Downfall (32 page)

H
OLLY WATCHED SAM CAPRA
enter the safe house with Belias and Sam looked at her and she tried to look at him with hate. But she couldn’t manage it.

“Holly. You remember Sam.” Belias’s voice was dry.

She nodded. She didn’t like Sam, never would—he’d invaded her home—but her blinding hate was gone because she knew the truth now.

“Hi, Holly,” Sam said. He looked nervous—of course he was—and if she told Belias he’d offered her and the kids an escape route, he wouldn’t be the golden boy at the moment, would he? But she kept her mouth shut because maybe that was an option she needed to keep open.

“Hello,” she said to Sam. Then she stared at Belias. He’d said Sam hit Glenn. Why would he lie? Why would it matter?

Because he’d needed Diana unhurt. And if he’d told her that Diana had hurt Glenn, delivered the blow that eventually killed him…and at that point Sam Capra was a problem, not a potential asset.

Or maybe Glenn lied to both her and Belias. She tried to remember the frantic car ride from The Select to here at the safe house. Glenn had never said who hit him…she assumed it was the man capable of killing the Russian. She felt a misery well up inside her.

Belias blinked under the stare and she looked at the floor. “Did you do as I asked?” he said to her.

“I couldn’t. Someone was there.” No way she could admit she’d killed Diana to Belias. He wanted her unhurt.

Belias seemed to shrug this off, given his new alliance with Sam. “We have a more pressing issue. I’ll need your help. And Sam’s. We’re going to Las Vegas in the morning.”

“I…I need to go home. To my kids.”

Belias knelt before her.

“Look, Janice is in trouble. And I need to go pull her out of it, and Sam is going to help me, and you are going to help me.”

“And then I’m done? I’m free.” She saw Sam Capra react slightly to the word
free
.

“You’re too important to me, Holly. I have a new role in mind for you. One that’s not dangerous. One that you will enjoy.”

“But I want out.” New role? She didn’t like the way he looked at her. He could not think she would want him.

It was as if he didn’t hear her. “I don’t want Janice to know yet we’ve had…an issue with her daughter. I will explain all that to her when this is done, and she can call Diana, and this problem goes away.”

She felt sick at what her rage had cost her. She forced resolve onto her face and she nodded.

“Go home and get packed. Sam, we’ll get you some fresh clothes. I’ll make arrangements for a private jet.” He smiled at Sam. “I do it all first class.”

“Holly,” Sam said. “We’re on the same side, now.” Off his throat he took an I Ching symbol, the subtle influence sign Belias had given her eight years ago. “I think this belongs to you.”

“Yes, Holly, you need one to wear when you’re on a job,” Belias said.

“I have Glenn’s,” she said, almost savagely, her hand pressed against her chest. She couldn’t keep the hate out of her gaze and she looked away from Sam. She looked at Belias. “Let’s go. Let’s go and get this done.”

M
ILA SAID,
“We have to get rid of the body.” She was kneeling next to Diana. Mila folded the dead woman’s hands on her chest, closed her eyes, smoothed her hair.

Felix nodded. His eyes were reddened from crying, his mouth bloodied where he’d bit himself during the Taser attack. He nodded. “I failed her. She…”

“Why didn’t you tell me she’d called?”

“She didn’t call until you guys had left…I wasn’t going to call you back here. I thought she’d just wait here with me. Her mother will never forgive me.” His voice sounded broken.

“We cannot leave her here.” Mila rubbed her face. “Poor girl. None of this was her doing.” Mila glanced at him. “Odd that she would come back to the bar. She must have had a reason.”

“I offered to meet her wherever she wanted. But she insisted on coming to the bar.”

“You said she and the other woman—”

“She was Holly Marchbanks. I recognized her from our Internet research.”

“—talked for a few minutes. Could you hear them?”

“No. I’d woken up, cut myself free on a beer bottle I broke, then took a fire extinguisher to the lock. I never heard anything except a scream that I think was Diana.”

“Where do we put her, Felix? And we must be quick. I think Sam will be taken to Las Vegas.”

“Why?”

“Consider what we know. A person in Vegas was contacted by Glenn Marchbanks to help fight for control of Belias’s network. Diana’s mother is out on a job for Belias. I think perhaps she is getting rid of a threat to Belias.”

Felix bit his lip. “So now Sam will help him get rid of this threat.”

“So he thinks.”

“So we go to Vegas.”

Mila checked flights on her phone. “We can get seats on a flight tomorrow morning.”

“I think I should go alone. They think you’re dead. If any of them spot you…”

“Only Belias knows my face, and if he sees it, it will be because I am about to hurt him.”

“I think you should stay here,” Felix said again. “You’re dead. Sam will be too if they see you.” Diana’s death appeared to have unnerved him.

“Felix, enough. You will not go alone. And I am not abandoning Sam. We will be careful. We check the data from the laptop and the phone that Sam stole. We simply need to find a prominent person in Vegas who could be tied to Belias.” Felix was smart, but she needed him to focus.

Felix reread the phone message. “Huh. Glenn wrote ‘You can’t be called lucky.’ It might be a literal meaning. Someone nicknamed Lucky?”

“I’ll see what I can find,” Mila said.

“And Diana…I will take care of her. There’s a park near the bay, and I’ll call it in to the police. Respectfully. This will kill her mother. I know you and Sam think Janice must be a horrible person, but…I got to know her. She’s not. She’s…can’t be.”

“You never know about people, Felix,” Mila said. “You just never know.”

I
T’S TIME FOR HONESTY,”
Belias said.

I sat across from him and Holly Marchbanks on a private jet. Storms in San Francisco were delaying our takeoff, hard hammering rains, skies inky like it was still night. Holly looked gaunt, worn, as though she hadn’t slept. I wondered where her kids were. I wondered if she’d told Belias about my offer of safety. It could be problematic if she mentioned it.

“Isn’t it always?” I said.

He crooked a smile, because we had the bond of knowing each other’s secrets.

“I wasn’t tricking you before, Sam. I’ve read your CIA file.”

I kept my expression neutral. “I’ve long thought I should sell the film rights, but it’s too boring.”

“You have enemies,” he said. “Several.”

“Yes.”

“Are they still gunning for you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t wish to acquire new problems through my association with you.” Do you see how normal it all sounds? Like it was a business deal, the kind negotiated thousands of times a day.

“I won’t tell the other kids we’re supersecret buddies.”

“I’d like to know specifically who might wish you harm.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I’m facing enough trouble and I don’t need more.”

I weighed this. Why did he care now in the midst of all his other worries? Had someone been talking about me? Who had given him my CIA file? An enemy?

“Sam?”

“You didn’t get my file from the CIA. Because that would be nearly impossible. You got it from someone who doesn’t like me.”

He shifted slightly in the chair.

“Did you broadcast my name out into the underground and get a response?”

“Actually, no. The file was sent to me. Anonymously.”

Nine Suns, my enemy, the international crime ring I’d nearly leveled to the ground, must still be watching me. Or watching Belias. Both thoughts were disquieting.

I shrugged. “Anonymously. And for free? How generous.”

“Not for free. I suspect they want me to give you to them. And they won’t be anonymous for long. I’ll figure out who they are.”

“And you’re telling me this why, Kevin?”

I wondered how long it had been since he’d been called by his real name. His face paled. “We’re all wrapped up in each other’s secrets now.”

“Kevin?” Holly said.

“Kevin died in London. Call me John.” Belias cleared his throat, risked a cautious grin at me. A respectful one. “I’m telling you because I have no intention of giving you to them. I don’t take orders from ghosts in the wire. But they have threatened me, and now that’s a threat to you.”

I’m really the new Roger
, I thought. “I appreciate that. We’ll solve your problem first, then mine. Deal?”

“Yes, deal,” Belias said. “Because when my problem is solved, all our lives get far easier. We get rich, Sam.”

“What’s about to happen?”

“Soon enough I’ll share. Let’s deal with Vegas first.”

“What about Diana?” I asked.

“I think she’s badly frightened. She’ll go underground for as long as she can. And I think when she and her mother can talk face-to-face, when her mother’s work for me is done, that situation will quietly resolve itself.”

I noticed Holly stiffen slightly in her chair, staring out of the rain-smeared window. I could imagine what she was thinking.
Janice’s
daughter pulled into the network. Maybe she worried years from now the same fate awaited her children. You could convince yourself Belias’s shortcuts to success would help your kids to a better life, and then you might be consigning them to your mistake. But the Marchbanks kids and Daniel need not worry, because I was going to burn down Belias’s house.

“Your son and your friend Leonie, they’re safe?”

Of course they were mentioned in my file. “You need not concern yourself with them.” I am not sure I could keep the threatening tone out of my voice.

“I always worry about the loved ones of those in the network. Don’t I, Holly? Holly has marvelous kids, real little winners.”

Holly said nothing.

“Part of your appeal, Sam, is what you risked, how you fought, to get Daniel back. You do not hold back. Neither do I.”

“Don’t ever threaten my son.” But I said it pleasantly.

“I think you know a lesser leader would have ordered Diana Keene killed. I never did. I never once tried to hurt her. If she’d listened to me, all this would be over with.”

“She destroyed that video,” I said. “She told you the truth.” I’d told him this last night but I wasn’t sure he believed me. “She’s not a threat to you.”

“Good. And we’re going right now to help Janice.”

“What am I doing?”

“You’re going to help me rescue Janice from a rather dangerous situation. No one in my network has your particular skill set, Sam. I need you to be a secret soldier again.”

My gaze met Holly’s; then she stared out the airplane window at the curtain of rain.

W
E DIDN’T LAND
in Las Vegas until after lunch; it wasn’t until late morning when the dreadful weather in northern California broke enough for the pilot to take to the skies. In contrast, Las Vegas was bright and sunny, and I’m sure people around the city woke and arose out of beds thinking,
I feel lucky, this is the day I beat the house
. I wasn’t sure I shared their optimism.

Belias had arranged a car for us at the airport, a black Escalade with reflective windows, the kind a celebrity visiting Vegas for the weekend might rent. Holly drove and he told her to head for the Mystik Casino and Resort.

She parked in the lot and we left Holly in the car. She seemed relieved, and I couldn’t tell if she was simply happy to be away from me or from Belias.

Belias placed a phone call as we walked toward the Mystik. The building was a modern, glass tower, shaped in a C curve, and a spiderlike window-washing disc was moving down and across one side of it. The nod to its name and its magical theming were the wands and top hats and tarot cards decorating the entrance plaza. Cheesy. I felt sure Mila would have made a smart remark and I wished she was here with me. I glanced behind me; you never knew when she’d appear. But she had no way to know I’d gone to Las Vegas; I couldn’t risk a call or a text while with Belias. I did not want to be caught texting a woman who was supposed to be dead.

“I’m here. She’s still unharmed?” Belias said into his phone. “I want the camera feeds turned off now. Just while I’m coming and going. No record of me being here. That protects us both.”

He listened again. “That’s not negotiable. And I’m doing you a favor, don’t forget that,” Belias said. A pause then. “Send down one of your guys with the elevator; again, all cameras off. See you in five.” He clicked off the phone.

“What are you taking me into?” I said. “We’re not armed.”

“A death trap, Sam.” He smiled. “Trust me, I suspect it’s a total death trap.”

We walked through the casino. It was very new and noisy and pointless. I hate gambling. I suppose I have had enough chaos in my life that I don’t need the manufactured, fleeting thrill of the thrown dice or the bouncing roulette ball.

A man stood waiting for us near the main elevator. He was taller than me, thick necked, looked tough except he was wearing these nerdy black-rimmed eyeglasses. His lips were thin and pale, and they contrasted with the slightly instant orange tone of his skin. Fake tan. Did you need that in Vegas?

“Mr. Lazard is expecting you,” the orange man said. “Who’s this?”

“A friend.”

“It’s only supposed to be you,” the orange man said in a low voice.

“He carries my casino chips for me.” Belias gestured his head toward the elevator. The orange man hesitated, but then he slid in an access card and the private elevator opened. We stepped inside. I was relieved it wasn’t one of those glass-sided contraptions.

The doors slid shut and the orange man frisked us both, carelessly. Then he keyed in his access card. The penthouse floor lit up and the elevator began to rise.

I glanced up at a small camera in the corner. Where there should have been a green light indicating activation, there was none. Lazard kept his word.

“Is the hostage unharmed?” Belias asked.

“Yes. Banged up a bit. She’s kind of hot for a cougar.”

“How charming. Did you hurt her?”

“Not much. Not more than we had to.”

Belias folded his hands behind his back, studied the counter that showed the elevator rising. “Sam, would you be so kind as to kill this man?”

The orange man and I both froze. Belias stepped back, away from us, waiting, his words heavy in the air. You can either believe the words someone says or not, but you threaten someone with death, they react.

The orange man went for his gun.

There’s not a lot of room to fight in an elevator. The key to victory in an enclosed space is brief, savage blows delivered to whatever vulnerable spot you can reach. You have no room to retreat. So you have to overwhelm quickly.

The orange man was bigger than me and thickly muscled. But I thought his power might be derived from a gym (where he no doubt acquired his sunset hue) and not from fighting.

Often, I’m wrong.

He had his hand going for the gun in his jacket holster and I slammed the heel of my foot hard into his chest and pinned his hand where it was. Against the gun. Do the math and he still had one hand free. Which he used to upend my leg, piledriving me back into the other side of the elevator.

Belias stood there, unmoving, watching the floors tick by as we zoomed toward the penthouse.

The orange man grunted, pinning me against the wall, which hurt, but now I wasn’t off-balance for one second. That took the weight off my free foot so I kicked upward, catching him in the armpit. He stumbled back, releasing me to go for his gun and I knew that was a tactical mistake. You already have a weapon; it’s called a hand.

The gun caught in the holster, jammed between us. I powered the heel of my hand hard into his throat. He choked but didn’t ease up. He still had his one hand free, hesitating on how to punch me. I closed my fist around his and powered it back, forced his fist back into his own throat. That really hurts. He coughed hard, a wheezy, broken noise, and for one second I thought I’d cracked his trachea. But now he yanked the gun free of the holster—easier to do since we weren’t tangled up together.

“Just a few more floors, Sam,” Belias said.

I closed a hand on the gun. It was capped with a suppressor so that gave me more gun to grab. You never think of that as a shortcoming of a suppressor, do you? It is. He had his hand on the handle but I had the rest of it. I slammed the gun upward into his chest. Now if he pulled the trigger, pressed against his own chest, he’d shoot off a chunk of jaw. But he controlled the trigger, not me.

I didn’t want to kill the guy. Not that he knew or believed that even if I’d announced it. He used his strength to push himself off the wall, launching me back into the other side of the elevator. But I kept the gun pressed hard against him, pushing its shape into his hard chest.

Then he took a chance. He slammed a fist into my face. It hurt. But it meant he wasn’t pushing back against me with both arms. He sacrificed half his strength on the risk of a punch. Mistake. I took the punch and didn’t block it because I kept my hands on the prize, the gun.

I got a finger on the trigger. “Let go,” I said. “Or I’ll pull the trigger.”

“No!”

“I won’t kill you. My friend is overly dramatic.”

He grappled and I turned the gun down and pulled. The bullet hit his foot, punching a neat bloody hole where his big toe was. He screamed and let go and I slammed a blow hard into his throat, then another into his jaw, then two more into the back of his head. He crumpled.

I glanced up at Belias, who studied the orange man’s injuries, as though evaluating my work.

“I told you to kill him.”

“You seem to have mistaken me for your attack dog,” I said. “I decide when I kill someone. Not you.”

“When those doors open, you may not have room for so many morals.”

The elevator chimed, and the doors to the penthouse slid open. I raised the stolen gun.