The Heir Hunter (51 page)

“Don’t worry about them. Can we get off the ground now?”

“No, we can’t. I didn’t agree to any of this, buddy.”

“Bob, please—I’ll make this worth your while. I promise you that.”

“I don’t want any part of this, pal. What the hell’s this all about?”

“Look,” said Nick. “More of these men are coming. If they find you here, they’ll shoot you. I’m not lying, Bob. They’ll kill all three of us. We need to leave now.”

Bob glanced back at the road, chewed on his lower lip, then quickly reentered the plane.

“Get your friend and let’s get the hell outta here before I change my mind.”

Nick helped Alex up the stairs. Alex’s eyes flew wide.

“Look!” she said, ducking low and pointing back toward the cars.

Nick didn’t see anything at first, but then movement caught his eye. A figure had slunk out of the gunmen’s car and was loping across the dirt lot toward the woods. Nick quickly realized the trees weren’t his goal. Directly in his path were the dead men’s guns.

Nick took two steps forward and raised the pistol. He held the gun steady and closed one eye, aiming low. He squeezed the trigger once, and the man did a clumsy hop and rolled to the ground.

Nick started toward him, gun extended. The man was on his back like an upended tortoise. His glasses hung crooked on his face, and tears were welling up in his eyes. He was shivering and clutching his leg. Nick patted him down quickly and found no weapon. He stared down at him and lowered his pistol, slowly shaking his head. There was no threat here, just a broken coward lying in the dirt. A familiar coward.

“Cimko,” he said, disgust in his voice.

Philip Cimko didn’t say a word, just lay there quivering like a scared child.

“Oh my God,” said Alex, running up from behind.
“Him?”

Nick nodded as he glared down at the wounded man. “Our mailers are on the way, Alex. Everything’s taken care of.”

He took the two dead men’s weapons and turned to leave. He stopped himself. Alex wasn’t budging. Her stare, like ice, was riveted to Cimko. The little man’s eyes were shut now and failing to hold back the tears.

“We’re walking away, Nick? After Rose? After everything he’s done to us and the Von Rohrs?”

Nick’s face was grim. He knew what she was considering, and he wasn’t shocked. He looked down at the man and knew he wouldn’t lose much sleep over it.

“Let’s go, girl,” he said, gently moving her along. “Pilot’s waiting.”

Alex was sitting by a window watching the field grow smaller, as the plane gained altitude. She suddenly jabbed her finger against the glass.

“Look!”

Nick placed his face to the circular window and saw them. Down on the ground, two more pairs of headlights had emerged from the road and were speeding onto the now deserted airfield. The cars stopped and men with guns were pouring out. Whoever they were, Nick was glad to miss them. They had arrived a minute too late.

He looked at Alex. She gave him a tired, beautiful smile. For once in their lives, neither of them could think of anything to say to each other.

The pilot had his headphones on. A radio was on softly and giving up-to-the-minute weather reports. The plane dipped and stabilized as he pointed the nose to the north.

Gordon waited alone at the gate. He was tired and a bit numb from it all, but more than anything he was angry. He was angrier than he had ever been in his entire life. He waited patiently beneath the speaker, looking old and worn down in the shadow of the immense home. His appearance was undoubtedly causing confusion, but this was
to be expected, for he had never been here before. After a moment, the gate buzzed, and he pushed it open and followed the curving stone path to the front entrance. He stopped at the double oak doors and waited again. Three seconds passed, and a door swung open.

“Mr. Gordon,” said Senator Newland, smiling but showing an uncertain glint in his eyes. “This is a bit of a surprise.”

Gordon’s stare was frigid. “We need to talk. It won’t take more than a minute.”

Newland nodded stiffly and stepped out of the doorway. Gordon entered and took a quick glance around the interior of the home. He assumed the senator’s wife was around somewhere, but that didn’t matter to him in the least. As far as he was concerned, she was more than welcome to listen in. She of all people was entitled to know, if she didn’t know already.

“How can I help you?” asked Newland.

“Where’s your VCR?” asked Gordon, not looking at him. “Is this your study?”

Senator Newland followed Gordon into the large study. Two senatorial aids stood motionless, their arms clutching thick bundles of papers. Their eyes darted nervously from the director back to their boss. Gordon looked about the study and waited as the senator sent them on their way. The room was the size of a small library, with a large television set in the wall opposite the rows of books.

“Can I offer you something to drink?” asked Newland, reentering the room.

“No. This won’t take long.”

“What can I help you with?”

“To begin with,” continued Gordon, “I’d like to ask you a question. The day we met in the Oval Office—did you drop the truth about Jacobs on the President that day? Or did he find out from Merchant’s report?”

A moment of surprised silence hung in the air. The tiny smile looked strained this time.

“Mr. Gordon, I am
not
following your question here.”

“Of course you’re not,” replied Gordon condescendingly. “I expected you to say that. It doesn’t matter—I already know the answer. It’s clear I’ve been lied to all along, just as the President was lied to three years ago. Marshall never would have sent Jacobs to the Bureau if he had known who the old man really was. No—only one person knew the truth. Isn’t that right, Senator?”

Newland folded his arms on his chest. “Mr. Gordon, if you have an issue with something the President’s done, you probably would be best off going directly to him. Is there something you had specifically for me?”

“You bet your lying ass there is.” He reached into his coat and removed a videotape. “May I?”

Newland eyed the tape warily. “What is that?”

Gordon took the liberty of clicking on the television and inserting the tape.

“I suppose you could call it a testimony of sorts. You may be interested in seeing it.” He pressed Play. “I’ll give Merchant one thing: seems he was a damn good investigator. I don’t know how he put all this together, but it’s a solid piece of work. Of course, you may not agree.”

Newland’s eyes were narrowed. “And why do you think I would have the least bit of interest in hearing—”

A voice blared loudly from the television speakers. The sight of the fugitive made Newland pause, and only perverse curiosity made him stop and listen. Gordon decided he would sit now, but he had no intention of watching the video; he had already seen it twice. The only thing he was interested in seeing now was the reaction on the senator’s face.

Newland stood silently, his face grim, and listened. Listened as Nicholas Merchant introduced himself, his business associates. Listened as he explained his findings in the Jacobs investigation. Listened as he held and explained a very clear set of color photographs. As he listened, Gordon waited, his eyes on the senator’s profile.

Halfway through the monologue, Newland abruptly stopped the tape.

“May I ask where this piece of drivel came from?”

“This piece of drivel, as you call it, arrived at FBI headquarters just a short time ago. Along with a carefully put together packet of exhibits.”

Newland was blinking rapidly. “Exhibits? What exhibits?”

Gordon walked up to the senator very, very closely.

“Photographs, FBI documents, bank documents. In other words, very damning exhibits, Mr. Newland. As I understand it, Merchant had the foresight to make half a dozen copies of this packet, as well as the videotape.”

Newland swallowed. “And you have these? You’re holding them at FBI headquarters?”

Gordon slowly shook his head. “Merchant says he mailed them. To the
Post
and the
Times
, for starters. I can’t recall the other destinations, but there were at least half a dozen more. The President’s already gotten his copy.”

“The President?”

“That’s right. I can tell you right now—I have never seen him this furious. He told me he doesn’t give a damn what the fallout may be—he said he’ll see you fry for this. That was a quote, Senator. He’s getting a copy to the attorney general right now, and when that happens, my friend, I’m happy to say you’ll be up to your eyeballs in shit.”

Newland made a barely audible noise, like a groan from deep within himself. His hand reached out to steady himself against the wall. Gordon turned and made for the doorway. Suddenly he stopped and turned around.

“I imagine we’ll be getting to know each other quite well these next few months, Newland. After the week I’ve had, I look forward to that.”

He showed himself out and made his way back to the waiting limo.

T
HE LITTLE CESSNA
was a surprisingly smooth ride. Alex was doing her best to calm Bob. She sat next to him and asked him about the intricacies of aerial navigation as she periodically dabbed at the gash on his forehead. After a while, the bleeding stopped and she put the towel aside and questioned him about the scattering of knobs and dials on the front console. He gradually succumbed to her attention, happy to demonstrate his knowledge to such a beautiful young woman. Eventually he even forgot about the lump on his head.

Nick sat in the back, feeling drained. His eyes were closed, but he was wide awake. He was listening to the conversation up front, and it was soothing to hear. Alex was dealing with the end of it in her own way, and he wouldn’t intrude. When she was ready to talk, he would be there for her.

After a while, she stepped back and took a seat next to him.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” she replied. “We’re safe and I know my mother’s okay.”

“You got her out on the earlier flight, then?”

She nodded, then leaned her head on his shoulder, taking a slow breath. “Nine days ago, Nick. Nine days ago we found out about that estate. It feels like it was six months ago, but at least it’s finally over.”

“For us it’s over. For some other people it’s just beginning. Wherever we are, we’ll hear about the fallout, I guarantee that.”

Her smile indicated that she liked the thought of this.

“What happened with the FBI, Nick? How could they just let you go?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Eventually it will all be traced back to Newland and his flunkies. Blame will fall where it should.”

“Newland’s wealthy, Nick. He’ll fight it.”

“He’ll lose. He’s already lost. He’s ruined politically, legally—you name it. He’ll be spending a long, long time in prison, Alex. The rest of his life, if there’s any justice at all.”

The plane shook momentarily in the headwinds. Bob had clicked the radio on to a county music station. Alex spoke after a minute.

“When will we be back, Nick? Will we ever be back?”

“Yes,” he replied, putting his arm around her. “We’ll have to lay low and see what comes out of this, but we’ll get by. It won’t be easy, but I think we’ll be okay.”

“I’m scared.”

“Try not to be.”

“I can’t help it. Tomorrow scares me. And the day after that. Are we going to have to worry for the rest of our lives?”

“No,” he said firmly. “No one will ever be able to find us. If everything unfolds like I think it will, they won’t even have a reason to look for us anymore.”

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere we want.”

“And when we get there? Then what? Drift around like two lost souls, too scared to go back home and too scared to find a new one?”

“It won’t be that way. You know, maybe getting away for a while isn’t such a bad thing for me. I’ve had ghosts hanging over me that I’ve wanted to do away with for a while
now. This may be the way to do it.” He looked at her. “Don’t worry, Alex. You and I are survivors. We’ll get by just fine.”

She didn’t reply. A bright fingernail of a half-moon reflected through the glass on her face—that beautiful face. He was thankful he didn’t have to do this by himself. Things would be easier with Alex nearby. They always were.

He rubbed her shoulder and the memory of his father floated through his mind. He wondered what he would have thought if he had been around to see this. Would he be happy, ashamed, pleased, disgusted? Probably none of those, he realized. His father would have seen the good and the bad. He would have seen that they had gone too far trying to solve Jacobs, and that in doing so, they had let loose a monster. But he would also have seen that they had put their lives on the line to try to make things right again. And he would have felt good about that part of it.

“Maybe even proud,” murmured Nick.

Alex looked at him. “What did you say?”

Nick shook his head. “I was wondering what my father would be thinking if he could see all this.”

“He’d be sad that Merchant and Associates is dead. We’ll never find heirs again, Nick.”

Nick looked out the window. Below, the scattered lights of civilization twinkled like stars. He tried to fight back a smile.

“What’s so funny?”

“You know, I was thinking of shutting down Merchant and Associates anyway, even before all this happened.”

“You
what?
”

“Merchant and Associates
sounds so dull. I was thinking something along the lines of, say,
Merchant and Moreno.
Sound okay?”

Her smile was huge.

“Sounds perfect.”

He squeezed her hand, and the two of them looked out the window together, toward the horizon.