by Jo Leigh
“No. I won’t be until this is over. So let’s just do it, okay?”
“Here’s the drill. You just point him out to me. That’s all. And the minute I’ve got him, you get the hell away. Go to any police officer you see and tell them you need to see Owen Coffey at the Mirage. They’ll take care of you.”
She nodded. “He’s going to be somewhere close. I know they were meeting on the Strip, and Todd isn’t going to want to walk far. It’s too crowded.”
He pointed south, toward the Fashion Show Mall. “Let’s go.”
They headed deeper into the crowd. Damn, there were so many people. So much potential for things to go bad. Real bad. Yet there was nothing to do but plow through.
He stuck close to her, trying to see, in this mess, anyone carrying a suitcase or a backpack. Which was something of a problem because one hell of a lot of tourists had backpacks. He could eliminate women, men under a certain age, which helped, but still it was nuts. He kept getting bumped, his feet got stepped on. He discovered a mass of bruises he hadn’t been aware of.
“I can’t see,” Jenny said, raising her voice so she could be heard over the cacophony.
He didn’t have an answer for her. It would be damn easy for her to miss the guy. Too easy. “Tell me what he looks like.”
She paused and someone bumped her from behind. She glared, but it was an older man being pushed himself.
“Jenny.”
“Yeah. Okay. He’s about your height,” she said.
“Dark hair, what there was of it, gray at the temples. But that was in ninety-nine.”
“Right. What else?”
“He’s thin, and he has really prominent cheekbones. He smoked some fancy Russian cigarettes. But all that might have changed.”
He repeated her description into his lavalier microphone. Maybe someone would make a connection. At least he knew they weren’t looking for a short redhead.
“Good job, honey,” he said, practically yelling into her ear. “This way.” He took her arm and powered through a pack of elderly women.
On the other side, Jenny paused, staring over the heads of half a dozen Asian tourists. “Follow me,” she said a second before she plunged into the middle of the group.
He couldn’t do anything else. Except ask God to give them a damn break.
C. RANDALL TODD smiled with total contentment. The El Rio had gone down in a blaze of glory, taking care of a few personal issues with it. He’d miss Jenny. She’d been a beautiful girl. She’d had no idea how beautiful, but then, that had been part of her charm. He’d find someone new. Someone who understood loyalty.
And by now, Nick Mason was history. He trusted Sweet to dispose of the body in his typical efficient manner. It was time Henry got a bonus. Something sizable. A Lotus perhaps, or a speedboat for the lake. Now there was someone who understood. Not like Mason. His betrayal hurt worse than Jenny’s. He’d treated Nick like a son, and what had he done?
He wouldn’t think about that now. He had bigger fish to fry. He’d taken the case with the money from the back of his limo and sent Kahrim back to the Xanadu. The suitcase weighed quite a bit. Not as much as the suitcase he was buying, but it was still considerable. Of course, when he came back, he’d be carrying two suitcases, which is why the meet was to take place so near The Mystique. He never did care for physical labor.
He walked through the crowd, marveling at the sense of anonymity. When was the last time he’d gone unrecognized for so long? Too long ago to remember. He accepted the constant recognition as a small price to pay for all he had. It would be worse after this week. After he turned the bomb over to the authorities.
He could already see the headlines. The tributes. But the real payoff, aside from the millions of dollars he’d add to his coffers, was that the arms community would know exactly what he’d done. They’d understand the finesse, the thought that had gone into his scenario, and the truly important ones would come to him for certain favors.
Which was, of course, the point.
He would be the most powerful man in the world. As destiny decreed.
His hand curled around the injector. Potereiko wouldn’t fall for a few minutes. Time enough for Todd to gain a bit of distance, just far enough that when the Ukrainian fell, he’d be able to get the money without at tracting attention. Only then would he call out for someone to get an ambulance.
It was such a simple plan. Elegant. Worthy.
JENNY MOVED FORWARD, following the top of a head. It wasn’t much, and it probably wasn’t his, but something… There was something familiar about the man… It could be Potereiko. She tripped over a baby carriage, but Nick was there to catch her. Not stopping to thank him, she searched desperately for the head again, and there it was, in front of a souvenir shop. If she could just see his face.
Abandoning politeness, she elbowed roughly through the pack, taking curses as she went. But there, right there, he turned, looked just past her, and she stopped dead.
Raising her hand, she pointed to him, and Nick, right next to her, saw him, too.
Nick spoke into his radio, words she didn’t listen to. Her total focus was on the man with the bomb. She couldn’t lose him now. Not after all this.
A moment passed and it seemed as if time slowed. The crowd, as if sensing the danger in their midst, dispersed just enough. Enough for Potereiko’s gaze to find hers. To lock on.
She watched him with fascination. The changes played on his face. He knew her, but how? Ah. Todd’s girl. The shift of his gaze as he searched for Todd. The pause as he spotted Nick. The earphone. The gun that rose above the crowd to point directly at him. His face, always so reserved, so Slavic in its stoicism, just fell. He aged a hundred years in half a second. He understood. The game was over.
Nick moved forward and as more and more people saw his weapon, they clawed their way into shops, onto the street, away. “FBI. Hold it right there, Potereiko. Put the case down and raise your hands.”
Jenny followed, never moving her gaze from the Ukrainian. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him bend down. Put the suitcase on the sidewalk. He rose stiffly but not empty-handed. A gun. Gray, big, ugly. It was at his side, moving up, up. “Nick, look out!”
But the gun wasn’t pointing at Nick. It moved in a slow arc, up toward Potereiko’s head.
Behind him, two men, guns held in two hands, aimed at his back.
“Don’t shoot!” Nick yelled at them. “Hold your fire.”
Potereiko’s gun made it that last inch. The barrel was at his temple.
The FBI men shot him in the back. He went down hard, his own weapon flying from his hand, landing inches from Jenny’s foot.
Nick raced over to the body. The two FBI agents were already there. Nick felt for a pulse as the taller of the two men reached for the suitcase.
Within minutes it was four FBI agents, then seven, and the area was miraculously clear, the crowd inching closer already to see.
Jenny bent to pick up the gun. It was heavy. But not too big. She turned right, looking now for another face. Another monster.
TODD HEARD the sirens and turned to look at the commotion across the street. A robbery, perhaps? A murder. Certainly nothing to do with him. Where the hell was Potereiko?
Potereiko would never have betrayed him. He had too much to lose. As for Edward being sloppy? It wasn’t possible. He was at the designated meeting place. Potereiko should have been here by now, but if he’d seen the mess over there, he might have reconsidered making the drop. He had Todd’s cell phone number. If the plan had changed, he was to call.
Todd shouldered his way to the curb. If he could see what it was…
The corner was swarming with plainclothes cops. He couldn’t see past…
Todd froze as a slender woman turned in his direction. He didn’t need to see her face to know who it was. But how? How had she escaped? No one escaped when he sent Sweet to kill them. No one. It was impossible.
And yet, as she swiveled and showed him
her face, there was no mistaking that it was Jenny. In her wedding dress. She was filthy, but it was her.
He backed away from the curb as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. Hitting speed dial number one, he waited for Sweet to pick up, but the phone just rang and rang until an electronic voice told him the party he was trying to reach was not available. Furious, he threw the phone to the pavement and headed toward The Mystique.
There were too many people! He cursed and shoved, not giving a damn who he stepped on. He had to get to his suite. Regroup. Find Sweet. This was his fault. He hadn’t tied her up properly. He’d been sloppy. No one gets sloppy if he wants to work for C. Randall Todd.
He glanced behind him. Nothing. But then, to his left. Damn. It was Jenny, and she was moving fast.
He spun around, heading in the other direction.
“JENNY!” Nick yelled.
She didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge him at all. She just kept moving. He looked past her, but all he saw were strangers. Except…
Todd. Nick took off after him, cursing the distance between them, the civilians in the way. “Jenny, damn it, stop!”
She didn’t.
He crossed the street, but not fast enough to catch her. Todd, who he could only see in bits and snatches, was heading toward Treasure Island. The crowd, impossibly, was thicker there, waiting for the outdoor pirate show.
“Owen, come in.” The radio crackled with static.
“Talk to me,” Owen said finally.
Nick stumbled over something in the street, caught his balance by grabbing onto a portly man with a video camera at his eye.
“Hey!”
“Sorry.”
“What’s happening out there?”
Nick regrouped, but kept moving. “I’ve got Todd. He’s on the southwest corner of Sands. By Treasure Island. Get every man you have over there.”
“Roger. Out.”
Nick had made inroads, and he was closing in on Jenny. She startled him though, by ducking under a police barricade and edging her way through a long row of teenage girls dressed to kill.
He shouted again. She looked back at him, but didn’t wait. Nick could see Todd now, stalled by the jammed crowd in front of the British ship just in front of the hotel. The music started, signaling the start of the show. As Nick watched, Todd climbed over the wooden railing and leaped onto the middle of the ship. He almost fell in the water as he held the grappling rope with only one hand. In the other, he had a death grip on a silver suitcase. As soon as he had his footing, he climbed up the side of the ship, swung the suitcase over the gunwale and clambered over.
There were only so many places he could go. Up the rigging, which was a dead end. Over the side. Onto the facade behind the water.
If he got into the hotel, they were screwed.
Nick pushed harder. He saw Jenny again, making her way through the throng in the middle of the walkway leading to the entrance of the hotel. Nick followed, hoping to stop her before she got in the line of fire. Todd wasn’t stupid. He had a weapon, and if he was cornered, he’d shoot to kill.
People were shouting now, being shoved by Jenny, by Nick, who had almost reached her, and some were pointing up to the ship. Nick ducked before a beefy guy with whiskey breath, and when he stood again, Todd had abandoned the ship and made it to the rocks that were the first layer of the elaborate facade that was the staging for the pirate-ship battle.
There were mock stores and cubbyholes filled with pirate treasure, and Todd was having trouble climbing with only the one hand. Nick had to move closer. He couldn’t get a shot off with so many people between him and Todd.
Todd stopped, turned his head to look at the crowd. He wavered, climbed another inch. Then he heaved the suitcase as hard as he could, right over the ship and into the water. It hit with a huge splash, and people started clapping.
By this time, the actors for the show were coming on deck. Dressed as pirates, as sailors, they headed for their marks, just as any other night. A few saw Todd, but they still moved into position.
Now that Todd had both hands free, he moved quickly. Damn quickly for a guy almost sixty.
Nick shoved, pushed, barreled his way through people who were literally shoulder to shoulder. He’d been jabbed by so many elbows he’d lost count.
By the time he had made any significant headway, Jenny was almost at the entrance to the hotel. But so was Todd. All he had to do was drop down and run right in.
Nick raised his weapon, but he was too slow. A shot rang out, then another. It was Jenny. She stood in front of an oncoming herd of security men, gun in both hands, getting ready to take another shot. But Todd had his gun out now and it was aimed straight at her.
Nick shouted, but he was too late. Todd’s gun went off and Jenny went down.
Nick’s heart stopped as he crashed through, but then he saw that it wasn’t the gunshot that had felled her, but a security guard, his hands still around her legs where he’d tackled her.
Music blared. That and the special effects were all computerized. Whoever was in the control booth would have no way of knowing about the drama just below his window.
Nick made it to the walkway, near Jenny. He went for his ID, but he didn’t have it. All he could do was shout, “FBI. Clear the hell out!”
No one listened. Except Todd. He looked down at Nick, then at the crowd of security just below him. He headed left, toward the pirate ship.
Nick raced to meet him, but in the mass of humanity, he was achingly slow. Todd, unencumbered, moved like a man afraid for his life, and in the next second he’d hit the deck, pushing his way past pirates and their treasure.
Nick tried to get a clear shot, but the actors and stuntmen were all over the deck. “Todd!”
Todd didn’t even look at him. He neared the mizzenmast. If he climbed that, he could get to the rocks behind it and, once there, make an easy jump behind the wall, out of sight.
The show had gone on, with the actors’ lines booming over the huge speakers set all over the deck. Some of the actors braved ahead, while others stared at Todd, then at Nick. It was close quarters up there, and Todd’s gun spoke louder then a megaphone. No one armed with a prop pistol was about to take him on.
“Get down. All of you. Clear the ship.”
Some heard Nick and headed for safe ground, but it was so damn loud, and there were so many tourists, that most of the actors were oblivious.
Todd hadn’t taken a breather. He was halfway up the mizzenmast, climbing the ropes as if he’d done it his whole life.
Nick ducked under the railing and jumped to some prop boxes in the water. He was finally clear of civilians. Jenny was safe. Todd was going down.
As Nick aimed his weapon, Todd climbed onto the crow’s nest. He had his gun in his hand but he didn’t aim it at Nick. He turned to his right. Nick followed his field of vision.
Jenny was right there in plain view. Her hands were behind her back, held by a security guard.
Todd pointed his gun at Jenny.
Nick screamed, “Jenny, get down,” but didn’t wait to see if she obeyed. He took a bead on the center of Todd’s chest and fired.
Just as his weapon discharged, a huge explosion made him jump. A wall of fire burst out of the rocks just behind the crow’s nest.
As thousands of people watched in horror, the fire engulfed C. Randall Todd, setting him instantly ablaze.
He screamed, once, and then he toppled forward, slowly, and as he fell to the water below, his flaming body sent sparks flying into the night.
The splash, when he hit, was huge, soaking everyone close to the edge of the water. Nick had to wipe his eyes to see clearly again. To find Jenny.
She was right there, where he’d last seen her. Her gaze fixed on the body, still aflame, white hair floating in the water.
Nick got to her fast, now that the crowd had backed up, away from the danger. He saw an agent he knew nearby and called him over. “Tell the nice security man to let the girl
go, would you?”
“Sure thing, Nick.”
While they negotiated, Nick moved in front of Jenny. Her gaze, wet with tears, lifted to his. A moment later her hands were freed and she was in his arms. He held her, tight. Rocked her back and forth as their new reality sunk in.
Todd was dead. It was over.
He pulled back just enough so that he could kiss her. And kiss her he did. That very moment, fireworks lit up the sky. In celebration. In gratitude.
They were free.
Epilogue
It was the Fourth of July. Their second since the bad time had ended.
Nick stood in the backyard in his trunks, piling charcoal briquettes into a pyramid in the barbecue. He looked terribly serious, as if one misplaced briquette would ruin everything.
His son, Patrick, stood next to him. Mimicking his dad, he scowled with intensity as he watched every move.
Jenny smiled at her boys. She had all the burgers and dogs ready for the grill, but at the rate they were going it was going to be dinner, not lunch. She didn’t mind.
She settled back in her lounge chair, her book forgotten for the moment. Her gaze swept across their backyard, complete with tree house, swimming pool and a pathway that led right to the lake.
Behind her was her dream home. Two stories, plenty of room, a great kitchen and even better family room. They’d indulged in a few places, like the master suite. How she adored her Jacuzzi tub and her magical shower.
But mostly, she loved the house because it was theirs. Because they’d all been through so much together, and now they had this place in sleepy little Milford, where Patrick had friends and she and Nick were welcomed with open arms.
They’d been married for more than a year, and all of them had worked hard to leave the past where it belonged and to create a family that was strong and supportive and happy.
The amazing thing was that they’d succeeded so well.
“What do you think, Patrick. Ready for the match?”
Patrick nodded. “Good job, Dad.”
“Thank you,” Nick said, sounding way too much like Elvis. “Thank you very much.” Then he took the long lighter and touched the flame to the key spots on the pyramid. He turned to her and grinned. “Half an hour, babe.”