“I’m not interested in buying or discretion. Like I told your secretary, you have something that belongs to me.”
“I’m willing to give it back, assuming it’s still in my possession.” TQ placed her wineglass on the desk. Pierce could potentially be a problem. This was not the time to deal with idiots complaining about stolen artifacts, but she had to contain her anger and play along before he did something rash. “Can you be more specific? It’s very possible I acquired something without knowing it was stolen.”
“All you need to know is that I am willing to look the other way concerning President Thomas, her substitute, and your identity, unless of course you refuse to return what you took.”
The last time TQ’s heart did a somersault like this was never. Who the hell was this man?
“The president?” She feigned surprise. “I may be guilty of many things, but I have to admit I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you sure you have the right person?” So what if Kennedy and the florist had talked? They couldn’t prove anything.
“As sure as I am that Thomas will talk if I offer her and her family protection from you.”
“You have the wrong person.”
“Who do you think the authorities and the media will believe: Thomas, or a thieving auctioneer-slash-weapons and organ dealer? They will rip you apart before they lock you up for life.”
“Unfounded and obscene accusations,” TQ replied. “You have no proof.”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said calmly. “I will expose every illegal transaction you’ve ever made and those who did business with you, starting with Zhang Anshun, the Chinese Supreme Court Justice. I can assure you he will admit to everything to save his skin and delicate position.”
How did he know about Zhang, her key expediter for black-market organs? She ran her hand across her forehead, shocked to discover an unfamiliar sheen of perspiration. No one had ever made her sweat. “Who exactly are you, Mr. Pierce?”
“Someone with more power than you.”
Anger replaced her worry. No one had more power than she. She’d worked hard to make sure of that. “And yet I have something you want,” she said smugly. “Perhaps you overestimate your supremacy.”
“I have the power to destroy you, and I don’t need a fake birth certificate in order to kill. So tell me again if I overestimate my supremacy.”
How could he possibly know about her birth certificate? “I don’t know who you are just yet, Mr. Pierce, but there is nothing I can’t find out, including who or what you treasure.”
“If you find out who I am, then perhaps you can enlighten me as well, since I officially don’t exist. As for what I treasure, it’s no mystery, since I’m on my way to get it. A heads-up: I don’t deal well with disappointment.”
It was like listening to herself. Who the hell was he? Had she angered and stolen from someone in the CIA? “Why don’t you tell me what you want and give me time to locate it or buy it back? It will make our transaction much smoother and faster.” She placed her hand on the landline, to make an immediate call to whichever warehouse had his fucking artifact. If she’d already sold it, she’d have to find a way to get it back, and that would take time.
“I’m sure you haven’t sold it. If, on the other hand, it has been destroyed…” He paused such a long while TQ thought the line had gone dead. “You will meet an equal fate,” he finally said.
“I don’t destroy anything of value.”
“Then I sincerely hope we have similar tastes. I will be at your Connecticut Avenue address within the hour.”
“I look forward to our meeting.” She kept her voice calm, but her heartbeat accelerated further with the knowledge that he knew about her D.C. office and would be here soon.
“I probably needn’t mention this,” he said, “but should anything happen that might delay my timely return home, I have given orders to release all the information I have on you.”
“I meant to ask you earlier,” she replied. “How did you know I was in Washington?”
“There is nothing I can’t find out.” The line went dead.
She immediately dialed the number of her high-level contact in the FBI. She had to know who she was dealing with, obviously a worthy adversary. Pierce had considerable money—evidenced by his private jet and whatever priceless artifact she’d taken of his—he had power enough to find her and destroy her, and he was smart enough to ensure her devastation should anything happen to him. Although she admired smart people, she would not allow anyone to checkmate her at any game. “I need information and I need it now,” she told her contact.
“What can I do for you?” he replied at once.
“Tell me who Montgomery Pierce is.”
“Give me a second.”
TQ heard him clicking away at a computer.
“I have quite a few with that name. Can you give me more?”
“In his sixties, I think, possibly CIA.”
“I can’t access the CIA without—”
“Don’t, can’t, and won’t are unacceptable. Now search, before I personally take your father’s liver back,” she yelled.
“Give me a moment.”
“Make it a fast one.”
“I found a Montgomery Pierce with a military record, born in 1950. Stationed in France for three years. He left the military in 1974 to become a lawyer in New York, and then…” He paused.
“Then, what?” TQ snapped.
“His career ended in 1988. After that, nothing.”
“You mean he died?”
“No, I mean he disappeared,” the contact said.
“No one disappears. He’s not a ghost. Was he married? Children?” TQ hoped she could find something to at least scare Pierce.
“Neither.”
“Parents? Siblings?”
“No siblings. Says here he was adopted.”
“By?” TQ rolled her eyes. “It’s like pulling teeth.”
“Sorry, but it’s just that his record is very vague. It doesn’t say who adopted him or what happened to him.”
This sounded like her man.
“Aren’t you people supposed to have everyone’s records?”
“Unless someone higher up deleted or classified them,” he replied, “in which case access is denied.”
“When are records deleted or marked classified?”
“If someone is an Agency NOC.”
“A what?”
“A non-official cover for the Agen…CIA, or…”
“Or what?”
“Or if someone is considered very significant because of their covert work for the benefit and safety of the United Nations,” he said, “and when they are essential links between the USA and other countries. Their identity is then considered high-level security.”
“Who has access to that level?” TQ checked her watch. Time was running out.
“Interpol. And before you ask, even if I could access their records, information like this is not kept on an electronic database for security reasons. Cooperation with people like him is unofficial, and treated as such.”
“Which means what?”
“They work to make companies like the FBI, CIA, KGB, MI6, and you name it look good. They go above and beyond any law and answer to no one. Nobody cares how they get the job done, as long as the said companies can claim the glory and reap the media benefits.”
“Who pays them?”
“Whoever hired them.”
“In other words, these people are contractors,” TQ said.
“Very similar.”
Maybe Kennedy had talked, after all. “Do you have the address of a company called the EOO?”
She heard him type again.
“Most money-grubbing private companies like Xe advertise everywhere and are easy to find. Others…” The line went quiet again.
“What?”
“Like the EOO are not. Says here the address is classified.”