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Adam shook his head. "Lucas actually put the two of you on a case?"
"We worked quite well together," Cass said. "Or we did, after you two started speaking to each other again. Please don't ever send her to me when you're angry with her, Adam. It's dreadful. All that moping and angst. It's like being partnered with one of those fictional vampires."
I sighed.
Cassandra looked at me. "You aren't even going to glare at me for embarrassing you in front of Adam?"
"Only if you say something embarrassing."
"And that isn't?" She studied my face. "Interesting . . ."
"Moving right along," I said. "I'd better call Lucas and see what he wants us to do."
I didn't need to. The moment I turned my cell back on, Lucas rang. He sounded exhausted--Dallas was not going well. He refused to elaborate, except to say that he really wished Benicio could have gotten in touch with our pilot to take us straight on to Dallas.
"We can be there in three hours," Adam called from the front seat. "We'll swing by and grab Aaron, then hit the highway."
Lucas agreed that was wise. With the jet gone, driving would be fastest.
I just started mapping the new coordinates when Cassandra's cell rang.
It was Aaron. I could tell by her tone when she answered. The two of them had met back in the nineteenth century. Lots of time together, followed by lots of time apart. Cass's fault, naturally. They'd been friends for about six years again now, and I was sure they'd been lovers for a while. You could tell by the way she talked to him.
That softer tone didn't last long this t
ime. She quickly said, "I'm going to put you on speaker."
"--rather you didn't," he was saying as she clicked it on.
"Too late," I said.
He sighed. "Yeah. Probably need to, however much I hate the damned thing. Sounds like everyone's talking in a submarine. You guys are still in town, then? Good. We have a problem."
"Of course we do," Cassandra murmured. "God forbid we might have wanted to relax for the night, have a glass of wine."
"I'll grab you some wine later, Cass," Aaron said. "I saw a carton at a corner store. I'm sure it's a great vintage. Now, the problem. Ten minutes ago, the Cabal tech guys intercepted a 911 call from Jordan's office."
It took me a second to remember that Jordan--Ron Jordan--was the target's name.
Aaron continued. "It was one of his assistants. She said she's working late and she's sick, really sick. So is the guy working with her."
"Damn it," I said. "No family, so infect the staff. How many of them have gone home already?"
"I'm really trying not to think about that," Aaron said. "I'm five minutes from the building, hoping no cops are around to pull me over."
"The Cabal intercepted the call, right?" I said. "So the 911 dispatcher didn't get it?"
"Unfortunately, it went through. The dispatcher sent an ambulance, but the Cabal was able to call 911 back from what seemed to be the same address. The guy said he was the assistant's boyfriend, and he was getting them to the hospital himself."
I told Aaron we'd meet him there.
Anyone who saw Aaron Darnell never wondered why Cassandra had hit on Clay all those years ago. Aaron was also a well-built, good-looking blond guy. He was bigger and not as drop-dead-gorgeous, but they could have been siblings.
Jordan's office was in the kind of building you'd expect for a wealthy lobbyist. Central location. Tall and modern, with lots of steel and glass. A reception desk staffed by security guards who would know at a glance whether you belonged there. I suspect they would have buzzed Cass in without her even flashing an ID badge, but we didn't have to get past them. The Cabal team had infiltrated the building when they'd first begun monitoring Jordan. We met them in the parking garage and they let us in.
"Status check?" I said when we were on the elevator.
The team leader--Estrada--said, "We've established that the floor is clear. No other late-night workers. The door to Jordan's office is closed and locked. We're not hearing anything from--"
