“Corliss?”
“He’s off the list. He was killed in Pakistan over a month ago.”
“Then, Santos. He’s still in that prison in Caracas?”
“He was until three days ago.”
She went still. “What?”
“He received a release because two witnesses who testified at his trial recanted their testimonies.”
“Why didn’t I hear anything about it? Santos is big news.”
“Money, influence, threats. I’d make a bet both the witnesses and the judge who issued the release were scared shitless and wanted only to do what they were told, then fade into the woodwork.”
“But you knew about it?”
“I was there at the prison when they let him go. I felt helpless as hell.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was busy. I had an agent down. Jantzen was more important to me at the time.”
“Do you know where Santos is now?”
“I tried to get a trace on him, but it was a no-go. We think he left South America but don’t know where he was headed.”
“What about Manuel Dorgal? He’s practically Santos’s shadow.”
“He didn’t meet him at the prison.”
“No?” she said grimly. “He was probably busy with Olena Petrov and couldn’t get back for the grand occasion.”
“You’ve zeroed in on Santos?”
“Until I hear something different. Santos has been in that prison for two years, but the killings didn’t start until he was certain he was going to get out. He didn’t want to miss any of the fun. He’s been plotting and planning, and now he’s ready.”
“Ready for you?”
“Eventually. Hu Chang thinks that he’ll want to hit a few more people I care about before he gets around to me. I tend to agree. I saw his face after I shot his wife. He’ll want me to suffer.”
“Crazy son of a bitch.”
“That goes without saying.” She was trying to think. “But if he wants me to suffer, he’s going to want to taunt me, to take credit. It’s what I remember about his psychological makeup. He’ll call me or send me an e-mail or something. Put a trace on all my electronic devices.”
“Okay. But he’s not stupid. We may not get anything.”
“It’s the only thing I can think to do right now. Except warn the people I care about. I just called Joe Quinn. And I told Hu Chang to get Erin Sullivan to go to Chen Lu’s palace in Hong Kong.” She frowned. “But that may take too much time. I don’t know how much time we’ll have. Erin’s doing humanitarian work with the people in that village in Tibet. You have agents near there, and I remember that Les Caudell actually knew her. Can you tell him to keep an eye on her?”
“Why don’t you call on your friend Cameron? He knows Tibet like the back of his hand. As I recall, there was a connection between Erin and him, wasn’t there?”
“They’re … close.” Connection? That was both descriptive and an understatement when applied to Cameron and Erin. She had thought at first they might be lovers, but that was far from the truth. As security chief for the conglomerate for which he worked, one of Cameron’s duties was to recruit brilliant, idealistic people to the global movement in which he believed. As a Pulitzer Prize winner, Erin fell in that category, and their closeness came from an intimacy based on Erin’s gratitude to him for banishing the pain and terror of torture she was experiencing after her kidnapping by a warlord in Tibet. Soon, Erin had become caught up in the mystery that surrounded Cameron.
And Catherine had become caught up with both of them while freeing Erin from the warlord. Erin had become her friend. Cameron had become … she still didn’t know what Cameron had become to her.
“And Cameron’s not in Tibet at the moment,” she said. “The last I heard he was in Copenhagen. Besides, Erin wouldn’t want Cameron involved. She’s very protective of him. Just tell your agent to keep an eye on her until she gets to Hong Kong.”
“Okay. Anyone else who would be on Santos’s short list?”
“I don’t think so. Maybe Kelly Winters, who’s at the College of William and Mary in Virginia. She and Luke are friends, and she spends weekends with us sometimes. Assign someone to keep an eye on her.” She paused. “I thought I was a fairly solitary person, but we touch everyone around us. When I was going over the list of possible victims, I found that out. Someone I might not consider as close, Santos could decide was worth killing.” Her hand tightened on the phone. “I just have to find him soon. Get me phone numbers. Any way to trace him. Start searching, Venable.”
“What do you think I’m doing? I’ll get back to you when I know something.” He hung up.
Santos. He still wasn’t a definite, but he was emerging as a clear favorite. Time to go over his history and favorite locations to see if something popped out at her.
She Googled his name.
A newspaper article and photograph popped on the screen.
Slick black hair, Castilian features, sensual mouth. He looked to be in his thirties, but she knew he was forty-four. A rap sheet that was violent and terrifying. He dealt out vengeance with swift and cruel efficiency. He’d risen from the gangs on the streets of Caracas as a child to head the most powerful crime organization in South America. His corruption of the political systems in Bolivia and Venezuela had kept him safe and at the top of the heap.