detained for questioning. But maybe he still had enough influence with Sanchez to save her. “Let me speak to the general.”
“He’s in a meeting.”
“I’ll wait.”
“No. You will stop poking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
“The general will want—”
“I will arrest you along with this female spy if you’re not out of here in five seconds.”
Marissa’s eyes were bleak. “You’d better leave,” she murmured to Jed.
“Silencio! You will not speak to each other.”
Jed hated to abandon her like this. But he’d run out of options. The only thing he could do was offer her a word of comfort. “Everything will be all right. I’ll tell the American embassy what’s happened.”
She acknowledged the help with the barest of nods, but her expression was starting to glaze over.
The man holding her arm jerked her sharply. She winced as he led her toward a door on the far side of the patio. The last view of her he had was of her rigid back and the blond curls he’d first spotted across the crowded reception.
* * *
AS THE GUARDS TROTTED Marissa away, one of the guests from the party pressed back into the foliage of the bird of paradise tree where he was standing. Eyes narrowed, he’d been watching the scene on the patio with acute interest.
He’d seen Prentiss slip out of the reception room minutes after Devereaux had also disappeared. And he’d made a silent bet with himself that the two events were no coincidence. It was gratifying to confirm that he was right. Also a bit unsettling.
Devereaux had told everybody who would listen that she was a travel agent. Prentiss was supposed to be on a fact-finding mission for the Global Bank. But it appeared the two of them had more compelling reasons to be in San Marcos. Also, it seemed they knew each other, although neither one had admitted as much. Probably they were working together. And it looked as if Devereaux had gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar, so to speak.
His lips thinned. Had she discovered anything incriminating before they’d bagged her? He’d have to find out quickly. And make sure she didn’t get a chance to talk.
For several seconds he enjoyed watching Prentiss stand with his hands clenched at his sides. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing the bastard was sweating. But the man in the bushes didn’t let the pleasure show on his face.
Deep in thought, he left his hiding place and strode toward the mansion. He’d never met Prentiss, although he’d heard of him. He was a once-top agent who was now washed up in the intelligence business. The rumor was he’d lost his nerve. But he’d toughed it out just fine with Sanchez’s man.
Too bad. Prentiss and Devereaux were another problem he’d have to solve before he made any final decisions about Sanchez. But right now he’d better get in touch with his man in Junipero Province to make sure nothing out of the ordinary was happening out there.
* * *
JED STUDIED C ASSANDRA Devereaux, noting the strain etched into her profile. She looked so much like Marissa so much that it was painful.
“Would you tell the others what you told me?” she asked in a strangled voice.
It had been three days since Marissa was taken away by Sanchez’s guards. Jed had arrived at Cassie’s renovated East Baltimore row house at five in the afternoon, given her a summary of her sister’s predicament and collapsed into bed for a few hours of badly needed sleep. While he’d been conked out, she’d made half a dozen phone calls, and he was damn impressed with the group of people she’d so quickly assembled.
He looked around the living room at the circle of faces.
He knew Jason Zacharias, of course. They’d worked together on a number of undercover assignments, including the time he’d come to rescue Jason and his wife Noel from a Scottish megalomaniac and Jason had ended up saving him. The other women of 43 Light Street and their husbands were strangers. But he knew they were Marissa’s friends. He’d always thought of her as so cold. But he could see from the faces around him that they were all deeply concerned about the turn of events in San Marcos. And they’d do anything they could to get her out of this mess.
He was especially struck by the couple sitting close together on the couch. She was Jo O’Malley, who’d been introduced as a private detective. He was Cameron Randolph, an electronics genius. Jo was expecting their first child, and it was obvious how happy they were about the pregnancy. Still, Jo had cancelled a prenatal appointment to attend this meeting.
“Start at the party,” Cassie requested.
Jed did, skipping over his personal reactions to Marissa and sticking with the facts, “I went straight from Sanchez’s to the American embassy, but they couldn’t do anything until nine the next morning. By then it was already too late to complain that an American citizen named Marissa Devereaux was being held incommunicado by General Miguel Sanchez.” He shifted in his chair.
“Too bad the embassy didn’t get right on it. I checked with the San Marcos Department of Immigration the next day and found out that no one named Marissa Devereaux had entered the country in the past three weeks the legal limit for a renewable tourist visa.”
Jo’s eyes narrowed. “Somebody must have been working overtime searching for her entry visa. But it paid off. If she’s not legally in the country, there’s no way to lodge any kind of official complaint.”
“You’ve got it,” Jed agreed.
“I’ve been burning up the phone lines to the State Department,” Cassie added. “Marci was on an undercover assignment for our old boss Victor Kirkland. He was willing to speak off the record because I’ve still got my security clearance. He says he’s sorry, but he can’t do anything to help her because State can’t acknowledge her mission.
“Can the U.S. State Department really operate that way?” The question came from a woman sitting in the corner. Small and delicate, she had curly brown hair and big brown eyes that seemed to stare right through Cassie. Her name was Jenny Larkin, and she was blind. Jed had wondered at first what she was doing at the meeting, since it was obvious that she had less experience than the others with the unofficial workings of government or with detective work. But he’d quickly discovered that her analytic mind and phenomenal memory were an asset to the group.
“I’m afaid they can do whatever they want to, as long as they don’t get caught,” Cassie explained. “But I’m not going to let Victor get away with stonewalling me.”
Jed admired her defiant posture, but he didn’t hold out much hope from that quarter. He knew the rules. And so did Marissa. She’d taken a job where it was understood she was on her own if there was trouble.
Until now, Abby Franklin had been silent. “What else have you got for us?” she asked him.
“After the scam at Immigration, I didn’t expect to find a record of a Marissa Devereaux checking in to a hotel. But I put it around that I’d be at the Café Primo and that I was willing to pay for information about a blond gringa travel agent who might have been in Santa Isabella
