Smoke & Mirrors

by John Ramsey Miller

  92

  BRAD MET WINTER IN THE GARDNERS’ FOYER, AND after following him to the master bedroom where a still-dressed Leigh was stretched out on the bed, he filled them in on his meeting with Klein. He didn’t tell them he suspected that Klein had been behind the plan to kill the Gardners, as the injustice would gnaw at them. The important thing was that the Gardners were no longer in danger and Cyn would soon be safe at home.

  “He’s paying five million, in cash? Just like that?” Brad asked.

  Winter nodded. “I think he would have probably paid more, Leigh. But it’s what you thought was fair and it is an amount he can live with.”

  “What about Mulvane?” Brad said. “Does he know what he’s done?”

  “He seemed convinced,” Winter said. “Hard to tell with a man like Klein. He gave me the impression that he has suspected some subterfuge on Mulvane’s part all along. After the deal is done, we’ll take the bonds, put them in Brad’s evidence safe, and you can move them to your bank when it opens.”

  “I don’t care about the bonds,” Leigh said.

  Winter asked, “Where’s Alexa? I want to tell her.”

  “You didn’t see her? She took off to watch your back when I told her you went to the Roundtable.”

  “No,” Winter said.

  He opened his cell phone and dialed Alexa, his fingers trembling involuntarily. After three rings she answered.

  “Yes?” she said.

  “Lex!?”

  “What’s up?”

  “Where are you? Brad told me you followed me.”

  “I saw you leaving the casino and as I was getting ready to follow you, I got a call from Deputy Director Hatcher. He insisted that I meet with some field agents from the Memphis office. No biggie. I’m driving to the FO now.”

  “Okay. We’re doing the deal tonight at nine.”

  “So you don’t need me right now?”

  “No. I guess not. You scared the hell out of me is all. I was about to call in the cavalry.”

  “I’ll be back from Memphis as soon as I can get away,” she said. “I want to be there when Cyn calls or shows up. You stay sharp, you hear?”

  “There’s no danger. Klein will make sure Mulvane doesn’t pull anything.” Winter closed the phone and slipped it into his pocket.

  “Can you imagine Mulvane’s face if a dozen armed deputies had thundered into the casino hollering out Alexa’s name?” Brad said.

  “The only thing I know is that nothing is going to happen to Alexa on my watch. Anybody does anything to her, and it’s scorched earth time.”

  93

  STYER TOOK THE PHONE FROM ALEXA’S EAR, CLOSED it, and removed the earpiece he’d used to listen in on her call. She was in an armchair, where Styer had placed her after carrying her from the bathtub, still bound. Paulus put the second phone into his pocket where she could see it. She had cooperated because Styer told her he had planted a bomb containing three kilos of Semtex in the Gardner house. The detonator was rigged to his cell phone. All he needed to do, if she tried anything rash, was to hit the SEND key. She had taken his word, seeing in her mind the faces of everyone inside the house. She knew he would not hesitate to kill them.

  “So Cynthia’s alive?” she asked.

  “She is indeed. You’ll see her very soon.”

  She watched him, still so convinced by the disguise that to hear his Eastern European–accented English flowing from the familiar lips was as unnerving as having a dog talk to you.

  “Why Winter?” she asked.

  “I don’t understand your question,” Styer said.

  “Why all this to kill Winter?” she asked. “What did he do to you?”

  Styer sat in the chair across from her, crossed his leg, and studied her without answering.

  “I understand you were supposed to kill him in New Orleans. Why did you lie—say you weren’t?”

  Styer said, “He both knows and talks too much. He talks about me to the CIA and the FBI. I saw a photo of him meeting with the new leader of the shadow group that is seeking to kill me. I explicitly forbade him from looking for me as the condition for allowing him to rejoin his family and take care of the orphaned Porter girl. He chose to ignore that. Did he imagine I wouldn’t know everything? I thought he was smarter than that.”

  “I know for a fact that he hasn’t been looking for you. A man he presumed was from the CIA spoke to him about you, in the guise of warning him.”

  “I saw a picture of him meeting with a cell leader.”

  “Somebody made sure you got it then. If they told anybody he was looking for you, if there was a picture of that meeting, it means they took it to spread the word, figuring you’d come after him so they could nail you. Doesn’t that make more sense?”

  “Winter lied to you,” Styer said, rubbing his chin gently so as not to disturb the synthetic skin or the makeup that covered it. “He wants revenge for those old people in New Orleans.”

  “You mean Millie and Hank Trammel?”

  “That wasn’t personal. I explained that to him. In this line of work, there is often collateral damage.”

  “The Trammels were like family to Winter. I don’t expect you to understand that. But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You’re a killer. He isn’t.”

  “Don’t be so naive. Do you know how many men and women he has killed?”

  “He only kills when there’s no alternative. His life is filled with people who love him. You don’t have any idea what that is like. Despite all of your expertise, you’re never going to be more than a heartless calculating predator.”

  Styer smiled warmly. “Alexa. We are all only animals of varying intelligence. Our thoughts are no more than chemical reactions. Our movements are just electrical responses to stimuli. Like all living things, we are born, we live our lives, and we die and rot right off our skeletons. Family is accidental and random, based on sexual desire and fertility. Friendships are merely selfish associations. We join together as animals to feel safer, to pool emotions others have convinced us are necessary to feel better about ourselves. He has to kill me, as I have to kill him. As long as I live, he will not be able to feel the world is more than chaos, that there is a god, that anything matters. Conversely, as long as he lives, I will have to look over my shoulder, and I can’t allow that. I gave him a chance to live, but he can’t forget about me and what I did to those old people.”

  “How did you know he’d be here?” Alexa asked.

  “I keep close tabs on him.”

  “You don’t know everything.”

  “What don’t I know?” Styer asked.

  “You’ll see,” she said.

  “Tell me,” Styer said, taking a knife out of the pocket of his cardigan, and opening it so she could see the short serrated blade. “I’d like to know what the great FBI agent Alexa Keen could possibly know that I don’t.”

  Styer stopped smiling and stood, casually holding the knife down by his leg.

  “Oh, there’s one thing I should tell you,” Alexa said, taking a deep breath.

  Her scream was the loudest, most powerful sound she had ever made, and completely took Styer by surprise.

  He lunged at her.

  94

  KURT KLEIN TRIED TO RELAX, BUT EVERY FEW MINUTES he checked the computer for Styer’s reply, softly cursing the empty screen. He was accustomed to business-borne intrigue and suspense, but so much was hanging on this deal that he was screaming inside.

  Kurt winced when the phone rang. Finch answered it and spoke softly into the receiver before placing his hand over the instrument and walking over. “Sir, a Senator Raffleman wishes to speak to you.”

  Kurt took the phone and waited until Finch had left the room. “Klein here.”

  A woman said, “Just a second, please.”

  After a click, Bert Raffleman’s voice came on. “Kurt, how are you?”

  “I am fine, Senator.”

  “And Fre
ida?”

  “She’s in Paris spending money. And how is Cindy?”

  “Doing the same here in Washington, of course. Any word on when you’re going to hold that press conference on your resort?”

  “Absolutely. I will be scheduling it tomorrow, and the invitations will be going out Monday. Can’t do it unless you’ll be here to take credit, since you have been so instrumental in paving the way for it.” Not to mention the nine hundred thousand dollars I paid you and your crooked, blood-sucking pals, you slow-talking, two-faced ass.

  “Well, it’s not every day we get an investment like yours down there. Going to be a big boost to the economy. I can’t wait to get on one of those golf courses you’ll be building. And Cindy is excited about the spa. Not that she needs any help in the beauty department. Just let me know when and I’ll be there. You know I wouldn’t let you down. That’s what friends are for,” Raffleman drawled.

  After he hung up, Kurt glanced at the computer screen and saw that Styer had answered his e-mail. Sitting forward on the edge of the couch to see better, he put on his glasses and read the response.

  Uncle,

  Message understood. Good news on land. Girl will be home by ten tonight. Will be away from computer from here out. Wire money if satisfied. I have personal business to attend to before leaving.

  Kurt closed the connection and sat back, thinking. Styer knew he had been called off the Gardner family. The part that was of concern was the “personal business” reference.

  He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Massey’s name had been vaguely familiar to him even before Mulvane mentioned it. Kurt had learned from his source in D.C. that Winter James Massey, while he was a deputy U.S. marshal, had crossed swords with a rogue group of shadows, killing several of them in a series of firefights. He knew that when Yuri Chenchenko had betrayed Styer, he had sent him to kill an ex–federal marshal. That contract had been a ruse, designed to put Styer in a position to be killed by the CIA-sponsored shadow men. Since Massey knew Styer by name, and knew he was in Tunica, the only explanation was that Massey was Styer’s target, and that had to be the personal business Styer mentioned.

  It all made sense. Styer had pushed Klein for the assignment in Tunica after Klein had asked Styer to recommend a lesser talent for the job. Styer, claiming he needed an easy assignment to stay sharp, had asked Kurt to let him solve the Gardner problem. For the past eight months Styer had lived here among the natives, doing research and crafting a plan that would make the land deal happen by the drop-dead date Kurt had given him. That date was at hand, and, however it had happened, the land was as good as Kurt’s.

  Styer could not kill Massey. Not here or now. He stared out the window unseeingly as something came to him. The only people who could possibly take Styer out were the shadows—the cutouts who’d been Styer’s main adversaries before the Berlin Wall fell. They had wanted Styer dead for years, and had made a very expensive deal with Yuri to get their hands on him. If the two unidentified men Massey had told him were dead were cutouts, they would have been expecting to find Styer, and now that he had killed two of them, they would be looking even harder for him.

  Kurt had an idea and a new direction for his thoughts.

  95

  PIERCE MULVANE HAD BEEN RELIEVED WHEN KURT Klein had summoned him with the news that the Gardner land transaction would be done that evening by nine. On Monday the crews would come in from their hotel rooms in Memphis, and in two weeks the ground would be raised several feet, and a trench would be dug to the base of the levee. Soon, a temporary hole would be cut in the levee to connect to the river so the actual casino could be floated there in sections from the fabrication yards. Using the Mississippi River as a highway, they would put the casino together section by section in the concrete pond. The levee would be put back as it had been by the corps, the trench filled in by private contractors, and the casino’s foundation would forever float in a few inches of water.

  Klein had invited him to have a celebratory dinner in his suite after the papers were signed. Mulvane picked up his receiver and pressed the intercom button. “Send Tug in.”

  Tug Murphy came through the door seconds later, closed it behind him, and stood in front of the desk, hands behind his back. “Yes, sir?”

  “Sit,” Pierce said, smiling. “Take a load off.”

  Tug took a seat and sat with his back straight, folding his hands on his knee.

  “I’ve been asked to have a celebratory dinner with Herr Klein tonight,” Pierce said, suppressing the glee he felt. “The Gardner land deal is in place, and I believe he wants to make my position with River Royale official. The Germans are big on formality.”

  Tug nodded once.

  “As a reward, he asked me to give you and Albert the night off,” Pierce said.

  Tug’s expression became worried.

  “You should be honored that he’s so thoughtful. Not that you don’t deserve that and a nice bonus—which will be forthcoming—but that he has thought enough of your efforts to make the gesture.”

  “A few minutes ago his man, Finch, said he wanted to go get some local color,” Tug said. “He said we—him and Albert and me—ought to go to a restaurant that had good local food, and hit the blues bar. He said Mr. Klein wanted to treat us to a big night out. He said maybe there’d be some female company later on. It felt kind of…I don’t know…weird to take us out on the spur of the moment. He’s usually such a planner. I told him I had some things I had to see to, and he sort of insisted. He said the two men who worked with him might want to come with us, if that was all right.”

  “I see,” Pierce said, thinking through what Tug had said from several angles.

  “What seems weirdest is that Klein would have all three of his bodyguards out as well, leaving him unprotected,” Tug said. “Even stranger is that he would send Albert and me along too.”

  Pierce thought it was possible that Klein felt secure enough now that the land deal was done that he didn’t feel he needed protection. But Tug’s troubled expression concerned him.

  “If Finch wants to see the sights, seeing he’s a foreigner and all…And naturally they want someone to show them around. What time did Finch say he wants to go out?”

  “Around eight-thirty.”

  “I give you my approval,” he said with a big smile. “Go and have fun. I’ll tell you all about it when you come back. One thing…”

  “Yes?” Tug asked.

  “When we move out there to the new resort, you’re going to be getting a big raise and expanded duties.”

  96

  KURT KLEIN SHOULD HAVE FELT AN INNER PEACE, since he had made one of the most difficult decisions of his life. Once he had decided that Styer had to be sacrificed, he knew how to accomplish the task. Kurt had used Paulus Styer’s skills for more than a decade, and so he was very familiar with Styer’s methods. Styer would have infiltrated the casino in disguise in order to blend into his larger theater of operations. Klein had monitored the employees closest to Mulvane carefully, and only one employee had come in after Styer was given the nod to deal with the Gardners. That hire was a man Mulvane had asked for, but a man Mulvane didn’t know very well. He was a man recommended as being capable of performing difficult assignments, who could also be trusted to take secrets to the grave. Although Klein had never met Paulus Styer face-to-face, he was certain Styer had met him.

  When Steffan Finch came into the suite, Kurt Klein closed the computer, lit a Dunhill, and nodded for Finch to speak.

  “White is on, but Murphy says he has personal business he has to attend to. He says he can meet us at the blues club later. Do you want me to force the issue?”

  Kurt thoughtfully expelled a stream of smoke. “He said ‘personal business’? Are you sure that is what he said?”

  “His exact words.”

  “Don’t press it,” Kurt told him, comforted by hearing the expression Styer had used in his message. “I’ve got that covered.”

  “If you’
re sure.”

  “Absolutely,” Kurt said, nodding. “That will be all.”

  After Finch left him, Kurt crushed out his cigarette, opened the computer, and typed his contact in D.C. a short message. After he had finished, he felt no relief at all. He knew that in business a man had to do things he didn’t want to do for the greater good. He trusted that Finch and his associates would be capable of performing the future business-related jobs that he had earmarked for Styer. He reviewed the note he had typed out and nodded.

  Confidential:

  FYI—it may be of interest to your shadow friends now operating in the South that Cold Wind is disguised as Tug Murphy, Roundtable’s GM, Pierce Mulvane’s personal assistant.

  Payment will include a double amount as bonus and will be credited to your account when Cold Wind stops blowing.

  Klein parked the cursor on the SEND button and, inhaling slowly, pressed it with his trembling finger. He knew that his name would not be passed along as the source of the information, and he didn’t think it intelligent to tell anyone that he had been employing Styer. He doubted the shadows would botch things again. But if they somehow did, there was no way Styer would put together that Kurt had figured out who he was.

  97

  ALEXA WATCHED STYER CLIPPING HIS FINGERNAILS over an ashtray. The tape on her mouth prevented her from saying anything.

  “Now,” Styer told Alexa as he dropped a final clipping into the glass bowl. “If you want to save the Gardners, and I assume you do, you and I are going to walk out of this casino together. While Mrs. Gardner and Massey and others, I presume, are conducting their business here with Mr. Klein, we will go to the Gardners’ home. I will collect the explosives I put there during the funeral of the unfortunate young lady with the ruined cranium. After that, I will leave Massey a note and you and I will take a ride in the country. Winter will come alone to rescue you, and he and I will have our reckoning. It will be a fair fight and I will kill him. If you try anything now, I will explode the device, and whoever is in the house will be vaporized. Do you understand?”