Seizure (42 page)

“What are you suggesting?”

“We use Butler's money to hire twenty-four-hour armed security. As far as I'm concerned, it's a legitimate expense, and it's only for a week and a half, two weeks tops.”

Stephanie sighed with resignation. “Are there any listings in the phone book?”

“Yeah, there are quite a few. What do you think?”

“I don't know what to think,” Stephanie admitted.

“I think we need some professional protection.”

“All right, if you say so,” Stephanie said. “But it might be
more important for us to start being even more careful in general than we have been. No more walks in the dark. I mean, what were we thinking?”

“In retrospect, it was foolish, considering my having been beaten up and warned.”

“What about the bath? Do you want to get in first? It's ready.”

“No, you go ahead. I'll make some calls to these agencies. The sooner we have someone, the better I'll feel.”

Ten minutes later, Daniel came into the bathroom to sit on the edge of the tub. He was still sipping his wine. Stephanie was up to her neck in sudsy water, and her wineglass was empty.

“Do you feel better?” Daniel asked.

“Much. How did you do on the phone?”

“Good. Someone will be here in a half hour to be interviewed. It's a company called First Security. They were recommended by the hotel.”

“I've been trying to think of who could have shot that guy. We haven't voiced it, but he was like our savior.” Stephanie stood and wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out of the tub. “It had to be someone who was a damn good shot. And how did he happen to be there just when we needed him? It was like Father Maloney at the Turin airport but ten times more critical.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

“Only one, but it is far-fetched.”

“I'm listening.” Daniel felt the bathwater and began adding more hot.

“Butler. Maybe he's had the FBI keep an eye on us for our own protection.”

Daniel laughed as he got into the tub. “That would be ironic.”

“Do you have any better ideas?”

“Not one,” Daniel admitted. “Unless it had something to do with your brother. Maybe he sent someone down here to watch over you.”

Now Stephanie laughed in spite of herself. “That's even more far-fetched than my idea!”

 

As the nighttime security supervisor, Bruno Debianco was accustomed to calls from his boss, Kurt Hermann. The man had no life other than as head of Wingate security, and since he lived on the grounds, he was always around hassling Bruno with all sorts of minor requests and orders. Some of them were unexpected and ridiculous, but tonight's took the cake. A little after ten, Kurt had called on his cell phone to instruct Bruno to drive one of the black Wingate vans out to Paradise Island. The destination was to be the Huntington Hartford cloister. Bruno was only supposed to stop if the road was clear, and if it was clear, he was to turn off his headlights before slowing down. Once stopped, he was supposed to walk up to the cloister but avoid stepping into the light. At that point, Kurt would accost him.

Bruno waited for the traffic light to turn green before accelerating up onto the bridge leading to Paradise Island. Never had he been ordered to leave the Wingate Clinic on a mystery mission, and what made it particularly strange was the request to bring a body bag. Bruno tried to think of what possibly could have happened, but nothing came to mind other than the trouble Kurt had gotten into in Okinawa. Bruno had served with Kurt in the Army's Special Forces and knew the man had a love-hate reaction to whores. It had been an obsession that had suddenly erupted into a personal vendetta on the Japanese island. Bruno had never quite understood it, and he hoped he wasn't currently being drawn into a recrudescence of that problem. He and Kurt had a good thing going with Spencer Wingate and Paul Saunders, and Bruno didn't want it to get screwed up. If Kurt had started up his old crusade, it was going to be a problem.

The main east-west road that ran along Paradise Island had moderate traffic, but it dropped off after Bruno passed the shopping areas. It dropped off even more after the first few hotels, and after the turnoff to the Ocean Club, it was deserted. Following orders, Bruno switched off the lights as he neared the cloister. With the moonlight and the white stripe in the middle of the road, he had no problem driving in the dark.

Passing the final coppice of trees, the illuminated cloister came into view on Bruno's right. He pulled across the road into a shoulder parking area and stopped the car. He turned off
the engine and got out. To his left, he could see down the hill to the Ocean Club's lighted pool.

Bruno went around to the back of the van and opened the rear door. He pulled out the folded body bag, and with it under his arm, he mounted the steps leading up to the cloister. Before he got into the light, he stopped. Ahead, the cloister was deserted. His eyes scanned the surrounding area, trying to peer into the darkness of the trees. He was about to call out Kurt's name when the man materialized out of the shadows to Bruno's right. Like Bruno, he was dressed in black and almost invisible. He waved for Bruno to follow him and said, “Move it!”

With the moonlight, it was fairly easy for Bruno to walk, but once they were within the trees, it was a different story. After a few steps, he stopped. “I can't see a blasted thing.”

“You don't have to,” Kurt said quietly. “We're here. Did you bring the body bag?”

“Yeah.”

“Unzip it and help me load it up!”

Bruno did as he was told. Gradually his eyes adjusted, and he could make out Kurt's form. He also could see the vague outline of the body on the ground. Bruno extended the end of the body bag toward Kurt, who took it and stepped down to the corpse's feet. Together they pulled it taut, placed it on the ground, and folded back the edges.

“On three,” Kurt said. “But watch the head. It's a little messy.”

Bruno got his hands under the corpse's armpits, and at the appropriate moment lifted the torso while Kurt lifted the legs.

“Good grief!” Bruno grunted. “Who is this guy, an exlineman for the Chicago Bears?”

Kurt didn't answer. The two of them got the body into the bag, and Kurt drew up the zipper from the foot.

“Don't tell me we have to carry this two-ton guy down to the van,” Bruno said. The idea was daunting.

“We're not leaving him here. Run down and open the van's back door. When we get down there, I don't want there to be any delay getting him inside.”

A few minutes later, they shoved Gaetano's upper body, encased in the body bag, into the van. To get the rest in, Bruno
had to climb in himself and pull while Kurt pushed. Both were winded when they were finished.

“So far so good,” Kurt commented, as he closed the door. “Let's get out of here before our luck runs out and someone drives by.”

Bruno went around to the driver's side and got in. Kurt put his black rucksack in the backseat before climbing into the front passenger side. Bruno started the engine. “Where to?” he asked.

“The Ocean Club's parking lot,” Kurt said. “The guy had keys to a rent-a-car Jeep in his pocket. I want to find it.”

Bruno made a quick U-turn before switching on his headlights. They drove in silence. Bruno was dying to ask who in the hell the stiff in the back of the van was, but he knew better. Kurt had a habit of only telling him what he thought he needed to know and got pissed whenever Bruno asked questions. Ever since Bruno had known him, Kurt had been a man of few words. He was always tensed up and on edge, as if he was constantly angry about something.

It only took a few minutes to get to the parking lot, and when they did, it only took a few more minutes to find the car. It was the only Jeep in the lot and was positioned close to the exit, with nothing blocking it. Kurt had gotten out to check to see if the keys opened the doors. They did. The car's papers were in the glove compartment, and Gaetano's carry-on was on the backseat.

“I want you to follow me to the airport,” Kurt said when he came back to Bruno's window. “Needless to say, drive carefully. You don't want to get stopped and have them discover the body.”

“That would be embarrassing,” Bruno agreed. “Especially since I don't know a blasted thing.”

Bruno thought he detected a glare in Kurt's eyes before he went back to climb into the rent-a-car. Bruno shrugged and started the van.

Kurt got the Cherokee started. He hated surprises, and the day had been nothing but surprises. With his Special Ops Army training, he prided himself on careful planning, as was necessary for any military mission. Accordingly, he had been observing the two doctors for more than a week, and he
thought he understood their mind-set and situation. Then the woman doctor had broken into the egg room; that had been totally unexpected and had caught him unprepared. Even worse was what had happened tonight.

As soon as they got through town and on open road, Kurt pulled out his cell phone and pressed the preprogrammed number for Paul Saunders. Although Spencer Wingate was the titular head of the clinic, Kurt preferred dealing with Paul. It had been Paul who had hired him back in Massachusetts. Besides, Paul, like Kurt, was always at the clinic, which was in sharp contrast to Spencer, who was always out looking for loose women.

As per usual, Paul answered after only a few rings.

“I'm on my cell,” Kurt warned before saying anything else.

“Oh?” Paul questioned. “Don't tell me there is another problem.”

“I'm afraid so.”

“Is it related to our guests?”

“Very much so.”

“Does it have anything to do with what happened today?”

“It's worse.”

“I don't like the sound of this. Can you give me some idea what it is about?”

“I think it is better that we meet.”

“When and where?”

“In three quarters of an hour in my office. Let's say twenty-three hundred hours.” By force of habit, Kurt still used military time.

“Should we involve Spencer?”

“That's your call.”

“See you then.”

Kurt ended the call and slipped the phone into its holder on his belt. He glanced into the rearview mirror. Bruno was following at a comfortable distance. Events seemed to be back under control.

The airport was all but deserted, save for the cleaning crews. More specifically, the rent-a-car concessions were all closed. Kurt nosed the Cherokee into one of the appropriate rent-a-car slips. He locked the car and took the keys and the papers over to the after-hours deposit box. A moment later, he
climbed back into Bruno's van. Bruno had kept the engine idling.

“Now what?” Bruno asked.

“You are going to drive me back to the Ocean Club to get my van. Then we are both going to drive out to Lyford Cay Marina. You'll be taking a moonlight cruise on the company yacht.”

“Aha! I'm starting to get the picture. My guess is that we'll soon be in the market for a new anchor. Am I right?”

“Just drive,” Kurt said.

 

True to his word, Kurt pushed open the door to his office almost to the second of his eleven o'clock commitment. Both Spencer and Paul were already there, accustomed to his signature punctuality. Kurt brought his rucksack over to the desk and dropped it. It made a resounding thud against the desk's metal surface.

Spencer and Paul were sitting in the two chairs facing Kurt's utilitarian desk. Their eyes had followed Kurt from the moment the security chief had walked through the door. They were waiting for him to say something, but Kurt took his time. He took off his black silk jacket and draped it over the chair. Then he pulled out his gun from its holster in the small of his back and carefully placed it on the desk.

With obvious exasperation, Spencer exhaled noisily and rolled his eyes. “Mr. Hermann, I am forced to remind you that you work for us and not vice versa. What the hell is going on? And it better be good, for having dragged us in here in the middle of the night. I happened to have been pleasurably occupied.”

Kurt peeled off his form-fitting gloves and put them next to his automatic. Only then did he sit down. He reached out and lifted his computer monitor and put it to the side to have an uninterrupted view of his visitors.

“I was forced in the line of duty to kill someone tonight.”

Both Spencer and Paul's mouths slowly dropped open. They stared in consternation at their security supervisor, who calmly stared back at them. For a beat, no one moved and no one spoke. It was Paul who first found his voice. He spoke hesitantly, as if afraid to hear the answer: “Could you tell us who it was you killed?”

Kurt used one hand to open the buckle on his rucksack and the other to pull out a billfold. He pushed it across the desk at his bosses and then sat back. “His name is Gaetano Baresse.”

Paul reached out and picked up the wallet. Before he could open it, Spencer slammed his palm down on the surface of the metal desk hard enough to make it sound like a kettledrum. Paul jumped and dropped the wallet. Kurt didn't visibly flinch, although all his honed muscles tensed.