The Alex Shanahan Series

by Lynne Heitman

  I was at the end of the first tape, side A, when my phone rang. Private call. It was either Thorne or Kraft. I flipped it open and answered.

  “I got your e-mail. I’m on my way there.”

  It was Kraft. I checked my watch. It was just about nine in the morning. “How long?”

  “It will be a few hours. When I get closer, we can decide where to meet. Keep the key with you, and we need a safe word.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If I call and for any reason you need to tell me not to come in, use the word quiet, and I’ll know. I’ll call you.”

  Click.

  I hated how he did that—kept all the power over our communication. Still, the news was good, and I wanted to share it. I went downstairs to tell Harvey.

  From the top of the stairs, I heard the unmistakable razor-blades-and-vodka voice of Tom Waits. I slipped quietly down, trying to stay under the sound of “Jersey Girl,” one of the all-time great songs about being in love when it’s easy. Its gently swooping sha-la-las and quietly strutting acoustic guitar sounded like boardwalks and striped cabanas and ice cream that drips out of the cone and down your hand, the sweet cream mixing with the taste of salt on your skin.

  A set of packed bags was at the bottom of the stairs, and Harvey and Rachel were in the front room, the one with the new sound system. Neither noticed me, but the planet could have fallen into the sun and they wouldn’t have noticed, because Harvey was on his feet, and Rachel was in his arms, and they were dancing.

  They weren’t moving much; it was more like swaying. But it was enough to imagine them years before on a dance floor somewhere, when Harvey had his legs under him and could do what he loved to do and move the way he wanted to move.

  Harvey had been a good dancer. I could see it in the way he held Rachel, with one hand flat against the small of her back, his wrist cocked just so. His other hand, with hers in it, was high in the air, in case he was struck with the impulse to spin her. Rachel’s head was tucked under his chin, and his eyes were closed, and all that weight that he carried around in his life was just…gone. He was floating. That’s what she did for him. No matter what she was, no matter what she said or how I felt about her, some part of her loved him, and every part of him loved her beyond words. She made him dance.

  Watching them together, holding each other, made it easy to understand why he would do anything for her. It also made me wonder what it would be like to be loved that way.

  Nothing else matters in this whole wide world, When you’re in love with a Jersey girl…

  They were saying goodbye to each other. I sat down on the steps and waited for their music to end.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  I didn’t remember Rachel as having as many bags as I had to load into the Durango or that they were that heavy. I thought about checking for silverware, but that might have been considered inflammatory.

  Rachel had wanted to take a cab to the airport, but Harvey insisted that I drive her.

  “I wish you would go with us,” I said to him. Rachel was in the car waiting.

  “I cannot,” was all he would say.

  “You shouldn’t be here alone.”

  “It is unlikely that Mr. Kraft will call before you get back. Besides, you have your phone with you and the key. If he calls, you can make arrangements to meet somewhere.”

  He was right. It had been just a little over an hour since Kraft and I had spoken. He wasn’t likely to check back in before I got back. Besides, if it made Harvey feel better to know that Rachel was safely on her way, it was worth the effort. I just didn’t want to leave him alone. I had tried to call Radik and got his voice mail.

  “Give me your phone.”

  He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out his cell. I programmed in Radik’s number. “Keep checking with him. If you can get him and you can communicate, ask him to come over. If the land line rings, don’t answer it.”

  I checked my watch. Ninety minutes to her departure time, and she still had to get to the airport, check in, and clear security. I could get Felix or Dan to move her through, but even with that advantage, we had no time to waste. I had to go. I gave him the phone back. “Are you sure—”

  “I will be fine. Please, this is hard enough. Just go.”

  Rachel didn’t even look at me when I got in and buckled up. Her attention was focused on whatever she saw out her own window. I checked to see that she was strapped in and started the car, and we drove for several miles in silence. While she continued her vigil, I paid attention to the traffic. I still wasn’t accustomed to all the changes the Big Dig had wrought. If I didn’t read the signs, I always ended up somewhere I didn’t want to be.

  Eventually, the heavy silence started to feel childish. “Harvey said you’re going to Hawaii.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I didn’t travel a lot when I was with Majestic, but that was one place I always found a way to get to.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Dan will probably move you up to first class, which is nice on such a long haul.”

  She didn’t answer. Screw it. At least I gave it a shot. But then she turned her head, and I happened to catch just a glimpse of what was going on. She blinked the tears out of her eyes and wiped them with a swipe of her thumb.

  “I don’t want to go.”

  “Harvey said you always wanted to go to Hawaii.”

  “Not like this.” She turned away again, slipped on a pair of shades, and didn’t say another word until we pulled up to the Majestic curb. We got out and met at the trunk, where a skycap was already pulling out her bags.

  “Where to, Miss?”

  “Molokai.” She tried to hand him the ticket.

  “You’ll have to check in at the counter.” He nodded to a kiosk set up down the curb, then took the bags over and put them in line for her. I slammed the trunk closed and pulled out my phone to call Dan.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting someone to come and take care of you.”

  She shook her head and gave me a smile tinged with something that looked like remorse. “I’m used to taking care of myself.”

  I put the phone away and went to get back behind the wheel. I took a last look at her across the roof of the car.

  “Rachel?”

  In the permanent twilight of the covered curbside, she had taken off her sunglasses to dig in her bag, probably for ID, so when she looked up at me, I could see it. She knew she had left something really good behind.

  “Be safe.”

  I took every yellow light and time-shaving maneuver I could to get back to the house quickly. When I walked back in, something was different. I felt it. The old cliché was true, that you didn’t know how much you missed someone until they were gone. I couldn’t say I missed Rachel, but I did feel that something had shifted. I walked past that seldom-used front room, stopped, and had to come back. It wasn’t the absence of Rachel I was feeling but the presence of someone who shouldn’t have been there.

  Cyrus Thorne was on the couch. He was leaning back with one foot propped on the corner of the table in front of him. He had his glasses on and was reading the top page of a stack that was in his lap. On the table in front of him were a big, black, large-caliber semiautomatic handgun and the leather portfolio that held Lyle’s notes. There was also a bag of cherry cough drops. He was sucking on one, rolling it around in his mouth.

  Harvey was there, still in his wheelchair. His wrists were tied to the arms of the chair.

  Cyrus pointed to the stack of Lyle’s notes and smiled. “Are you writing a book?”

  “Someone gave that to me. I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet.”

  “There are taped interviews, too.” Without changing position, he reached out for one of the cassettes and managed to snag it with just the tips of his fingers. “Do you know who’s on this tape? My late partner, Mr. Tony Blackmon.”

  “No kidding.” I kept my eye on his weapon and tried to look ar
ound casually. I knew he wasn’t alone, but I couldn’t see anyone else. “I guess you didn’t believe me when I told you I needed more time.”

  “That’s because you were lying.” He got up and came toward me. “Mr. Kraft is on his way.”

  I looked at Harvey. “How would you know something like that?”

  He reached around my waist, and the sweet smell of his cherry cough drop was right in my face. I could hear it clacking around his molars. He found the key in my back pocket. “He’s coming for this.” While he was back there, he took the Glock. “He’ll call you for location, and as long as you don’t say the word quiet, he will feel safe to meet you.”

  He smiled, and I had a deflating feeling that only flattened me more when he took my phone from my hand, held it up next to his ear, and whispered, “We’ve been listening.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  I was confused for about two seconds, and then I was mortified by my own stupidity. While I was on the Blackthorne plane, Thorne and Tatiana had had access to my cell phone, my computer, and everything else I’d had with me. And they were spooks. Of course they’d been listening. Probably tracking me, too. No wonder I had never seen anyone tailing me.

  Here was one of the problems with being in so far over your head. You didn’t even know what you didn’t know.

  Thorne’s gaze shifted to a spot over my right shoulder. “Red.”

  I thought he was talking in code, but then a voice came from behind me. “Sir?”

  I turned to find one of Cyrus’s soldiers. He looked very young, and he wasn’t called Red because of his hair. It was dark and cut close to his scalp.

  “Did you clear the house?”

  “Upstairs and down, sir.”

  “Excellent. Take care of her, then make sure we stay clear in the back. I don’t want any surprises.”

  “You got it, sir.” Either Thorne’s men had learned not to argue with the boss, or he really commanded their respect.

  There was a tense moment when I could feel Red behind me and I didn’t know what “take care of her” meant. But all he did was pull my wrists together and secure them with plastic cuffs. He took me over toward Harvey and put me on the ottoman next to him.

  “Are you all right?” I asked him.

  “Yes. Are you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He glanced at Thorne and lowered his voice to lip-reading volume. “Did you get her off?”

  I nodded, and he slumped in his chair. It almost seemed as if his concern for Rachel had been the only thing keeping him upright.

  An unfamiliar ring tone called out. Cyrus answered a phone he pulled from his gear bag and launched into a conversation in a different language. It was hard and guttural and sounded something like Bo when he spoke to Timon or Radik. Thinking about Bo reminded me that he wasn’t coming and that Thorne knew that, too. As he’d said, he’d been listening. I leaned over to talk to Harvey. “Did you ever reach Radik?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “I don’t suppose you left a message?” Harvey wasn’t big on those. He shook his head.

  No one was coming.

  Harvey nodded toward Thorne. “He is here to intercept Mr. Kraft and likely kill him. Once he has accomplished that, he will very likely kill us as well.”

  That summed it up.

  “What do you think will happen to the video of Rachel’s incident?” he asked.

  “It’s not on my list of things to worry about right now.”

  “She will not know. Drazen will come for her, and she will not know to run.”

  “Rachel takes pretty good care of herself. Right now, I’m worried about our own situation.” Thorne was still on the phone. He’d left my cell sitting on the table next to the portfolio. “He’s been listening to all my calls, so he knows about the money files. He took the key, so he must plan on taking the money, too. That will make a nice and unexpected bonus.”

  “Indeed.” Harvey’s chin dropped to his chest, and he looked the way he did when he’d taken too much medication. But after a minute or so, he seemed to wake up. “Yes. He will want the money. That is undoubtedly true.”

  “Who wouldn’t want a billion dollars free and clear? He can plow it back into his company.”

  “But he must get to it first.”

  “He’s got the key. All he needs is the computer, and it’s on the way.”

  “Listen to me.” Harvey turned as far as he could toward me, given that his arms were lashed to the chair. “Before she left, Rachel and I talked. I will tell you what I told her.” He took a difficult breath, but one that seemed to calm him. “I am through being afraid. I am through being manipulated. I will do what I think is right, what I think is best.”

  He was remarkably composed. It always freaked me out when Harvey was less nervous and more measured than I was. I was desperate to hear more, but my cell phone rang.

  Thorne finished his call and radioed for Red. Then he came over, grabbed me, and pulled me over to the couch. The ringing seemed louder than normal. He put a second cell down next to mine, and I understood why. The two of them were ringing, but not exactly together, which made for almost continuous bleating.

  “It’s a clone,” he said, “and it’s been most helpful. If you don’t follow the plan, your partner will become another casualty of war.”

  The private war of Cyrus Thorne.

  Red showed up, and Thorne nodded to him. He walked over and put the barrel of his rifle against the back of Harvey’s skull. The phone kept ringing. I looked at Harvey’s face. He wouldn’t look at me. I could tell he was trying not to be scared, but his chin was trembling. He closed his eyes, and pretty soon, urine started dribbling down the struts of his wheelchair.

  “If it’s not Kraft, get rid of the call. If it is, you know what to do.”

  Thorne flipped open both phones at the same time, and the incessant ringing stopped. He put one to my ear and the other to his.

  “Alex Shanahan.”

  “Max Kraft.”

  It was a relief to hear his voice. I needed something to be easy.

  “I’m glad to hear from you,” I said. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine. Tell me where you are. I’ll come to you.”

  I gave him the address and directions from the turnpike, which was how he was coming into town. “How far out are you?”

  “Half an hour.”

  He waited a beat, and I knew he was giving me a chance to warn him off.

  “Park a couple of blocks away,” I said. “And come to the back door and knock. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  Thirty minutes seemed like thirty hours. I didn’t want Harvey soaking in his own piss, but the most they would let me do for him was get towels from the bathroom and try to clean him up. Red cut off our restraints. Harvey held out his arms, and I pulled him up.

  “I want you to listen to me.” He braced himself against my arms and leaned closer. “I believe you can survive this.”

  Cyrus had dug out Lyle’s microcassettes and settled down with his own little player and earbuds to listen to what his late partner had said about him. Red was assigned to watch us, which meant there was at least a third person in the house.

  “I have an idea,” he whispered, holding my arms as tightly as he could. “And when I see the opportunity, you will know. You must take it.”

  His grip was not strong. I managed to transfer it to the handles of the wheelchair so I could work on drying his pants, not easy since he still had them on. The most I could do was dab at them with a towel. He didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed to have me do it. When I was done, I kept a hand towel for myself, folded the rest, and put them in the seat of his chair.

  I transferred his weight back to me and eased him down into the chair. “What about you?”

  “One of us has to stay.”

  “For what? To be killed?”

  He didn’t answer. As I wiped off my own hands, I saw that he was actually serious. “Harvey, I’m not lea
ving without you.”

  “You must.”

  “No.” I leaned down with the hand towel to dry the underside of the chair. I wanted to appear busy so Red wouldn’t tie me up again. Cyrus, who would know better, seemed riveted by the Blackmon tapes. “Why would you even consider something like that? Why would you ask me to consider something like that?”

  “God granted me this opportunity. I know it. I promised myself that when it came, I would not turn away, and I will not.”

  “Whatever it is you have in mind, let me do it. You’re too weak. I’ll have a better chance than you would.”

  “No.”

  I had already wiped every inch of the chair’s undercarriage. I sat down next to the right wheel and started on the spokes. “This is all because of Rachel. She’s got you all confused. You don’t have to prove yourself to her or to anyone else.”

  “I have done many things for Rachel, some that she deserved and many that she did not. But this I am doing for myself. Now, please, for once, just this once, do as I ask.”

  He didn’t sound like himself, he didn’t look like himself, and I had the sick, panicky feeling that the Harvey I knew was already receding from my life. I reached over and adjusted his towel. “Harvey—”

  “Sir?”

  It was Red, holding his fingers to one ear. Thorne took out his own earbuds. “What?”

  “He’s here.”

  Harvey leaned down and whispered, “Listen for your chance. When it comes, take it.”

  Thorne was on his feet, gathering his weapons. He also grabbed a radio and mounted it on his ear. It had a small, graceful microphone that arced out in front of his mouth. The two men escorted me to the kitchen and took up positions on either side of the door. It was dark and quiet. The porch light was on. I heard footsteps on the other side of the door, then the knock.