Blood? Shit!
He had to get the hell out of here. Someone was on to him.
As Rock turned on his heel to beat a retreat, a great big former linebacker slammed into him from behind, hitting Rock in the kidneys with his elbow. Rock gasped and doubled over with shock and pain. Damn, that hurts. This asshole knows what he’s doing.
The big guy grabbed Rock and slid a bag like an executioner’s hood over Rock’s head before Rock could right himself.
As Rock struggled, another assailant subdued him, grabbed his arms, and bound Rock’s hands behind him with an industrial-strength zip tie. Making sure to cinch it tightly enough to nearly cut off the blood flow in Rock’s wrists. His wrists throbbed immediately and he felt his fingers going numb.
“Well, Houdini, let’s see you get out of this one.” The thug laughed as Rock cursed. “Not so powerful and impressive without your trick handcuffs.”
“I’m an illusionist, not an escape artist.” The bag over his head muffled Rock’s words. Show no fear. James Bond never showed fear and it seemed to work for him.
“Yeah, no shit. We can see that. You big-shot magicians are all the same without your stage crew—ordinary guys.” The guy grabbed Rock by the elbow and propelled him toward the door.
“Let me guess—this kidnapping is my engraved invitation to the kind of event I wouldn’t ordinarily agree to on such short notice. What’s the occasion and who are we going to see?”
“The boss would like to talk to you. That’s all I need to know. That’s all you need to know for now. I just do as he says. And so should you.” The guy had a deep, bad voice that was almost a cliché for a villain.
“Talking? Sounds pleasant. It would be easier without the hood, though. It’s muffling my stage voice.”
The thug shoved Rock. “Get moving, wiseass, before I turn your stage voice into a permanent falsetto.”
Damn. Tate was right about the spy ring—Rock should never have left home without it. With its GPS tracking and poisoned surgical steel switchblade, it would have evened up the odds. Which right now Rock calculated were running about a hundred to one against him. Living in Vegas all these years, he was pretty good with odds. Shit.
The two thugs took Rock by the arms and roughly propelled him into the back alley. Being taken to a different location made the odds of survival even worse. Maybe two hundred to one he’d get out of this alive. Rock wasn’t wearing his thumb gun, either. And the wand gun was in the glove compartment of his car. He was left with his wits. The two heavies had even disarmed his sleight-of-hand advantage.
“This boss of yours,” Rock said as one of the goons shoved his head down and pushed him into the car. “He’s a fan of magic?”
A host of suspects flashed through Rock’s mind. Vegas didn’t have a reputation as Sin City for nothing. Rock had made fools of a few crime bosses during his shows. And won some big pots in backroom poker games. Then there was that incident with Tate and the high-stakes game. Any of the non-RIOT losers could have decided they wanted their money back and were going to get it the old-fashioned way from him. But top of the list was RIOT. Playing with fire had never frightened Rock before. Maybe it should have.
One of the two goons laughed. “He likes disappearing acts. He’s not so big on reappearances. He’s good with making people and problems disappear, permanently. Buckle up, magician.”
The door slammed shut. One kidnapper got in beside him. The other slipped into the driver’s seat and started the car. The air conditioner mercifully came on full blast. The hood was hot and stuffy. And the radio belted out smooth jazz.
“Calming music,” Rock said. “How thoughtful.”
As they turned out of the alley, Rock registered they’d turned left. He had a nearly photographic memory and had trained himself to count cards. Now he concentrated on counting turns so he could reconstruct the path. Which would come in handy, should he actually be turned loose alive. Back to those bad odds. Maybe he should spend his last few moments alive engaged in more pleasant thoughts. But hope springs eternal, as they say.
Rock couldn’t let the goons suspect what he was up to, so he kept talking. “What does the boss want from me? If this is about a gig, he should contact my booking agent directly.”
“The boss doesn’t deal with middlemen.” The thug laughed.
Rock leaned back in his seat, counting turns and trying to plan an escape. And pretty much failing. Falling from a moving vehicle hooded and with hands bound would have been a good trick. If he’d been able to open the door without using his hands or getting shot.
All too soon, they arrived. One of his captors pulled Rock out of the car, dragged him through the heat of the day and into the air-conditioned comfort of a house that smelled of jasmine and gardenia. Jasmine and gardenia were now toast as far as comfort scents.
The two beefs propelled Rock across a cool tile floor, as Rock tried to push images of bleeding out on it from his mind. They wound through the house to the back. One of them opened a door and Rock was back in the heat again. He could smell chlorine and suntan lotion. Alcohol and dust. He was standing on aggregate concrete.
“Welcome, Mr. Powers. So nice of you to stop by for a visit.”
The voice stopped Rock cold, so cold he almost shivered. It took a force of sheer willpower to keep his mouth shut and not gasp his surprise. Even though he was hooded, he steadied his expression. Fortunately all his magic training had taught him how to use a poker face to his advantage, even through a mask.
“Take the hood off. I like to see a man’s eyes when I’m talking to him.”
One of the two heavies removed the hood. Rock took a deep breath, thankful for the fresh air. It was so much easier to fend off panic and think when he could actually breathe.
Rock stood in the shade on a patio in front of an expansive, irregularly shaped, sky-blue pool. A quality misting system emitted fine spray, cooling the area to what should have been a comfortable temperature—for a man not in fear for his life or worried about the security of his country.
He was at an obviously pricey mansion with a view of the mountains and a private backyard surrounded by palm trees and green, watered foliage. Rock was almost afraid to look at his captor for fear of who he’d see. A motion in the pool, like a fish jumping, flashed in the corner of his eye. Cowardice was not Rock’s forte.
He steeled himself, fixed his expression against surprise, and turned his gaze on his captor. Sure enough, lounging at a patio table in front of him, sipping a martini, with two big, buff bodyguards behind him, sat Emmett Nelson, NCS chief. And traitor?
There was that moment, that second when time stood still and flashed by all too quickly as Rock assessed his next move as if this was some big, spying game of chess. Acknowledge the chief? What if this was a trick? What if the man in front of him was an imposter?
It seemed improbable. But wasn’t everything in the spying business?
Rock paused, as if he was in no hurry to speak, and studied his adversary closely. His captor had subtle scarring around the ears, evidence of plastic surgery, maybe a face-lift. Or something more extreme, like changing his look completely. It could even be a very convincing mask-and-makeup job.
The Emmett before him was the right height and build and his voice was similar enough to be eerie. Rock had only seen the chief the one time, and that was under duress, but he was certain the chief didn’t have the scar.
Rock played dumb. If this was a RIOT imposter, then as far as RIOT was concerned, Rock shouldn’t know the chief. It would be suicide for both him and the mission to reveal that he did.
“To whom do I have the pleasure?” Rock said in as smooth a voice as possible. “I’d offer to shake, but my hands are currently bound.”
The chief clone smiled. “My apologies, Powers.” His tone was totally insincere and made it clear he enjoyed seeing Rock sweat. “My men are thorough and exceptionally protective. They won’t take the chance of you producing a gun from thin air.” He laugh
ed. “A man in my position has many enemies. “He didn’t rise to his feet. He merely lifted his glass. “Archibald Random.”
Damn! The RIOT chief himself.
Rock forced his expression to remain blank of recognition, even as his pulse quickened with excitement. Here was the spying opportunity of a lifetime. He, Rock Powers, magician extraordinaire, could be the first magical double agent in history. If he played his cards and tricks very carefully.
“Well, Mr. Random, you have the advantage on me. I’m sorry to say your name doesn’t ring a bell. Have we met? I meet so many people—”
Random took a sip of his martini and belted out a laugh. “Not in person, no. You don’t remember? I made a generous offer to bankroll your show early in your career.”
“I remember an offer, yes. That was you?” Rock’s arms were going numb behind him. With his arms bound, performing any feats of prestidigitation or Houdini-like escapes seemed out of the question. Which was undoubtedly Random’s intent.
“The very same.” Random’s tone and manner were friendly only on the surface. The undertones of his behavior stank of pure ice and were more effective than his expensive misting system.
A fan blew the overhead water vapor across the patio. It carried with it a hint of Random’s cologne. Rock had the feeling that if he survived, the scent of that cologne would forever make him break out in a sweat.
“I hope you weren’t offended when I turned you down. It was a generous offer. But I’m an individualist and a perfectionist. Always have been. I like having complete control.” Rock was stalling, hoping for a blinding bit of inspiration to save him. Or a CIA helicopter.
Damn, why had he taken that ring off? He could only hope Tate or Tal noticed the GPS signal coming from Rock’s closet, got suspicious, investigated, and tracked him the old-fashioned way. Did they still know the old-fashioned way?
Random nodded. “I understand completely. I’m the same myself. It’s an admirable trait. In moderation.
“I’m prepared now to make you another offer. One you can’t refuse. I’m afraid, though, you won’t find it quite as generous as my previous one. In financial terms, at least.”
Rock shrugged. He couldn’t look too eager to join forces with Random, even though that was his intent. If he got into Random’s inner circle, or at least got access to his plans, what a coup that would be. “That’s kind of you. But, to be honest, I’ve been extremely successful and am well set. I don’t need any backers. I prefer to maintain full control.”
Random paused, studying Rock, burning him the way an audience watching his hands for the secret of a trick does. “That may be. Don’t make any hasty decisions until you hear me out. First, though, I have a bone to pick with you. You cost me a pile of money last night when you swooped in and stole your wife away from my magician Sol in the middle of his act.
“Not the smartest move on your part. But then, maybe you didn’t know who you were dealing with.” Random smiled with all the warmth of Boreas.
Rock shrugged. “I hate to say it, but that’s what you get when you hire second-rate performers like Sol. It’s always been way too easy to steal Sol’s thunder.” Rock knew he shouldn’t taunt Random, but he couldn’t help himself. The man was an arrogant prick.
“But I’m good for the reward money. I said no strings attached and I meant it. I just wanted Lani back. I posted the funds in a certificate of deposit two years ago. It should cover any perceived losses.” Rock paused and stared Random in the eye.
“However, we’re both businessmen and I think you know my little stunt just boosted stock in Sol’s act. Have you seen the gossip rags this morning?
“I did you a favor. Lani’s reappearance is the celeb news of the day. Sol’s getting more publicity than he has in years. Everyone wants to know how he pulled it off and whether we colluded. Are we back to being old friends again? Or not?”
Rock held Random’s gaze, wondering whether he should give covert hypnosis a try or whether that would definitely be signing his death warrant. “Did the temperature just drop out here? I thought I just felt a dip in your cordial manner.”
Random laughed outright. He looked so eerily like the chief, Rock had to remind himself he wasn’t. Probably.
“I don’t care about money. I have plenty of that, too,” Random said. “But I crave power. And I don’t like to be made the fool. It’s a bit of a coincidence you were in the audience that night, isn’t it?
“What is your game, Rock? Why were you looking into where your wife had been two days before she reappeared?”
“ESP, tips, hunches, prophetic dreams, ever heard of those?” Rock forced himself to breathe evenly.
“Don’t play me for a fool, Powers. I know you’re a debunker, not a believer.”
Hell, it had been worth a shot.
“After two years, my PI finally had a lead. Nothing sinister about that. And there was nothing coincidental about my being in the audience that night. Sol invited me.”
If Rock hadn’t exactly warmed up to his host before, now he was filled with cold fury, fear, and dread. Cold to his core. The blood in Davo’s office …
“Speaking of my PI—where’s Davo? You can release him now. He can’t tell you anything I can’t.”
“That’s certainly true. Boys!” Random snapped his fingers and two buff thugs behind him opened a large cooler sitting in the shade.
Rock hadn’t paid any attention to the cooler before, assuming it was full of beer or soda. Maybe bottles of iced tea. Now a sickening sense of dread turned Rock’s gut as one of the heavies tossed the lid aside and two blue fingers came into view.
Rock’s stomach seized. He swallowed his bile and sense of guilt. The two pulled Davo’s beaten, blue body from it. Rock stared at Davo’s lifeless, obviously tortured remains and fought to control his rage. Davo had been a good guy. After two years, he was a friend of sorts.
Random’s men carried Davo’s body to the edge of the pool and dropped it with a thud.
Rock looked away. What had Davo told Random? And how long had he held out?
“Get Mr. Powers a glass of water,” Random said. “He looks suddenly peaked.”
“I don’t need water. I’m not squeamish. I’ve driven stakes through my wrists on stage and slit my arms and pulled coins from my veins.” He was bluffing. He felt sick as hell.
Random laughed. “Smoke and mirrors and fake blood. But I admire your bravado. Now, to business. I have an irresistible offer for you.”
“No deal. As I said, I work alone. I do only what I want.” Rock shook loose of the two men holding him.
Random had finished his martini. He motioned for another one. “Oh, I think you’ll take my offer, once you hear it. I hear you’re planning to perform Outlandish Marauders for the NUFOs at their annual picnic.”
Rock let loose a string of curses. “How do you know about Outlandish Marauders? That’s a top-secret gig.”
Rock tried not to look at Davo’s body poolside where flies were beginning to collect.
Random laughed. “I know everything. And what I want, I get.”
Rock let out a breath. “I don’t work for crime bosses. And it’s just a hunch, given the way you issued my invitation for this little poolside visit, that you’re one. A very powerful one. So save yourself some trouble—kill me now or let me go.”
“You’re very direct and decisive. Brave. Good qualities. Attributes I’m happy to have on my team.” Random shook his head. “But unoriginal with your demand. Some people can be so selfless, almost cavalier, when it comes to their own lives and personal safety.” He paused. “Aren’t you the tiniest bit curious what Davo was going to tell you?”
Negotiations were delicate now. Just how much should Rock protest before accepting would seem reasonable? He didn’t want to lose the opportunity. Though, to be honest, he doubted he really had any choice in the matter. Rock shook his head. “No.”
“That’s a shame. Considering Davo gave his life for it.” A laptop sa
t on a table next to Random. He pulled it toward him and opened it. “Your lovely Lani has indeed been keeping something from you, just as you suspected. Why remains to be seen. I imagine that’s your own business. What goes on in a marriage is a private matter. But I think you’ll agree that knowing what it is changes everything.”
Random slowly slid the laptop screen around until it faced Rock. Rock frowned. A toddler of about one and a half, a smiling little dark-haired boy looked back at Rock. He had a round face and chubby baby cheeks. His eyes were Lani’s, but the rest of him was the spitting image of Rock as a baby.
Rock felt as if he’d taken another blow to his kidneys. He struggled to hold onto his poker face and shrugged. “A baby, so what?”
Random pulled a cigar with a blue band from his pocket and waved it in front of Rock. “Your baby, Rock. Your son. Congratulations, Daddy.” He grinned, but only an evil light lit his eyes.
“That’s what Lani’s been hiding and Davo was going to tell you.” Random rattled off the boy’s birth date and held up one of Davo’s reports for Rock to see.
“Nine months from the quickie wedding. Perfect timing. He’s yours, Rock. Surely you see the resemblance?” Random held the cigar out toward Rock, though he knew perfectly well Rock couldn’t take it with his hands zipped behind his back. “Celebration cigar? Exploding, just for fun.” He laughed cruelly.
Rock scanned the report. It looked authentic, what he could make sense of through his shock. The intelligence it contained was damning. Of all the things Rock had imagined Random could hold over him, he’d never dreamed of this. A son? His own boy? How could Lani? And did Random have the child? Rock’s mouth went dry at the thought.
Behind his back, Rock clenched and unclenched his fists, stretching his numb fingers as he tried to make sense of the situation and maintain some semblance of cool. The existence of his son put a wrinkle in his plans. Rock couldn’t see a way out. Of course he was going to agree to this deal and then he was going to double-cross and stick it to Random. After he got his baby back.
As Rock processed his shock, Random set the cigar down, snapped his fingers, and pressed a button on the laptop, making a show of his power. “Boys, get rid of that body. It’s attracting flies and distracting Mr. Powers as he tries to think.”
License to Love (An Agent Ex Novel) Page 22