16. Michelangelo

“Once we drive through these gates, the two of you will address me and any other superior as sir or, as in Flick’s case, ma’am.”

“Yes, sir,” Penelope muttered after I said it.

“What’s that Ramsey? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Yes, sir,” she repeated in a louder tone of voice.

“That’s better.”

I bristled, mainly because, for ten days, I wouldn’t be around to soften any blow she might feel from the man overseeing our training. Just being apart from her for that long was hard to stomach.

“General Longabaugh, welcome back, sir,” said the only guy at the gatehouse not holding an automatic weapon.

Sundance nodded once and drove through.

“We’ll be keeping you out of the general population since you aren’t here for the six-month protocols. Butterfly, you’ll be rooming with Flick. Michelangelo, you’re in my quarters. They’re a little bigger.”

I glanced over at Penelope, whose fists were clenched at her sides.

I’d met men like Sundance before. In prison, which is exactly what this place felt like from the moment we arrived. The fencing, watchtowers, barricades, and guards wielding automatic weapons were all to prevent people from coming in rather than getting out, but the claustrophobic effect it had on me was the same.

As far as my interaction with Sundance, I was aware his mandate was to break me down in the same way the guards in lockup had. The difference was, once he believed I was sufficiently humbled, he’d build me back up again.

It was the first part that would prove most challenging for me. I wasn’t concerned about the physical aspects of the training or even the amount of reading and studying I’d have to do. It was the initial goal—to make me feel as though I was nothing—that I worried I wouldn’t have the strength to endure.

That was the only silver lining I could find in Pen and I being separated. At least she wouldn’t witness my struggle.

While she had been kidnapped, she was rescued within days of her abduction. And, from what I understood from Tara, those who’d taken them had no mandate outside of holding the three women hostage until such time as their boss gave the next order. I prayed she had no idea of the mental torture I’d experienced during my four years of incarceration.

It had been hell. So much so that the day I saw Doc Butler waiting for me in the visitation room, I was certain he was there to tell me I was facing more charges. It made no sense for him to be the one to inform me; my brain was just that fucked up.

When he said he’d made a deal to get my sentence reduced, I thought it was another ploy to tear me down. But again, why would he, in particular, do that? The other thing I felt sure of was, if it wasn’t a trick, I had to be dreaming.

Until I walked out of the facility a free man later that same day, I expected the rug to be pulled out from under my feet, as they say.

It had taken three days for me to clear my mind enough to set foot in Penelope’s gallery. To see her. Even then, I was fighting against my insecurity.

I’d immediately sensed her attraction to me, which helped ease some of my discomfort. Knowing I was affecting her allowed me to slip back into the role I’d always played with her—the flirtatious bad boy.

Here at the Farm, like at the prison, I’d keep my head down and my mouth shut unless I was given a direct order requiring a response. I’d take everything in, fine-tune my situational awareness, and react accordingly. As long as I didn’t let the mental game-playing get the better of me, I hoped to be able to navigate the training without incident.

My plan was no different than what it should be as an effective intelligence agent. It would take the same skill set and the same kind of evidential analysis and response.

My only roadblock was Sundance. Not letting him get to me meant I had to rely on my wits. I could do this. I had to. My entire life was dependent on it, no matter what Doc Butler had said about my working for K19 no longer being a condition of my release.

As for Penelope, she’d dealt with her own set of mental calisthenics her entire life. She, like my sister, was seven years old when she was sent to boarding school. I was six years older when I was shipped off to the same, and I was still terrified.

No wonder she, Tara, Ava, Aine, and Quinn had bonded in the way they had. It was all about survival in the same way it would be here. She wouldn’t be in any real danger, nor did I think the trainers would allow her to fail. Everything they threw at her would only make her stronger. Which meant I had to ensure I did the same.

The day I’d seen her for the first time in four years, I told her I would do everything to prove myself worthy of her. It was a promise to myself I intended to keep.

“Go ahead and get settled,”Sundance said after dropping Flick and Pen at another building, then leading me into what looked more like an apartment than a suite. “Your room is over there.” He pointed to an open door. “We’ll reconvene in thirty minutes if that works for you.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, reminding myself that mind games came in all shapes and sizes, including making me feel relaxed and comfortable, then hitting me upside the head with a metaphoric two by four.

“And, Michelangelo?”

I’d walked toward the room, but turned around. “Yes, sir?”

“Between what you just came out of and what you’re headed into, I figure you’ve met your quota of dealing with shit. You won’t be getting any more from me, so you can stand down.”

I studied him. Was he sincere or playing mind games? Four years in lockup had taught me to expect the worst every time.

“All right, son. You can keep your hackles up as long as you feel is necessary, but I’ve got six months’ worth of training to teach you in ten days and don’t have time for bullshit on either of our parts.”

He smiled, so I did too.

“Hard habit to break,” I muttered.

“I hear you. Just remember where we are now. We’re keeping the bad guys out, not the good guys in.”

It was remarkable how well the man read me. Then again, it shouldn’t have been. He’d served in intelligence his entire career, achieved the rank of general, and Doc Butler trusted him. That alone spoke volumes. If he wasn’t good at reading people, analyzing situations, and determining the best course of action, he wouldn’t be here, and neither would I.

Twenty minutes later,I was in the main room, waiting for Sundance. I walked over to the windows overlooking the Farm and spotted Penelope. She and Flick were dressed in fatigues. Odd, given we were at an intelligence training facility as opposed to a military installation.

“We’re dropping her straight into the trenches.” Sundance startled me, and he well knew it. “We’ll analyze how much self-defense and hostage-survival tactics she remembers, then Flick will determine what additional training she requires. Your protocol will be the opposite. If you’re ready, come with me.”

“Yes, sir.”

The room he led me to looked like what I imagined a command center would. Four state-of-the-art computer systems were set up on tables, along with three large electronic boards. Sundance tapped the screen of one computer, and all three boards lit up with surveillance images.

One showed Penelope and Flick. Another appeared to be from a Middle Eastern desert, and the images on the third rotated in quick succession.

“What you’re witnessing is a bump. In case you’re wondering, this is an actual op.” He walked closer to the third screen. “The agent has identified a target. In a few seconds, he’ll stage a seemingly accidental encounter. The response will determine his next steps, the end goal being to build a relationship for intelligence-gathering. The first part of your mission will rely heavily on your ability to gain the trust of those inside the Calabrian Syndicate. Your life will depend on how high and fast you can move up in their ranks.”

“Copy that, sir.”

He moved to the second board.

“Is this live, sir?” I asked when the image panned to what looked like a transportation warehouse.

“It is,” he responded, pointing to a running clock at the bottom of the screen. “Can’t very well take these fuckers out since we’d also kill the very people we want to save. Nor can we mobilize, given if we don’t kill them, the traffickers will before we are able to intercept.”

My ears perked up at the mention of traffickers.

Sundance zoomed in far enough for me to see container lorries being offloaded. Men, women, and children, shackled together like a chain gang, were being led down a ramp and into the building.

“What do we do, Ripa?”

“Track whatever they’re being loaded into.”

“Why?”

“Because the facility is temporary, and for the reasons you mentioned previously, along with the lack of cover of any kind, it cannot be raided.”

“That’s correct. Good job.” I didn’t pick up on any hesitation in his praise, which meant I had to learn to accept it at face value.

The image on the first screen changed from the view of Pen and Flick to an alleyway. I watched as a single woman was led from a door to a waiting SUV. While she wasn’t bound that I could see, she was accompanied by two men, and her attire was scant.

“May I?” I asked.

Sundance nodded once, and I rewound the footage, then zoomed in to take a closer look. While she appeared subdued, her hair and makeup were done and there were no visible signs of abuse.

I returned to the live version and watched as overhead coverage tracked the vehicle. Once it pulled out of the alley and onto main streets, I knew I was looking at Tropea. I also knew where the woman was being taken.

“She’ll be passed around tonight,” said Sundance. “Then auctioned to the highest bidder.”

Had he asked what I predicted would happen, I would’ve said something similar.

“Pay close attention now,” he said when the SUV pulled up to a compound. “Do your job right, and you will soon be on the inside, where we currently have ears but no eyes.”

If we could hear but not see, it was because no one had been able to plant devices. Clearly, that would be one of my objectives.

He darkened the boards and turned to face me. “Tell me about your experience with the Calabrians.”

I was sure he’d been thoroughly briefed on everything that happened prior to my incarceration; however, he obviously wanted to hear it directly from me, so I started at the beginning.

“Two things happened when I graduated from college. First, I found out the identity of my biological father. Second, that he’d set up a trust fund for me worth millions.”

I explained how all that affected my psyche, and the self-destructive behavior that followed.

“I ultimately forged a relationship with the Sicilian mafia and spearheaded their increased foray into art forgeries.” I had no doubt he was well aware that stolen art was being used as a commodity, so I skipped that part.

“While my association with the organization was tenuous at best, the real trouble began when I ventured deeper into theft on my own, bypassing them to sell the forgeries.”

Sundance had nodded several times, indicating he was listening, but hadn’t spoken.

“God knows how long that would’ve gone on and what would’ve happened to me if I hadn’t made a misstep that should’ve gotten me killed.”

“You sold one of your forgeries directly to the Calabrian Syndicate’s capomandamento.”

Also known as the don. “That’s right. Almost getting my sister, father, and myself killed.”

“Until Doc stepped in.” Sundance brushed his lower lip with his finger, but I could still see his grin.

“To save Tara and, I suppose, my father. If I had been on my own, I’d be a dead man.”

“How’d you walk away alive?”

“First, I was rescued. Second, a deal was made with the don. In exchange for my life, as it were, I would give him the original of the stolen painting he’d purchased, plus a second of a higher value.”

“The originals were hidden in wine caves. Is that right?”

“At the estate where my sister was staying.”

Thinking back on it, talking about it, made me sick. It was one thing to have so little regard for my own life or that of my father. Dragging her into it, whether intentionally or not, should be unforgivable. That she still wanted to have anything to do with me spoke to the kind of person she was. It had nothing to do with me. And if Tara had refused to forgive me, Penelope would never have spoken to me again, either.

The only thing I could promise to do was never put Tara, Penelope, or anyone else in the line of danger again.

But wasn’t that exactly what I was doing? Just being with me at the auction house put Pen at risk, especially knowing how much ground the Calabrians had gained in human trafficking. No doubt the same would be true for the Sicilians.

I had to convince everyone involved to abandon the first part of the proposed mission. I’d find another way to get my hands on additional forged pieces and then determine who’d done them and which of the syndicates they worked for. There was no need to involve Penelope, and more, I’d refuse all of it until I was sure she was no longer involved.

“They won’t hesitate to take her.”

I nodded, knowing Sundance meant Pen and that, once again, he was reading me like a book. “My thoughts precisely,” I responded.

I had no doubt his reason for showing me what was happening in the desert and with the woman being transported was so I would realize what we were walking into was exceedingly more dangerous than I believed. And more, that Penelope would be in the middle of it all.

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked.

“Remove her from the mission entirely.”

He chuckled. “Good luck with that, son. I knew in the first five minutes that Penelope Ramsey isn’t the type to quit. Nor will she take kindly to being removed.”

He was right. As Doc, Merrigan, and I had already discussed, Pen was more the type to take matters into her own hands, something I had to prevent her from doing.