Contract to Kill (24 page)

“Try to be patient with him,” she said.

“He should be more patient with me. He thinks I have a cushy job.”

“He doesn’t think that. He’s never even implied that. Nathan knows how hard you work.”

Stone took a final swig of lukewarm coffee and gave her a hug. Despite her height, she disappeared inside his grasp. He smelled her favorite shampoo. He kissed her good-bye, grabbed his briefcase, and headed for the garage.

“See? You
can
do it,” Harv said.

Nathan attempted a smile. “I didn’t even use a single profane word.”

“There’s hope for you yet. I’d better head over to First Security and get Karen squared away. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

“Don’t forget to give her the cabin’s gate combination. And remind her not to go back to her house after picking up Cindy. Maybe they should meet up at Lindbergh’s long-term parking lot so her car won’t be towed. There’s no telling how long they’ll need to stay at the cabin.”

“I’ll tell her to do that. See you back here in a few.”

From the backseat, Karen made eye contact as Harv got in the car and pulled away, her eyes pleading for some sense of sanity.

Standing there alone in the concrete tomb of the parking structure, his world seemed to compress. A nagging sense of unfairness invaded his thoughts. What was wrong with him? How could he have been so cold to Holly? Okay, she had a seat on his father’s committee . . . So what? What’s wrong with that? Nothing, he supposed. Then why did it feel so awkward? And why hadn’t she told him right away? Why hold it back? Holly knew his relationship with his father had been strained over the last few months—hell, forever—but it seemed like a pretty slim reason not to tell him. Maybe Harv had a point—his reaction to hearing the news spoke for itself.

What if he came clean with Holly and told her about his history with Karen and Mara? But that held inherent risks. Holly might find his previous connection to prostitutes repulsive.
Prostitutes
. . . Such a harsh word. Mara hadn’t been a streetwalker turning tricks to support a drug addiction; she’d been an expensive escort.
Escort? Is that what she was?
Deep down, he knew the truth. For two years, his only source of intimacy had come from Mara. Back then, he’d loathed his looks, the scarring that would never go away, and seriously doubted whether he could love or be loved. But Mara had never judged him . . . Of course she hadn’t, he’d been a paying customer. A
well-paying
customer.

Ancient history,
he reminded himself. He wasn’t that person anymore. Holly had shown him a different way of seeing the world, a different way of life. She’d proved he didn’t have to be alone.

He was tempted to use the Internet to find out what the FBI director’s chief of staff did, but figured it could wait. Now wasn’t the time. He needed to keep his head up, not bury it in his cell phone. He’d apologize to Holly in person after Harv returned, and things would return to normal.

The coyote-like wail of a distant siren interrupted his thoughts, a reminder this wasn’t over yet—probably first responders headed to or from the ambulance shoot-out scene.

Without knowing Toby’s condition, what would Mason do? He imagined himself in Mason’s situation. Would the guy make another attempt to kill the witness to his crimes? If so, when? An idea formed. What if it were leaked that Toby never regained consciousness and died on the operating table? Lansing and Holly could work out the details with the hospital’s administrator, but if Mason believed Toby never spoke to the police before dying, he might think containment was still possible and not flee. Still, Mason would have to be wondering who he and Harv were. Holly too.

With his father’s help, they could crumble Mason’s world. If Beaumont cut Mason off and severed his access to BSI’s assets he’d likely flee—frustrating to Nathan personally, but not the worst thing that could happen in the short term.

Nathan took a deep breath and dialed Holly. After one ring, he got dumped into her voice mail. He hoped it meant she was talking to Lansing. Either that or she didn’t want to talk. He couldn’t blame her. He ended the call without leaving a message and dictated a text:

I’m still in the parking structure. Harv took Karen to First Security. She’ll go from there to the cabin. Three of our security guards are on the way, and I’ll send one inside to join you. Maybe ten minutes. After they arrive, Harv and I are heading over to his office to use a landline to call my father. You’re welcome to come with us. I’m sorry about what I said, and I offer no excuses. I’m proud of you taking the position on my father’s committee.

He sent the text and stared at his phone, urging it to light up with a return text from Holly. Half a minute later, nothing had changed.

He dictated one more text:

Would it be possible for you to work with the hospital’s administrator to leak that Toby never regained consciousness and died on the operating table? Safer for Toby if Mason thinks he’s dead.

His phone remained dark for another minute or so. Its sudden vibration felt like a jolt of electricity, and he nearly dropped it. It was Harv, calling to update him on the status of their security guards.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll watch for their vehicles. I sent a text to Holly telling her we’re heading over to the office once you get back. I also asked her to think about having the hospital leak that Toby died without ever regaining consciousness.”

“Good move. You tried calling her first, right?”

“Voice mail.”

“She’s probably on the phone with Lansing.”

Nathan didn’t say anything.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Stay sharp, partner.”

“Always.”

Standing there, Nathan decided the rain made a lonely sound, like wind through trees.

CHAPTER 23

Sheltered from the mist in the nightclub’s pedestrian alley, Mason searched Top Hat and found a cell phone, a wallet, and a set of keys. He kept them, unsure whether Top Hat would need the phone or the keys, but turned the phone to silent mode. Mason knew there was some degree of risk keeping the phone because they could be tracked, but it could prove invaluable if Top Hat needed it to contact someone or vice versa.

After receiving Darla’s ten-second call to arrive curbside, he told her they were ready. “Leave your headlights on, but turn them off at the curb.” Anything else would look suspicious.

Top Hat’s wallet revealed that his name was Javarius Michaels, age thirty-two, of La Mesa, California. Mason considered his approach with Michaels. It was doubtful the guy had ever been interrogated, so breaking him shouldn’t present too much of a challenge. The man’s attitude had already changed drastically during the past few minutes. He seemed less belligerent and more nervous: a good sign. Once fear replaced resolve and a victim realized his situation was hopeless, interrogation became much easier. In his experience, fear was far more powerful than pain.

He saw a sliver of the brick wall brighten as Darla turned the corner and approached the alley. With a firm grasp on Michaels’s arm, he ushered the man toward the gate. Because his ankles were bound loosely, Michaels moved in a chain gang shuffle. Darla pulled the SUV to the curb and killed the headlights.

Stepping out of the shadows, Chip opened the rear passenger door, allowing Mason to shove his captive into the backseat. Mason got in next to Darla.

Looking around, he didn’t see anyone. It was possible someone in the low-rise hotel across the street saw the action, but the SUV had only been stationary for a few seconds. Leaving the nightclub, they rode north in silence. Neither Darla nor Chip would say anything. Giving a prisoner the silent treatment was all part of the game.

After Darla got on the southbound Five, Mason pivoted to face his captive.

“By now, you’re realizing you’re in serious trouble. I have no desire to torture you; that’s not my thing. Darla here has a different attitude. If I have to turn you over to her, things will get ugly. Remove his gag.”

Chip reached over and pulled the gag free. Top Hat shook his head, but didn’t say anything.

Mason locked eyes and waited. After a few seconds, Top Hat looked away.

“Here’s what we know,” Mason said. “There’s an important delivery being made later today. You’re going to fill us in on some missing details. We know a South Korean yacht has been used to smuggle weapons into US waters, and for the last eight months you’ve been the point man, overseeing every aspect of the operation. The delivery isn’t guns this time—that much we know. We’d like you to tell us what’s being delivered and how it’s going to take place.”

Top Hat didn’t respond.

“Do I have your attention, Mr. Michaels?”

“I have cash. Two hundred grand. It’s yours if you let me go.”

Mason sucked his teeth and shook his head.

“Okay, five hundred large, but that’s all I got, I swear. If you want more, it’ll take time.”

He nodded to Chip.

As if palming a basketball, Chip wrapped his hand around the side of Michaels’s head and shoved. Michaels’s skull smacked the glass with a dull thud.

“What the fuck!” he yelled.

Chip dribbled the ball again, harder.

Michaels winced but didn’t protest a second time.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” Mason said patiently. “It’s an interrogation.”

“If I tell you guys anything, Mr. A’s gonna kill me.”

“No doubt that’s true, but he has to find you first. I have a feeling you’ve got much more than five hundred grand rat-holed away. Disappearing shouldn’t be a problem for you. You’ll blend into the Caribbean perfectly. Listen carefully, now: we don’t want your money, we want information.”

“So I’m supposed to believe you’ll just let me walk away?”

“Believe whatever you want, but I’ll guarantee you’ll be
wheeled away
if you don’t tell us what we want to know.”

Michaels didn’t say anything.

“You’re probably thinking, ‘If I feed them bullshit, it’ll buy some time and I might be able to escape.’ Put that out of your head, Mr. Michaels. We’ve dealt with desert-schooled jihadists who are far tougher than you; trust me on that. See, we aren’t going to let you go until after we’ve verified what you tell. If you give us crap, you’ll have to talk with Ms. Lyons.”

“The sellers are gonna bolt if they see anyone but me.”

“We’re aware of that.”

“I always pick up and deliver the goods with my two bodyguards, but you killed them. They’re going to ask why they aren’t there.”

“And what will you say?”

“I don’t know; it’s never happened before. They’re always with me.”

“You’ll say you had a problem with them, and you dealt with it. It’s just you this time.”

“Yeah, okay, man. Whatever.”

“What’s being delivered?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Mason squinted.

“I swear, I don’t know. Mr. A’s always paranoid.”

“Where do you pick up the goods?”

Michaels looked back and forth as if someone were eavesdropping. “Shelter Island Marina.”

Mason waited for more.

“Alisio’s partner in South Korea owns three commercial fishing boats. One of them goes out to sea to get the goods from the yacht.”

“That would be the oceangoing luxury yacht I mentioned, correct?”

Michaels’s tone held resentment. “Yeah, man, the
Yoonsuh
. Cost thirty million.”

“The best blood-money can buy. So the fishing boat comes back to Shelter Island and the goods are off-loaded?”

“Yeah, that’s how it goes down.”

“The goods are then transferred into a truck or van?”

“Usually it’s a truck, but this time we’re using a van.”

“Where’s the van?”

“It’s already in the parking lot at the marina.”

“So there are two parts to the deal. The delivery of the goods to the dock, then the exchange of the goods for payment, right?”

Michaels nodded.

“Where does the exchange go down?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Chip grabbed his head again.

“I swear! I get that info after the stuff arrives. They never use the same place twice. They give me GPS coordinates once the fishing boat arrives.”

“Who are
they
?”

“I don’t know ’em personally, man. South Korean mafia. That’s all I know.”

“When do you get the call?”

“Usually within the hour. I park someplace safe and wait.”

“If you’re lying to me—”

“I’m not lying; that’s how it goes down every time. The only thing that’s different tonight is what’s being delivered.”

“And you don’t know what it is?”

“No way, man. It’s none of my business. I’m just an expensive delivery boy.”

Mason didn’t believe him.

CHAPTER 24

When Nathan received Harv’s call, the only activity on his cell had been from the security guard he’d sent inside the hospital. His man confirmed making contact with Holly. Nathan had asked if she was alone, and the answer was yes. Was Holly on the phone? Again, yes. Apparently, she didn’t have time to answer his texts or return his calls. He couldn’t worry about it. If Holly didn’t think checking in with him was important right now, so be it. There wasn’t much he could do. He supposed he could go down there, but he didn’t want to force things. If Holly wanted some space, he’d give it to her. Still, the lack of communication bothered him.