His slaves were gone.
In a flash of rage Dr. Kasim hurled the glass to the balcony floor.
It shattered into a million pieces at his feet.
CHAPTER 85
When the kill order came, the Handyman was seated in his parked Camry, staring across the street at the intended mark, Anna Grey.
He picked up his chiming iPhone from the dashboard and checked the screen. The client’s text message was a model of economy.
Proceed, ASAP.
When the Handyman read the text, he felt a jolt of professional adrenaline. The client didn’t just want the Grey woman dead; they wanted her dead fast. An ASAP order meant that the Handyman didn’t have to camouflage his work to look like a freak accident or a robbery gone bad. ASAP meant that anything goes as long as it resulted in a quick corpse. Due to the sticky nature of the task, the exact timing was a bit flexible, but the understanding was that he was to exterminate the mark within one hour.
The Handyman frowned as he peered back across the street at his target. He was parked opposite Isabella’s, a Mediterranean restaurant on the corner of Columbus Avenue and Seventy-Seventh Street in Manhattan. The Grey woman was having lunch with her husband’s partner, Glen Grossman, and Glen’s wife, Lisa. The trio was seated on the sidewalk, outside the restaurant, affording the Handyman a perfect view of the target at all times. Unfortunately, the fact that she was in plain sight also meant that, for the time being, Anna Grey could not be touched.
Despite the ASAP order, a hit on a busy Manhattan street called for an unacceptable amount of risk, so the Handyman would wait. He’d wait until the Grey woman’s lunch was over. With any luck, after the meal, she’d part ways with the Grossmans and go home. Once she was isolated inside her house, the rest would be simple. Of course, there was the possibility that she had other plans. Maybe she’d go shopping or to a hair appointment, or even take a stroll through the park. Whatever she did, it didn’t really matter to the Handyman. He was a professional. He’d still find a way to get to her. He took pride in not only getting the job done but getting the job done right. Anna Grey was marked for death, ASAP. Bottom line, in less than one hour, Anna Grey would therefore be dead.
* * *
“We really wouldn’t mind having you stay with us,” Lisa Grossman said to Anna. Lisa slapped the back of her husband’s hand. “Glen, tell her.”
Mid-sip, Glen jumped and spilled a few drops of coffee. He groaned at his wife. “Anna knows that she’s welcome at our place anytime.” He turned to Anna desperately. “Would you please just stay with us before this crazy woman beats me up?”
Anna laughed. She loved Glen and Lisa. Despite being two of the smartest people she knew, they didn’t take life too seriously. It was impossible to be anything but in a good mood whenever you were in their presence; that’s why she’d invited them to lunch. Anna needed a distraction to get that Donald Jackson business out of her head. She had no intention of burdening the Grossmans with her worries, but by the time the waitress had taken their orders, Glen and Lisa had sensed that something was troubling her. It didn’t take much to get Anna talking, but she didn’t tell them everything. Anna revealed just enough so that they could understand her anxiety about Martin’s trip without thinking that she was going off the deep end. And of course, Anna told the couple nothing about the pregnancy. She was determined to deliver the news to Martin first. Anna just wished that it was Monday already and that Martin was back home, safe.
“You two are very sweet,” Anna said, “but I’ll be fine. I’m just letting my imagination get the better of me.”
Lisa looked doubtful. “Are you sure?” She waved her palms before Anna as if reading Anna’s aura. “I sense something from you. It’s weird.”
Glen rolled his eyes. “What, are you a psychic now?”
Lisa slapped Glen’s hand again. “You know that’s not what I mean.” She pointed a finger at Anna. “You’re hiding something. What is it?”
Anna was tempted to tell Lisa about the pregnancy, but all she could do was bite her lip and shake her head. She was relieved when the waitress appeared with the check. Anna reached for it, but Glen grabbed it first. Anna opened her mouth to protest, but Glen held up a hand. “Before you say anything,” Glen said, “I have two words for you. Business meeting.”
Anna chuckled.
Glen pressed a finger to his lips. “Just don’t tell my partner. He’s really uptight about this sort of thing.”
“True,” Anna said, “but he’s also really, really cute.”
“I guess,” Glen said with a shrug, “if you’re into black guys.”
The three of them laughed together. While Glen fished for his credit card, Lisa laid her hand atop Anna’s. “Here’s an idea. Since Glen’s going to the office, why don’t you come over and we’ll watch a movie. Later, if you feel like going home, fine, and if not, the guest room is all yours.”
Anna shook her head in disbelief. “You really don’t give up, do you?”
“She’s like a pit bull,” Glen said.
Lisa shot her husband a look.
“A movie sounds great,” Anna said, “but not tonight. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I’m going to just go home, take a long hot bath, and then go dead to the world.”
“Okay, okay,” Lisa said, “but don’t say it like that. I hate that expression. It’s really creepy.”
CHAPTER 86
He was right. They were fleeing the compound.
Hidden behind a large tree, about fifty yards from the towering walls, Martin watched the hasty evacuation of Forty Acres. Every few minutes, another Land Rover, packed with guards still in uniform, would speed out of the main gate, roar past Martin’s position, and disappear into the woods. Some of the fleeing 4x4s followed the dirt trail, while others veered off-road in several different directions.
Martin experienced a tense moment when one truck barreled straight toward the spot where he had ditched his stolen Land Rover. Fortunately, the truckload of guards failed to spot the hidden vehicle, and they continued away into the wilderness without incident.
After watching five fully loaded Land Rovers flee the compound, Martin still saw no sign of the doctor or the other men. When Martin first reached the main gate, the huge doors were still shut, so he was pretty certain that he hadn’t missed their departure. That meant that Dr. Kasim, Oscar, Solomon, Tobias, Kwame, and Carver had yet to make their escape. This was good news; it confirmed, first, that the slaves were still alive, and second, that his plan to save them could really work.
Destroying the mine with the slaves still trapped inside was a housecleaning chore far too important to leave to even the most loyal subordinate. The risk was too great that a flunky might suddenly grow a conscience, or worse, become overeager and detonate the Primacord too soon. Martin figured that the last thing Dr. Kasim wanted was a massive explosion to draw authorities to the vicinity before he and the other high-profile members had ample time to escape. That meant that they would be the last ones out the door and that, before they left, they would shut off the lights. Only it wouldn’t be a light switch that would be thrown, it would be a switch to trigger an underground time bomb. There was no way to know for sure how much time the slaves would have once the charge was activated, but Martin figured that a safe guess was thirty minutes. Thirty minutes was long enough for the men to distance themselves from the scene of their crimes and short enough to exterminate the witnesses before every law enforcement agency in the country descended upon the place.
Of course, this was all just a series of calculated assumptions. For all Martin knew, Dr. Kasim and the other men had used a secret exit to slip out of the compound and the slaves were already dead. But Martin didn’t believe that. An explosion devastating enough to destroy an entire gold mine would be nearly impossible to miss in the serenity of the wilderness. During the breakneck drive back, he had seen no risin
g dust plumes and had heard nothing louder than the roar of the Land Rover’s engine.
There was also another reason Martin believed that the slaves were still alive.
He had put far too much on the line for this to be a lost cause. It was true that the object he left behind on the old highway might save Anna’s life, but Martin knew such an outcome was unlikely. Leaving the object was more for his sake than for Anna’s; it meant that Martin did not abandon his wife completely to fate; it meant she still had a chance. Only with that knowledge could Martin make a U-turn and speed back through the woods toward the greater good.
Yes, Martin was certain that the slaves were still alive. Because if they weren’t, the sacrifice of Anna’s life would be for nothing.
As if the universe wanted to prove Martin right, at that instant he saw a black Land Rover cruise out of the main gate. Martin’s heart began to race and he felt a heady nervousness.
It was them.
Oscar drove and Dr. Kasim, dressed in a drab white robe, rode in the passenger seat. Kwame and Solomon were in the next row of seats, and Tobias and Carver in the very rear.
Martin watched the Land Rover speed away along the wooded dirt path. He had little doubt that they were headed to the landing strip. But then where would they go? Did they truly believe that they could get away? Considering the heinousness of their crimes, despite their great wealth, Martin had serious doubts that they would get very far, unless . . . No, the thought was so awful that Martin pushed it out of his mind.
He had work to do.
Martin waited a moment longer to make certain that Dr. Kasim’s Rover was truly the last one. All clear. He sprang out from behind the tree and bolted toward the left-open gate.
* * *
“Stop the truck,” Carver yelled just moments after they had passed through the gate and left Forty Acres behind. “Quick, quick.”
Oscar stomped the brakes, bringing the black Land Rover to a skidding halt.
“I don’t fucking believe it,” Carver said as he jumped out of the truck and stared back down the dirt path at the compound’s main gate.
Everyone except Dr. Kasim climbed out and joined Carver at the rear of the vehicle, puzzled stares all around.
“Well, what is it, son?” Solomon said to Carver. “What did you see?”
Carver noticed all the confused faces. “Come on. Nobody saw that?”
The group glanced back down the road. There was nothing to see but two hundred yards of deep tire ruts leading back through the woods to the compound.
“As you know, we’re a little pressed for time,” Oscar said with an impatient edge in his voice. “Exactly what did you see?”
“I saw someone running into the compound.”
Oscar frowned. “An animal most likely.”
“No,” Carver said. “It wasn’t an animal.” He glanced at each of them to drive home his next words. “It looked like Grey.”
Tobias scowled. “You can’t be serious.”
Solomon shook his head in disbelief. “Son, you have any idea what’s going on here? We don’t have time for this nonsense.”
“I’m telling you it was Grey,” Carver said. “At least, it looked like Grey.”
“You’re wrong,” Oscar said. “The last time I saw Martin Grey he was speeding west. The man was running for his life. No way he’d come back here.”
“Let’s just go back really quick,” Carver said. “Do a quick check.”
Oscar stared at Carver like he was nuts. “You know damn well we can’t go back in there.”
Carver glanced at his watch. “There’s still time. Just a quick look.”
“Impossible,” Dr. Kasim barked. The men turned and saw the doctor behind them, leaning on his carved walking staff. “All of you, back in the truck. Now.”
Everyone did as they were told, except Carver. He shook his head. “I know what I saw, Doctor.”
Dr. Kasim laid a supportive hand on the younger man’s arm. “Your feelings toward that traitor have been clear from the start. And now with all that’s happened—sometimes hatred plays tricks on the mind. That’s what you saw.”
“But—”
“Do you trust me?”
Carver nodded. “With my life.”
“Do you love me?”
Carver bowed his head before his mentor. “You know I do.”
Dr. Kasim smiled. “Show me. Help an old man back to the truck.”
Carver peered back down the road at the compound gate, eyes determined. Riveted.
“Did you hear me?” Dr. Kasim said. “We must go. Carver? Carver!”
CHAPTER 87
Martin ran.
He ran as fast as he could, legs and arms pumping, a flat-out full sprint toward the main house. He felt incredibly exposed running up the wide, oak-shaded main driveway, but there was no time for stealth. No time for ducking from tree to tree or sticking to the shadows. Martin was confident about his half-hour estimate, but there was a lot to do, and there was a very real possibility that thirty minutes might not be enough.
First and foremost Martin had to find the panel or box or whatever it was that controlled the explosives. Then he had to figure out how to shut the damn thing off. He considered running directly to the mine and trying to rush the slaves out in time, but that was too risky. Just reaching the mine would eat up the clock, and if the entrance was sealed, there’d be no way that he’d be able to get past that huge steel door in time.
Martin felt sure that the most likely means to save the slaves would be found inside the main house. When he’d toured the mine with Damon, Roy mentioned that the explosives could be activated from two locations. One was the security shack on the mine’s upper level, and the other location loomed directly ahead.
Reaching the circular driveway, Martin cut a direct path across the curving gravel road and trampled through the front garden, headed straight for the mansion’s front door. From the moment he arrived at Forty Acres, there always seemed to be workers busy in the flower beds or performing various chores around the house’s exterior. Now there were only overturned buckets, dropped tools, an abandoned pair of threadbare gloves, and a single ragged shoe. Seeing the grounds so eerily deserted and lifeless caused Martin to run even faster.
Martin charged through the unlocked front door and into the main foyer. Panting, he glanced around at the downstairs area. An overturned armchair, a broken porcelain knickknack, and a fallen painting were the only immediate signs of an evacuation. In that instant a question occurred to him. Why hadn’t they burned down the house? The answer came just as quickly. It was the same reason that the mine hadn’t been destroyed yet. A raging fire in the middle of the woods would draw quick attention, not an ideal scenario when you’re trying to make a clean escape.
Martin had no idea where to begin his search. He didn’t even know for certain what he was looking for, but he knew that there had to be some sort of security room. It just made sense that there would be a central location where every surveillance camera could be monitored. Since the Primacord was, in a sense, a security measure, such a room seemed like the perfect place to keep its triggering mechanism.
Confident that it wouldn’t be difficult to locate a room full of electronic gear, even in such a large house, Martin began the search with a jolt of enthusiasm. He moved systematically from the ground floor to the second floor, then to the third. On each level he snatched open door after door, and each time he found nothing but bedrooms and closets.
After fifteen minutes of yanking doorknobs, Martin found himself in the third-floor hallway, staring up at a small hatch door that led up to the attic. Martin knew that it made no sense to put a security room in a space so difficult to reach, but he was desperate. He had already searched every inch of the house and time was running out. As unlikely as it seemed, the attic was the only place left to look.
A short knotted rope hung from the hatch door. Martin jumped and was able to catch it. As he pulled the hatch down, a cushion of musty air wafted over him. The stale odor instantly took him back to his building in Brooklyn, back to his childhood when he and his friends would play cops and robbers in the—
“Of course.” Suddenly Martin knew exactly where the security room would be.
He bolted down the hall and hurtled down the stairs.
CHAPTER 88
The Handyman crept to a stop across the street from Martin Grey’s house, just in time to see Anna Grey exit her Prius and cross the lawn to the front door. He killed the engine as he watched her unlock the door and disappear inside.
The Grey woman was alone. Perfect.
The Handyman checked his watch and scanned the immediate area. There were a few neighbors about, a couple of kids walking home from school, a UPS guy making a delivery, just what you would expect to see in a middle-class Queens neighborhood at a quarter after three in the afternoon. The conditions weren’t perfect, but he would make do. Ideally, he would have preferred to postpone the hit for a few hours. That way he could go home, catch a quick nap to refresh his mind and reflexes, then return after nightfall as the friendly neighborhood Cable Com guy. The Handyman had plenty of other disguises in his repertoire, but the cable guy was his favorite for one simple reason. A cable guy was one of the few strangers that people routinely allowed into their homes. Unfortunately, because the Grey woman was an ASAP job, he didn’t have time for absolute stealth. To get to her quickly, he’d have to use a more brazen method.
The Handyman retrieved a small duffel bag from the backseat. From the bag he removed a pair of black Vibram toe shoes. The trendy rubber-soled shoes that resembled gloves for your feet might look odd, but they were perfect for creeping through a house without alerting the mark. He swapped the shoes on his feet for the toe shoes, then removed two more items from the bag, a .45-caliber Colt SOCOM handgun, and a four-inch-long sound suppressor. The suppressor had been machined by the Handyman himself from completely untraceable parts.
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