Sting (23 page)

“So back to why you called her…” Wiley said, leading him.

“Mistakenly, I thought that crossing paths with her the night before the hit—especially with a local cop on her tail—would rattle Mickey and Panella enough to cancel it. At the very least postpone it. Which would have given me time to hang with Mickey, work from the inside, possibly track down Josh and, more particularly, Panella. But, instead of telling us to back off, Panella ordered Mickey to go ahead, to pop her then and there. I couldn't let that happen.”

He paused and locked eyes with Jordie, willing her to remember what he'd told her before sending her out to Joe Wiley.

She said nothing for a moment, then a terse “Thank you for saving my life.”

“You're welcome.”

But he was far from forgiven. Still seething, she grated out, “Why did you do the rest of it?”

Without excuse or qualification or missing a beat, he answered. “Because I want that goddamn fucking Panella.”

When he'd appeared in the open doorway, Jordie had barely contained a cry of joy. Now she wanted nothing more than to scratch out his damn lying eyes.

“I have nothing to do with Panella,” she said. “Since you have the
skinny
on me, you should know that. Once Mickey was out of commission, why didn't you tell me you were FBI? Or just leave me there and drive away?”

“Because your brother is a friggin' fugitive, Jordie. You're the one and only link to him, and Panella is at the end of that chain.”

“In other words, you decided to use me as bait.”

“Okay. If you like that word better. I called you to the bar primarily to jinx the hit. But it served a dual purpose.”

“What was the other?”

“To test your loyalty to Josh. I dropped his name; you burned rubber getting there.”

“You bastard.”

He didn't blink. “It's been said.”

She rolled her lips inward, clinging to her temper by a thread which was unraveling a little more with each word from his mouth. Clearly, he shared Wiley and Hickam's suspicion that she had been, and possibly was still, involved on some level in her brother's criminal activity.

Joe Wiley said, “Ms. Bennett, did you know that Josh reneged on his deal with us and had run off?”

“No. Not until
he
told me.”

Shaw said, “For whatever it's worth, Wiley, she seemed shocked when I told her that Josh had been missing for four days. I don't think she knew. But that didn't cancel the possibility of her knowing
something
. I knew she would be afraid of me because she'd seen me kill Mickey. I figured I could use that fear to get information from her.”

Hearing him admit it snapped her control. She shot from her chair and, planting her palms on the tabletop, leaned across it toward him. “You badgered me for hours about that damn phone call!”

“Only after you lied about it.”

“You terrorized me.”

“I guess. To some extent.”

“There's no
extent
to terrorism.”

“You're right,” he said, raising his voice to match hers. “I kept at you, thinking that I'd wear you down until you let something slip about Josh or Panella, which could have proved vital to their capture.”

“You browbeat me about that call, and all along it was
you
.”

“What matters more than who called is that you responded. You came running in record time. You made sure you weren't followed. When your surveillance failed to show up, either inside the bar or out on the parking lot, you flunked the test.”

“To hell with you and your test!”

“You shook that tail because you expected somebody to be waiting for you in that beer joint.
Who
?”

She was about to fire a comeback when her attorney gave the hem of her jacket a hard tug, pulling her back into her chair. Taking the advice being urgently whispered in her ear, she fell silent.

During her shouting match with Shaw, Wiley looked like a spectator at a tennis match, his head swiveling back and forth between them. Hickam kept up the infernal pecking on the screen of his iPad. She couldn't help but wonder what he was taking down. The session was still being video recorded. Was Hickam adding color commentary, details they would later use against her?

She strived to mask the emotions roiling inside her.

Eventually, Shaw resumed, addressing her. “When I stopped to switch license plates, I used your phone to call myself, so I could show you later that I had tried that number.”

“You're full of clever tricks.”

He raised a shoulder.

“And bullshit.”

“Effective bullshit.”

Her face burned when reminded of how effective his words, both sinister and provocative, had been. She wanted to kill him. “You called that phantom number several times, hinting that Josh might answer, knowing full well he wouldn't.”

“Another tactic to try and break you.”

“Well you failed,
Special Agent Kinnard
. You've got nothing to show for all your testing and clever tricks. You got nothing helpful from me.”

“You'd be surprised what I found helpful.”

“My brother is still at large.”

“Which is why you're still in custody.”

A
taut silence followed that fiery exchange, which Joe and Hick had tacitly agreed to let play out without interruption. Adrian Dover softly asked Jordie if she would like to take a breather. “Maybe some water?”

She declined with a brusque no.

“I'd like some,” Kinnard said. “I'm supposed to be getting fluids.”

Joe got up and walked over to a small table stocked with bottles of water. “You should be readmitted to a hospital,” he said as he uncapped one and passed it to Kinnard. “Under an assumed name, naturally.”

“Maybe later.”

When he finished drinking, Hick asked him where he'd had his burner phone hidden. “It wasn't on you. The barn was searched. Wasn't in the car.”

“I left it in the woods where I stopped to switch car tags. Sealed in a ziplock and stuffed in a hole in a tree trunk. I told Morrow where he could find it. He retrieved it and brought it when he came to the hospital.”

Joe thought,
This son of a gun doesn't miss a trick
. He wanted to throttle him, but he couldn't help but admire his craftiness. Of course, his life depended on outsmarting people. On deception.

Hick asked, “What about the barn?”

Shaw smiled wanly. “Belonged to my grandfather. He called it the garage. He had a couple of old Chryslers he restored and kept there. Before he died, he sold the cars, but the building came to me. I hadn't been there in years and was surprised to find it still standing.”

“You grew up around here?”

“No. I only visited my grandparents from time to time.”

He didn't volunteer where he hailed from, and Joe didn't bother asking. Neither did Hick. He probably would have told them that it was classified.

“The bow-and-arrow set was mine,” Kinnard said, addressing Jordie. “It came with a canvas target stuffed with straw. I don't know what became of that. I never knew my grandfather owned a boat. Maybe he didn't. I don't know what that busted outboard was doing in there.”

She didn't respond except to stare at him coldly.

Joe went back to something Kinnard had said earlier. “You want Panella.”

“That scam he had going with Josh was little more than a hobby. He's into much more that than. After Katrina, he swooped in like a vulture and cashed in on the corruption and chaos. Racketeering, money laundering. No aversion to blood. My unit wanted him long before you guys got on to him.

“He's old-school. Tit for tat. Sicilian shit. For instance, on Panella's order Mickey Bolden slit a guy's belly open and threw him off a fishing boat into the Gulf.”

As an aside to Jordie, he said, “That was no empty threat. It happened. Another agent witnessed it. Nothing he could do to stop it without blowing his cover.” Coming back to Joe, he continued. “To get inside his operation, I made my initial contact with Bolden and told him that I was available for speciality work like that.”

“Like gutting people,” Jordie said.

Kinnard looked across at her. “Too messy. I'm tidier and more efficient than that.”

“Like blowing Mickey Bolden's head to smithereens.”

“Would you rather have had him blow yours to smithereens? Or me to take the time to say, ‘Freeze, FBI, you're under arrest'?” When she declined to say anything, he added, “I kill only the bad guys, Jordie. To keep them from killing other people.”

“But you still lie and deceive.”

“I do, yeah. Most times. Not always.”

The atmosphere between the two crackled. Joe couldn't help but wonder the nature of some of the lies that Kinnard had told her while she was his captive. He tabled that interesting thought for the time being and concentrated on what Kinnard was saying.

“Bolden didn't immediately take me up on my offer. I couldn't look too eager or he would've smelled a rat. When that DEA agent got crosswise with the two key men, I had to take them out. I got myself arrested on purpose. It looked better, and jail is often safer than the streets. By the time What's-his-name Dupaw released me, Panella had vamoosed to parts unknown and Josh was in protective custody pending testimony.

“So I worked the other case in Mexico, planning to wait out Panella like he's been waiting out Josh. I think he forecast that Josh would renege.”

“Why do you think that?”

Jordie said, “Because Mr. Kinnard has this wild hair that Josh, not Panella, has access to the stolen money.”

Everyone looked at her. Wiley asked, “Does he?”

“No.”

Wiley looked back at Kinnard, who said, “My opinion differs, but we gotta catch him to find out.” He paused and touched his side as though it pained him. “Where are you on that? Any updates?”

Joe brought him up to speed, starting by telling him about Josh's unexpected call to him two nights before. “Here we were stomping around in the woods searching for him, my phone rings, it's the man himself.”

He recounted that conversation, including mention of the bank account in Costa Rica, but omitting that Jordie had accompanied Panella on a trip there. He finished by telling him about the call he'd got before dawn. “Surprised me again.”

“What'd he say?”

“He wanted verification that Jordie was safe.”

Kinnard frowned. “That first call. Was he telling the truth, you think? Granted, Costa Rica would be a good stopover for somebody wanting to disappear. Gulf on one side, Pacific on the other. Rain forests and mountains to hide in. But have you confirmed that this bank account exists?”

“As of this morning, the money's still there. Intact. Never touched.”

“No shit?”

“Our thought exactly,” Hick said, and Joe noticed that he shot a glance at Jordie.

Kinnard, lost in thought, didn't catch it. “And Josh called you again this morning, indicating to me that his nerves are wearing thin. Whether or not he's got the money, he still betrayed Panella. He's rethinking his decision to abandon the protective arms of Uncle Sam.”

“If he wasn't rethinking it before, he is now that I told him I talked to Billy Panella last night.”

Kinnard looked at him with a start. “You
what
?”

“He thought it was you calling.” Joe told him how the conversation had come about and related it in its entirety. “We had all the geegaws hooked up to the phone. Got nothing. Panella hung up in less than thirty seconds.”

Kinnard absently rubbed the scar on his chin. “His attempt on Jordie's life was a bust. Josh still knows all his secrets and is inclined to make deals.” Addressing them all, he said, “Our friend Panella can't be happy with the status quo, especially if he was left holding an empty bag. Do you realize how dangerous that makes him?”

“We do. That's where we were when you came in,” Joe said. “Hick and I were encouraging Ms. Bennett to share with us any information she has regarding either Panella or her brother's whereabouts.”

“Morrow told me you were questioning her.” Kinnard looked across at her, but he referred to her in third person. “That's one reason I left the hospital in such a hurry. For a day and a half, I tried everything I could think of to get information out of her. Some of my tactics were unpleasant, even crude.” He waited a beat, then looked at Joe. “If she knew anything, I believe she would have told me.”

She hadn't told him about her weekend getaway with Panella. Joe would bet one of the swindler's millions on that. If Kinnard knew about that, he wouldn't be letting her off the hook now.

Another one of those awkward silences ensued. Kinnard was staring hard at Jordie as though compelling her to look at him. She kept her eyes downcast, looking only at her lap.

Eventually Adrian Dover stirred. “That's it then. Is my client free to leave?”

Joe said, “Ms. Bennett is free to go now, but she remains in our custody. Hick, tell Marshal Saunders she's ready to return to the hotel.”

Hick stepped out and called down the hallway to the marshal.

Jordie said nothing as she stood up. Evidently she planned to walk out without acknowledging any of them, especially Shaw Kinnard. But when he spoke her name, she hesitated on the threshold before turning around. And if looks could kill.

Kinnard said, “You can't protect your brother from Panella, Jordie. He'll send the next Mickey Bolden, then the next, until he gets him. He won't give up until Josh's entrails are strung along behind him in the Gulf.”

She held his stare for the length of a slow freight train, then said, “I wish I'd gone for the kill.”

She and the lawyer walked out as Hick came back in, his cell phone to his ear. He mouthed,
Morrow
.

Joe, who'd stood up as a courtesy to the ladies when they left the room, sat down again and scrutinized Shaw Kinnard. He looked worse off now than he had when he'd made his grand entrance, and he'd looked like hell then. He was pale, the lines in his face more deeply carved, cheeks sunken.

Nevertheless, from deep within their shadowed sockets, his eyes projected a cold glint that signaled danger despite the signs of his physical debilitation. Joe didn't have that quality. Nobody would ever move out of his way simply because he focused on them.

If Kinnard had been affected by Jordie Bennett's parting shot, he didn't show it. To look at him, you'd think the words had bounced right off him like he was wearing armor. Of course, in order to work as deep cover as he did, detachment was essential. Everything was sacrificed to the job, even normal human emotions.

Joe thought about the comforting clutter in the den of his house, the constant commotion his kids created, the particular squeak his and Marsha's bed made when they moved on it together, and he didn't envy Shaw Kinnard his gravitas. It came at a price. Too high a one, in Joe's opinion.

He motioned toward the door through which Jordie Bennett had just passed. “I don't think she likes you.”

“Nobody does. I'm used to it.”

“She seemed to yesterday, though.”

Kinnard snapped him a look of alerted interest. Maybe his armor wasn't so impenetrable after all.

But before he could speak, Hick abruptly ended his phone call and said, “We gotta get to Tobias.”

Joe shot to his feet. “Bennett?”

Hick shook his head. “Royce Sherman.”

“Who's that?” Kinnard asked.

“The guy who accosted Ms. Bennett in the bar.”

Kinnard was so wobbly he had to use the table to stabilize himself as he stood up. “I'd like to talk to that jerk-off myself.”

“Not gonna happen,” Hick said. “He's in the morgue.”