Page 63 of High-Priority Asset

Finagled asset. Lovely.

The doors opened with a chime. Dutch stepped off first and led her to a conference room where a man and woman were seated side by side, dark suits, hands clasped on the table.

The fit, middle-aged man with an affable face and a dusting of gray around his temples greeted them. “Hello, Ms. Vargas. I’m US Marshal Will Draper. Call me Will. Please have a seat,” he said, waiting until Isabel sat before taking a chair himself. “I’m in charge of the San Diego field office and this is one of my deputies, Allison Chen-Boyd.”

“Just Chen,” Allison said with a blank expression, giving off a no-nonsense vibe. She didn’t look older than early thirties and wore her dark hair in a braid. In front of her was a tall stack of folders.

“Sorry. I forget.” Will straightened his tie and folded his hands on the table, flashing a soft smile that said let’s be friends. “Ms. Vargas, Deputy Haas has updated me on the current status of things. How can we put you at ease with assisting us?”

“You can start by explaining what gave you the right to invade my privacy and my life. I’m a law-abiding citizen and the only thing I’m guilty of is naivete. Stupidity for believing in those around me who I care about.” She glared at Dutch and then refocused on the marshals across the table. “How could you send someone in to seduce me? What about common decency? Respect? Why didn’t you bring me in, show me your file and simply ask me to help?”

“Forgive me, Ms. Vargas,” Allison said, “but if you think that approach would work with ninety-nine percent of the assets that we recruit then you are naive.”

Isabel recoiled from the harsh words and even harsher tone.

“Allison, back off,” Dutch said.

“No, I’m not going to back off. If you had done your damn job and kept your mouth shut, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“That’s right.” Isabel regained her composure. “He would’ve slept with me and I’d be none the wiser. I would’ve brought him to San Diego this weekend, he would’ve found a way to get back your precious database, and then what? He’d disappear?” She turned to Dutch. “Leave me behind? Like collateral damage.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” He put his hand on hers and she yanked it away, clasping her hands in her lap. “Everything I said last night, I meant.”

“The majority of assets have to be coerced,” Will said, evenly. “Blackmailed. The FBI has more expertise in this area than we do and recommended this approach and selected Haas for the assignment.”

“Why him?” Isabel asked.

“Something to do with his profile,” Will said, “and an algorithm that selected him as a good match for you.”

Like a dating website profile? She tamped down the discomfort and nerves rising in her. “I want to see the FBI agent who thought this was a good idea.”

“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen, Ms. Vargas,” Will said. “If you want to feel better about Haas’s involvement, then you should know, he objected to the approach we took from the get-go. He even confronted the FBI agent in question. He’s demonstrated nothing but the utmost concern for you and your well-being during this difficult process.”

“I’m sorry if we hurt your precious feelings with our methods.” Allison stood, picking up one of the files in front of her, and opened it.

She started dropping pictures on the table in front of Isabel. Of dead bodies. Shot. Stabbed. One had been beheaded.

Isabel looked away, not needing the graphic images, and wrapped her arms around herself.

“That’s what real collateral damage looks like, Ms. Vargas,” Allison said. “Those are innocent people who got in your uncle’s way.”

“Stop it!” Dutch scooped up the pictures. “She’s upset. But she’ll help us. Isabel just needs time to cool off.”

“You didn’t seem so certain of her help on the phone.” Allison dug through the stack of folders and pulled out a red file.

“Don’t you dare show that to her,” Dutch said. “It’s going too far. She doesn’t need to see it to help us.”

Isabel swallowed past the tightening in her throat. What more could there be?

“During your heart-to-heart last night,” Allison said, “you didn’t tell her that her uncle is responsible for her father’s death? That dear Uncle Emilio ordered the hit because there was an internal disagreement on how best to manage the cartel’s operations?”

A shocking jolt ran through Isabel like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her.

“Damn it!” Dutch said.

Allison slapped the red folder down on the table. “Open it.”

Dutch sat and turned Isabel’s chair toward him, taking her hands in his. “Sweetheart, now you know. There’s no reason to open it. You don’t need to see the pictures of your father. Of the informant who was going to testify, but your uncle got to him first. Please don’t look at it.”