Takedown (An Alexandra Poe Thriller) (21 page)

“
What
? Do you have proof of this?”

“Yes. He met with Favreau at a strip club yesterday afternoon and it looks like he might be Valac’s right-hand man. I’m sure Cooper told you about it. And if
he’s
in on this, I’m gonna beat his ass, too.”

“Will you calm down and listen to me? Nobody’s in on anything. This is all news to me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

McElroy sighed. “I swear to you, Alex, I’m completely in the dark about this. And believe me, I don’t like it any more than you do. I don’t need this guy throwing a monkey wrench into my op.”

“This op is a joke,” she said. “We’re running around like a bunch of fools trying to find a set of codes that probably don’t even exist and—”

“They exist. I promise you. If they don’t, then
I
was the one who was lied to, and the joke’s on me.”

“Except you aren’t the one standing here half-dressed, trying to cozy up to some Neanderthal in a Polo shirt. You remember what you said about me being a condition of this deal?”

“Of course I do. My contact requested you personally.”

“Then if you’re telling me the truth, you’d better find out why. Because if I don’t hear back from you by the end of the day, I’m gone, and you can kiss Valac and Favreau and those codes and Eric Hopcroft or whoever the hell you’re really after goodbye.”

McElroy started to say something but she clicked off. In a well-worn pattern, fury had now replaced her anxiety. And at some point, when the fury passed, she’d be back to her old self—more or less—but she wasn’t even close yet.

“Alex? Are you okay?”

It was Cooper, coming toward her down the dock.

“You’d better not be part of this, Shane.”

“Part of what? Tell me what’s going on.”

She handed him his phone. “If you don’t already know, I’m sure you’ll hear about it from McElroy soon enough.” She held out her hand. “I need the keys to the rental car.”

“Alex, for the last time,
what’s
going on?”

“Give me the keys and wait for McElroy’s call.”

“At least tell me where you’re going.”

“No,” she said. “If I do, you’ll try to stop me.”

“Alex…”

“The keys. Please.”

He reluctantly pulled them from his pocket and handed them to her. “Whatever you do, I’m begging you, don’t blow this op.”

She stepped past him and started back toward the hotel. “I’m sorry, Shane, but right now that’s the least of my worries.”

F
INDING
THE
LOCATION
of the Latham house took no time at all. Alex had simply stopped the rental car, stuck her head out the window, and asked the first local girl she saw, “Where does Pappy Leo live?”

Twenty minutes later she drove past the fruit stand the girl had described and the main driveway to the house, then made a left turn on a road that took her through a jungle of coconut and bougainvillea trees behind Leonard Latham’s massive plot of land. This seemed to be the only road up here, and after driving past ramshackle houses and their lean-to carports for a while, she began thinking she was lost.

It was then that she noticed a car behind her, another old Buick like hers.

Was it someone who lived up here?
 

Or was she being followed?

It was possible that Deuce’s close call yesterday had spooked Valac and put him on alert. Latham’s security men could be patrolling the surrounding neighborhood, checking out anyone who might look as if they didn’t belong.
 

She pulled to the side of the road to see if the other car would do the same, but the Buick sailed past her without slowing and disappeared around a curve. She tried to get a look at the driver, but sunlight glinting on the passenger window prevented her from seeing inside.

She waited a moment in case the car turned around, but when it failed to reappear, she pulled onto the road again. Several minutes later, she finally found what she was looking for: a narrow road on the left with a sign that said
PRIVATE. DELIVERIES ONLY
.

The service road Deuce had mentioned.

Alex rolled to a stop, staring at the sign and the blacktop beyond. She could see only the first hundred feet before the road curved to the right and disappeared amidst the foliage.

Valac was in there somewhere. And more importantly, Eric Hopcroft.

She sat behind the wheel, engine idling, knowing her fury had gotten the better of her. She had no game plan. None. All she had was the desire to confront Hopcroft and try to make sense of what was going on. To find out the truth.

Studying the lay of the land, she thought about her options. If she went in on foot, it might be best to avoid the service road altogether. The jungle foliage that surrounded it was thick but not impossible to travel through, and it would give her all the cover she needed to approach the estate unseen. And if any guards got in her way, she’d neutralize them.

But as soon as she considered this, she dismissed the idea. If she wanted a confrontation with dear old Uncle Eric, why skulk around in the jungle? Why not take the direct approach and drive straight to the house instead? She would no doubt be stopped by the guards, but if she made enough of a fuss and demanded they take her to Hopcroft, she saw no reason why they wouldn’t. At the very least, they would alert him, and the moment he saw her on the CCTV cam, he was bound to recognize her.

Or would he? She had been a teenager the last time she saw him, and she’d been through a lot of changes. The awkward girl he’d known had disappeared long ago.

Well, he would figure out who she was soon enough, wouldn’t he?

Spinning the wheel, she nudged the accelerator and turned onto the service road, ignoring Cooper’s voice in the back of her head, pleading with her not to blow the op.
 

She had no idea how far she’d have to travel before she reached the house. A quarter of a mile, maybe? Half? More?

As she wound her way through the trees, she heard the flutter and squawk of birds through her open window, and wondered if their reaction to her presence would alert the guards. This Buick would never be mistaken for a delivery van, and Latham’s men might cut her off before she even reached the house.

She was a good quarter mile in when the road widened slightly and the ground began to rise.
 

What the hell am I doing?

This all suddenly seemed ridiculous as the temporary insanity that had overtaken her started to fall away.

There was no guarantee she’d even get an audience with Hopcroft. That had merely been wishful thinking. And despite her feelings, there was a part of her that
did
care about Stonewell’s op. She couldn’t help herself. Embedded in her psyche was the need to do what was right. She wanted that scumbag Valac caught and tried and convicted for his crimes. If she were to barge in on Latham’s private property, that would only alert the bastard that something was up and likely cause him to flee.

“You’re an idiot,” she told herself.

She pulled her foot off the accelerator, intending to make a U-turn and get the hell out of there. But as she eased the car to the side to give her more room for the turn, she heard the roar of an engine, and the Buick she’d seen earlier raced up alongside her, pulled in front, and screeched to a halt. The doors flew open and three men emerged carrying automatic weapons.

She reached for the transmission lever, intending to throw the car into reverse, but froze as the biggest man hurried forward and pointed the muzzle of his gun at her window. “Show me your hands.”

There was something familiar about his voice, but she couldn’t place it. She had no weapon on her, and she was trapped inside the car, so she did as she was told.

“All right,” he said. “Open your door slowly and get out.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Don’t speak, just do what I say.”

Nodding, she pushed the door open and raised her hands as she climbed out.
 

Did these guys work for Valac?

And where had she heard that voice before?

As the big one gestured her forward, one of the other men slipped in behind the wheel of her car and shut the door.

Alex looked toward the other vehicle and saw a fourth man seated in back, but couldn’t make out his face.

Valac?

Or maybe Hopcroft?

The big man waved his weapon and gestured her forward again, directing her toward the other car as his colleague moved to it and opened the rear passenger door.
 

“Get in.”

“Tell me who you are. What do you want? I took a wrong turn, is all. I didn’t realize I was doing anything—”

“Get
in
.”

She started for the passenger door and was halfway to it when she remembered where she’d heard that voice. It had come from behind a ski mask on a moonlit beach in Key Largo. From a man wielding a knife.

What the hell?

As she climbed inside the car, she suddenly knew she had been set up from the very beginning. The e-mails. The phone calls. The walk on the beach. The chance encounter at the Cajetan Cafe.

Because the man sitting on the backseat was Thomas Gérard.
 

She clenched her jaw. “You’d better have one hell of an explanation for what’s going on here, because I’m in no mood to be kind.”

He showed her that killer smile. “It’s quite simple, Alex. Your father sent me.”

Washington, DC

A
PARK
BENCH
at the National Mall was not their normal meeting place, but when McElroy made the request to get together, Mr. Gray had chosen the spot, saying it would do them both good to get a little sun.

When McElroy arrived, Gray was seated on the bench, peering into the sack lunch in his lap as he dipped a hand inside and rooted around. After a moment, he produced a flip-top can of pineapple chunks and a plastic fork, removed the lid, and dropped it back into the sack.

He held up the fork and can as McElroy sat down. “Would you like a taste?”

“I’ll pass, thank you.”

“I prefer this over fresh pineapple,” Gray said. “I’ve no explanation for it. I suppose it could be the syrup that I’m addicted to, but I don’t think so. There’s something sublime about the texture and taste of canned pineapple that always keeps me coming back for more.”

“I’m happy for you. But I’m not here to discuss your culinary quirks.”

Gray stabbed a chunk and popped it into his mouth, chewing as he spoke. “You know, you worry me, Jason. Your obsession with work will be the end of you.” He swallowed. “When was the last time you sat down to dinner with your lovely wife?”

“I don’t have a wife. Lovely or otherwise.”

“Of course you don’t. Divorced, I take it?”

“Like everyone else in DC.”

“Don’t be so cynical. I’ve been married for over thirty years.”

“The exception that proves the rule,” McElroy said. “But I didn’t come here to discuss your family life, either.”

“Very well, then I suppose we should get down to it. Your call sounded urgent, so what’s plaguing you on this fine day? A problem with the acquisition?”

“Considering what’s at stake, you seem pretty calm.”

“I’ve learned never to fret over things that are only partially in my control. I’ve put my trust in you and your people, and I have no doubt you’ll get the job done, one way or another.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” McElroy took the manila file folder from under his arm and held it out to Gray. “But while you’re blowing smoke, you want to explain this to me?”

Gray took another bite, chewed, sipped a bit of the syrup, then reluctantly returned his snack and fork to the paper sack and set it to the side. He took the folder from McElroy and opened it.

Inside were the side by the side head shots of Eric Hopcroft that Cooper had sent McElroy, along with a printout of Stonewell’s file on the man.

“I’m surprised it took you this long,” Gray said. “Does Ms. Poe know about this?”

“That’s why I’m here. She thinks this has something to do with me wanting to catch her father. Cooper says she went off half-cocked, so there’s no telling what she might do.”

“I’m sure it’s not a concern.”

“Why would you say that?”

“For someone who works with the woman, you seem to know so very little about her. As I told you before, we’ve been watching her on and off for quite some time, and based on our observations, she may get the occasional hair up her ass, so to speak, but she usually does the right thing in the end. So I’m sure she’ll come to her senses about this little wrinkle before she allows herself to do anything rash.”

“You knew about her connection to Hopcroft, didn’t you?”

Gray nodded. “Of course we did.”

“Is that why you got her involved?”

“If you’re a student of human nature, you know that when an asset has a personal connection to an operation, they tend to hone their focus and up their game. Like an athlete playing in honor of a recently fallen teammate. It’s true that Ms. Poe happened to be in the right place at the right time, but we knew of her family history, and hoped that Hopcroft’s involvement in the matter would only strengthen her commitment to the task at hand.”

McElroy leveled his gaze at Gray. “Sounds like more smoke to me.”

“Take it however you like, Jason. As much as I value our relationship, what you think means little to me in the larger scheme.”

“Thanks for being honest for once. And while you’re at it, why don’t you tell me the truth about Hopcroft?”

Gray offered him a benign smile. “I’m afraid that’s classified.”

“You have clearance,” McElroy said, “and you’ve trusted me before. Have you ever gotten any blowback because of anything you’ve told me?”

“Next, I suppose you’ll be asking me about the codes.”

McElroy shook his head. “I don’t give a damn about what those codes are for. You made sure of that by dangling Valac as a reward. But contrary to your speech about human nature, this thing with Hopcroft is threatening the acquisition of a very big prize, and I think I have a right to know what’s going on.”