“You’re my bad-boy millionaire. Everyone deserves to find love.”
My mouth hung slack as I tried to generate a witty reply. Nothing came to me.
“Maybe The Peace Archive is run by a woman.”
“Then why are they trying to take me from you?”
“Maybe they don’t know about me.”
“You’re blowing my mind with insight that makes more sense than anything I’ve been able to come up with. Way to go, partner. Even though they found me at your house. It still doesn’t add up.”
“What do we need to do?” Jenny rubbed her nose on mine, but she was focused on the business at hand.
“If Ian Bragg pops up all of a sudden, they’ll suspect it’s a trap. But if Ian Bragg appears on a third-party site, a net crawler will pick it up. I’m thinking the gym. Public but private enough. We need to ditch the car and pick up a rental. Where do you want to stay, my dear?”
“Ooh! A staycation.” Jenny was as warm and loving as ever. We had grown close enough to marry and even closer afterward. The rest of the world disappeared into a foggy haze while we stayed in focus. “I’ll pack my trash, and let’s get on it.”
“You’re starting to sound like me. The Marines have landed. Oorah, hot mama.”
“You are such a bad influence. A bad-boy millionaire sweeping small-town girls off their feet. So bad.”
She leaned in for a kiss, and we almost went over backward. She pulled me to my feet. “A quick goodbye to the house?” She nodded toward the bedroom.
Sometimes, it was important to make time for that which mattered.
“And then we’ll hit the road. How about Bally’s?”
“I can’t wait.”
***
We drove down the Strip past Caesar’s and Bally’s on our way out of town. Jenny tapped me on the shoulder. I winked at her.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Wipe down anything you’ve touched. And yes, I’m sure. Gotta find us a respectable-looking hitchhiker.”
On the second loop, a young man appeared on the side of the road, looking very much like a surfer. Out of place at the south end of the Strip. We pulled over.
“How far are you going?”
“All the way to the City of Angels!” He tried to climb in the back.
“Wait.” We both climbed out of the car, dragging our overnight bags with us. I left it running and handed him the title. “Do us a favor and take the car to LA for us? We’ll be along in a couple months.”
“Are you sure, man?”
“We are. And here’s a hundred-dollar gift card for you to buy gas. You got a phone number?”
“Yeah, man!” He was overjoyed and grabbed and hugged me. He spouted a series of numbers. Jenny made like she was typing them into her phone.
“Peace, man! And take it easy on our baby. Drive carefully.”
The young man bounced with joy or drugs. I didn’t care which as long as he made it to California before self-destructing.
He jumped into the driver’s seat and raced off, nearly hitting a car since he didn’t look before merging. He threw his arm out the window and waved at us.
“He’s probably not even going to make it out of town,” Jenny said. We watched him drive under the highway and onto the ramp, accelerating south.
“Maybe he’ll make it. Traffic is light. There’s probably a reason he doesn’t have his own car.”
“Do you think he’ll realize he has the title and can register it in his name?”
“I wouldn’t count on it.” We walked to the next light and crossed the street to a small restaurant, where I called a cab to take us to Bally’s.
The ride was short but long. Too many lights missed. The zone pricing guaranteed a set fee no matter how long the ride took or distance traveled, as long as one stayed within the zone. I paid in cash with a generous tip. We strolled in like we owned the place, straight to the concierge since we were too early to check in. We asked them to store our small bags, and they promised to call us when our suite was ready. I gave them my number and my name.
Ian Bragg.
From there, we walked through the inside air conditioning to Paris, where Hertz maintained a counter. Renting the car was easy. Again, in the name of Ian Bragg. We listed Bally’s as our hotel. We picked up the car and parked it not far from the rental area.
I scanned the dark recesses of the garage before we got out. There wasn’t anyone else around. We needed to get back to where there were people.
No collateral damage.
I was counting on that rule from The Peace Archive. They needed to isolate me, which meant they had to follow me and determine a pattern. Identify a weakness and make the hit.
We walked through the shops, stopping at a French restaurant for lunch. It was Paris, after all.
We sat as far inside the restaurant as we could. I had my back to the kitchen. It was the best tactical position I could find. Jenny shifted to the side to let me see the entrance and watch as people passed.
I received the call that the room was ready.
A French dip sandwich was as adventurous as I was going to get. Jenny ordered a salad. We needed to eat lightly and avoid drinking. We had to be sharper than the person hunting us.
I made sure no one was nearby. “Tell me the plan again.”
Jenny repeated it to me. If we assumed her suggestion was correct, that they didn’t know about her, that gave us an advantage. Any little bit mattered in the game of life and death.
I’d been training Jenny in my business the entire time we’d lived in Vegas, but we hadn’t hit the range like we should have. She could repeat the finer points of being an operator, but would they be habit? Could she employ them to save her life?
We ate quietly, each in our own thoughts. I war-gamed the scenarios. I couldn’t see every step. That was dangerous. I couldn’t afford blind spots.
If anything happened to me…
“I need to give you my account information.”
Jenny knew what I was thinking. “Don’t say that.” She hung her head.
“I said I’d take care of you for the rest of your life, and you promised me the same. Mine might be shorter, and you’ve made me whole. If I’m not here, you deserve all the good things money can buy.”
“I don’t want it.”
“You might need to run, and that takes money. In that case, buy yourself a nice place in Tuscany and live on a wine orchard.”
“Don’t say those kinds of things.”
“Then we need to win this fight. It’s coming and soon.”
“I have the .25 caliber, and I’m not afraid to use it.”
I had to smile at her. Defending her mate. The lioness unchained. Fierce, determined. “Are you making fun?” Defiant.
“I am not. Maybe we’ll go to Tuscany, although I don’t like wine. I can tolerate Peroni whilst you imbibe the nectar of the gods.”
“Promise me, Ian. Both of us will go.”
“Pinky swear.” I held up my little finger. Jenny hooked hers around mine, locking it in a death grip.
The server stopped by with the check. “That’s so cute. What was the promise?”
“My wife will let me drink beer while she enjoys her wine. Only the best from Boone’s Farm and Bud,” I replied.
“Boone’s Farm isn’t that good,” the young woman replied. “But I’ve had worse.”
Jenny coughed to hide her laugh. I paid in cash and we left, heads on swivels, looking for a person who was trying not to be seen.
We continued to our room, where they’d already placed our luggage. The fifteen-hundred-square-foot suite offered plenty of space and entertainment, meant more for group parties than a couple who tended to stay close to one another. A full-body shower topped off the amenities. I was happy it had a coffee maker. Vegas skimped on those to drive people out of their rooms and into the casinos.
“The plan starts this afternoon with another workout and a picture.”
“
I’ll be here and worried until you walk through that door.” Jenny hugged me. Before I left, I showed her my bank site and how to access my accounts. I wrote down the account number, everything except the last four digits. I made her memorize those. We checked the account together. We’d only spent fifty grand in our three months in Vegas.
“That’s a lot.” Jenny pursed her lips and stared at the screen.
“Keep it in perspective. Two hundred grand a year. Four and a half mil means twenty-two and a half years before we need to get a job, but the majority of these funds are in market bonds drawing a little better interest than your average, so we’re up to about thirty years before we might run out, but probably not. We could invest a mil or two in some good blue-chip stocks and see where that takes us.”
“Make sure you’re here to implement that plan. I have to admit I’ve grown accustomed to not working. I rather enjoy your company and would be greatly put out should that stop.”
Jenny was speaking my language. I would be put out, too.
“I shall endeavor. Today isn’t the challenge. That starts tomorrow after the gym slips a picture of me into their social media page with a daily workout routine.”
Jenny clenched her teeth before walking to the window and looking down the Strip. I hugged her from behind. “I have to go. I’ll make it look good, and I’ll come home to you super-buff. You won’t be able to keep your hands off me.”
“I’ll hold you to that. Be careful, Ian.”
“You know me, the master of paranoia.”
I left the room and took the elevator to the ground floor. I meandered along the walkways to the garage entrance, where I waited for a crowd of people. Twenty minutes later, I had my company and followed them into the parking area. They split off quickly, having parked closer than where the rental car was. I stayed close to the cars, circling my level once, checking for occupants before continuing to my car—an all-white Nissan Sentra in a sea of white four-doors.
I pulled out of my space. Within seconds, a car was behind me. I drove out of the garage faster than I wanted to give myself distance, watching in front and behind. Can’t hit a pedestrian. The car followed. A driver. No passenger.
The light turned red as I approached, forcing me to wait. I was the first car in line. It turned green and I raced across the intersection, swerving to miss a taxi that ran the red to turn in front of me. I fled away from the Strip on my way to the gym. My heart hammered a staccato against my breastbone.
Why was this so intense? I used to be better.
I still was. Thanks to consistent workouts, I was as fit as I’d ever been. So much training for Jenny to make sure she was ready, even though she’d said she wouldn’t be.
Nerves. A mentor who was unsure.
It wasn’t about me. I grunted with the recognition. My pulse slowed. I was concerned about Jenny. Keep my wits. That was the best way to keep her safe. Just like the couple who fire-bombed us.
I fought for a cause, and that realization mattered.
The chess match had been underway, but the pawns had finally been cleared away for the major moves.
Once away from the Strip, traffic lightened. The mirrors showed me the car from the garage, still following. I took a right turn at the next major intersection, then another right turn, and then another, back onto the main road. It would confirm if the car was following.
But if they knew which rental was mine, they could have put a tracker on it, like I had done to Mrs. Tripplethorn. I had been betting that they had not been close enough.
This was Vegas, and I was betting with my life. What other assumptions could we have gotten wrong? My heart started to race once again.
I continued to the gym and parked as close to the front as I could get, jumping out as soon as the engine shut down and hurrying inside. I waited around the corner and watched the lot.
The car from the garage.
Got you, you bastard.
But he didn’t park on the other side of the lot and wait. He picked a spot in the middle, hopped out, and walked toward the gym entrance. He lifted his keys over his shoulder to lock his car.
It wasn’t my intention to engage on this day. The plan had been to take care of it when Jenny was in place to surprise the tail. A distraction. No plan survived first contact.
I needed a new plan. A side entrance. I could hurry out and run around, but the rental was compromised. I was left with one choice. I stretched my fingers and cracked my knuckles, bounced on the balls of my feet, and focused my attention on the man coming in the door.
He entered and stopped before me. “Ian,” he said casually. “Is there somewhere we can talk?” I’d never seen this man before. A little older than me. Fit. Hard eyes.
“I’m pretty sure I don’t want to do that. What will it take to remain retired?”
“There’s no hard feelings, Ian.” The man shrugged. He held his hands in front, then turned in a circle to show me that he carried nothing. I didn’t know if I could take him in a straight-up fight. I was confident, but there were deadly people out there. This man had to have been in the game for a while. One didn’t get old in this line of business by not having an edge.
The smoothie bar had two customers, a power couple on display drinking their wheatgrass nasties. I led the way to the counter and ordered two small berry blends. He said he didn’t want anything. I ignored him. We took a table as far away from the others as we could get.
“You tried to kill me. I don’t take that lightly.”
“It wasn’t me. And you made them pay for that miscalculation, costing us our only operator couple unless you and your Jenny Lawless come back into the fold.”
I stared at the man. Denying what he knew would have been a waste of time. He’d made the boldest of moves, placing his queen in the middle of the board. Attacking that piece would accomplish nothing. A diversion was required.
“Back into the game? I was looking at retirement. Only if you don’t hook me with a clean target like Jimmy Tripplethorn. That was a garbage contract. We’re better than that.”
“You shouldn’t have accepted the work. We have to manage the contracts we get.”
I shook my head slowly. “You know how it works. Without the full background on the target, we’re shooting in the dark. Trust is hard-earned and easily lost. I trust good work will come with the contracts. I shouldn’t have to double-check my employer. That was a bad move by the company.”
Our smoothies arrived. I thanked the chef. My counterpart never took his eyes off me.
“Drink up. The desert environment can take a lot out of you.” I took a sip, smacking my lips when I finished.
“Why did you contact us?”
Using my real name had triggered alarms, but they’d arrived in no time. This guy must have already been in Vegas. It made sense to have someone here. One could get anywhere in the world from this city. “What should I call you?”
“How about Dave?”
“Dave it is, then. I let you know where I was so I could kill whoever came after me. My apologies to those you leave behind.”
“You won’t do that. My colleague is entertaining your Jenny right now. You don’t want to see her die because you were hasty.”
“Yes, let’s not.”
Had I trained her well? Would she get angry enough to defend herself? We had bet on an assumption and gotten it wrong. We had bet with our lives. I tried to sit still, but my blood was raging.
***
Jenny stood at the window, staring mindlessly down the Strip. She heard a card tap against the reader on the door twice before there was a gentle knock. She hurried to the door and opened it. Before she could close it on the stranger, he forced his way inside.
He carried no weapon, but Jenny felt the icy tingle of fear spike through her body.
“Sit down, please.” A soft baritone. Dark brown eyes. Light brown hair. Taller than Ian. Wider, too.
“What do you want?”
He pointed at the cou
ch. Jenny’s mind raced. She jumped when the door clicked closed, leaving her alone with the stranger.
She took one of the throw pillows and sat wedged against the armrest. She clutched the pillow to herself. Her head throbbed with the force of blood rushing through her veins. What had Ian taught her?
Kill the man.
Maybe. Disarm him. But he’s not carrying a weapon.
Find out what motivates him. She studied the stranger as he adjusted an overstuffed chair to face her and sat down. He wore slacks and dress shoes with a designer polo shirt. He looked like a television stereotype. Jenny found herself relaxing. He was there to intimidate Ian.
It also showed that her husband had been right. No plan survives first contact with the enemy. Their plan was out the window.
She assumed they were waiting for Ian to get back, but he had the .45 with him, and he’d shoot first. She secretly wished for that.
Her small pistol remained in the purse on the counter in the suite’s small kitchen area, far out of reach. It might as well have not been there.
Improvise. What could she use as a weapon? She scanned the room. A lamp. A remote on the coffee table. A magazine. Her pillow. Nothing in her pockets. Two hands and two feet.
She put her pillow to the side and stood up. He gestured for her to sit down. “I was on my way to the bathroom when you interrupted. That doesn’t just go away.”
“No. Sit down.”
“Screw yourself.” She remained standing. The man launched to his feet in a flash of speed, his face contorting with anger. He came over the top of the coffee table and grabbed Jenny, dragging her back into the bedroom, where the bathroom was situated. He propelled her toward the toilet, keeping his foot against the door to prop it open.
“You’re going to watch?”
“If you have to go, then go. If you can’t, then sit on the couch.”
Defiantly, Jenny bent at the waist to pull her pants down to sit on the toilet without giving the man a look. She covered herself while he focused on her eyes. It took a while to start, but thanks to a couple of glasses of water at lunch, she managed enough to establish credibility with the man. He looked away when she stood.
“I told you I had to go. Ian said you people were decent. I think he might have been misled.”
The Operator Page 20