by Matt Rogers
John wasn’t going away, and deflection was no longer an option.
Heidi leant forward and looked into his eyes and said, ‘Yes. Jack is gone.’
Shock flared behind his eyes. John Rhames had decades of experience on the boards of many different start-ups, including a couple of unicorns, but now he was playing with the big dogs, and he couldn’t hide his surprise. ‘Are you saying—?’
‘Yes,’ she interrupted. ‘You know what I’m saying. I need to know this is really the way you want to go.’
He bristled, his gaze arctic, but he didn’t answer.
She inched further forward, staring with those huge eyes she knew she had and knew how to use.
He didn’t say anything, and his expression remained steely, but he leant back in his chair maybe an inch. Almost unnoticeable, but these things matter more than words.
She said, ‘You could push this. You could go public with your theory, or you could even go straight to the police. If it’s the latter, I’ll know about it before I’m in cuffs. I’ll have a window of opportunity.’
She could see the disbelief in his eyes. There’s no way she’s saying this. She can’t possibly be saying this.
She said, ‘Or you could excuse yourself from the board. Send a resignation letter. It’d be understandable. You’d have your reasons. I have no problem with you voicing your concerns about the way I’m running things. But if you make any…more serious allegations…’
She shook her head, wagged a finger.
‘What would you do? Specifically.’
She hesitated. Then realised she couldn’t hesitate. Pushed forward. ‘Take your phone out of your pocket, unlock it, and put it on the desk.’
‘Go fuck yourself.’
‘I get it. You’re recording this. You want my admission.’
More shock in his eyes.
She said, ‘I don’t care if you get this next part on audio because this is only going to go one of two ways. I had Jack Sundström beaten to death by a professional fighter. If you leave this office with that recording I’ll have you taken before you make it out of the building. I’ll have the same done to you, only I’ll make them take longer. They’ll do it. With what I’m paying them, they’ll do anything I ask. It’s all a matter of price.’
He said, ‘You’re screwed now.’
He took his phone out of his pocket and showed the screen to her. It was already unlocked, a microphone symbol displayed, the voice memo app open and recording.
But he didn’t get up and leave.
He was staring at her.
Calculating risk.
She said, ‘Look into my eyes and ask yourself if I’m lying.’
He did.
He handed her the phone.
She ended the recording, deleted it from existence, then tapped a few buttons and reset the phone to factory settings, just to be sure, wiping all John’s data. It started rebooting as she handed it back to him.
He got to his feet and mumbled, ‘I’ll tender my resignation by this evening,’ and tucked the phone back in his pocket.
She said, ‘Good.’
But she saw that it wasn’t good. As soon as he left the building he’d get brave. He’d start to believe he could get away with whatever he wanted, now that he was free from her spell. He’d have to be handled, and it infuriated her.
She watched him walk out.
When she was alone the darkness started to creep in. The voice in her head got a little louder, the one telling her it was all going to hell regardless of how hard she fought.
Time to fight harder, then.
She pulled one of her burner phones out of the desk drawer, dialled a number, and said, ‘Are you tailing her like I asked?’
A voice said, ‘Da.’
‘Two hundred k for her body if you get it done within the next thirty minutes. And tell the other team to move on the real Mary. Same price.’
A pause. ‘Ladno.’
Russian for “okay,” with uncertainty.
Good enough for me, she thought.
She hung up, sat back, and rippled with fury.
The train’s brakes had failed and it was picking up speed.
32
Driving back north out of Hunters Point, Slater hunched closer to the phone. ‘Where are you?’
Alexis’ voice was measured, tinny from speakerphone. ‘South of Palo Alto. Driving into the hills. Just passed a country club. Maps says I’m about to hit Boronda Lake. I can go into Foothills Park and lose them on the trails.’
‘Lose who?’
‘Two SUVs that’ve been following me since I left the building.’
‘Christ.’ He paused, looked at King, who wordlessly shrugged. ‘So Heidi’s taken the gloves off?’
‘Seems that way.’
An uneasy silence.
Slater said, ‘What?’
She said, ‘I snuck Mary out the back of her building this morning, told her to go check into a motel under a false name and not to leave the room for anything.’
‘And?’
‘I also told her to make absolutely sure she took my call.’
‘She’s not answering?’
‘I’ve rung five times.’
‘Bunker down until we can get there, then we’ll deal with the SUVs together and sort out the Mary situation. Did you say Boronda Lake?’
An engine roared on the other end of the line, the speaker distorting the noise.
Alexis accelerating.
When she replied, the pace of her voice had doubled. ‘Too late. They’re moving on me now. I must’ve spooked Heidi. Go find Mary, make sure she’s okay. She’s at Azure Waters Motel in the Mission District. Some shithole where I was sure she wouldn’t attract attention. Maybe she was followed…’
She trailed off and a second later she hung up.
Slater thought he’d heard something very similar to distant gunfire before the line went dead.
He stabbed at his phone screen, switching to Maps. ‘Where’s Boronda Lake?’
King reached over and grabbed his wrist, stopped him from typing it in. ‘You heard her. “Azure Waters.”’
Slater said, ‘She said two SUVs. That could be ten men at worst.’
‘We’re not going to get there in time, whether it’s one man or a hundred. Either Alexis deals with it or she doesn’t. Mary could be getting taken as we speak. We’re four miles from the Mission District and forty miles from the Palo Alto Hills. We can only do something about one of these situations. If you think otherwise you’re kidding yourself. Whatever Alexis is wrapped up in, it’s not going to last forty minutes. No one’s putting a gunfight on pause so we can get there in time.’
Eyes fixed on the road ahead, Slater forced himself to accept reality and begrudgingly ripped a right turn at the end of the street, heading toward the Mission. ‘Didn’t know you were a walking fucking GPS.’
King let the barb roll off him. ‘Don’t take it out on me. You let her come here.’
‘What was I supposed to do?’
‘Nothing. But right now you can try to accept the fact she might’ve dug her own grave.’
Slater clammed up like a shell.
There’d be a time for dealing with emotions, the potential loss of the woman he loved. Now was not the time.
There was no telling what’d be waiting for them at Azure Waters.
33
In the humid aftermath of the summer storm, Boronda Lake and its docks were quiet.
Literally any other day would be better for walking the trails around its perimeter, so they sat largely empty in the cloudy late morning. Alexis thought she caught a glimpse of a solitary hiker on the other side of the lake, but there was no use worrying about witnesses.
The SUVs bore down on her, surging up the forest track. Seconds earlier, someone had fired a solitary round out one of the windows, hoping to hit her rental car. She’d caught the muzzle flare in the rear view mirror. The gun had then disappeared and the window had buzzed
up as the SUV roared forward, another occupant clearly concerned about drawing unnecessary attention.
Saving the gunshots for when they were closer.
Something had tipped Heidi over the edge. Alexis had allowed herself to be tailed for the first twenty minutes of her winding drive out of Palo Alto and up into the hills. She’d even welcomed it. Why not get a better look at a future adversary?
Then the vehicles had morphed from a mobile surveillance unit to a hit team, all in a sudden surge of acceleration, both drivers no longer concerned about keeping out of sight (or what they’d thought was out of sight.)
Alexis barrelled along the trail paralleling the north side of the lake. She tore past the docks to her left and a row of empty parking spaces to her right. When she was past the pier, she looked left. Between the driver’s side of her rental car and the lake itself was a gentle bank coated in thick undergrowth. The vegetation wasn’t exactly unkempt, but it was tall and grassy enough to deter access to the lake on this side. She only managed a glance but she couldn’t see thorns or wire fencing.
She had an idea.
It’d have to be done fast and with zero tell or she’d give herself away. The only alternative was speeding away from the lake in hopes of losing her pursuers, because it didn’t take a genius to understand she’d be hopelessly outgunned. Heidi had access to the best criminals money could buy, and the best criminals don’t fuck around with low-tier weaponry. There’d be submachine guns and assault rifles in the backs of those SUVs, she was sure of it.
She, on the other hand, had an MP-443 Grach pistol and two extra magazines.
Not exactly equal, and when the balance is unfair, drastic action’s needed to level the playing field.
Slater taught her that.
She didn’t think about the risks or the pain or the fact it might not even work. She just wrenched the wheel to the left, veering off the trail, then forced the driver’s door open a crack and tumbled out in the foetal position, curled up in a ball. If she timed it wrong she’d land on her back on the hard trail, paralysing herself if not snapping her neck, but she got it right and the vegetation swallowed her with an all-encompassing whoomph.
Her vision went dark and the undergrowth decelerated her fall enough to prevent catastrophic injury, but she still hit the dirt underneath hard enough to jar every bone in her body. Agony creased through her but she could barely pay attention to it above the boom of the rental car hitting the surface of the lake, only a couple of dozen feet to her left.
She hoped the water’s impact on the driver’s side of the car had slammed the door shut again.
She hoped no one had seen her throw herself out, the bulk of her car having blocked her pursuers’ line of sight.
She hoped, and stayed curled up in a ball, and waited.
Tyres screeched as the SUVs caught up to the crash site. All she could see was the grass and ferns covering her, and tiny slivers of the sky above. She couldn’t feel her lower back, but when she tried to curl her toes they responded, so there was some relief in that.
She may actually survive this.
May.
Doors flying open, boots on gravel.
Voices. Loud, accented, disbelieving.
‘Did you fuckin’ see that—?’
‘She just swerved.’
‘Too fast.’
‘Wait ’til she comes up for air. I’ll pop her little head off.’
Alexis thought, Holy shit.
They’d bought it.
A long silence followed by something that sounded an awful lot like the distant concerned shout of a passerby. A witness must’ve materialised on the other side of the lake. She hoped the Russians were getting uncomfortable.
They were.
One of the same voices said, ‘How far you think you can get on a single breath?’
‘She’s trapped inside. I’d put my house on it.’
No one spoke for another few seconds that felt like minutes.
Then, ‘But if she’s not…’
She pictured the Russians’ imaginations running away with them. They’d be thinking of Heidi, considering her ruthless streak, wondering what might happen if Alexis showed up alive and well in a few days’ time.
One of them said, ‘Let’s get closer. Can’t hurt.’
Footsteps thrashing through bushes.
Passing right by her.
But not over her.
She closed her eyes so she could attune all her senses into one. She listened. The last set of boots crashed past, but there would probably be more of them back on the trail, playing sentry. Maybe only one or two guys, but they’d see her stand up first. Everyone who’d gone into the undergrowth was already past her, so their backs would be turned if she rose without a sound.
She computed all this, then rose with the MP-443 Grach raised, aiming up at the trail.
Two guys there.
Their eyes widened.
She put a bullet in each of their heads then spun like an old-fashioned gunslinger.
34
Azure Waters Motel was a concrete monstrosity.
The reception windows displayed prices that seemed alluring, but Slater would’ve needed a gun to his head to stay for free. The motel was one big grey building, U-shaped, curved around a central gated area with a half-filled pool, its walls lined with algae. A cheap sign said the area was closed for repairs. Slater wondered when they’d happen.
Not in the next few minutes, at least, which was great because the whole place was otherwise deserted. There was probably someone in the office, and there’d be a handful of drug addicts burrowed in their rooms with the doors locked and the curtains drawn, but none of that would provide a hassle.
His only other question was how a place like this had survived in the Mission over the years.
He’d pulled up out front, in a parking space along the street, but he took his foot off the brake and started to drift into the motel lot in front of the pool. There were three old rides that all looked broken down, in even worse shape than the vehicles out the front of Frankie’s gym.
And there was a black cargo van with tinted windows in decent condition.
King said, ‘They’re here.’
Before Slater could turn all the way in, a shape seized his attention at the end of the street, between passing traffic.
An SFPD cruiser, trawling slowly into sight.
If Azure Waters didn’t look like a place that required constant sweeps, Slater might have considered it a strange coincidence. But under the circumstances it made sense. The cops probably had a fixed schedule for driving past the motel, scanning for domestics, or addicts passed out on the ground. A chill ran down Slater’s spine.
He said, ‘See it?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Keep an eye on that.’
He turned all the way in, and the east wing of the motel building masked the approaching cruiser from view. It’d pass by the mouth of Azure Waters in maybe thirty seconds.
Slater had every intention of parking and waiting it out, but as he pulled in beside the van, a door on the first floor landing opened.
A woman who looked rather similar to Alexis came out, her face a white sheet. Three men piled out behind her in jackets and jeans. They were just as pale as Mary Böhm but that seemed to be their natural complexion. Two of them were playing it cool, but the third stood suspiciously close behind her, using her body to shield most of his bulk. Slater knew what it looked like to hold a gun to the small of someone’s back.
Several factors played on his mind.
First, that they were armed.
Second, that he and King weren’t. They’d had minutes to respond to Alexis’ request, and there hadn’t been time to mug a criminal. Again, this wasn’t Chicago, wasn’t Detroit. There wasn’t access to guns on every street corner, in the waistbands of desperate men who could be nullified and robbed by someone of King and Slater’s calibre in the space of seconds.
Third, there was now a wi
ndow of opportunity that, when it shrank, would make things awfully difficult to manoeuvre.
Slater was out of the car before King could utter a word of protest. He hustled past the pool, across the concrete lot, to the bare grey steps leading up to the first floor landing. He took them three at a time and was facing off with Mary and her new friends less than fifteen seconds after he’d pulled into Azure Waters.
He didn’t say anything, just stood there.
The air bristled.
One of the big pale guys went to say something along the lines of, ‘Get the fuck out of the way,’ but before he could get it out, their collective attention was captured by something that entered their peripheral vision.
Slater thought, Please stop.
The police cruiser stopped.
It drifted into an empty space on the opposite side of the road and loitered there, the cops watching the motel from afar. Mary was the only one who didn’t look. She faced forward, not daring to move a muscle she wasn’t instructed to. She’d be able to feel the steel of the barrel against her lower back. From one look at her Slater knew she’d never been held at gunpoint before.
Over her shoulder, Slater met the gaze of the man with the gun.
He said, ‘You’re standing about six inches from her and she looks like she’s seen a ghost. I’m not moving, so those cops are gonna get curious sooner rather than later. If they get out you’ll have to shoot me, shoot her, and then get into a shootout with police. Is that what you want to do?’
The man’s gaze was thunder.
Slater said, ‘They’re already suspicious. We’re all just standing here. The four of us. Surrounding one woman. You should see how terrified she looks.’
Mary was frozen.
So were the three hitmen.
Slater said, ‘Make the call.’
The guy made it. There wasn’t any other option. He slipped the gun inside his jacket, concealing it with the leather, and stepped back away from Mary. Trying to minimise suspicion, encourage the cruiser to continue on its way.