Wrecking Team

by Ty Patterson

  Chapter Nine

  The twins got to work. Chang had sent over their investigation files, which the sisters divided. Meghan looked into the previous attacks, while Beth checked out the police files on Konstantin’s business and associates.

  The first attack had occurred two months back. Angie Konstantin had been emerging from a Fifth Avenue store, one of those fancy ones that closed down for all other customers while the young heiress shopped, when a round had buzzed past her head and slammed into the concrete wall behind.

  She didn’t know someone had shot at her, but her protection detail did. They pounced on her, bundled her into her car and swept her away to safety.

  The ensuing investigation had gone nowhere. No one had seen a shooter. No sound had been heard. A few cars had sped off after the shooting, and all of them belonged to legit, blameless owners.

  The cops had initially considered someone else to be a target. However, on investigating everyone in the vicinity, they figured it was Angie. No one else was that high-profile or was having the kind of trouble that would invite a hit.

  They surmised that the hitter had been waiting in a vehicle across the street. The shot had been taken hastily and there had been no opportunity for a second.

  Meghan turned to the second attack, two weeks later. Five masked men had converged on Angie as she was leaving a downtown nightclub. Two had shoved her friends away. Another had taken on Kerry, Quincy — who was Stubble — and Carlos, while the remaining two had grabbed the woman.

  They hadn’t succeeded. She had put up a fight, kicking and screaming. Her security detail had overpowered the lone attacker, whose partners piled in, and in the ensuing scuffle, the masked men got away.

  Again, there were no clues, nothing for the cops to pursue. No DNA traces, and the attackers hadn’t uttered a single word.

  There were camera feeds this time, since the club had CCTV around the entrance. However, all they showed was the five men coming from behind a line of parked vehicles.

  The NYPD closed the club for a few days and investigated all its customers. They didn’t get anywhere.

  The third attack was probably the most dramatic. Angie was stepping out from a cinema a week later, a red-carpet movie premiere, an invite-only audience, and climbed into her waiting car.

  Only to realize it wasn’t her car. The limo looked exactly like the one she had arrived in, and she had given it no thought when the driver, his face shadowed by his cap, had waved at her. Her protection detail was waiting in another car, well behind, and by the time they realized she’d been kidnapped, the limo was underway.

  A high-speed chase followed, which resulted in the security vehicle smashing into the limo. Its driver was captured, and there the investigation dead-ended.

  Manuel Chavez, the driver, clammed up and refused to answer any questions. The cops put him in a holding cell, and by the next morning, he was dead.

  An autopsy revealed a slow-acting poison was the cause of his death, and there the investigation hit a brick wall.

  Chavez wasn’t in the system. He had no identification on his body. No one came forward to claim it.

  Meghan sighed and leaned back, twirling a pencil in her hands. She knew how the fourth attack had gone down. None of those perps are identified, either. The first attempt was a shot, but all others seem to be grabs. Why?

  The blank screen stared back at her mockingly.

  She looked over at her sister, who had her lips pursed, a frown on her forehead. A surge of affection filled her. Beth, her baby sister. All right, they were twins and Meghan was older by just a few minutes, but she was fiercely protective of her younger twin.

  A phone buzzed. Beth reached around blindly, snagged her cell and looked at the message. She smiled, typed a reply and went back to her screen.

  Mark. That smile is for him.

  Mark was a fast-rising detective in the NYPD. He was Beth’s boyfriend, a relationship Meghan approved of. I’m happy for her. After all she’s been through, she deserves love.

  The twins had lost their folks several years back. Their father, a celebrated cop in Wyoming, had been killed in a shoot-out. They had lost their mother to cancer much earlier. As if that wasn’t enough tragedy, Beth had a hole in her memory when a she’d been shot by a campus shooter during her college years.

  Meghan had helped her sister recover, and the two had rebuilt their lives. They had met Zeb while on vacation in Wyoming. The taciturn, brown-haired man had rescued them from a cartel, and that event had led them to joining the Agency.

  ‘Sis?’ Beth tapped her shoulder.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘You looked spaced out.’

  ‘I was. There’s nothing in those files,’ she grumped. ‘Any luck on your end?’

  Beth rose and grabbed her jacket. ‘Not really, but let’s go.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘It’s time to meet Kerry, Quincy and Carlos.’

  Chapter Ten

  ‘You don’t have a resume?’ Hiram Konstantin asked the lean, sinewy man in front of him.

  ‘No, sir,’ Zeb replied.

  A frown crossed the billionaire’s face. In his world, those he employed had resumes. Kerry, Quincy, and Carlos had impressive ones, which was one reason he had hired them. The Petersens didn’t submit one, either, he reminded himself, and yet I hired them. That reminded him. Did I hire them? Somehow it didn’t feel like that.

  The twins had controlled every aspect of what had supposed to be an interview. They had turned down payment. And then they had nearly walked out. On top of that, they had treated his daughter with disrespect. Not that Angie didn’t deserve it. Konstantin stifled a smile and made his face expressionless.

  In any case, it was time to restore the natural order in his world. Zeb Carter would be interviewed, references checked, and only then would he be taken on. As a contract employee. What had happened with the sisters wouldn’t be repeated.

  ‘The commissioner speaks highly of you,’ he admitted grudgingly. Something about Carter irked him. The billionaire was used to being surrounded by people who fawned over him, responded to every word of his. The brown-haired man was not one of them. He stood, even though Konstantin had asked him to sit, feet apart, hands loose, and met the billionaire’s eyes calmly.

  Those sisters … they were the same.

  ‘What exactly do you do, Mr. Carter?’

  ‘Zeb, sir. I work in the same security firm as Meghan and Beth.’

  ‘That’s …’ Konstantin looked at a sheet that his assistant had provided him. He refused to call the security man by his first name. Boss-employee dynamics had to be maintained. That Carter called him ‘sir’ was a big plus. ‘Corporate security, correct?’

  ‘Yes, sir. We advise large companies on keeping their premises and people safe.’

  ‘You’ve an impressive client list, Mr. Carter.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Now, what makes you qualified to keep Angie safe? Her security detail had three people, but Rolando and your friends think you alone are sufficient.’

  ‘I have done this before, sir. I have protected higher security risks.’

  ‘Like?’

  Konstantin gaped for a moment when Carter mentioned the names: a world leader, a business titan, a mega Hollywood celebrity.

  ‘I was under the impression your firm didn’t offer personal protection.’

  ‘We don’t, sir. These assignments were of a personal nature.’

  ‘Personal, how?’

  ‘I can’t reveal that, sir.’

  Konstantin bored him with his eyes but Carter didn’t give. The billionaire liked that.

  ‘It says here you are Delta.’

  ‘I was, sir.’

  ‘Can you provide any references? My staff will have to vet you, and then we can progress.’

  ‘Yes, sir. How many do you need?’

  ‘As many as you can provide,’ Konstantin replied, with barely controlled irritation. Carter was behaving as i
f he hadn’t been to an interview before.

  ‘General Daniel Klouse, sir.’

  The billionaire looked up so fast his neck ached.

  ‘The National Security Advisor?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Just who are you people?’ Konstantin whispered.

  ‘We work in a security firm, sir.’

  There was no sarcasm, no mirth, no emotion in Carter’s face or voice. He kept replying evenly. He hasn’t even moved a muscle!

  ‘You aren’t name-dropping, are you?’

  Carter recited a cell number. ‘That’s the general’s personal phone, sir. He’ll be expecting your call.’

  ‘You …’ Konstantin was lost for words.

  ‘I told him. On the way, sir. He said he had met you at some fundraiser in DC.’

  ‘Yes, I didn’t think he would remember.’

  Carter didn’t say anything. He stood there, his hair fluttering lightly from the air-con’s blast.

  The billionaire cleared his throat. It was time to take charge.

  ‘We need to discuss terms, Carter, if this is to go ahead. Name your fees.’

  ‘There are none, sir.’

  Billionaires didn’t moan; otherwise, Konstantin would have.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he demanded.

  ‘Just that, sir. We, Meghan, Beth and me, are doing this for the commissioner. No payment involved.’

  ‘But … I’m your boss!’

  ‘No, sir. I’ll protect your daughter until the sisters find out who’s behind these attempts and we stop them. You don’t employ us, however.’

  The sheet in Konstantin’s hand fluttered to the floor.

  ‘You can always work with someone else, sir.’

  ‘No,’ the billionaire recovered. ‘Mr. Carter, you’ve got the job.’

  ‘Just like that, sir?’

  ‘Yes, and for one other reason.’

  ‘What’s that, sir?’

  Konstantin grinned. ‘Angie will hate you.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Beth and Meghan met Kerry in a bar. The bodyguard showed no signs of resentment at being fired. He ordered them drinks and answered every question of theirs professionally.

  ‘No, that wasn’t our job,’ he replied to Beth when she asked whether he had investigated the attacks.

  ‘That attempt at the cinema — why were you so far behind?’

  ‘Event security, ma’am. The organizers wanted it that way. No security detail was allowed near the red carpet. Mr. Konstantin discussed it with them and only then greenlighted Angie’s attendance.’

  ‘How did Chavez get past security?’ Meghan flagged the server for another round.

  ‘You’re Meghan, right?’ Kerry smiled disarmingly. ‘Hard to tell the two of you apart.’

  ‘Yeah.’ She didn’t smile back. It wasn’t a social visit. The three bodyguards were on their suspect list.

  ‘He had the right credentials. He was the named driver for a Hollywood star.’ The bodyguard mentioned a name. ‘His face checked with the photo on their system. The car’s plates matched. What the security cordon didn’t know was that the celebrity had left an hour earlier.’

  ‘How did Chavez know that?’ Meghan made herself look intrigued. The NYPD checked that out. They initially suspected the actor, but it turned out that Chavez, or whoever was behind him, had hacked into the event’s system.

  ‘Someone hacked into the system. That’s what the cops concluded.’

  Kerry didn’t have anything else to offer. His story of the attempts matched those in the police files. Pizaka and Chang had interviewed him extensively after each attack, and their record didn’t deviate from what the bodyguard was telling the sisters.

  ‘What do you think?’ Beth asked Meghan as they were leaving.

  ‘You’ve got Werner on him?’

  ‘Yeah. Didn’t turn up anything. Decent financial records. There’s money to be made in the protection business. A house on Long Island. He’s not married. Has a girlfriend who is in Brooklyn. No offshore accounts. No extravagant purchases. Nothing suspicious.’

  Werner was the supercomputer in their office that ran a sophisticated artificial intelligence program.

  Beth held her forefinger up before Meghan could speak. ‘Nothing on Carlos either.’

  ‘Quincy?’

  Beth snorted. ‘You’ll see when we meet him.

  ‘Nope, am not going to tell,’ she smirked when Meghan looked sharply at her.

  Quincy lived in an apartment complex in Jamaica. An upmarket neighborhood filled with studios, cafes, and media agencies.

  ‘Not where I thought he would live.’ Beth looked up at the building and checked out the street. ‘How much do you think these apartments go for?’

  ‘About a mil or two. The building’s new, gated, own security. He owns his place?’

  ‘Yeah. Bought outright. No mortgage.’

  Meghan whistled softly in surprise. That was some doing, even for those in the protection business. They waited for an approaching resident to swipe the entrance with a keycard and rushed in behind her.

  ‘Friends of Quincy,’ Beth said with a smile when the woman looked curiously at them. They took an elevator and stepped out into a carpeted hallway.

  ‘He might not be home,’ Meghan hissed.

  ‘He is,’ Beth replied smugly. ‘I’ve been tracking their phones.’

  ‘I hate smartasses.’

  ‘Deal with it, sis.’

  The bodyguard’s apartment was at the far end, next to the fire exit. Muted music sounded from within when Beth pressed the buzzer.

  Movement at the eyepiece, a muffled exclamation, and the door swung open.

  ‘You babes?’ Quincy drawled, bare-chested.

  The sisters strode past him without a word, checking out the apartment with practiced eyes. It looked like he was alone and not expecting company. The TV was tuned to a music channel. A bottle and a half-empty glass stood on a table in front of a couch, along with empty packets of nuts. A shirt was flung carelessly over a chair. Bedrooms empty, an unmade bed in one. Kitchen surprisingly tidy.

  ‘You taking me up on that offer?’ the bodyguard chuckled when they returned to the living room. ‘I’ve always wanted to tango with two —’

  His sentence ended in a gasp when Meghan shoved him against the wall.

  He exploded.

  He slapped her hands away and grabbed at her hair. She twisted away and slammed a punch into his gut.

  He bent double, wheezed, a wicked light shining in his eyes. He sprang forward without warning, intending to bring her down. Met her rising knee. Knocked it away with his left hand, threw a punch with his right, which she blocked and then applied a judo hold. He evaded easily and struck back in return, catching her on the jaw.

  ‘Stay away,’ Meghan snapped at her sister and wiped her mouth.

  Okay, playtime is over.

  She rushed forward, hands rising, feinted. The two traded punches and blocks in a blur, Quincy grinning as he used his size to crowd her backwards and force her into a corner.

  ‘The things I’d like to do to the two of you,’ he panted, his eyes alight.

  He shouldn’t have said that.

  A calm filled Meghan. Her breathing evened out. Her vision sharpened. She saw Quincy’s strike arriving as if in slow motion. The hard edge of his right hand heading towards her neck. His left shooting at her belly. His body too close for her to escape.

  She steeled herself and took the hammer blows, her head rocking, breath escaping her in a whoosh, sight blurring, a groan escaping her.

  Started falling limply to the floor, felt rather than heard his satisfied chuckle.

  And then she acted.

  Her left fist bunched and struck at his groin. Her right elbow punched into his thigh. He yowled and drew back and, when his left foot rose from the floor, she got the opening she wanted.

  For a fraction of a second, he was off-balance. She grabbed his leg, twisted it, body-slammed him,
brought him to the floor, jabbed him fiercely in the throat, and knocked him out.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Beth hurried over with a wet towel.

  ‘Yeah.’ She panted and wiped her face and palms. She felt her ribs. They seemed okay. Twisted and turned her neck. It hurt, but that was to be expected.

  They trained with Zeb, who had taught them to control their breathing and use it to calm themselves during intense action. They had also learned from him the technique of absorbing blows. She ran her tongue over her teeth. All intact. Her lips were bleeding and would be swollen for a while. In all, she had come out relatively unharmed. ‘He hits hard, I’ll give him that.’

  ‘Wait till I hit him with questions,’ Beth snarled. She went to the kitchen tap, filled a glass of water and emptied it over Quincy’s face.

  The bodyguard jerked and came to with a moan. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and when his eyes landed on Meghan, they narrowed. He struggled to sit upright, his mouth working.

  ‘You —’

  His head rocked back when Beth slapped him.

  ‘Don’t say it. You’re in deep trouble. We can call the cops, tell them you assaulted us, intended to rape us. You might clear yourself, but your reputation will be ruined. You’ll get no clients. Think about it and choose your words carefully.’

  Quincy glared, his gaze switching between the two sisters. He nodded in acceptance finally and struggled to the couch. Winced when he sat and mumbled thanks when Meghan thrust a bowl full of ice cubes at him. He placed them over his groin and sighed.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘This apartment. How did you afford it in cash?’ Beth sat opposite him. ‘That beachfront house in the Bahamas. You bought it just after the first attempt on Angie. That timing … you’d better have some good answers.’

  The bodyguard reared forward, grimacing at the hurt in his body. ‘How do you know all that?’

  He looks surprised, not scared, Meghan observed, a flash of pride surging in her at Beth’s finding. That’s why she wanted to accost him.

  She moved closer to Beth, ready for anything from the seated man. That Quincy was astonished … not the sign of a man who could be involved in Angie’s attacks.