this for special occasions.”

  April’s face fell. “Can I at least show Cory and Alexa?”

  “Sure. Why don’t you invite them over?”

  April perked up and gave Eric a hug. “Thank you, Eric. It’s phat.”

  After she’d gone inside, Leine had a seat across from Eric.

  “Now, Leine. I know what you’re thinking, but this time it’s really about April.”

  Leine scoffed. “Like all those times before, you mean?”

  “Hey, give me a break.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I am her father. Just because we’ve been dancing around the subject for the last twelve years doesn’t mean I can’t have some kind of presence in her life.”

  Leine checked the angry response that sprang to her lips and took a deep breath to calm herself. Antagonizing him wouldn’t do any good and might harm the tenuous goodwill they’d managed to achieve in the last few years. Eric could be vindictive, especially if he thought his authority was being questioned. Careful, Leine. He knows everything about you.

  Everything.

  “We both agreed telling April was not in her best interest. Besides, you lost the right to have any say in her upbringing when you distanced yourself from her all those years ago.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact I am her biological parent.” Something shifted behind his eyes.

  “Where are you going with this, Eric?”

  Eric shrugged. “Nowhere. I just think it’s time I took a more active role in our daughter’s life.”

  “Right. I don’t think so.” Leine glared at him. “Are you trying to piss me off? Because you’re doing a bang-up job.” Easy, girl. He might be an asshole, but he’s a dangerous one.

  Eric’s expression morphed from belligerent to aw-shucks mode, and he put his hands up, obviously trying to placate her. “That isn’t the main reason I’m here.” He cast a quick glance at the doorway before he leaned forward, lowering his voice.

  “You’ve heard of Emile Robicheaux?”

  “The Frenchman.”

  Eric nodded. “Turns out, he’s been rather active. And not in a neighborly way.”

  “He’s an arms dealer,” Leine said, her tone matter-of-fact. Eric wasn’t usually quite this dense.

  His smile held a hint of condescension. “Of course. But he’s upsetting a delicate balance and our Russian counterparts have expressed an interest in removing him from the equation.”

  “You’re serious.” Leine didn’t bother keeping the disbelief from her voice. “And you’re telling me this because—?”

  “I want you to take the package.” Eric sat back in his chair. “Take the package” was Agency parlance for accepting a
target. “Look. I know what you’re thinking—”

  Leine shook her head. “No, you don’t. Why on earth would you send one of ours to do their dirty work?”

  “Because he’s got connections and would know they were after him, which will piss him off. You don’t want to piss this guy off. My contact says he shows up at the smallest deal as long as there are weapons and cash, and then kills all but one witness. There’s no way he could know about the meets unless he’s using informants. At his last appearance he scored a smart bullet prototype that NUCLEUS was working on. Let’s just say our boss is not pleased.”

  “How do you know the Russians are telling the truth? They could just be trolling for some sucker to take the gig, hope they get lucky.”

  “I’ve known my guy a long time. He’s got a good track record. He asked me if the tables were turned, who would I put on it and I told him. I want it done right.” Eric shrugged. “You’re my best.”

  “I’m still not convinced.” The Russians had numerous agents that could do what Eric was suggesting. There had to be more to the story.

  There always was.

  “It’s a direct order.”

  Leine narrowed her eyes. “From whom?”

  Eric pointed straight up. Obviously, he didn’t mean God.

  “You’re telling me the vice president’s involved.”

  “Came straight from Toby.”

  Toby acted as liaison between the vice president and Scott Henderson.

  Leine couldn’t argue that one. She couldn’t ask to see the directive, since Henderson would never leave a trail—electronic or otherwise—especially if directed by the administration. Still, in light of the information Carlos had suggested he found, she wasn’t comfortable taking Eric’s word at face value. Memories of the problems with the Glushenko job flitted through her mind, reminding her she still didn’t know who’d compromised the operation.

  “That’s all well and good, Eric, but I’m going to need more than just your word.”

  Eric’s eyes narrowed. “Since when did you feel the need to question me?”

  “Since I was almost killed on the Glushenko job.”

  He tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Fair enough. I admit I could have done more advance work.”

  “You think so?” Leine checked the sarcasm that sprang to her lips. She’d have to play along with him, keep him thinking she still trusted him. “Look, I understand the info on a target can be sketchy, but I’m convinced the ambush was the result of advance knowledge. Doesn’t that give you pause?”

  “The assailant could have gotten lucky.”

  “Lucky? A person steps off a curb and narrowly misses being hit by a bus. That’s lucky. An ambush by four gunmen is a planned assassination.”

  “I disagree. There could be a number of explanations. Glushenko’s a high-value target. I’m certain he routinely sets up advance security protocols wherever he goes. Even when he visits his mistress.” He picked a piece of lint off his trousers. “You know the risks.”

  Let it go, Leine. There was no use arguing with Eric. She wanted to get a pulse on how he’d react, but he’d had too much time to practice his cover story. If he’d been involved.

  “Fine. But I want a full dossier on the Frenchman. Whatever you’ve got, even if it’s hearsay. I choose where, when, and how.”

  “Absolutely,” he said, nodding. A moment of silence passed between them.

  “Are we finished?”

  Eric frowned, shifted in his chair. “Not quite. I have one more job for you to do before you go after Robicheaux.”

  “When?” Leine said, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice. “I’m already on April’s shit list for being gone so long on the Glushenko job. Now you’re sending me to do two jobs, back to back? You do remember April, right?”

  Eric leaned forward and placed his hands on the table in front of him, his eyes glittering like hazel-colored diamonds. “You want to stay with the Agency, right?”

  “Is that a threat?” Leine’s face grew warm as a wave of anger rose in her chest. How long had she done exactly what he wanted? He admitted she was his best. Was he really so eager to have her leave?

  Or dead?

  His lips thinned with an insincere smile. “Of course not. More of a suggestion to appreciate what you have because of your career.”

  He leaned back and spread his arms wide, indicating their peaceful surroundings. Just then, a murmuration of starlings swooped down through the darkening night sky like a choreographed wave, landing as one in the recently harvested vineyard.

  “Point taken.” Leine didn’t want to fight him. She wanted him to leave so she could go inside and be with her daughter. “When’s my flight?”

  “I’m waiting for intel. I should have the packet to you by next week. That way you can spend the weekend with April.”

  Leine stood and stared pointedly at Eric. He got to his feet.

  “Say goodbye to her, will you?” he said, and walked down the porch steps to his car.

  Leine waited until the Mercedes’s taillights disappeared down the drive before she picked up the box and ribbon still on the table.

  She wasn’t looking forward to telling April she was about to leave town again.

  Chapter 4

  November— Somewhere outside of Paris

  Emile Robicheaux closed his eyes and brought the fifty-year-old scotch to his nose, detecting a hint of warm oak and rose. He took a small sip, swirled the liquid over his palate, sensing smooth caramel and a bite of orange. But wait—was that tobacco? Ah, yes. Perfection.

  One could never go wrong with good scotch.

  Oscar appeared in his periphery, a solid giant of a man whose mere presence signaled barely suppressed violence. Scars crisscrossed the large man’s arms and neck, with one particularly angry-looking red welt searing his cheek from temple to just beneath his chin. Oscar had no illusions as to his appearance. Robicheaux had hired him to intimidate.

  “What is it?” Robicheaux asked.

  “There is news.”

  The Frenchman set the hand-blown glass on the table next to him and gave the giant his full attention.

  “Glushenko has been assassinated.”

  Robicheaux nodded.

  “Was it she?” Everyone in the arms community knew of the first attempt. Rumor suggested a woman assassin. They’d dubbed her the Léopard.

  Oscar shrugged a massive shoulder. “There were no witnesses, but it’s probable. The methods used on the others are similar.”

  The others Oscar referred to were several recent Russian assassinations, all well planned and successful. All attributed to the Léopard.

  “Interesting.” Robicheaux was intrigued. He’d known female assassins, of course, but never had there been one with this kind of reputation.

  “There’s more.” Oscar shifted his feet, looking uncomfortable.

  “Come now, Oscar. It can’t be that bad.”

  Oscar met his gaze. “There’s word of a contract. On you.”

  Robicheaux had been expecting this. He fully accepted the probability that one or another faction in the arms community would eventually call for his assassination. The question now was who?

  “Let me guess. The Russians?”

  “That’s what’s unusual. The request originated with them, but they’ve passed it on to someone else.”

  Robicheaux narrowed his eyes. “Who?”

  “It’s unclear. I’ve got someone working on it.”

  “Why would our paranoid friends hand someone else this prize?” Robicheaux sighed and picked up his glass. “My death would be cause for celebration throughout the Motherland.”

  “They believe you have an informant within their ranks.”

  “And they’d be correct.” The Frenchman gazed at the amber liquid for a moment before taking a delicate sip. “Keep me updated. I am interested in whoever it is that they trust with a contract of such import.”

  Oscar left him and he stared in
to the distance, lost in thought. As a rule, the Russians didn’t farm out their wet work, preferring to extract every last bit of intelligence from the target first. It was possible this was an attempt to lure him into the open. Or, at the very least, expose his contact.

  That would never happen.

  Chapter 5

  November—San Francisco, California

  Leine, Carlos, and April sat together on a bench near Fisherman’s Wharf, picking apart a Dungeness crab. Seagulls swooped down, clumsy in their attempt to steal a section of the delicious appetizer for themselves, while Carlos gallantly waved them off. The three had walked the Embarcadero to the wharf under the sun-drenched, brilliant blue California sky. Along the way, Carlos teased April relentlessly, making them all laugh when she gave it back to him in spades. Like a family, Leine mused.

  Nice.

  When they were finished, April crumpled the leftover shells inside the wrapper and walked to a nearby garbage can, stopping to pet a woman’s tiny dog on the way. Leine leaned her head back and closed her eyes, enjoying the warm sun on her face.

  “Happy?” Carlos asked, joining her.

  “Mmm. Very.”

  He lifted her hand and kissed each knuckle. She smiled.

  “I want to marry you.”

  Leine opened her eyes and studied him. He leveled his dark gaze at her, and for a moment she found it difficult to remember what she wanted to say.

  “I never pegged you as the marrying kind.”

  He grinned, slowly, and leaned in close. His breath tickled her cheek.

  “I wasn’t.”

  Leine inhaled deeply, losing herself in the subtle aftershave he wore just for her. Notes of citrus and exotic spice reminded her of their days in Morocco two years before. There was something to be said for marrying a man with a similar career. She wouldn’t have to hide what she did for a living. The stirrings of desire curled through her, and she sank against him with a deep sigh.

  “Get a room.” April stood nearby with her hands on her hips in a mock display of disgust. Leine and Carlos laughed and reached for her, wrapping her in a giant hug that made her giggle.