When Darkness Falls

by James Grippando

  chapter 27

  I t was still dark in Nassau when Riley returned home from the Greater Bahamian Bank amp; Trust Company. He was exhausted, annoyed, and determined to get another two hours of sleep before meeting with the bank’s attorneys about the safe deposit box matter. He was forced to deal with lawyers far too often to suit his own preferences. Probably the only thing that wasn’t secret about the offshore banking industry was that the secrecy regulations and the endless challenges to them had made plenty of lawyers rich.

  Riley climbed the front steps to his townhouse slowly. The sprawling tropical canopy over his front yard blocked out the glow of the street lamp, and he’d neglected to turn on a porch light before rushing out the front door to meet Swyteck and the others at the bank. The door was unlocked, just as he’d left it. Crime wasn’t exactly unheard of in the Bahamas, but something about island living seemed to encourage unlocked doors and open windows, as if to deny, or at least defy, the existence of evil in paradise. Riley entered the foyer and tried the wall switch. The room remained dark. No great surprise. Power outages were a way of life in his neighborhood. He closed the door and waited for his eyes to adjust before trying to cross the room. He was about to take his first step when, from the other side of the living room, he heard the distinctive cocking of a revolver.

  “Stop right there, Riley.”

  He froze in his tracks. The voice was familiar, though he might not have recognized it so quickly if he hadn’t just spent the night dealing with box 266. “News must travel pretty fast.” He was trying to sound breezy, but he couldn’t conceal his nervousness.

  “It’s a small world, Riley. Even a smaller island.”

  “That it is, mon.” Riley’s eyes were adjusting to the darkness, but the man was still just a shadow in a black corner of the room. Not that Riley would have recognized him. In their past dealings, he had only heard the man’s voice, never seen his face. The fact that he’d cut off the electricity at the circuit breaker signaled his clear intention to keep it that way.

  The gunman said, “I hear that someone finally cleaned out box two sixty-six.”

  “You hear correctly.”

  “Who was it?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  The man’s chuckle was laden with insincerity. “Good answer.”

  “It’s the only answer I can give you.”

  “I can live with that,” the man said, and then his tone became sterner. “So long as it’s also the only answer you can give to the police.”

  “That’s up to the bank and its lawyers.”

  “Wrong answer.”

  Riley waited for him to say more, but there was only a long, uncomfortable silence. Several strands of speculation began to race through his mind, and none of them ended in a very happy place. Riley could not escape the conclusion that the man was simply debating whether to shoot him here, in Riley’s own living room, or to take him somewhere else and do the job.

  “Here’s my problem,” the man said finally.

  Riley’s throat was dry, and he had to force his response. “Yes?”

  “Police are such nosy bastards. If you tell them who cleaned out the money, what do you think their next question is going to be?”

  “I-I don’t know, mon.”

  “Think about it.”

  “I’m having a little trouble concentrating right now. I’m sorry. I’m sure the bank’s lawyers will have an answer.”

  “Screw the lawyers. You ask them for a straight answer, they’ll give you six wishy-washy ones and bill you for twelve. Let’s keep this simple. I’ll answer it, and you tell me if you agree with me. All right?”

  The gun made it difficult for Riley to disagree. “Sure, mon.”

  “When the police find out who took the money, they’ll have just one question: How the hell did all that cash get there in the first place?”

  Riley said nothing.

  The gunman continued, “Don’t you agree?”

  “I suppose so,” said Riley.

  “Stop being coy with me. Do you agree or not?”

  “Yes. I agree.”

  “Now, here’s something else I’m sure we can both agree on. If the police unravel this money trail all the way to its source, things are going to get very ugly for you.”

  Riley said nothing.

  “Can we agree on that, Riley?”

  Riley swallowed hard. He wanted to speak, but his mouth wouldn’t move. He was too afraid of saying the wrong thing.

  The man said, “I need your agreement on that, friend. Because if I don’t get it, I’m going to have to kill you right here and now.”

  Riley could hear himself breathing. He’d dealt with some unsavory characters in his time. Bank secrecy had its dark side. But no one had ever threatened his life, at least not in such a matter-of-fact tone. There was no doubt in Riley’s mind that the man meant every word of it. “Okay,” he said, his voice little more than a peep.

  “Okay what?” the man said.

  “No one will ever find out where that money came from.”

  “Good answer, Riley. That’s a very good answer.”

  He rose from the chair, a silhouette in the darkness. The face was obscured in shadows, but Riley could detect the faintest outline of a gun.

  “On the floor,” the man said. “Face down.”

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice cried out, begging Riley to resist. He tried to ignore it, but he continued to hear the warning over and over, as he lowered himself to the floor and laid his cheek against the rug. The man approached, and Riley could feel the vibration of each heavy footfall. The man stopped, towering over him, and Riley could see only the tops of his shoes.

  He imagined that the gun was pointed directly at the back of his head, and tomorrow’s headlines quickly flashed through his brain: “Banker Found Dead in Home, Shot Execution-Style.”

  “Count to a thousand, out loud,” the man said. “Don’t even think about getting up before you finish.”

  Riley started counting.

  “Too fast. Slower.”

  Riley started over again. One, two, three. The man walked away. Nine, ten, eleven. The front door opened. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. Riley heard it close. He didn’t move a muscle, but his voice was shaking.

  He didn’t stop counting until the first signs of daylight shone through the slatted wooden shutters.

  chapter 28

  M iami’s cold wave was coming to an end. Theo could feel it. The motel room was getting hotter, stuffier by the minute. It was growing brighter, too. Flickers of sunlight filtered through the top of the old drapes and broke over the heaping barricade of overturned furniture and mattresses like dawn over a hilltop. If Theo could somehow crawl across the room and yank those drapes off the window, the snipers might be able to scope the interior, see over the mound of furniture, and take a shot. He assumed there were snipers out there. Those guys lived for the chance to shoot something other than the ink out of a bull’s-eye at two hundred yards. All they needed was an opening, one kill shot straight to the head. Game over. The cop-killer would be dead. Unless they were under the impression that it was Theo who had shot those police officers. Surely, Jack had explained to them that the black dude wasn’t one of the bad guys. But would they believe it? Or would they see nothing more than a criminal defense lawyer covering for his old client? They must have pulled his record by now and seen that Jack had sprung him loose from death row. It wouldn’t matter that DNA evidence had proved him innocent. Like everyone else who professed to “know” about Theo’s past, they would assume that he’d gotten off on a technicality, that his clever lawyer had thrown some legal bullshit up against the wall and it stuck. They’d see a murderer in the crosshairs and a chance to serve the ends of justice-delayed but not denied. First shot, Falcon. Second shot, the black piece of shit who deserved to die. A tragic mistake. What a pity.

  Calm down, Theo told himself. Maybe the sniper’s a brother.

  “Hey, mister,
” said Natalia. “Are you ever going to let us use the bathroom?”

  Falcon looked in her direction. She’d apparently roused him from some very deep thoughts, as it took a moment for her request to register. “Use what?” he said.

  “The bathroom,” said Theo. “We been sitting here for six hours.”

  Falcon was standing at the front door. He pressed his eye to the peephole and stole one more quick peek of the parking lot, then turned and walked to Natalia. “She goes first.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Let him go.”

  “Shut up! If I say you’re first, then you go first. Do you hear me?”

  She glanced nervously at Theo. Their voices were loud enough to carry into the bathroom, and they both knew that all hell would break loose when Falcon opened the door. It would have been a stretch to call it a coordinated effort, but Theo was obviously the better point man on this side of the bathroom door.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll go first.”

  Both Theo and Natalia had their hands tied behind their backs, and Falcon had bound their ankles tightly with electrical cords that he had yanked from the lamps. Falcon knelt down slowly, pointing his gun straight at her face. With the free hand, he loosened the cord around her ankles so that she could walk. Then he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up so hard it cocked her head sideways, her cheek practically lying on her shoulder. She was sandwiched between Falcon and the wall as he jammed the gun under her chin and aimed straight at her brain. “Do not try anything,” he said.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

  Her clothing was tight, and Falcon seemed to like the feel of his body against hers. “And the door stays open,” he said.

  “You mean you’re going to watch me use the bathroom?”

  A vacant smile creased his lips. “Aren’t you used to it, jinitera?”

  “Hey,” said Theo. “There’s no need to be calling her that.”

  “I thought you didn’t speak Spanish.”

  “Do you seriously think there’s a bartender in Miami who doesn’t know how to say ‘prostitute’ en español?”

  “Do you seriously think it’s worth taking a bullet to defend this one’s honor?”

  Theo didn’t answer. Falcon kept the gun trained on the back of Natalia’s head as he nudged her forward and followed directly behind her. From the standpoint of a potential escape, it was unfortunate positioning. If Natalia’s friend in the bathroom did have a gun, it would have been difficult to get off a clean shot at Falcon without wounding or killing her in the process.

  Theo remained on the floor. It was just a few steps from his seat against the wall to the bathroom, and his angle offered a clear view of the door. He had been trying to loosen the bindings around his wrists for hours, with little progress. The cord around his ankles was equally secure. If something good was to come of this, it was up to Natalia and her friend.

  Natalia was taking small, deliberate steps toward the bathroom door, as if plotting her next move. Theo wondered if the man inside was ready to rise to the occasion. Was he standing at the ready, hammer cocked and prepared to fire? Was he any kind of a shot at all, or would bullets fly wildly in every direction? Would he lose his nerve and freeze up? Did he even have a gun?

  Falcon reached past Natalia and grasped the doorknob. Theo prepared to scoot forward and roll, if need be, to help overpower Falcon. Falcon turned the knob and pushed the door open.

  Out of the darkness, a white blur shot, like a linebacker racing through the open doorway. With it came a scream so loud and shrill that it chilled Theo and completely disoriented Falcon. The man emerged from hiding and slammed into Natalia, pushing her against Falcon. The momentum sent all three of them sailing across the dressing area and crashing against the wall. Falcon hit first, then Natalia, followed by her friend. The combined impact dislodged the gun and sent it flying through the air. Natalia was kicking furiously, and her friend was pummeling Falcon with both fists, as the gun hit the tile floor. Theo immediately rolled toward it, but it was sliding away from him. He was quickly entangled in the two-on-one dogfight against Falcon, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed another woman hiding in the bathtub.

  “Get the gun!” shouted Theo.

  She didn’t move. The bathroom had no windows, no source of light, making it difficult for Theo to see her. But he could see enough in the shadows.

  “Damn it, get the-” he started to say, but Falcon’s boot caught him squarely in the mouth. Falcon sprang to his feet, and he was regaining control. He shoved Natalia aside, grabbed her friend by the shirt, and slammed the man’s head into the wall. The guy went down in a heap, dazed if not unconscious. Falcon rolled to his right and snatched up his gun.

  “Nobody move!”

  Theo froze. Natalia was on the floor, her shirt torn and blood coming from her nose. Her friend appeared to be breathing, but he was otherwise motionless, facedown.

  Falcon was shaking, more angry than frightened. “You planned this!” he said. “I told you not to try anything!”

  Theo glanced toward the bathtub again. He could see her hand draped over the side of the tub, and the top of her head. Come on, baby. It’s now or never.

  “I should kill you for this!” said Falcon as he thrust the pistol in Natalia’s direction.

  “Don’t shoot me, please!”

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “I’m only eighteen. Please, don’t do this to me.”

  Falcon was breathing heavy, staring at Natalia. Then he turned the gun toward Theo. “I guess that leaves you, big guy.”

  “I don’t think you want to do that,” said Theo.

  “Oh, then you don’t know me very well,” said Falcon.

  “You fire that gun, and the cops will be in here in two seconds flat.”

  “Who said anything about a gun?” Falcon reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a steak knife. Homeless people were like walking kitchens. Theo wondered what else he had in there. Another ammunition clip, maybe? In the tussle, Theo had definitely felt something under that bulky coat. Falcon must have known that the police were searching for him after that body was found in the trunk of his car. Had he prepared himself for a standoff?

  “The cops are probably on their way in here already,” said Theo.

  “Nice try,” said Falcon.

  There was a groan, then a gurgling sound, from inside the bathroom. Falcon and Theo both shot a look through the open doorway. The woman still hadn’t moved from the bathtub, and she showed no reaction when Falcon pointed his gun at her.

  “Don’t move!” shouted Falcon, but she seemed to have no such intention. Falcon stepped into the doorway and flipped the light switch. Nothing happened. Apparently, he’d forgotten that they were without electricity. He dug into his coat pocket again, found a disposable lighter, and kicked up a flame that brightened the bathroom.

  Only then did Theo notice the blood.

  Falcon let out a scream that was beyond shock, beyond fear, beyond the most harrowing screech of a mortally wounded animal. It lasted a good ten seconds, and when he stopped to take a breath, he slammed the door and stepped away, trembling with each tentative step backward.

  He was staring at the door, taking aim with his pistol, as if he expected it to open at any moment. Nothing happened. There was not another sound. Finally, he raised a fist and shouted toward the bathroom, shouted at the top of his voice, “No, no, damn it! Not you again!”

  chapter 29

  V ince Paulo was at the mobile command center when he caught a blip of radio squelch in his earpiece. The excited voice of one of the officers outside the motel room followed.

  “I think we heard a scream from inside the room, Sergeant.”

  Vince keyed his microphone. “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I heard it. Jonesy says he heard it too.”

  “Man or woman?”

  “Man, I think.”

  Vince keyed his mike again and summoned up his audio specialist. “Bolto
n, what are you picking up in there?” She took a moment to respond, and Vince imagined that she was adjusting the controls, trying to get a clearer transmission. “It sounds like some kind of argument going on, sir.”

  “Do you have a video feed yet?”

  “Negative. When Swyteck’s car crashed into the building, it crushed the AC ducts leading to the room. There’s no place to snake the transmission line. Our tech team planted these listening devices as close as we could, but until we have a green light to enter the next room and plant something right on the adjoining wall, it’s not going to give us what we want.”

  “Can you isolate on anything?”

  “I tried separating out some background noises, but it’s just a screech to me. If the officers on site say it was a man’s scream, I’ve got no reason to doubt it.”

  “Got it, thanks,” said Vince.

  Chavez said, “If he’s savaging the hostages, we need to breach.”

  Vince took a moment, thinking.

  Chavez said, “What are you waiting for, gunshots?”

  Vince picked up the phone and dialed. “If he doesn’t answer, we breach.”

  FALCON WAS STARING at the cell phone on the floor as if it were some kind of chirping alien. It rang a second time, and then a third.

  “You better answer it,” said Theo.

  “Quiet!” It rang two more times. Nobody moved. Then, on the sixth ring, Falcon sprang like a cat, grabbed it, and hit the talk button. “Swyteck?” he said in a hoarse whisper.

  “It’s me, Vince Paulo.”

  “I told you I didn’t want to hear from no more cops,” he said, the anger coming through, even in a whisper.

  “We heard a scream. Is everything okay in there?”

  “Where’s Swyteck?”

  “Why are you whispering?”

  He gnawed his lower lip, wincing like a man in pain. “Tell me where Swyteck is.”

  “He’s on his way back from the bank. He’ll be here in a little while. Now, like I said, we heard a scream in there, Falcon. It sounded like a man. I need to hear Theo Knight’s voice, make sure he’s okay.”