by Bryan Koepke
“Is he all right?”
“Well, he was about an hour ago.”
“What’s going on? You sound weird.”
“I got him out of that situation and then we went up to the cabin up near Breckenridge. Everything was just peachy until Rhodes’ mistress started using her phone. You were right on that. I think the assassin is somehow using the phone to track Rhodes and Candice Carlyle.”
“So, let me guess. The shooter followed you guys up to the hills?”
“Yeah, and it cost me my cabin,” Reece said, letting his angst show through.
“Your cabin?”
“Yeah, I got them out of harm’s way, but the damn thing blew to smithereens. I’m guessing he put a bullet in the propane tank or hit the gas grill. I don’t know. We didn’t stay around long enough to see,” Reece said.
“Where are you now?”
“In a hotel in Buena Vista.”
“And Rhodes and the others?” Haisley said.
“I’d had enough. I left them at a gas station in Fairplay.”
Chapter 58
Later that night Reece sat on a stool at a little bar in town. After seeing the full parking lot, he figured it was as good a place as any to wet his whistle. The interior was lined with wooden tables, and the bar was backed by a large antique mirror that reminded him of a place he’d been to up in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.
A man and a woman to his right were talking loudly about the wild ride they’d taken that day on a white-water raft. Reece knew that the area was well known for its rafting trips.
“I thought you were going to launch out of the boat,” the woman said, holding her drink up to toast the guy.
Reece felt a hand on his back and turned around.
“Is it okay if I take this seat?” Marie said.
He was shocked to see her. “Yeah, Marie, it’s fine.”
“I’m glad we found your car,” she said, sounding like she wanted to say more, but thinking better of it. Reece stared into the mirror behind the bar and saw the bartender coming close.
“What can I get you two?”
Reece allowed Marie to speak first. “I’ll have an apple-tini.”
“And you? What’ll you have?”
“Do you know how to make a drink named Vengeance?” Reece said.
“Vengeance. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of a drink with that name. What’s in it?”
Reece smiled at the bartender and leaned forward. “It’s got two ounces of Breckenridge vodka, an ounce of Aperol, and a half ounce of Grand Marnier. You mix that stuff up, stir it over ice, and then serve the drink in a coupe glass that’s been rinsed with Breckenridge bourbon. If you feel like making it look pretty, garnish the damn thing with an orange peel.”
“Sounds interesting and probably deserving of the name,” the bartender said, pleased at the idea. “So where’d you come up with your drink?”
“A guy named Joshua Peter Smith invented the drink,” Reece said. The bartender turned his back to them and Reece watched him pull down a bottle of hooch and mix up his drink.
He could feel Marie’s breath on the side of his neck. He could smell her French perfume. He knew he owed her an explanation for ditching them in Fairplay, but he wasn’t ready yet.
The barkeep came back with a tall-stemmed cocktail glass full of the reddish concoction.
Reece picked up his drink and took a long sip. “Ahhh, now that’s just what I needed. You know, every once in a while it’s good to get a little Vengeance.”
“Hey, barkeep. I’ll have one of those too,” the rafting woman on Reece’s left said.
“So what’s the story on that drink?” The guy beside her said.
“There was a contest held by the Breckenridge Distillery to invent a drink named Vengeance,” Reece said.
“That’s cool,” the woman said.
“Who won?” The man next to her said.
“Joshua Peter Smith won. He used to work up in Aspen, but rumor has it that he’s moved out to San Francisco,” Reece said, bringing the reddish orange colored drink up to his mouth and taking a long sip. “It’s my signature cocktail.”
Reece was feeling no pain when, a few hours later, they drove back to the motel.
“So were you ever going to answer your phone?” Marie said.
“My phone?” Reece said, acting dumb.
“Yes, your phone or for that matter Candice’s phone. You ran off with both of them.”
“Oh, I never saw that I had a call.”
“If Karl hadn’t paid for the cab, I would have never found you.”
Marie stood up from the couch and rushed over to the king-size bed. Reece watched her, wondering what she was doing. She stopped midway down the left side and took a seat. “I’m sorry about the way all of this has gone down. I’m sorry about your cabin. I’m sorry you had to cut your fishing vacation in Scotland short—”
“Stop,” he said.
“Why?”
“That’s not what I’m pissed about,” Reece said. “Well, I take that back. I am very upset about losing my cabin.”
“What’s going on, Reece?”
“Marie, you know back in Scotland I thought we had something, but ever since you found out that woman was doing your husband, you’ve been all consumed by him,” Reece said.
“Consumed, and you wouldn’t be if you found out your best friend had been lying to you ever since you first suspected your spouse was having an affair?”
“I don’t know how I’d handle it, but I do know I’d have recognized a good thing when I saw it.”
“You mean, what we have?”
“Had. You’re ruining it.”
“How do you figure?”
“I saw you in the kitchen sucking up to that bastard,” he said.
“You’ve got this all wrong, Reece,” she protested. “You and I are connected. I want to be with you, but I have loose ends to tie up with Karl.”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about. How could you even think you and Karl have a chance?”
“There’s no chance in hell we’ll ever get back together,” she said flatly. “But I depend on him.”
“For his money,” he said.
“No, for our daughter Elise. He pays her tuition, her bills. If that were up to me she wouldn’t be here in the U.S. going to that college.”
“And you think if you don’t suck up to Karl Rhodes, he’ll stop paying for your daughter’s tuition?”
“Like I said. You don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“If that madman kills Karl, there goes Elise’s future.”
Reece hadn’t considered the kid, but he sure as hell knew about stopping someone from killing Karl. “I get that more than anyone. What do you think I’ve been doing the past week?”
“I know, but then you storm off and leave me, with those two, in the middle of nowhere.”
Reece was still absorbing her last remark when Marie walked over to him, and with both hands pulled off his shirt. With her lips she kissed his neck, his chest, his face. It felt good, but he wasn’t certain he was ready to kiss her back. She responded by slipping off her black silk blouse. She was wearing a red lace bra and seeing it he couldn’t help smiling. She was hot, no doubt about it.
He took Marie into his arms. Their lips met and they kissed softly, gently at first. Then the pace quickened. She reached down, undid his belt and pulled it from the top of his jeans. Still kissing her mouth, he reached around her back with his left hand and unclenched the three hooks of her brassiere. She pulled her arms out and let it fall to their feet. Her hands were on the button at the top of his jeans, then the zipper, and finally on his hips, urging him out of his pants.
Reece stood in his boxers, still kissing and feeling her body with both hands. The irritation, the rage that he earlier felt, was all gone now. This new love he was experiencing with Marie had replaced it. He watched as she slid out of her pants and then lost the red silk thong that matched her bra.
A second smile came to his face as he ran his hands down her back.
They both heard the knocking on the door, but they ignored it. Then the pounding was followed by a yelling voice. Marie pulled away, but Reece took her back into his arms and kissed her deeply. Unless the place was on fire and threatening their lives, nothing was worth stopping what he’d craved since first laying eyes on Marie.
The racket at the door ceased, and he felt her hands on his. She was guiding Reece back toward the bed. He let her slowly push him backward and as she did he kept his eyes closed, imagining what she’d feel like.
Then he heard another noise—like a key in the door. He knew he’d put the sliding door chain on after closing the door, so he ignored it. He opened his eyes just in time to see the surprised face of Karl Rhodes standing in the doorway. His right hand was up and he was pointing. A woman in a housekeeping outfit stood next to him holding a wad of cash.
Marie sprinted into the bathroom “How dare you?”
Chapter 59
Later at dinner, Karl and Reece chatted like old friends at the outdoor table of a local steakhouse while Candice gnawed on her bottom lip. She was jealous of Marie, and Marie was eating that up. They had been interrupted, just barely, but the two others at the dinner table didn’t know that, and just seeing Reece and Marie kissing passionately in the bare flesh with their hands probing one another, had been enough.
“You mentioned the other night at the fire pit that someone named Woodbine invited you to come stay on his yacht in St. Thomas?” Reece said.
“Yes, that’s one of our board members, Joseph Woodbine.” Karl said. “Joe is one hell of a guy. He’s a natural on the golf course.”
“When were you supposed to arrive in St. Thomas?”
“Anytime we’d like. It’s an open invitation. Why?” Karl said.
“And once you arrive, what’s your agenda?” Reece said.
“We’ll board Mr. Woodbine’s yacht and spend a week or so at sea and then maybe do some island hoping. The agenda, if there is such a thing, is up to Woodbine,” Karl said, running his hand through his blond hair to pull it out of his eyes in the strong breeze. “Why do you ask?”
“This Woodbine character, have you been aboard his boat before?” Reece said.
“Yes, many times. It’s been a yearly thing for as long as I can remember,” Karl said.
“What islands do you usually visit?” Reece said.
“That’s up to him, but the last few years we usually stop on Anguilla. Joseph has a favorite restaurant there.”
“Anguilla, isn’t that a British colony?”
“If I remember my Caribbean history properly, it’s the northern most of the British Leeward Islands. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no particular reason, just curious,” Reece said, lying. They had been tracked from the U.K. to the United States by an assassin who wasn’t going to stop until he’d finished the job he’d been hired to do. He had to make sure they lost him.
Reece left the table as if he were on his way to the restroom. He walked past the hostess, out the front door, and pulled his cellphone out of the back pocket of his blue jeans.
“Hello,” Haisley said.
“Hey buddy, it’s Reece Culver.”
“Reece, what can I do you for?”
“Hey, I need an airplane with enough range to get from Buena Vista, Colorado, to Miami, and then from there, a little hop down to St. Thomas.”
“Sounds like you need something with two engines. You ever flown a Aero Commander?”
“Once, maybe twice, a long time back. Why?”
“I got a friend on the Denver PD. He’s retired. Has a place up on Mount Princeton somewhere. How soon do you need the airplane?” Haisley said.
“Tomorrow morning if you can make it happen that quickly.”
“For how long?”
“I’d say two weeks. It may be shorter than that, but let’s do that just to be on the safe side,” Reece said.
*
The Central Colorado Regional Airport occupied a flat piece of ground surrounded on all sides by large towering peaks. A few to the west still held traces of snow from the previous winter. Reece had earlier calculated that it was 1,725 nautical or air miles, from Denver to Miami and probably an hour or less from Buena Vista over to Denver. If he took the route the owner of the airplane had earlier suggested, it would be less than he’d calculated.
Reece watched the sun climb from the eastern horizon, knowing as it did the mountain air would heat up and become bumpy. At least they were getting an early start. He pushed the twin throttles of the 1955 Aero Commander Model 560 airplane forward and glanced between the windshield view of the 8,300 foot long runway and the engine instruments. RPMs look good. Oil pressure is good. Airspeed is alive.
“Ok, here we go,” he said.
The high-winged twin-engine airplane accelerated down runway 15. Reece watched the airspeed build, and when it got to rotation speed, he eased back on the control yoke, lifting the nose of the airplane. The roar of both engines sounded good to him, and the airplane pulling off the pavement and into the air was a feeling he’d experienced many times but never gotten tired of. It was a liberating feeling, departing from the earth into the fluid environment where the wind, turbulence, and open blue skies took control, tamed only by the skill of the pilot and the endurance of the machine. Marie sat to his right with a big smile on her face, and Karl and Candice were in the two seats directly behind. Reece smiled knowing he’d been smart to get them out of Colorado. The assassin had finally been beaten. Reece still wondered, though, what Karl Rhodes had done to make someone want to kill him.
Chapter 60
Haisley eyed his wife in the bathroom mirror of their Manhattan hotel as he tied his tie. It pleased him to see her in the red dress she’d shown him earlier. It had been between blue, red, and a peach gown he thought was better suited for someplace other than a Law Enforcement Association Dinner in New York. He could still feel the jet lag from his flight over, but having Mavis with him was better than any time he’d spent alone in that London flat.
In the distance he heard the ring of his cellphone and wondered if Reece had stopped for gas on his way to St. Thomas.
“Haisley,” he said.
“Mr. Averton. This is Inspector Darren Dixon. Where are you?”
“In a hotel, why do you ask?”
“What city?” Dixon said.
“New York, why?”
“Good, have you got access to a television set?” Dixon said in his thick cockney accent.
“I’ve got the controller right here,” Haisley said as he walked over to the end table and took hold of the TV clicker.
“Go to BBC or CNN. Whatever is available.”
Haisley flipped through the channels, scrolling until he spotted the familiar red and white background for the News Station. “Okay, I’m there. What’s happening?”
“Give it a look and when you’re up to speed, call me back on this same number,” Dixon said.
Haisley ended the call and plopped down on the bed. The television was running greenish footage from a news story taken from inside a British RAF Typhoon fighter jet.
“Viper 1 this is Lossiemouth flight control. Do you have the target?” the RAF Squadron 2 command center announced over the radio from the Quick Reaction Alert (QRA) mission station.
The footage showed the front view of a pilot in one of the Typhoons wearing a fighter helmet with a black face shield. It looked like the early pre-dawn hours over the streets of London.
“Roger that. I’m on his tail, diving out of niner thousand.”
“You have permission to fire. I repeat, you have permission to take the target.”
The footage switched to a grainy image of a rooftop security system. Haisley sat on the foot of the bed, glued to the television. To his right he could feel the warmth of Mavis’s hand on the center of his back.
Two triangular drones sprinted down opposite streets. Up above, multi
ple RAF military jets streaked through the sky with their bright orange jet blasts extending out the rearward nozzles.
Haisley gripped the side of the bed mattress with anticipation. Then just as quickly as the video had started it ended, and a news correspondent was standing on the rainy street in London holding a microphone. Behind her was a string of news trucks.
“As you just saw on the video, multiple drones led an early morning raid on what we believe was intended to be London’s Financial District. We are thankful to the RAF for engaging these targets and destroying them over the mostly vacant streets of downtown London. Reports are still coming in, but it appears there were at least two drones.”
Haisley looked at his watch. “If we’re going to make that dinner, we better go downstairs and hail a cab.”
“How dreadful that was,” Mavis said. “I hope there’s no threat of anything like that here in New York.”
She had a point, but the last thing he wanted to do was scare her by telling her what he’d found during his trip to the UK.
Chapter 61
Julian pulled into the driveway and parked the Mercedes under a palm tree. The house was yellow stucco, two stories tall and at least five thousand square feet. He jumped out of the car and grabbed his luggage out of the trunk. Reaching into the bottom of a manila envelope, he found the key to the front door. He wondered how long it would be before he got the call from Alex.
The bamboo double doors of the home opened into an ultra-modern layout. The floor glistened in shiny white marble with thick baseboards that matched the front door. The ceiling consisted of hand-molded planks, and the walls were painted bright white. Anywhere else it wouldn’t have been a good look, but in Florida it was great. Julian dropped his bag, lost his shoes, and glided across the marble in his socks before entering the kitchen. Maybe I lose my phone and just hang out here awhile.
Julian grasped the handle of the refrigerator and pulled. Inside was a case or more of frosted brown bottles containing imported beer. He grasped one and twisted the cap, but it didn’t budge. After finding a can opener, he brought the cold bottle to his lips and emptied half of it in one long gulp. It was cold going down his throat and he knew he was in for some R&R. Julian grabbed two additional bottles of beer from the fridge, and went to the rear of the house, where he spotted a large pool lined by young palm trees, and beyond that a teakwood dock that held what looked like a sixty-foot yacht. Damn this guy. He’s got all the toys.