Panic

by Jeff Abbott

  A pause. ‘You know I have a son?’

  ‘Yes.’ Let the bastard believe that he had information that could make Jargo worry, make Jargo wonder how much he knew. ‘His name is Dezz.’

  ‘How do you know he’s my son?’

  He thought it might be unwise to name Bricklayer as his source. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Evan’s head started to throb. ‘Let me talk to my dad.’ At these words, Shadey sat on the floor across from him, a scowl of worry on his face.

  ‘I’m not prepared to do that yet, Evan,’ Jargo said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I need an assurance from you that you’ll work with us. We came to that house outside of Bandera to help you, Evan, and you shot at us and ran away.’

  ‘Dezz killed a man.’ Now Shadey raised an eyebrow at Evan.

  ‘No. Dezz saved you from a man who was using you so he could fight his own war against the CIA. The CIA would then use you to try to get us and your father. You’re nothing but a pawn to them, Evan – pardon the melodrama – and they’re prepared to slap your ass all over the chessboard.’

  It fit in with what he had learned about Gabriel; at least, a bit.

  ‘If I give you the files, will you give me my dad? Alive and unharmed.’

  He thought he almost heard the barest sigh of relief from Jargo. ‘I’m surprised to hear you have the files, Evan.’

  The files were real. Here was confirmation. Sweat broke out under his arms, in the small of his back. He had to be very, very careful now.

  ‘Mom made a backup and let me know where they would be.’ The lie felt just fine in his mouth.

  ‘Ah. She was a very smart woman. I knew her for a long time, Evan. Admired her greatly. I want you to know that because I never, ever could have harmed Donna. I’m not your enemy. We’re family, in a way, you and I. I respect how you’ve protected yourself thus far. You have much of your parents in you.’

  ‘Shut up. Let’s meet.’

  ‘Yes. Tell me where you are and I’ll take you to your father.’

  ‘No, I choose the meeting place. Where is my father?’

  ‘I’ll trust you, Evan. He’s in Florida. But I can get him to wherever you are.’

  Evan considered. New Orleans was between Florida and Houston, and he knew the city, at least the part around Tulane where he had spent his early childhood. He remembered his father walking him through the Audubon Zoo, playing catch with him on the green stretches of Audubon Park. He knew the layout. He knew how to get in, get out. And it was very public.

  ‘New Orleans,’ Evan said. ‘Tomorrow morning. Ten A.M. Audubon Zoo. Inside the main plaza. Bring my dad. I’ll bring the files. Come alone. No Dezz. I don’t like him, I don’t trust him, I don’t want him near me. I see him and the deal is off.’

  ‘I understand completely. I’ll see you then, Evan.’

  Evan hung up.

  ‘What the hell have you gotten yourself into and what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Shadey asked.

  ‘Documentary lesson number one. Show characters in conflict. You remember at the courthouse – I got your mama to wait out on the steps, when Henderson’s mom came out. Put two mothers fighting for their sons, in direct opposition, together. Fireworks.’

  ‘But what if he’s bringing your dad?’

  ‘He wouldn’t let me talk to him. He won’t stick to the deal. He’s trying to convince me that the CIA killed my mother. I’m sure he and Dezz did.’

  ‘You saw their faces.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then how are you sure?’

  ‘Their voices… I heard their voices. I’m sure.’ Pretty sure, he thought. But not one hundred percent sure.

  ‘So what now?’ Shadey asked.

  ‘I can’t find my dad dodging bullets, running all the time. I played this by their rules, now I’m playing it by mine.’ He hoisted the camcorder out of the duffel bag. ‘These folks stick to shadow. I’m dragging their asses out into the light.’

  ‘And you gonna do all this by yourself?’ Shadey said.

  ‘I am.’

  ‘No. You’re not. I’ll go with you.’

  ‘I’m not guilting you, it’s not your fight.’

  ‘Shut up. I’m coming. End of discussion.’ Shadey folded his big arms. ‘I don’t like these people trying to play me. And I figure I need to get you back in debt to me.’

  ‘All right.’ Evan picked up the cell phone. Punched the number Bricklayer had given him.

  ‘Bricklayer. Good afternoon. It’s Evan Casher. Listen carefully because I’ll say this once and just once. You want these files, meet me in New Orleans. Audubon Zoo. Front plaza. Tomorrow. Ten A.M.’ He clicked off as Bricklayer started to ask questions.

  ‘You stirring the pot,’ Shadey said.

  ‘No. I’m putting it on to boil.’

  22

  L ate Sunday night, Jargo’s chartered plane landed at Louis Armstrong International. Jargo hurried Carrie into a suite at a hotel close to the Louisiana Superdome. Carrie watched the Sunday-night tourist crowd ambling for Bourbon Street. Jargo sat on the couch. He had said little en route to New Orleans, which always made Carrie nervous. Dezz had flown early Sunday morning to Dallas, planning to break into Joaquin Gabriel’s office to find any records of Evan’s new passports. He was due to arrive in New Orleans at any minute.

  ‘My son,’ Jargo said into the silence.

  Carrie kept watching the tourists. ‘What about him?’

  ‘He loves you. Or rather, he feels toward you what he believes love to be, which is a sad mix of possession, anger, longing, and utter awkwardness.’

  ‘I wonder whose fault that is.’

  ‘I ask only that you not be cruel to him.’

  ‘He’s threatened to kill me before.’

  ‘Only words.’ As if words didn’t matter.

  ‘He’s…’ She searched for the term. Crazy might be appropriate, but it was not a word she could use with Jargo. ‘Troubled.’

  ‘He lacks confidence. You could give it to him.’

  Her skin went cold. ‘How?’

  ‘Pay extra attention to him.’

  ‘I’m not sleeping with him.’

  ‘But you’d sleep with Evan Casher. For the good of our network.’

  ‘I’m not sleeping with Dezz.’

  The hotel phone rang. Jargo didn’t look at her; he punched the speakerphone button.

  ‘Good news and bad news. Which you want first?’ Galadriel said on the speakerphone.

  ‘Bad news,’ Jargo said.

  ‘Evan’s off the grid,’ Galadriel said. ‘No sign of credit card use, no police report yet that he’s surfaced. You won’t be able to grab him before your meeting, unless he’s stupid enough to use his credit card for a hotel or restaurant.’

  ‘He’s not stupid,’ Carrie said.

  ‘Did you pull all stolen-car reports for the five-county area?’ Jargo asked.

  ‘Yes. Finally I was able to get it. The most likely candidate is a pickup truck, a one-year-old Ford F-150, stolen from a driveway in Bandera. A note with the keys to a Ducati motorcycle were found on the porch.’

  ‘Are the locals tracing the Ducati?’

  ‘That I don’t know,’ Galadriel said. ‘Sorry.’

  Carrie watched Jargo. ‘CIA or FBI trace it back to Gabriel, they’ll arrive back at that house. Start asking questions.’

  ‘I’m not worried,’ Jargo said. ‘What’s of more interest is if they don’t trace the Ducati.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Carrie said.

  ‘Sure you do. The Bandera authorities don’t trace it, it’s because the investigation’s been shut down. Because our friends at the FBI and at the CIA don’t want the motorcycle traced, don’t want the truck theft pursued.’

  ‘Because they’re looking for Evan now themselves,’ Carrie said in an even tone.

  Jargo nodded at her and said, ‘So that’s the bad news. What’s the good?’

  ‘I got a partial decode on the e-mail mes
sage that Donna Casher received from Gabriel,’ Galadriel said. ‘He used an English variant of an old plain-language SDECE code abandoned back in the early seventies. The name for the code was 1849.’ SDECE was French intelligence. Carrie frowned. 1849. The same as the date in Gabriel’s e-mail to Donna. Telling her what code to use.

  ‘Odd choice,’ Jargo said.

  ‘Not really. One assumes Donna contacted Gabriel in a hurry, and they needed a common code base from which they could both easily work.’

  ‘So what’s the message say?’ Carrie resisted the urge to hold her breath. She didn’t look over at Jargo.

  ‘Our interpretation is READY TO GO ON MAR 8 A.M. PLEASE DELIVER FIRST HALF OF LIST UPON ARRIVAL IN FL. IS SON COMING? SECOND HALF WHEN YOU ARE OVERSEAS. YOUR HUSBAND IS YOUR WORRY.’

  ‘Thank you, Galadriel. Please call me immediately if you get a trace on Evan.’ Jargo clicked off the phone.

  Carrie studied the tension in Jargo’s shoulders, his face. She had seen the kicked-to-chunks remains of Joaquin Gabriel and knew this man was on a lethally short fuse. She chose her words carefully. ‘The Cashers were to rendezvous in Florida. Where?’

  ‘We grabbed him in Miami, returning from a job in Berlin. He must have broken protocol and let Donna know his itinerary,’ Jargo said. ‘She must have promised Gabriel the final payoff delivery when the family was overseas and hidden.’

  ‘Second half. Sounds like two deliveries,’ Carrie said. ‘What else did she have beside the account files?’

  Jargo’s face darkened. ‘Half the files first, half the files when they were safe.’ He looked to Carrie as if he were scared and furious and trying to suppress his rage.

  ‘Jargo. What are these files?’

  A knock at the door. Carrie checked the peephole and opened it. Dezz stepped in. He didn’t look happy. ‘Nothing in Dallas. Gabriel’s office is under surveillance.’

  ‘Locals or federal?’

  ‘Locals. But it’s got to be at the request of the Agency, probably asked via the Bureau,’ Dezz said. ‘I couldn’t get close to see if there was any info on Evan’s aliases in his office. They’ve connected Gabriel with this case.’

  ‘You didn’t answer my question, Jargo. What are these files?’

  Jargo didn’t look at her. ‘Donna Casher stole our client list.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ Dezz said. ‘There’s no such list.’

  ‘She amassed a list. A brilliant insurance policy.’ Jargo turned to Carrie. ‘Either through Gabriel or his mom, Evan knows all about us now. He just promised me the goddamned files in exchange for his dad. He knows Dezz is my son. He knows about us, Carrie. He’s seen more than the client files. Maybe files on us.’

  ‘So we have to meet him,’ Carrie said.

  Dezz said, ‘Let us take Evan, Dad. You go back to Florida, break out the knives, make Mitchell talk. See if he knows where the client list is.’

  Jargo rubbed at his lip. ‘But I’m sure Mitchell had no idea Donna betrayed us. He wouldn’t have gone on a mission for me if his wife was about to stab me in the back and then return the moment I summoned him back to Florida. It put him straight in our hands, left his family defenseless.’

  ‘He could hardly say no to you,’ Dezz said.

  ‘Sure he could. He could have argued a reschedule. I respect his opinion. He could have easily run from us, and he didn’t.’

  ‘You’re blinded by affection for Mitchell,’ Dezz said. ‘It’s not very appealing.’

  ‘I can’t afford sentiment. Even when I really wish I could.’ Jargo closed his eyes, rubbed his temples.

  For the first time Carrie saw a light that wasn’t cold and hateful in Jargo’s gaze. For the first time since Jargo had told her a year ago, I know who killed your parents, Carrie, and they will kill you, too. But I can hide you. You can keep working for me, I’ll take care of you.

  ‘Carrie. Did Evan ever mention New Orleans to you? They might have told him where to run if he ever got into trouble. Or if something ever happened to them.’

  ‘I’m sure they never gave him any kind of escape plan because he didn’t know his parents were agents. If he’d had a hint of the truth, he would have found out long ago. That’s who he is.’ She shrugged. ‘He told me he was born in New Orleans, but he hasn’t lived there since he was a child. I assume you know that already.’

  Jargo nodded. ‘Evan specifically asked you not be at the meeting, Dezz.’

  ‘He doesn’t like me? I’m hurt.’

  Jargo gave Dezz a stern glare. ‘We’re not having a repeat at the zoo tomorrow. You will be calm and you will do as you’re told.’

  Dezz chewed a caramel and stared at the carpet.

  ‘What is Mitchell Casher to you?’ Carrie asked Jargo. ‘You seem worried about him as much as frustrated with him.’

  ‘I would like for him to contact his son for me. To bring him in. He refuses. He doesn’t trust me.’

  ‘Obviously. You’re holding him prisoner.’

  ‘I’m convinced he wasn’t part of Donna’s scheme now. But I can’t yet convince him of my good intentions toward his son.’

  ‘I wonder why,’ Carrie said. ‘Since you don’t plan to honor your deal with Evan.’

  ‘He won’t be expecting to see you, Carrie. You’re the element of surprise,’ Jargo said. ‘I can’t let Evan walk away from that meeting. Once we have the files, Evan’s a done deal. You know that. He’ll talk. He won’t keep his mouth shut. It’s the kind of man that he is. You said it yourself.’

  ‘The Audubon Zoo is a very public place. Major attraction,’ Carrie said. ‘Too many people. Too contained. He made a smart choice. You won’t be able to grab Evan there, Jargo.’

  ‘Not grab. Kill,’ Dezz said.

  ‘Not there you can’t,’ Carrie said.

  ‘No. We’ll get him to leave with you. He’ll be thrilled to see you,’ Jargo said. ‘Take him someplace private. Where just the two of you can talk. Then you can kill him.’

  MONDAY MARCH 14

  23

  E van didn’t expect the children.

  Monday morning at ten Evan imagined the Audubon Zoo would be nearly empty, but a good-sized crowd trickled to the gates as the zoo opened. The small parking lot, on the edge of Audubon Park, held two buses of schoolkids from a Catholic academy and three minivans sporting the logo of a retirement community. Then there was the usual spill of tourists, which New Orleans never lacked.

  Evan paid his admission to the zoo. He wore his dark glasses and baseball cap. Few twentyish men were in the crowd. He spotted Shadey, paying in a different line, wearing an Astros ball cap and sunglasses. Keeping his distance, walking with Evan’s duffel slung over his shoulder.

  The zoo, Evan noticed, wasn’t a place where many people walked alone. Families and couples and herds of students with harried teachers. He circled, keeping his gaze moving across the crowd.

  No sign of his father. Or Dezz. He had no idea what Jargo looked like. He saw no sign of a squad of guys in dark glasses that might work for Bricklayer, with earpieces and trench coats. They wouldn’t be so obvious.

  Evan darted through the swell of the opening-gate crowd. Last night, in the cheap motel rooms he and Shadey had scored near the French Quarter, he had downloaded a map off the Audubon Zoo’s Web site and memorized it. Every way in, every way out. The zoo backed up to the green sprawl of Audubon Park on one side, to an administration building, side roads, and a Mississippi River landing on the other. The map was general. He suspected there were routes for animal handlers and zoo employees that were not shown.

  He remembered strolls here with his father, his hand in his dad’s, his other hand holding a sticky, melting ice cream. He loved the zoo. He headed in the direction of the main fountain in the plaza, with statues of a mother elephant and her calf cavorting in the spray. He walked a slow, measured pace along the palm-lined brick pathway, glancing behind him, as if he were taking in the sights and were in no hurry. Schoolkids milled around him, a teacher attempting to her
d them to his right where the real elephants ambled in the Asian Domain, others eyeing a restaurant to his left, although it was too early for burgers and shakes. He was a man enjoying a day at the park, the gentle best of the Louisiana spring before the swamp-native heat and humidity melted the air.

  A long, curving bench near the fountain sat empty. Schoolkids and families drifted toward the elephant pen. Most of the early crowd passed him, moving beyond the fountain for the zoo’s carousel and the Jaguar Jungle exhibit.

  Evan spotted a man walking toward him. Eyes locked on him. Tall, a handsome face, hard blue eyes like chips of ice. Hair streaked with gray. Wearing a dark trench coat. Rain loomed in the skies, but Evan believed the man had something hidden under his coat. That was fine. Evan had something hidden under his raincoat, too. Not a gun. Shadey had the gun, because if either Jargo or Bricklayer grabbed Evan, they’d simply relieve him of the weapon. He had his music player in his pocket, and he would say the files were on it. No argument. No searching. He’d just give it to them, let them worry about decoding it if they could.

  He watched. No sign of his father.

  ‘Good morning, Evan,’ the man said. Baritone. The same voice he’d heard in his kitchen, heard on the phone.

  ‘Mr. Jargo?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where’s my dad?’

  ‘Where are the files?’

  ‘Wrong. You first. Give me my dad.’

  ‘Your father doesn’t really need rescuing, Evan. He’s with us, of his own free will. He’s worked for me for years. So did your mother.’

  ‘No. You killed my mother.’

  ‘You’re confused. The CIA killed your mother. I would have saved her, given the chance. Please look over to your right.’

  Evan did. There was a small playscape, then by the restaurant a patio of tables and chairs for diners. Dezz and Carrie stood at one of the canopied tables, Dezz with his arm looped around Carrie’s shoulder. She looked pale. Dezz grinned at Evan.

  Evan’s heart sank into his gut. No.

  Carrie’s gaze locked on Evan’s.

  ‘But Carrie, she’s another matter. My people found her when they came to your house in Houston to help protect you the morning your mom was killed. We couldn’t leave her for the CIA to kill as well, so we brought her with us.’ Jargo made his voice a slow soothe. ‘This has all been a terrible, wretched mistake, Evan.’