Ironclad Cover

She was bait, dressed in clingy red silk to attract the attention of every man in the room. The spaghetti-strap gown was sleek and sophisticated, the cut over her right leg revealing enough skin to be interesting but still acceptable for the serious businesswoman she was supposed to be. "I've got visual of target number two," Gina's voice rasped through the nearly invisible transmitter in Anita's ear. "I don't see him." She spoke under her breath toward the flower-pin-slashmicrophone on her shoulder as she turnedis he?" "Upstairs to the left of the bar. Right under the chandelier." She looked in that direction, but too many people were standing between her and the spot Gina had indicated. The lavish reception the Cayman Islands Chamber of Commerce was throwing in honor of its members was in full swing, the black-and-white checkered marble tiles of the floor barely visible under the feet of guests who were networking, scoping out new deals and drinking copious amounts of champagne. "I'm on it." She moved through the crowd to get closer to Philippe Cavanaugh, target number two. Target number one, Jose Marquez, a high-ranking city official who had several retail shops on the island, had already left. But not before Gina had worked her charm on him and gotten a business card, along with a request for a presentation next week on what Savall, Ltd., the front for the women's covert operation, could do for his company. One down, two more to go. They needed to get to all four of their targets. People were dying--the latest intelligence had linked Tsernyakov to the mine bombings in Africa. They needed results. She made her way to her target without any obvious hurry, as if she were simply meandering through the crowd, maybe searching for a friend. "Excuse me. Thank you." The air was thick with the smell of money--expensive perfume and exclusive cigars. Her four-inch heels clickety-clicked on the marble tiles, the sound barely audible over the ebb and flow of conversation that went on in a half-dozen different languages, the ringing of glasses being touched together, the sudden pearls of laughter that bubbled above the din. She walked to the back of the gallery, through the glittering crowd. Philippe Cavanaugh, international shipping magnate, was where Gina had said he would be, handsome and debonair in his tuxedo, deep in conversation with another man and two lavishly dressed women. He had come, which hadn't been a certainty--although they'd had high hopes, given that the man was one of the main supporting members of the Chamber. "I got him," she said under her breath and let herself relax. "Where are you?" "Downstairs by the bathrooms." That Gina would spot Cavanaugh first even though she was a lot farther from him and not even on the same floor, didn't come as a surprise. She seemed to have a special sense for these kinds of things, probably left over from her cop days. Once Anita knew where to look in the giant room, she easily spotted her partner for the night. The cream-colored dress they had talked Gina into wearing looked striking on her petite figure. The idea had been for the both of them to attract their targets' attention and the attention of other powerful men on the island--any of who might have had some kind of connection to Tsernyakov, an elusive weapons dealer who was at the top of a dozen most-wanted lists. The relatively new piece of intelligence that Tsernyakov had a connection on the island was a closely guarded secret about a man considered to be one of the most dangerous men in the world. The task of finding this connection and, through him, getting a location on Tsernyakov was the seemingly impossible mission that Anita and Gina along with Carly and Sam--who were staking out the house of target number three tonight-- had agreed to a few eventful weeks ago. "Ready to makeMarton, Dana is the author of 'Ironclad Cover ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373887651 and ISBN 0373887655.