Pretenses (15 page)

“She's here, Kelly,” I said, and walked back to the desk. “Do you have a Susan Lucci registered here?”

“I'll check,” the clerk said. “Yes, she's in room 1196.”

“Call the police and ask for Inspector Franklin. Tell her the Assassin is here. I need a key to that room.”

“It's going to take a second. I have to program a card for that room.”

The desk clerk inserted an electronic card into a slot on the computer, hit a few keys on the keyboard, and handed me the programmed card. We took the elevator up to the eleventh floor with our weapons out. The doors opened, and we hustled over to Room 1196. My heart pounded in my chest, threatening to explode. I looked at Kelly. She nodded.

I put the key in the slot, and we burst into the room. No one was in the living room area, but we could see a naked man tied to the bed. I put my weapon back in its holster. I knew Coco Nimburu was in the wind again. We walked into the bedroom. She had left me a note in Cantonese on the dead man's chest that read:

I was going to let him live, Phoenix, but he forgot the condoms. As you can see
by the color of his balls, he went blissfully. I couldn't let him go through life with the virus. See how merciful I can be? HA, HA, HA. Life sure is funny, isn't it? You never know what's going to happen next. Remember what I told you. If you don't kill me, I will kill you. I will encourage you again along the way.

Yours truly,

Coco

C
YNTHIA
C
HARLES
always swore when she and Sterling made love. She couldn't help herself. Profanity just found its way out of her mouth. The closer she got to the peak of excitement, the louder and more profane she became.

“Ring my bell. Ring my goddamned bell, Sterling,” Cynthia purred. “Bang the goo. Oh, bang the goo. Just like that, baby. Just like that. Make it talk. Make-it-talk! What's it saying to you, Daddy?”

Sterling wanted to say, “It's saying, shut the hell up. I'm trying to bust a nut,” but he held his peace.

They were in her bedroom on the king-sized bed. The dark room was scantily lit with jasmine-scented candles. The CD carousel was filled with the jazz artists George Howard, Najee, and David Sanborn playing soft, romantic tunes. Cynthia's perfume filled Sterling's nostrils. Her scent was intoxicating. They were moving fast and out of control. Cynthia screamed loudly, clutching the black satin sheets.

“You can get off me now,” Cynthia told him after a few minutes.

“Let me lay in it a minute,” Sterling said, gasping for air.

He was in town to get a new contract for Daunte King, Denver's star quarterback. But he still had two years left on a four-year contract, and the publicity associated with his arrest would make it difficult to negotiate a new deal.

King was a lightning rod for trouble; this time the police had hauled him
in for beating up his live-in girlfriend. On top of that, he had tested positive for cocaine.

Sterling was on his back now, and Cynthia rolled out of the bed. She took the used condom off him and went into the adjacent bathroom. After flushing the condom down the toilet, she turned on the faucet. A moment later, she came out of the bathroom with a warm black face towel and cleaned their juices off him. As she wiped him clean, he felt himself desiring her again. She looked at him and said, “Don't you ever get enough?”

“Not when I'm in Denver. I think it's the altitude or something.”

“Altitude, my ass. It's that damn Viagra!” She laughed. “Give me a chance to bask in the glow. I'll take care of you later. You hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“What would you like?”

“I gotta taste for some breakfast. You know, bacon, eggs. That sorta thing.”

“It's a little late in the evening for breakfast, don't you think? It's almost 10:15,” she said, looking at the clock.

“So? What's wrong with having a late breakfast?”

“Nothin', I guess.”

“A
GENT
P
ERRY
, this is Tiffany Quinn, Sterling Wise's personal assistant. How can I help you?”

Finally, I thought, we had gotten ahead of the Assassin. “I need to speak with him, Ms. Quinn. It's a matter of life and death—his, to be specific.”

“He's on another line, right now, Agent Perry. Can you hold?”

“Yes.”

Sterling had kept Cynthia Charles up half the night and she had overslept. She enjoyed their time together but decided it was time to break off their eleven-year fling. He wasn't the settling down type, and even if he was, she had always known that she could never get serious with him. Besides, she had met a guy whom she thought had serious husband potential. Now that she had had her last fling with Sterling, she could move on and concentrate on the man she hoped would be the one she'd been waiting for.

Cynthia didn't dare tell Sterling about the potential husband—just in case it didn't work out. Sterling was good to her. He took her on expensive cruises and vacations two or three times a year. And everything was always first-class. She wasn't about to blow an eleven-year thing with Sterling for a guy she hadn't even bedded yet. For all she knew, the potential may not be able to handle his business in the bedroom.

Finally ready to leave her home, Cynthia opened the front door and
found a strange woman standing there. “Whatever it is you're selling, I don't have time right now. I'm late for work.”

Coco pulled out her silenced Makarov and put it to Cynthia's forehead. “Sure you do, Cynthia. This will only take a little while. And seeing that that's all you've got left in this world, I'd be a little nicer if I were you.”

Pressing the gun harder against Cynthia's forehead, Coco pushed her backward, walked into the house, and closed the door. Cynthia couldn't believe this was happening to her. She had heard all the statistics about someone being robbed every five minutes, but she never dreamed it would happen to her.

“I've got money. That's what you want, isn't it?”

“Why do they always think it's about money?” Coco said. “This is about your lover, Sterling Wise. Where is he?”

“He's not here!”

Coco slapped her on the cheek with the gun. “Did I ask you if he was here? I said, ‘Where is he?'”

“I don't know! I don't know!” Cynthia screamed. Her face was throbbing. “He left early.”

Coco slapped her several more times with the gun. Cynthia's cheeks were swelling. “Now, one more time, Cynthia. I know you know where he is or where he's going. I can keep this up all day. Can you?”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Cynthia repeated. “Just don't hit me again.”

Coco put the gun away, hoping it would lull Cynthia into thinking that Coco wouldn't kill her if she told her where Sterling was. “Okay, Cynthia. I put the gun away. Now, tell me where he is.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

Coco kicked Cynthia in the head, and she fell to the floor. Cynthia wasn't taking the situation seriously. Coco had asked her several times where Sterling was, had slapped her around with the gun, and she still wasn't cooperating. That's why Coco preferred the men. She could just whip out the needles, promise them pleasure, which she delivered, and they told her everything she wanted to know. But women, they were different, always asking questions, taking unnecessary punishment.

Then Coco dragged Cynthia to the bedroom by her hair, screaming,
“You bitch! I was going to be merciful, but now I'm going to kill you slow! And you're still going to tell me where he is! By the time I get finished with you, you're going to tell me everything! You're going to tell me so much, I'm going to have to torture you to shut you up!”

“Agent Perry, Sterling Wise here. I'm sorry I didn't return your call sooner, but my cell batteries died and I had to pick some up today. Now, what's this about?”

“Sir, I have reason to believe your life is in danger,” Phoenix said. “There's an assassin searching for you. This is no ordinary assassin. She's killed about twenty people in less than two weeks—fourteen in one night.”

“What? Why is she coming after me?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. Who would want you dead? Maybe a case you lost? Perhaps a client from the past? The Assassin is being well paid, I suspect. Therefore, it would have to be someone wealthy. I believe it's a woman paying the bill. Can you think of anyone with enough money to pay a high-priced assassin to kill you?”

The moment Phoenix said she thought it was a wealthy woman, Sterling knew who was trying to have him killed. He had handled a delicate matter for her and the Warren family right after the Samuelson case. He feared for the Warrens.

“Agent Perry,” Sterling said soberly, “I can't tell you who's trying to kill me. I could be disbarred. Attorney-client privilege is still in effect. But I know why she's doing this. Please, can you tell someone in San Francisco to get to Pacific Heights? She'll be going after the Warren family next.”

“Too late, sir.”

“Oh, no!” Sterling said. “She killed them all?”

“Everybody except Victoria Warren. She happened to be out of the country at the time.”

“Thank God! At least she's safe.”

“This woman was able to kill twelve agents, sir. Let me take you to someplace safe.”

“Someplace safe? She killed twelve agents and you still think you can protect me?”

“It would help to know who your client is. Maybe we can track her down before the Assassin finds you. She can call it off.”

“No chance of that, Agent Perry. You have no idea what this is about, do you? You don't know what the stakes are, do you?”

“Where are you, sir? I can come and pick you up right now. I have Director St. Clair's jet.”

“My limo is pulling into the airport now. Where are you?”

“I'm already here. I can meet you at any gate you say, sir. I really need to speak with you.”

“Okay, meet us at Gate 47.”

W
E HUSTLED
to Gate 47. This was the big break we had been hoping for. We had beaten Coco Nimburu to her next target. If I could get Sterling Wise to talk, we could find the rich woman and put an end to the carnage. Kelly and I made it to Gate 47 in record time. We looked for Sterling. He had said that he was a tall black man wearing a blue suit and that his assistant Tiffany was a white brunette wearing a wine-colored pantsuit and pumps.

Kelly spotted them. “There they are.”

But suddenly I felt the presence of the Assassin. She was here. But how? I wondered. How could she know so much? Someone from the bureau was definitely feeding her information. Could the pilots have radioed back to FBI Headquarters and told Michelson or St. Clair? As far as I knew, only Kelly and I knew we were meeting Sterling and Tiffany at gate 47. Yet Coco Nimburu was there, too.

“She's here, Kelly. Stay close to me. She could be anyone.”

“I know,” Kelly said nervously.

We approached Sterling and Tiffany with caution. I was watching everyone, looking for Coco's eyes. She wasn't going to get him. Not this time. I would see to it. I flashed my credentials and said, “Come with us. The Assassin is here.”

Tiffany said, “How do we know you're really FBI?”

“Ma'am, you're going to have to trust me,” I told her.

“That's not good enough,” Sterling said, as he bent over to set his luggage on the floor.

I heard the shuriken whistle through the air just before it found its way into Tiffany's head. Just for an instant, her eyes registered surprise before she fell to the floor. Deafening screams and shrieks filled the air. Kelly tackled Sterling like she was an NFL linebacker. I pulled my 9-millimeter. People were running in all directions. I searched for Coco, but I think she had blended in with the fleeing crowd, running and screaming like everybody else.

W
E RUSHED
S
TERLING
to the airport security office and gave him a chance to gain some perspective. I watched the wheels in his mind churn as the realization that he had just barely escaped death flooded his consciousness. I wondered if a near-death experience would be enough to override his commitment to attorney-client privilege.

Kelly set a cup of coffee in front of him. He thanked her and picked up the cup. His hands shook uncontrollably. Fear dominated his mind, I could tell. I've seen the look of sheer terror before.

“If Daunte King hadn't been in jail,” Sterling finally said, “I would be negotiating with the Denver brass right now. And Tiffany would be alive.”

Kelly sat across the table from Sterling and asked, “Can you tell us anything at all about the rich woman who's trying to have you killed?”

“I can't tell you anything about her. But I can tell you how to contact someone who can help you find out who she is. That's all I can do.”

“Who?” I asked eagerly.

He reached for his wallet and looked through it. Then he pulled out a card and slid it across the table. I picked it up and read the name. It was Winston Keyes, and it had his telephone number on the card. I looked at Kelly and showed her the card. We smiled and gave each other high-fives.

“What?” Sterling asked. “You know Winston?”

“Not personally. But we hope to make his acquaintance soon. Real soon,” I said. “So, how do you know this man?”

“He's the contact I used if I needed to speak with my client. I call that number, and he gives her the message.”

“So who is Winston Keyes to the rich woman?” Kelly asked. “Are they fucking or what?”

“I wondered the same thing when I met them,” Sterling said, and managed to laugh a little. Then he turned serious again. “Winston Keyes knows everything. He's not my client; she is. I don't know much about him, but I know he works for her. And I know they've been together for some time now. So yes, they're fucking.”