Toxic Blonde

by David Stever

  Tilghman had cleaned and sutured the wound on Emmanuel’s leg, patched his head, and helped me walk him up the stairs and to the sofa in the great room. Leah pulled a chair close to him. “E, you’re my go-to. Right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You know I am grateful your injury is not worse.”

  “I do.”

  “A beach on one side, and one road in on the other. Did they come by helicopter, or did they swim up on the back of dolphins?”

  The pain in his leg had to be excruciating but the sarcasm unbearable. The Army Ranger held her gaze and never wavered. “No, ma’am. I was on the front deck and heard a scream from inside. I turned and took a hit in the leg. Not sure where the shot came from. I went down. Next thing I know, I am waking up.” He rubbed the lump on his head. “How I got this, I guess. Jamal must have confronted the man on the steps then went outside and dropped the one on the driveway before he went down. I found him under the front deck.”

  “Which places Jamal in the house when this all happened,” Leah said.

  Emmanuel nodded and I thought it best we move on. “The phones?”

  “In my room. A strongbox in the closet.”

  Leah dispatched Tilghman to retrieve the box, but she was not done with Emmanuel either. “If Jamal had the woman in his room, he worked his last job.”

  “Yes.” This time he did not look her in the eye. “I will tell him.”

  Tilghman came back with the metal box. Emmanuel took a key from his pocket, opened it, and pulled out three smart phones. One with a pink cover, which was Brynne’s, one with a white cover, Mary Ann’s, and a black phone, Ainsley’s. My heart dropped to my stomach.

  “This is my fault. I gave Ainsley a burner to call me and it’s not here. He must have used it. Son of a bitch.”

  “Johnny—” Leah sat back in the chair.

  “I needed to communicate with him off grid. This is on me. Emmanuel, I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault. We lost focus and relaxed. Inexcusable.”

  “Stop the sorry,” Leah snapped. “You both are culpable. But we need to move forward. E, get more men here for cleanup and to pick up Mike’s Jeep.”

  “Will do.”

  She grabbed me and we went down to the front of the house. The men had Jamal loaded into the first SUV and had the dead guy in the driveway wrapped in a sheet. One of the guys came up to Leah and told her neither dead man had any identification.

  My phone vibrated. A text from Eric. : “Are you ok?”

  Jesus, I forgot about him. I sent a message back: “Yes, call in a bit.”

  “Now what?” she said. “How do we help?

  Two dead, two wounded, and two missing. This night was longest of my life and it was far from over. I now had to tell Quade what went down, but leave Leah and her group out of the conversation. The last thing she wanted was the FBI sniffing around her business. The question of the night, though: why would Ainsley call Keira? No other way for Keira to find this house. Mary Ann would do as she was told, Brynne was a wild card but distracted with the booze and men, so that leaves Ainsley, who was upset with Keira. Or so I thought.

  Leah’s hand was on my shoulder. “Hey?”

  “Sorry. Replaying the night.”

  “We’ll clean up, take care of Mike’s car, and get the woman home. Another car is on the way.”

  “I owe you.”

  “No, you don’t. No excuse for what happened and we’ll do everything in our power to help you find them.”

  We embraced. “Thank you. The FBI is already involved in this. I’ll need to fill them in. Keep you out of it?”

  “Definitely.”

  A third SUV pulled up with two more of her guys and she went to them with instructions.

  My phone buzzed again. Eric: “Still no Katie.”

  37

  Tilghman drove Mike and me back to my condo and offered to wait and help. I declined and sent him to assist at the safe house. No time for the slow elevator so we hustled up the four flights of stairs, running on adrenaline at this point. Eric was literally pacing around the room, talking to himself when we entered. Three laptops were open on the kitchen table.

  “PI Dude…thank God, I am out of my mind here. What happened at the beach?”

  “I’ll explain later. You find Katie’s car?”

  “At a grocery store, not too far from here. Here, your computer.” He pointed to the blinking cursor on my laptop. “I did what you said and contacted her friend Mandy, but she has not talked to her. Big mistake, because annoying Mandy has called back three times.”

  “Do not say a word to her. What about Keira’s car?”

  “No signal anymore. Nothing on the van and Bellamy went to his house.”

  “Stay here and monitor. We’re going to Katie’s car.”

  “Should we call Quade and Ortiz?”

  “Not yet. Text me if Bellamy moves.” I opened the hall closet and took a 9mm Glock from my gun safe and handed it to Mike. I clicked a new ammo clip into my Beretta and slipped another one into my pocket. “Ready?”

  I pulled the Z4 from the garage, popped the trunk and activated the handheld GPS detector. After the events of tonight, it would not surprise me if Keira stuck a transponder on me. The light on the device remained green: no tracker.

  The shopping center was eight blocks from my office and Katie’s red Honda was the lone car in the lot except for a Nissan compact with a flat tire, and a security vehicle parked near the entrance.

  The driver’s door opened and the contents of Katie’s purse were spilled on the seat and her cell phone was on the floor. I put everything back into the purse.

  Mike opened the passenger door and came to the same assessment as I did. “No groceries in the car so they grabbed her as she pulled in.” I tried her phone but it was locked with a passcode. “Keys?” He got in and we sat with the doors open.

  “No,” I said. “Her wallet and money is here, so no robbery.” I searched around and found her keys under the front seat. “Found them. I’ll drive her car back to my garage.”

  “What? Partner.” He put his hand on my arm. “This is a crime scene, might need to call it in. I understand the ambush on the safe house and your missing client and what we went through, but this could be a random abduction. Happens every day in the big city.”

  “We both know it’s not random.”

  “Well, then the blonde is on the attack and the operation is blown.”

  “Ainsley met Katie, so he’s the only one who can give her up. But he does not know I am Arthur Rhodes. So if he gave up the safe house—for whatever reason—Keira makes me as the PI Delarosa, but she shouldn’t connect me as Rhodes, right?”

  “Unless she tailed you from the start. Think it through. What if Ainsley was the real target? Her men bungled the hit on the road, but still maintained the tail all this time, followed him to our bar, and now you are made. Shit, we’re not thinking at all—this could be a trap. You got to assume she is wise to everything.”

  He paused, cheeks bright red, his Irish blood boiling. I prepared for the I told you so.

  “Why hit the safe house? Why snatch Mary Ann and Ainsley? Leverage, right? What else would it be?” Mike said. “She’s hip to the whole operation, brother, no doubt in my mind. She wants something. The job will be figuring out what it is.”

  Flashing yellow lights lit the scene. The shopping center security guard pulled beside us in a small white pickup truck. “Need some help?”

  “Daughter’s car wouldn’t start,” I said, and waved him off, but he did not appear convinced. He stopped twenty yards away.

  “Son of a bitch, the guard could be on the phone with Keira’s boys now. Easy to pay him off. Hell, we’re sitting here wide open.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out.

  “If she did tail me from the beginning, it means she played me all through the Arthur Rhodes ruse. She knew the entire time.”

  “I told you not to get involved with the feds. Nothing
good ever comes of it.” The I told you so, and I deserved it. “As soon as Quade finds out Katie is—I can’t even say it—all hell will break loose.”

  “Mike, please. I will fix it.” I handed him my keys. “Please.”

  “You move this car, you’re taking any evidence with you,” he said.

  “I understand, but the mall cop is ready to jump into action and I’m not in the mood to be jammed up by him while Katie is being passed from Russian to Russian. We’re wasting time.”

  “Son of a bitch. We’ll both end up in Janesville over this.”

  He drove off in my car. I sat for a minute. This is on me and I could not allow myself one second of self-pity. When the FBI showed up, I should have bowed out, and because I did not, Katie was now in the hands of a woman who would inflict pain first and ask questions later. If she hurts one hair on Katie’s head, so help me God, I will kill her and anyone in her path, even if I have to go to Moscow to do it. Living out my days in the joint will be worth it. The beep of a horn brought me out of my revenge-filled stupor.

  “Will it start?” The security guard was beside me in his truck.

  “Oh.” I turned the key and the engine started. “How about that.”

  “Drive safe,” he said.

  I gave him a wave and headed to my condo.

  ***

  Eric was asleep on the sofa when we got back to my place. I told Mike to crash in my room and he was too exhausted to object, agreeing to reconvene after a few hours of sleep. I stood in the shower for a solid five minutes, hoping the hot water would wash away the iniquity of my ineptitude. What did I miss?

  I pulled on some sweats, closed the laptops, turned off the CD player and the lights, grabbed a bottle of bourbon and a glass, and stretched out on my balcony lounge chair. The night was cool but my adrenaline, and the unbelievable chain of events of the past six hours, had me over the edge of frustration. Why would Ainsley call Keira and give her the location? No explanation. The other option was she had people tailing Ainsley from the time I moved him to the safe house, which meant she played me all along. Did she know who I was from the first meeting at the club? And what was her motivation and what does she want? I added more of the brown liquid to my glass.

  The balcony door slid open and Eric came out and sat in the other chair. For once he was subdued, not in his usual hyper state. “What happened, boss?”

  I gave him the quick version: the shootout, Ainsley and Mary Ann gone, two of Leah’s men wounded, Mike’s car shot to hell, and now Katie, most likely being held by Keira Kaine. The tall, brutal, blonde had seized control.

  “Are you going to tell her parents?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Keira will call. From what I can figure, the only reason to grab Katie was to send me a message.”

  “PI Dude, what kind of message?”

  “To tell me she holds the power.”

  38

  “Why would you not call me? You’re going to run your own investigation? This is our case—my case—and I cannot risk it blown by you playing Rambo. You should have called me the second you knew the safe house was compromised. I could have laid a net around the area…They could be anywhere…What did you want to accomplish by hiding Ainsley? Why keep me dark…I work for the FBI for shit’s sake. There are resources available to me…Three people abducted, maybe held as hostages, and no idea where they are, or where she is...And how did you sink his car into the harbor, huh? You running a goon squad?” Quade marched the length of the bar with his arms flailing one minute, hands on his hips the next.

  Quade, Ortiz, Mike, Eric, and I were in McNally’s at seven in the morning and needless to say, it was not a cheery start to the day. The Ainsley scheme backfired on me—and derailed his operation—or so he thought.

  “We thought his wife was the target. When I realized Ainsley was, it made sense to remove him from the picture to draw her out. Let her think he was in danger to spark a reaction.”

  “Congratulations. It worked. She reacted.” He took off his jacket and tie and unbuttoned his collar to prevent his neck from exploding. He put his meaty paws on two of the stools, leaned over, and stared at the floor. “Your reputation precedes you, Delarosa. Play it close to the edge, keep one foot in the shadows, do things your way, write your own rules. Probably a pain in the ass cop, too. I don’t know whether to strangle you or shoot you.”

  I jumped from my seat and knocked over my chair. “Is that what you want to talk about, Quade? How I run my investigations? Nothing wrong with my play, but it was need to know. So why don’t we forget about who’s to blame and figure out how she pulled this off and where we go from here?”

  He straightened and faced me.

  For a change, Mike became the cool head and intervened. “Quade, he’s right. Move forward—no progress this way.”

  Quade held up his hands. “Go ahead, genius. You tell me what we do now.”

  “Two things. We wait for her to call and we go squeeze Bellamy.”

  A knock on the front door of the restaurant. It was a delivery boy from the diner on the next block with coffee and breakfast sandwiches. We needed the time-out.

  Eric spread the food out on a table then went off by himself with his computer. I unwrapped a sandwich and remembered the only thing in my stomach since lunch the day before was a half a bottle of bourbon.

  “Seriously, food? This isn’t a party,” Quade chided. “Three people are being held against their will—by someone who could be a legit FSB asset—with secrets to a space program the entire world wants, and we have no idea where she is, and you need breakfast.”

  “Scott.” Ortiz walked him to a chair and sat him down. “What’s done is done. Solution time.” She handed him a coffee, which was not smart, because the last thing I needed was Quade amped up on caffeine.

  I sat down at the table with Quade, and Mike also pulled up a chair. Quade folded his arms across his chest, defiant, but listening.

  “George Ainsley came here to hire me after Mary Ann was forced off the road. He whined about Keira weaseling her way into the company, the affair with Bellamy, the ruined marriage, how she wanted control of BST, force George out and deny him the credit on major new technology and a huge payday. No reason to doubt him. Next thing, you two show up and tell me he called to the Department of Defense and complained. Again, why not believe him—we all think he’s a victim and is being squeezed out. Plus, he did you a favor because Keira is back on your radar.”

  “Yep.”

  “A couple of days later, I discover George’s car is the same as Mary Ann’s and realize he was the target from the start, and Keira’s goons botched the job. But, she keeps a tail on him the entire time, which led them to me. They photographed me, and somehow took pictures of me when I first met Keira at Club Cuba—”

  “When you were Arthur Rhodes.” Quade open a sandwich and talked through his chewing “Son of a bitch. We think she’s taking the bait and meanwhile, she’s three moves ahead of us.”

  “She compares pictures and is wise to the scheme from the jump,” I said.

  Ortiz slid her chair to the table. “If all that is true, she has more help than the two morons we saw at the motel. They are not smart enough to follow you to the safe house or do professional surveillance.”

  “We had counter-surveillance all around the club and the Greek diner and they still got pictures, which means they are real pros. Confirms what we believed from New York. She’s FSB, no doubt.” Quade devoured a second sandwich.

  “Say all that’s true,” I said. “Then why did Ainsley give up the house? He hates Keira for what she is doing to the company, the Bellamys’ marriage, and his payday. I don’t understand.”

  “Unless it was his way to cripple her? He figures if he calls her and draws her out, we can wrap her up. Only he underestimated her, like we did,” Mike said.

  “No.” Ortiz paced the room. “He tried to save himself. He calls Keira, tells her where they are so he can gain favor with her and
hope to get his piece of the pie. Otherwise, no shot at the money or the glory.”

  “Mamacita is correct,” Eric said, never taking his eyes from his laptop. “The old dude’s cash is history after this fiasco. He’s at the end of the line.”

  Quade huffed. “Hacker dude, speaks. You’ve been too quiet today. You’re right, though. You and Mamacita.”

  Ortiz smirked and feigned a slap to Quade’s face. “What I don’t get, when she uncovered Johnny and the whole Arthur Rhodes scheme, she did not spook and run. She goes on the offensive. Why? She knew Ainsley was mad and blew it up to the DOD. She’s aware Mary Ann hired a private investigator, and must figure us feds are here or why else the Arthur Rhodes ruse, and then grabs three hostages? Doesn’t make sense. What’s her end goal?”

  Ortiz, the smartest one in the room, asked the question that hung over us—what was Keira’s strategy? All the cards were in her hand and I don’t even know the game.

  “Whatever it is, we are still in play, Quade. It’s her move,” I said. “She’ll call today.”

  “She better because I can’t sit on this. A few hours at best before I notify my ASAC, and that is stretching it,” he said. “Mike, Eric, do not leave this bar. Maria will be here, business as usual. Remember, she is watching.”

  “Eric, Bellamy’s car?” I asked.

  “Pulled into BST ten minutes ago.”

  “Ready, Quade?”

  “Now you want to include me?”

  “No choice. You’re the only way in.”

  39

  Quade’s FBI credentials sent us through the guard shack at Bellamy Space without an issue. We parked in a small lot in the front of the building, next to Bellamy’s green Range Rover. The head of security for the company, a middle-aged man named Foster—short, stubby, with a crew cut, gold wire-framed glasses, and an ill-fitting black suit—met us in the lobby.

  Quade flashed his badge. “Mr. Foster, we are here—”

  “About Mr. Ainsley. I can only tell you what I told the local police the other day. Quiet guy, quirky, odd. Employees here don’t tell me much but I make it a point to be friendly, and when you’re friendly, people like to talk. I don’t understand who would want to hurt the old man, unless, you know, with all the top-secret stuff, conspiracy theories and such, folks love to speculate. Me, personally, I don’t believe it, but there are nut jobs in this world—I don’t have to tell you guys—and Mr. Bellamy is a big player. Maybe someone tried to compromise Ainsley and the old guy wouldn’t budge. Just an assumption, but me, I keep my mouth shut.”