by Matt Rogers
King found the right one.
He got what he was looking for from the headline, but he opened the article and scrolled through it anyway.
Just to make sure.
He lifted his eyes off the phone.
Slater could see it on his face.
King said, ‘Possession with intent to distribute, and it was felony weight.’
Slater raised his eyebrows.
As if to say, Come on.
King said, ‘She got eleven years.’
Slater bowed his head. King knew Slater couldn’t help himself, and admired it. Slater hadn’t even met Josefine Bell, knew nothing of her troubles aside from the story King had passed on, but still the man felt deeply for her. Probably due to all the injustice he’d seen first-hand.
He didn’t need to know her.
But she’d been destroyed by a system rife with flaws.
And in the end all they were here to do was make a few things right before their time was up.
Their failure was staring them in the face.
That didn’t mean the war was over.
Neither of them spoke for a while. There was a mutual understanding that neither wanted to go inside, so they stood on the porch and watched the street. There were situations rapidly unfolding out there … out in the dirt and grime of the city. Away from the bright lights.
Slater said, ‘Heard from Violetta?’
King shook his head and pointed at his swollen face. ‘I’ve been busy.’
‘I was just wondering if she called.’
‘No.’ King paused. ‘Have you heard from her?’
‘Alexis did. On the phone she mentioned Violetta got herself a meeting with the DA.’
King nodded. ‘That was the plan.’
A pause.
Slater said, ‘Should we…?’
‘She can handle herself.’
Slater nodded. She sure could. He’d seen it first-hand.
Alexis, though…
He feared for her. She was only a month into this journey, only recently separated from civilian life. She could shoot straight, and she could hit pads harder than when she started, and she could keep a cool head under pressure, but the world out there was a different beast entirely.
He counted out each second that passed. Each one reminded him she wasn’t back yet.
They ticked by, on and on, endlessly.
King said, ‘Maybe we should—’
Their phones started shrieking, one by one.
First King’s, then Slater’s.
There was the tiniest delay between each, but Slater’s stomach had already dropped by the time he heard his own speaker join the chorus.
His blood ran cold.
He turned his palm, tilting the screen to face him.
King was doing the same.
Slater froze. It was the panic response, alright.
But it wasn’t Alexis.
It was Violetta.
Slater looked up.
King was staring at him, urgency blazing in his eyes.
They sprinted for the Bentley.
29
Thirty minutes earlier…
If this was a subtler operation, Violetta would employ caution.
She’d pull up a mile out from the DA’s office and proceed on foot. In her old job she’d have scouts to scope the area, all of them tier-one Special Forces operatives, before she even thought about moving in herself.
But time was of the essence.
And King and Slater had taught her the accuracy of the old George S. Patton quote:
A good plan violently executed now is better than a perfect plan executed next week.
So, with full knowledge that there were eyes — and probably guns — trained on her, she pulled into the parking lot of an unassuming commercial building. It was four storeys tall, with black reflective glass windows covering the whole exterior. It was indistinguishable from an ordinary office complex. There was nothing impressive about it whatsoever.
She got out, felt the sun on the back of her neck. The lot was deserted. She braced herself for the shot that could very well come, but she knew it was pointless. She wouldn’t even be aware if she took a direct hit. The bullet would enter her skull and snap her out of existence before she’d even figured out it was bouncing around in there, turning her brains to mush.
She made for reception. There was no reassurance of a gun in her clutch or in a holster at her waist. She had a role to play, and that meant unabashed confidence. If she claimed to be an all-powerful matriarch from a distant land, it’d ruin the illusion if she showed up paranoid to meet Gloria Kerr, armed to the teeth. Kerr’s staff were going to strip her of weapons before entering the meeting no matter what, so it was best to show up without any in the first place. Otherwise the dynamic changed. She’d seem more vulnerable if she turned up and had to be alleviated of her firepower.
So no guns.
She walked right in and approached the big wooden reception desk. Behind it sat three staffers. Any one of them could be in the know, or perhaps none of them were.
Violetta stared daggers at the young man in the middle and — re-adopting the accent — said, ‘I am here to see Gloria Kerr.’
He managed a nervous glance into her eyes, and didn’t seem to like what he saw, so he looked straight down at the folder in front of him and began flicking through it with a trembling finger. ‘Do you have an appointment?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s your name, ma’am?’
Violetta stood in silence.
Eventually he looked up, his left eyelid twitching. ‘Ma’am?’
‘She is expecting me.’
‘If I could just—’
‘Go inform her that I am here,’ Violetta demanded. ‘It is in her best interests. I will not—’
‘Chase!’ a deep voice shouted from a spiralling staircase off to the side of the reception area. ‘Leave it. We’ll take it from here.’
The young guy — Chase, it seemed — looked over and nodded his understanding like a loyal puppy dog. But that didn’t seem to be enough to cool his nerves, so he pushed the swivel chair back a couple of feet, physically separating himself from the strange woman.
Violetta understood.
He was an intern — a kid, really — who had his head screwed on straight. A kid who’d seen many odd happenstances take place in this complex, and was now having to pretend he was unaware. She wondered how many unsavoury characters he’d seen come and go. How many names he’d left off the official visitor’s log.
She turned and saw two men in suits coming down the staircase. They both ticked all the boxes she expected. They were big, and they looked like they were ex-military, and they looked mean, but they kept that whole package suppressed under expensive suits that did a pretty terrible job of blending them into corporate America. They didn’t belong in boardrooms, but the nature of their current work kept them confined to those sorts of spaces.
They were just waiting for an opportunity to release a little testosterone.
If they so much as antagonised her, she’d give them an excuse to.
It wouldn’t go well for them.
Patience, she told herself.
She pushed off the reception desk and waltzed toward them across the space. She offered a hand to the bigger of the two — the guy on the left. He was bald and strong-jawed and black-eyed. He took it suspiciously, but shook it anyway.
She said, ‘I am Ana.’
‘Tony,’ he said. ‘This is Eric.’
She nodded warmly to Eric but got a cold glare in return, so she refocused her attention on Tony. At least he’d shaken her hand without needing prompting.
‘Has your boss warned you about me, Tony?’ Violetta said.
Tony looked her up and down. He wasn’t subtle about it. She could see his thought process unfolding in real time. Something like, Gloria said it’d be an old Russian woman. Now I’m looking at a fairly young, very attractive Russian woman.
<
br /> He said, ‘She might have.’
‘You have nothing to worry about, my dear,’ she said. ‘I am friendly. See?’
She mock-curtsied.
Eric didn’t react.
Tony managed a half-smile.
‘Come with us,’ Tony said. ‘We’ll get you taken care of upstairs.’
When he turned around, she patted him on the rear. ‘I like you taking care of me, Tony.’
He shook his head, flabbergasted, and quickened his pace to get away from the woman he’d probably labelled a crazy bitch.
But that’s the thing about crazy…
Sometimes it’s the most alluring.
Eric wasn’t buying it. He was squat and cube-like and seemed as if he could break her in half with his bare hands. He turned to her and said, ‘No games. We know what you’re here for.’
She batted her eyes, her gaze innocent. ‘I am here for a conversation, Eric.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘You’re not.’
They took her upstairs and Eric demanded to be the one to frisk her. He clearly sensed weakness in his colleague, and weakness was rife to be exploited. He took her to a bare room and searched her professionally for guns and wires. Finding neither, he took her clutch away and locked it in a small safe outside to prove he wasn’t going to invade her privacy. Then he gestured her down the hallway.
Flanked by the pair of bodyguards, she went to the door at the end and knocked lightly on the wood.
‘Come in,’ a muffled female voice said.
She looked over his shoulder. ‘What I have to say requires … privacy. You two will wait out here?’
‘That’s what we searched you for,’ Eric said, and nodded his approval. ‘Go right ahead.’
She might have respected them for taking their jobs seriously if she wasn’t aware they were protecting a corrupt DA abusing her power to propagate an underage sex trafficking operation.
But Violetta was aware.
So instead of warning them to get the hell out of Dodge before shit hit the fan, she nodded curtly to them and slipped into the office.
Where she came face to face with Gloria Kerr.
30
Severe was the first thing that came to mind when Violetta saw Kerr.
And it was the only word that stayed on it.
Everything from the hair yanked back tight against her skull, the pronounced cheekbones, the pale skin, the light blue eyes, the thin lips. She looked like a wraith. It only shocked Violetta because, doing research the night before, she’d seen a handful of Kerr’s media appearances. In public, the woman was a different creature entirely. Warm and glowing and intimate, addressing every question from journalists with sincere respect, never once wavering from the performance.
And it was just that.
A performance.
She was a chameleon, given the withering stare she sent in Violetta’s direction upon entering.
Kerr sat behind a broad desk made to look rustic, with faded metal and faux chips and scratches across the designer surface. Her desk chair was expensive, too, high-backed and ribbed with support. She didn’t get up for a greeting.
Which was understandable. The newcomer had threatened to ruin her.
Violetta had never expected politeness.
Kerr said, ‘Ana, is it?’
Proving she had a live connection to Tony and Eric, and had heard every word of the conversation downstairs.
Violetta smirked and said, ‘It is.’
‘Seducing my men won’t work,’ she said. ‘If that’s really the route you’re trying to take.’
‘I seduce everyone, darling. Whether I intend to or not.’
Kerr rolled her eyes.
‘Sit down,’ she said, ‘and tell me what you’re so desperate to share in-person.’
‘It is nice to meet you, too.’
‘Shut up.’
Kerr shot daggers across the room. Violetta didn’t mind. Withering stares were her forte. She returned the favour as she sauntered across the space. The floor-to-ceiling windows opposite Kerr’s desk faced out over downtown Vegas. They were only three floors up, but the building across the street was single-storey and her office was large enough to offer a panoramic view. Violetta counted five or six streets in sight before she turned away and sat down in the chair opposite Kerr.
Kerr sat forward, put her slender arms on the metal surface of the table, and looked right into Violetta’s eyes.
A weaker person might have wilted.
Violetta remained straight-backed, unperturbed.
She said, ‘Shall we talk? Or are you going to keep trying to intimidate me?’
Kerr said, ‘There’s something you don’t know.’
‘What is that?’
‘You met Tony. You met Eric. Neither of them are on my payroll. Neither of them live in Vegas. In fact, neither of them live anywhere. Do you know why?’
Violetta didn’t bother to grace her with a response.
Kerr said, ‘Tony and Eric are dead.’
Violetta said, ‘Interesting. They look very much alive to me.’
‘They perished in an unfortunate training accident working for a private security firm in Virginia, only a couple of years into their post-military careers. Frontline Security compensated their families handsomely, and there was rumour of an unsanctioned operation, but time makes everyone forget rumours. Everyone moved on. Everyone forgot.’
‘What is your point?’
‘My point,’ Kerr said, clasping her hands, interlocking her fingers, ‘is that some people will do anything for money. Even abandon their families, their old lives, their old identities, to come work for me. What that also means is that they are free to do as they please without consequence. So, for example, if I asked them to come in here and shoot you in the back of the head, they’d be happy to oblige.’
Violetta didn’t respond.
‘You know why?’
Silence.
Kerr said, ‘Because they’re ghosts.’
That’s funny, Violetta thought. I’ve got my own pair.
She kept that little secret to herself.
Violetta said, ‘Are you done?’
‘I’m done.’
‘Good. Now can we get down to business?’
‘Depends.’
Violetta smirked. ‘No, it does not depend. Now, how many establishments are you running within the city limits?’
‘That’s none of your goddamn business.’
Violetta mock-patted herself down. ‘No guns. No wires. You can speak freely.’
‘I know I can,’ Kerr said. ‘Why should I? I have no idea who the hell you are.’
‘I am someone you should be very worried about. I am bringing my operation here. I have more resources than you, more experience in this business, and less public responsibilities eating up so much of my precious time.’
Kerr didn’t respond.
Violetta said, ‘Do you think you are the only one who has killers working for you?’
‘I assure you Tony and Eric—’
Violetta held up a flat palm. She didn’t rush the gesture. She made it commanding, all-powerful.
It silenced Kerr.
Violetta said, ‘You have killers. I have killers. You would not have lasted a day growing up in my part of the world. You are surrounded by comfort. I know you think you are above it, but comfort is insipid. To this day I live in squalor. These clothes I wear, the car I drive — it is a … performance. I will not allow myself a moment’s reprieve until I own this city.’
‘You think I’m not the same?’ Kerr said. ‘You think I took this public position for anything other than my own best interests?’
‘Of course I know why you are the DA. I know everything about you.’
‘No,’ Kerr said. ‘No, honey, you don’t.’
Silence.
Kerr said, ‘Tell me about your operation.’
‘No.’
‘I thought as much.’
‘What d
o you think, exactly?’
Kerr said, ‘Here’s what I think. You’re talking in vague generalities because you don’t have a fucking clue what you’re getting yourself into. You’re not as influential as you’re portraying yourself to be, and you’re framing everything in an attempt to get information out of me. Do you think I got to where I am by being stupid? Do you think I don’t see right through your little act?’
You’re losing her, Violetta thought. Do you take a risk?
Or do you give up?
Never the latter.
So she took a risk.
She said, ‘I thought you might accuse me of that. So I figured I would send a message in advance. Call Armando Gates. Ask him what happened to four of his men last night. Ask him if they ended up with bullets in their heads in a lot beside the Spring Mountain gravel pit.’
Kerr froze.
Violetta said, ‘Do it now, or the same thing will happen to your men before they make it through that door.’
Kerr only paused for a couple of seconds.
Then she picked up the phone and dialled.
31
Violetta was impressed by the DA’s calmness.
She stared at her the whole time she was on the phone, unblinking, intimidating.
Kerr wasn’t fazed.
She spoke in a low voice, making enquiries without the slightest waver in tone. Two separate conversations, with only a ten-second pause between calls. The first person she called was calm, the next was erratic. It was obvious from the babbling squawk coming faintly from the receiver.
Kerr finished the second call with, ‘You won’t believe me, but it wasn’t Ray.’
Something that sounded like ‘You’re goddamn right I don’t believe—’ barked out of the receiver before Kerr hung up and put the phone on the desk.
She took a shallow breath and said, ‘Okay. You’ve made your point.’