Cool Heat

by Richter Watkins

  “I’ll tell you what,” Marco said. “We broke your face. You killed my uncle and then ended up with the most beautiful lady on the lake. On top of that, we’re gonna make you rich and then, we get the dirt we’re after, we’ll shield you. You’ll be home free. I’d call it about even, don’t you think?”

  Leon leaned on the bar. He thought about that for a time. “Yeah. Why not? Cillo was a tough old bird, I’ll give him that. I wanted to stage it as a simple suicide, but he fought like goddamn angry gator in that pool.” He paused. “Okay, we’re even. And I got rid of the idiot who shot your girl. She should be happy about that.”

  “She is.”

  Leon nodded. “Those aren’t your average chicks for sure, my man.”

  Marco agreed. “They’re the kind can get a man to change course in midstream. We’re both in that situation.”

  Leon settled catty-corner at one small bar table over from Marco, where the killer had a view of anyone coming.

  This how it was with Shaun Corbin? Marco wondered. Sit, talk, get friendly, then a bullet to the brain? He had no move but to sit there and drink his beer and wait for something to develop he could use.

  Even with a straw, Leon had a hard time drinking with the face mask, so he took it off. Marco tried not to show the shock he felt seeing the mess of purple and pink swelling on the side of the guy’s face.

  “Ain’t real pretty, is it?”

  “You’ll get back to being the handsome guy you were soon as the swelling goes down.”

  Leon said, “You’re a funny guy. I amuse you? I make you laugh?”

  “Goodfellas, right? Joe Pesci.”

  “That’s right,” Leon said. “You like that movie?”

  “One of the greatest ever,” Marco said, thinking, when dealing with a sociopath, be one.

  Marco took a swig of beer, then said, “You should see how things are south of the border. No damn discipline. These Sicario Juarez hitters, they just shoot up everything. It’s O.K. Corral day every goddamn day. It’s chaos.”

  “You do damage?” Leon asked.

  “Time to time. Like this family I had to talk to. I walk in, there’s this guy sitting back against the wall smoking his last cigarette, wasn’t his turn to die. But he forgot to check if everyone was really dead. Got himself shot. Still, he wanted to die like a man. But he was just a kid, and he’d messed it up good. It’s not about the job to them. They never even know why. And they paint the whole fucking neighborhood.”

  “You put that boy out of his misery?”

  “Yeah,” Marco lied, and did so with effect. “I give him credit. He’s facing it, and he’s swearing at me like some street-corner badass. His last words: Me cago en la leche de tu puta madres! You goddamn motherfucker. I got a neat coup de grâce. Not quite as perfect as you did with Corbin. How the hell close were you, you took out that ugly mole?”

  Another partial smile formed on that ruined face. He liked this—Marco making stuff up that fit into this guy’s wheelhouse, maybe got them bonding a little more.

  “I hear about all those crazy mothers down there,” Leon agreed. “Fucking Mexicans, no offense, are trying to take back California, New Mexico, and Arizona. Latinos already own Florida. We ain’t gonna lose the country to the fucking al-Qaedas. While we’re fighting stupid wars over there, your relatives are coming in by the millions to take it over.”

  “I’m half-wetback and half-wop. The wops have been here awhile, and the Mexicans used to own it. So I’m in the best of both worlds,” Marco said with a grin.

  “True. Badass on both sides.”

  “You’re getting ahead of the game working with me.” Marco smiled. The killer seemed to like that. Then he added, “You and Kora North seem to have a real connection. Guys in our businesses sometimes have a hard time finding women who can fit in.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” he said, then looked at the smartphone. “He’s coming up into the back room.”

  “How’d you get into the trade?” Marco asked.

  “Not like you might imagine,” Leon said. “Happened by accident. I’d killed my mother’s crazy boyfriend. But I knew right off I was a true hunter. Then later on, this rich kid came to me. I had a rep by the time I got out of high school. In and out of juvie. I don’t know how he knew about me, but he had a problem with somebody trashing him on the Internet.”

  “Happens a lot these days,” Marco said.

  “Yeah. Making up shit about him. Nasty stuff. How he was this fag and did all these things. He wanted the bastard located and killed. But he wanted it done so nobody would do any investigation. Paid me more for it than I’d earn in a couple years. I did the job, my second suicide. No links. And two years later, he finds me again. He’s got this friend who needs help. Before you know it, I’m in business. Been booming ever since.”

  He checked the smartphone again. “What the hell’s taking this guy so long? He’s walking like something’s gonna jump out at him.”

  Marco said. “A suicide specialist is a pretty unique and cool profession.”

  “Hell, I turn down five for every job I take,” Leon said. “First of all, I won’t do certain kinds of jobs. You do, you get sloppy. Thing is, the usual guys aren’t in business so much anymore. Mob types. So now what you got is freelancers. Some of them come out of the military. Can’t find legit work. Try these contractor companies and then get tired of that and somebody contacts them, makes an offer, and the rest is history. It’s a new world, my friend. But then, good for guys like us. You aren’t an old-school, second-story guy either, all that high tech. It’s a new age.”

  Leon seemed to be feeling good now, sucking down the whisky, chatting, watching the lawyer make his way through his mansion, the killer talking about his kills. Next talking about his last job in New York. How the guy wanted to die. Hardly needed Leon, except he wasn’t man enough to do himself.

  Marco wished they had a little longer. Get the guy drunk. But it didn’t work out that way.

  Leon put his mask back on. Then he got up and looked down the hall. “Our boy has arrived.”

  He waited a moment, then, his voice amped up a bit, “Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour.”

  Rouse came across the great room, the lawyer abruptly stopping, unsure what he was walking into, making Marco think of a virgin boy in a brothel, eyes wide.

  “C’mon, counselor,” Leon said, “get your butt over here.”

  Rouse remained tightly rooted to the spot, shocked, like he was considering which way to run.

  “Goddamn, dude, don’t hold up the party,” Leon said in an exasperated voice. “I got to drag you over here? Nobody gonna bite you.”

  Looking at Marco, Rouse said, “Who is this?”

  “Friend of mine.”

  “I’ve been hearing a lot about you,” Marco said. “None of it good. Best do like the man says.”

  Rouse struggled to gather himself. “What the hell’s going on here?”

  “Been a little change in plans, counselor,” Leon said. “Got somebody I want you to meet.”

  Rouse glanced at Marco. “What’s going on. We need to get back to the party. You break something?”

  Leon stared at him.

  Suddenly Rouse saw the bottle of whisky. “That’s a sixteen-thousand-dollar bottle!”

  “It ain’t bad,” Leon said. “Little overpriced, if you ask me. I see old sport is waiting at the lion’s den. What’s he doing?”

  “He wants me to send Daisy. He’s angry you guys aren’t at the party.”

  “Tell old sport she’ll be down shortly,” Leon said. “Don’t elaborate.”

  Leon handed the phone to Rouse and the lawyer made the call. Before he could say anything else, Leon grabbed the phone back. “Let’s go to your office.”

  “How the hell did you get into my office?” The lawyer didn’t seem to want to believe that they were really in his office. Or much of anything that was going on.

  “Have a sixteen-thousand-dollar drink,” Leon
said. “A double. I think you’re going to need it.”

  Rouse seemed unable to come to grips with the situation, let alone a drink.

  Leon just shrugged. “Well, let’s go to the office, work out something. Our prenup has to be changed.” Then he said, looking at the smartphone, “Thorp’s talking to his lion. Man’s a little nuts. C’mon, move it.”

  Marco wanted to make a move, but not with Sydney out of his sight and under Kora’s control.

  60

  When the three of them entered the office, Rouse followed by Marco and then Leon, Sydney felt a little sense of relief. She’d feared the two men might not get along, end up in a battle, and bring the whole thing down with them. She turned her attention to Rouse.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t Tricky Dick,” Sydney said.

  Rouse looked like he was on the verge of a stroke or heart attack, his face white, his eyes bugged out. He stared at Sydney as if she’d arisen from the graveyard before his eyes.

  “You find anything interesting?” Leon asked Kora.

  “You wouldn’t believe the shit this pervert has on people,” Kora said. “He takes voyeurism to a new level. He’s got surveillance tapes on everybody and their mother, and we haven’t even gotten into the safe. Can’t wait to see what’s in there.”

  Kora looked at Rouse. “Oh, and Sydney needs your various passwords.”

  Rouse, as if trying to wake from his nightmare, seemed for the moment incapable of movement or speech. It was hard to tell if he was petrified or so stoned he couldn’t get his brain in order, or just in extreme shock.

  Leon encouraged him with the business end of his automatic’s silencer pressed against the lawyer’s ear.

  Kora said, “If you’re going to shoot him, back up a little so we don’t get splatter all over us.” She said it with a small, cold grin.

  Rouse wrote down his passwords on a desk tablet without further encouragement.

  “Now let’s get that safe open,” Leon said. “See what kind of goodies you got in there.” Leon checked the smartphone. “Thorp is still down there talking to his lion. Bet that’s a conversation.”

  Rouse went to the safe and began the process of opening it.

  “You can rob us,” he said in a hushed, tight voice. “You can kill us. But it’ll trigger the biggest manhunt ever.”

  Kora said, “He opens his mouth again, shoot him. Then we’ll bring Thorp up here and see if he can’t open it. I’m sure he knows the combinations and how to change the time-lock sequence or whatever.”

  “She’s not kiddin’, dude. Woman doesn’t like you much,” Leon said. “Not much at all.”

  Rouse sucked air like a landed fish, the veins on his neck popping. He spun the dial.

  Kora chuckled. “We’ve been your little slave girls for the past couple years, Dicky. Now we’re gonna see how you like it, you disgusting freak. You and that tiny little prick of yours that needs drugs to keep it propped up. One of the girls says you make clucking sounds when you fuck, sounding like a sick chicken.”

  Leon laughed as best he could. “He don’t get this safe open pretty quick, he’s looking to become Tricky Dickless.”

  Rouse’s hands were shaking violently. Everything he did with the combination, the wheel, had to be repeated.

  Finally, a gun against the back of his head, he got himself under control and opened the wall safe.

  “Holy shit,” Kora exclaimed.

  There were three shelves piled with stacks of money. Open boxes that appeared to have stocks and bonds. They had Rouse bring out those and other boxes that contained gold, jewelry, and various bonds and certificates of deposit.

  “The mother lode,” Kora said, opening a box and pulling out a handful of jewelry.

  Leon looked at Rouse’s cell when it buzzed. “That’s your boss,” Leon said, handing him the phone. “Tell him everything’s cool. Tell him we’re on our way down with Daisy. And talk normal. I even think there’s a hint of a signal, you’re dead.”

  Rouse did as he was told, and then Leon took the phone from him, adding, “We’re on our way, boss.”

  He hung up.

  Kora said, “I stay with Tricky Dick here. Find out some things, like where else he’s got secrets hidden. And he can help me pack some money and stuff. I don’t want to hang around. You go deal with Thorp.”

  Motioning to Sydney and Marco, Leon said, “Let’s go down and see old sport, get him on the program.”

  This can’t go well, Sydney thought as they left Kora and Rouse in the office and headed back into the hall.

  Sydney was in the lead, followed by Marco and then the killer. She was edgy. Leon was unpredictable, and how much power Kora had over him—and how long it would last—was the question. Plus the guy was on some powerful drugs and drinking, by the smell of him.

  She saw no good end with Thorp once he realized what was going on. Or maybe Leon and Kora had another game up their sleeve. Maybe an ultimate betrayal was still coming.

  They were ushered through the great room, then down another hall filled with paintings, mostly of what looked like French and Italian scenes. Then they walked into a back room that led to the tunnel.

  She heard Marco say from behind her, “I’m thinking, after this, you get bored down the road, we might work together again. This is turning out to be interesting.”

  Sydney liked how Marco was playing this guy, trying to get the guy thinking ahead. But that might not mean anything in the end. Outthinking a sociopath was impossible.

  “The world is ripe for the taking,” Leon said.

  Based on logic and Sydney’s experience, either the client was going to be killed, or they were.

  They reached the tunnel. Ogden Thorp waited, standing by the cage door.

  They passed under the faux torchlights on the medieval stone walls.

  “What took you so—” He stopped and appeared to be trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

  “I got a present for you,” Leon said. “They aren’t dead. I was just fooling you. Setting you up for the big shockaroo. It’s something I wanted to surprise you with.”

  Sydney’s gut tightened. Maybe he was always, in the end, going to hand them over to Thorp and his lion.

  “What the hell?” Thorp said, confused, looking a little drunk and definitely shocked.

  “Alive and well,” Leon said.

  Thorp didn’t seem to know how to react but chose to be positive. He smiled. “I’ll be damned. You’re just full of surprises.”

  “Life’s all about surprises,” Leon said.

  Thorp said, “Sydney Jesup, I thought you were dancing at the bottom of the lake. But I’m actually glad to see you. I have someone I want you to meet.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Sydney said, looking at the big old lion sitting on the slab across the pool, under a dim ceiling light, his yellowish eyes watching them, a massive wreath of fur exploding around his neck. Behind him, a cave, more rocks.

  She figured the moment of truth had arrived. But she had no idea which way it was going.

  61

  “Easy, boy,” she heard Leon say to Marco, who was no doubt poised to make some kind of desperate move.

  “Marco, we’re good,” Sydney said. “Right, Leon?”

  “That’s right,” Leon said in that muted drone of his.

  They had gone from trusting Kora and getting betrayed to now hoping the killer was under Kora’s control and would follow the plan.

  Sydney thought Thorp looked like some mad fool pacing around in his white suit with his English racing cap. He pushed open the iron cage door, saying, “George has been waiting, haven’t you, old sport? Didn’t get fed yet today.”

  He turned to Leon. “Where’s Daisy and Rouse? They don’t want to miss the big show.”

  “We made a mess,” Leon said. “They’re cleaning it up. Maybe we’ll go up, help them.”

  Thorp said, “I got something here I want to show you.” He pulled a small Derringer from his pocket. “Jes
up, come on over here.” He pointed the small gun at her. “You and me need to conclude our business.”

  Thorp said to Leon, “This is the woman who busted your face and nearly destroyed the greatest project in the history of Lake Tahoe.” Then he turned back to Sydney. “You’ve been a royal pain in the ass. I’ve dreamed about this moment. You and your boyfriend here like to fight, well, you’re gonna have a real fight on your hands.”

  “First we need to talk about some things,” Leon said.

  “Later,” Thorp said, almost yelling. “I’m gonna hire you permanent. You did one hell of a job and you’re going to get a very big reward. A payday you’ll love.”

  Thorp motioned to Sydney with the Derringer. “George has been dying to make your acquaintance, right George?” he said, glancing back at the old lion.

  “Damn, that’s a pretty gun,” Leon said. “Never seen one like that.”

  “A piece of history,” Thorp said with drunken pride. “Two guns were made and one of them John Wilkes Booth used to kill Lincoln. This is the brother to it. A real piece of history.”

  “You’re bullshitting,” Leon said.

  “I certainly am not. This is the real thing.”

  “Let me see that,” Leon said. “I love the history of guns. Marco, move over there along the wall under the light.”

  Marco went to the wall under one of the torchlights. Sydney exchanged looks with him. He was tight, coiled. Leon was well aware of his demeanor and didn’t want him close.

  Leon moved Sydney ahead of him and then reached out for the gun. Thorp didn’t look like he wanted to put his prize in Leon’s hands, but he surrendered it, given Leon had a much bigger weapon in his hand.

  Leon, a gun in each hand, brought the Derringer up where he could get a good look in the dim light. “Boy, that is a beauty. You have this tested or something? Make sure it wasn’t some fake replica?”

  “Everything was checked out,” Thorp said. “I’d like to give it to you, but I can’t do that.”

  “I love old guns,” Leon said. “But nothing in my collection matches the history of this baby. Consider it a gift for a job well done.”