Contract to Kill

by Andrew Peterson

  “It’s all right,” said Nathan. “Any idea who the caller is?”

  “Toby Haynes. He says he knows you.”

  “Yeah he does, but I don’t want his call connected to my cell. I’ll call you back on my landline. Can you conference the two calls together?”

  “Yes, no problem.”

  “Tell the answering service to keep Haynes on hold. I’ll call you back on the number you’re calling from. You’re at home, right?”

  Across the bed from Nathan, Holly’s concerned look had changed to puzzlement.

  “Yes.”

  “Thanks for doing this, Gavin. I want you to log an extra four hours of work today.”

  “Thank you, but I’m salaried.”

  “Then expect a healthy gift certificate from Nordstrom’s.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I’ll call you right back. Fifteen seconds.” Nathan ended the call and tapped Harv’s cell number.

  Harv ran the day-to-day operations of the company. He answered on the fourth ring, his deep baritone voice holding a lighthearted tone. “I take it this isn’t a social call.”

  “Toby Haynes is on hold with our answering service. He says it’s an emergency, life or death, but I have no idea what it’s about. I’m about to call Gavin back, and she’s going to conference in Haynes’s call.”

  Harv was all business now. “Let me do that from here. I’ll keep you on the line. Did Gavin call from her home number?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hang on.”

  Nathan listened to a moment of silence before hearing the line ring, presumably at Gavin’s house.

  Dressed in a T-shirt, Holly came over to his side of the bed and sat next to him.

  “Nate, are you there?” Harv asked.

  “Yes. Holly’s with me. I have you on speaker.”

  “Hi, Holly.”

  “Hi, Harvey.”

  Gavin must’ve seen Harv’s number on her phone console because she spoke Harv’s name upon answering. “Mr. Fontana?”

  “Hi, Gavin. Nathan’s on the line with me. Conference us in with the answering service call and make sure their end disconnects. Sever all the calls if they don’t.”

  “I will.” A brief pause followed. “Mr. Haynes, I have Mr. McBride on the line.”

  “Hello? Mr. McBride?” Toby’s voice didn’t sound particularly familiar, but it carried the shakiness of a man in shock.

  “Call me Nathan. What phone are you using to call me?”

  “It’s a pay phone, sir. It took forever to find one.”

  “All right. What’s going on?”

  “I saw two men get murdered tonight! They both got shot in the head. I—I don’t know what to do.”

  “Murdered? Are you sure?”

  “Yes!” Toby nearly shouted. “I saw it happen, and I know the killers. I don’t know what to do. I think I made a big mistake. If I call the police and report it, they’ll kill me next, I know it.”

  “Okay, slow down, we believe you. Harv’s on the line with us. Are you alone? Can anyone hear you?”

  “No. Sorry, sir. I mean yes, I’m alone. I’m just really freaked out.”

  “Don’t say another word about this over the phone. Go home and wait there for us. Do you have a hard line?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Give me the number, your address too.”

  Toby gave him the info.

  “Okay. Sit tight. Don’t go anywhere. We’ll be there in about twenty-five minutes. Wipe down the pay phone’s receiver before you leave.”

  “I put on my work gloves before I made the call.”

  “Good going. Try to relax, Toby. I’m assuming you used the First Security business card I gave you to contact us?”

  “Yes, sir, it’s in my hand right now.”

  “Burn it over your kitchen sink and wash the ash down the drain.”

  “I will. I’m sorry, sir. My nerves are shot. I can’t stop shaking.” He paused for a second. “I’m supposed to be at work in a few minutes.”

  Nathan asked, “Can you call in sick?”

  “Yeah, I think I can get someone to take my shift tonight. He owes me a favor. I took a shift for him last month.”

  “How does it work? Do you normally get someone to work for you? I mean, do you usually make the arrangements for someone to cover your shift? Will that raise suspicion?”

  “I’ve never called in sick before, but it should be okay.”

  “Use the hard line at your house to make the call. Your supervisor will probably tell you to stay home. Offer to find someone to take your shift and see what happens.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Man, thanks for helping me. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

  “We’ll use a special knock on your door: twice fast, twice slow. You got that?”

  “Two fast, two slow.”

  “See you in twenty-five minutes.” Nathan ended the call, knowing Harv would call him right back.

  Holly said, “We need to call the police.”

  “I hear you on that, but Toby said he’s afraid for his life if he talks to the police. If he knows the killers, then he really could be in danger.” Nathan thought for a moment. “Toby’s not a stupid guy. I’ve known him for a long time. I gave him a loan on just his word he’d pay me back and he never missed a payment. Let’s hear why he thinks his life’s in danger if the police get involved.”

  “Well, I’m a sworn law enforcement officer,” said Holly. “Not reporting a murder doesn’t sit well with me.”

  “I understand and we’ll definitely call them—” His cell chimed. “That’s Harv calling . . . Hey, I’ve got you on speaker again, Holly’s right here.” Nathan heard Harv’s car-door alarm bong three times.

  “Sorry, I got dressed during Toby’s call. It should switch to the Bluetooth in a few seconds.”

  “So what do you think?” Nathan asked.

  “Let’s talk in person,” Harv said.

  CHAPTER 6

  Philippine Sea—fifteen days earlier

  Seven hundred miles northeast of Palau, the Republic of Korea container ship Namkung Khang slowed to three knots as a small skiff approached its hull. The night watch wasn’t worried because the Khang wasn’t being attacked by pirates—quite the opposite. After all, no sane pirates attacked the Khang unless they wanted to meet their creators. This ROK vessel didn’t employ water cannons; it employed large-caliber machine guns.

  Atop a mountain of precisely stacked containers, Crewman Ryang secured a climbing rope to a hold-down corner and stepped into his rappelling harness. With a second rope slung over his shoulder, he descended past five levels of containers and found the unit he wanted. Unlike its surrounding neighbors, this particular container wasn’t secured with lashing rods. Their absence didn’t look out of place, as not every container needed them.

  Ryang removed his gloves, activated his helmet light, and unlocked the four padlocks securing the container’s dual doors. Inside were hundreds of wooden crates containing AK-47s and several dozen boxes of ammunition. Eleven green duffel bags sat atop the ammo boxes. Ryang ignored the rifles and ammo and went to work on the duffels.

  Using the second rope, he lowered the bags down to the skiff one at a time.

  The operation took just under ten minutes. Per the captain’s arrangement, one of the bags didn’t make the descent; it ended up tied to the end of his rappelling line, where it dangled in the breeze. While Crewman Ryang attached his ascension pulley system to the rope, the skiff pulled away from the hull, but stayed alongside the container ship, matching its speed. Ryang was a little puzzled, but shrugged it off. Perhaps the skiff remained behind to make sure he made it safely up the vertical wall of containers. He verified his ascension device was installed properly, and he began his climb u
p the man-made cliff. It was slow going because each pull of the ratchet system only yielded twenty-five centimeters of height.

  He focused on the rope, not the foamy black water sliding by the steel hull. A fall into the water from this height would break bones.

  Back atop the containers, he left his harness attached for safety and began pulling the rappelling rope up—tough work because the duffel weighed twenty kilograms. Once completed, he took a knee and rested his hands and arms. He sensed a presence and turned around.

  “Captain! You startled me.”

  “I thought you might need help hoisting the bag, but I see you’ve handled it.”

  Ryang smiled. “Yes, sir.”

  The captain nodded toward the bag. “Let’s have a look. Here, you’ll need this to cut the plastic seal.” The captain extended his knife.

  To Ryang’s astonishment, the knife shot past his outstretched hand and plunged into his abdomen.

  Ryang’s mind registered the betrayal, but it seemed like a waking dream.

  He felt the blade cleave through his flesh, but it didn’t hurt at first. A former member of ROK’s army, Ryang was no stranger to knife fighting, but he’d never been on the wrong end of one.

  Before he could react, the captain stabbed him again. Then again, and again.

  Now pain invaded his mind. It started as a mild stinging sensation, but rapidly grew into a horrible burning ache. It was odd what the human mind thought of at times like this. In his limited medical knowledge, Ryang knew his stomach had just been perforated and the burning sensation was caused by gastric acid coming into contact with the surrounding organs and flesh. He also knew it was a mortal wound.

  He looked down at the dark stain spreading across his clothes. Why did blood always look so black at night?

  Ryang wanted to meet death on his feet, but the captain swept a leg, toppling him to the roof of the container.

  It was too shadowy to see the captain’s face, but he hoped it held regret. Being killed over money seemed so petty and trivial. Surely there’d been enough for both of them to share.

  “My family . . . ” Ryang uttered. “Please, give them . . . my share . . . ”

  “I think not.”

  He attempted to kick the captain in the groin and missed. He sensed a boot flying toward his face and felt a sickening crack as his front teeth broke free. Semiconscious from the blow, he spat out the pieces as a second man approached. Without saying a word, the man nodded to the captain and hooked himself into the line. A few seconds later, Ryang saw the newcomer disappear over the edge as he rappelled down. It suddenly dawned on Ryang why the skiff hadn’t left.

  The captain walked past him and looked down the wall of containers. Ryang heard the skiff’s motor power up and knew the man had gotten aboard the smaller vessel.

  Casually, the captain reached down and unhooked Ryang from the rope. He wanted to fight back, but his mind was shutting down.

  He knew weightlessness would come next.

  So this is how my life ends? Murdered over money?

  The last thing Crewman Ryang thought before his body slammed into the water was, I hope the fall breaks my neck.

  CHAPTER 7

  Nathan and Holly were ready when Harv’s one-minute call came. Dressed in black 5.11 Tactical, Nathan would be all but invisible in low light. Holly was a different matter. She’d packed a pair of dark slacks, but she didn’t have any dark tops or coats. Improvising, she donned the leather jacket she wore for their Harley rides. He grabbed her gloves too.

  He locked the house and used his cell phone to activate the security system.

  “I don’t think it will be an issue, but Toby might clam up when I tell him you’re FBI. It should be his choice to talk to us or not.”

  “You can say I’m off duty.”

  “You’re never off duty.”

  “I suppose not.” Holly looked at him for a long moment. “Will you reconsider calling the police? Each passing minute degrades the crime scene.”

  “I get that, but Toby says he knows who did it.”

  Holly didn’t respond.

  “I hear Harv’s car. He just turned onto our street.”

  With his headlights off, Harv drove past them and pulled to the curb. Nathan opened the front passenger door for Holly and climbed into the back.

  “Holly, nice to see you, even under the circumstances.”

  “Thanks, Harvey, you too.”

  “Nate.”

  “Harv.”

  No one spoke for a few seconds. Nathan always believed Harv’s clean-cut appearance mirrored his father’s, but he’d never hold it against him. Half-Hispanic, half-white, he had light-hazel eyes and a dark complexion. Harv looked distinguished—as Holly liked to say. When he spoke, he sounded like James Earl Jones with a Spanish accent. Harv was four inches shorter and thirty pounds lighter than Nathan, but no less deadly when called upon.

  Harv already had Toby’s address plugged into the nav and the program estimated five minutes.

  Harv must’ve sensed Holly’s unease. “This must put you in a difficult situation.”

  “To put it mildly,” she said. “I have to pretend like I don’t know about this. Do you guys have a plan you’d like to share?”

  Nathan said, “We’re kinda figuring that out as we go, but after we talk to Toby, I’d like to go have a look.”

  “At the dead bodies? You’re joking, right?”

  “All I want is a look—what could it hurt?”

  “You want a list?”

  Holly’s attitude puzzled Nathan. Before she’d moved to DC, she would’ve been on board without question. But whatever the reasons for her objections, Nathan wouldn’t risk Toby’s safety over protocol. A fellow Marine needed his help, and he’d deliver. Simple as that.

  The nav took them to a residential area of linear apartments and small homes. Harv slowed when they turned onto Toby’s street. Most of the front yards didn’t look too bad. A few had accumulated some clutter, but it looked like most people cared about curb appeal.

  Harv zoomed the nav to its maximum setting. “I think this is it, the building on the right.”

  Nathan leaned forward and studied the building and its landscaping as they drove past. It was either a two-story apartment or condo; he couldn’t tell which. There were three stairwells along the building, one at each end and one in the middle. It looked like each stairwell served two upstairs units. Toby’s apartment building looked like a million others. Rectangular and long, its design reflected cost efficiency, not aesthetics.

  On a side street several blocks away, Harv took the first parking place they found. No one spoke as they climbed out and walked toward the apartment building. Toby’s unit was on the second level, served from the middle stairwell. The windows on either side of his door were dark. With a hand gesture, Nathan put everyone on hold and listened for several seconds. Detecting no sound, he knocked on the door as they’d agreed.

  “The curtain just moved,” Harv whispered.

  Toby’s door flew open. “Nathan McBride!” The big man wrapped him up in a bear hug. Not too many people made Nathan look small.

  “Easy, big guy.”

  “Hi, Harvey. Man, am I glad to see you guys.”

  Harv looked even smaller in Toby’s grasp.

  “Toby, this is Holly Simpson. She’s a special agent with the FBI from DC.”

  Toby pulled back, looking from Holly to Nathan. “Am I in trouble?”

  “Not at all,” Holly said. “I’m off duty. Nathan and I are friends.”

  “Well, any friend of Nathan’s . . . ”

  Holly’s hand disappeared in the handshake.

  Nathan noticed a woman sitting on the couch right away, even before the lights came on. Dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, she looked familiar.

  When Toby clos
ed the door and flipped on the kitchen lights, Nathan couldn’t conceal his shock.

  Mara.

  She still had the same flawless skin. Her stunning Latina features were nothing short of cover-model material. Twice a week for two years, this woman had been an integral part of his life. Back then, she’d been a call girl. He inwardly flinched at the thought. It felt like a lifetime ago. The last time he’d seen her was the night he’d fought with Toby. Since then, the big man had turned his life around. He wasn’t the same person he’d been five years ago. Apparently, neither was Mara.

  Oh man, Nathan thought. Now what?

  He tried to recover, but it was too late. An awkward moment ensued and everyone in the room felt it.

  Mara stood.

  “This is Mara,” Toby said. “My fiancée.”

  Harv said, “When’s the big date?”

  “We’ve decided on December fifteenth.”

  When Nathan didn’t move, Harv took command and stepped forward. He shook her hand. “Congratulations, Mara. That’s terrific news.” Harv introduced Holly and made an attempt to present Nathan as though they’d never met.

  It didn’t work.

  Mara stepped forward and wrapped Nathan in a sensual hug, pressing her face against his chest. He slowly put his arms around her and looked at Holly.

  Her expression told all.

  She wouldn’t say anything right now, but she’d want an explanation. This wasn’t a hug between strangers, quite the contrary. How much should he reveal? Could he tell Holly the truth and not be spurned or judged? He had no reason to assume she’d reject him. In reality, his pre-Holly days were his own. If so, why did he feel so uneasy?

  There was no point in pretending. “It’s good to see you again, Mara. You look great.”

  “Thanks, you too.”

  Nathan was certain Mara and Toby had talked about his previous relationship with her. If not, Toby would’ve been curious, or even troubled by Mara’s intimate embrace.

  Everyone settled into the living room.

  Mara kept staring at Nathan with pleading eyes. It seemed he wasn’t the only one worried about being judged. Nathan offered her a friendly smile, which seemed to have a reassuring effect.