“Unless it is merely her opinion, which it is, as it is mine and the sheriff’s, along with others I’ll leave unnamed.”
“And you suspect Pierce Mulvane ordered these killings?”
Winter explained what led him to that conclusion as Klein listened patiently without interrupting.
“And after this land is transferred-if I do not already own it, as I have been led to believe by Mulvane-what else do you want from me?”
“I’d like for Mr. Mulvane to call off Styer and secure Cynthia Gardner’s safe release.”
“Anything else?”
“I’d like to know how to find Styer.”
“The professional killer you believe he hired.”
Winter nodded. “Truth is, I had the feeling when I mentioned the name in the conference room, you recognized it.”
Klein shrugged. “In the world of international business I hear many things about many people.” Klein smiled, looking suddenly weary. “If Mulvane did hire this man to do what you said, he will be held accountable, and he will see that this Styer releases the girl unharmed. Would that be satisfactory?”
“It would.”
“And what do you think is a fair price for the Gardner land?”
“Five million dollars, at this point.”
“So can we do this tonight?” Kurt asked. “I can draw a check, or give her bearer bonds. You may use my phone and call her.”
“I will ask her,” Winter said.
Winter stepped across the room and dialed Brad Barnett. He asked to speak to Leigh, and ran through Klein’s proposal with her, hung up, and returned.
“She agrees. Either a cashier’s check or bearer bonds, and have your attorney bring the transfer papers. Her attorney will be here, along with Sheriff Barnett and myself. We’ll have security in place for her protection. Nothing personal.”
“Done. And I insist on your security measures.” Kurt Klein stood, extended his hand, and the two men shook.
“And Mulvane?” Winter said.
“If he has done what you say, I will know soon, and my people will hand him over to the sheriff, accompanied by a signed confession.”
“He may not want to sign one,” Winter said.
Kurt Klein smiled, showing his slightly yellowed teeth. “If he is guilty of what you say, Mr. Massey, I am certain he will sign it. On that you have my word, and if you know me, you know my word is good. And if he knows anything about Paulus Styer, he will share that with you, and you may do with that information what you like.”
“Then we’ll be here at nine sharp.”
As Klein showed Winter to the door, he said, “Mr. Massey, the thing to keep in mind is that I will not tolerate any threat to my family’s financial well-being.”
88
Alexa took Jason Parr’s cash out of her purse in the elevator riding up to the eighth floor. She looked in at her Glock and her badge case and frowned. Most women her age had never touched a gun, much less fired one. How many of them carried one in their purse ten hours a day as they might a tube of lipstick? But since she spent most of her time behind a desk, the gun in her purse was hardly more than a little extra ballast, which she was quite accustomed to by now.
The wide polished oak doors opening into the suites were hand-carved. According to the signs, there were twenty-five suites on the eighth floor, reserved for high rollers. Eight-twenty-two was down the hall on the right. She did a double take as she passed 825, which had double doors inside a foyer protected by closed wrought-iron gates.
Alexa stopped at 822 and tapped gently. “Come in, Alexa!” she heard Jason Parr yell through the heavy wood.
From deep in the suite, Jason called, “I’ll be right with you, I was just getting out of the shower when you called. Make yourself at home while I get dressed.”
“Okay, Jason,” she yelled back as she walked into the living room. “I can only stay a minute.” No expense had been spared in furnishing the living room. Instead of a medieval theme, modern furniture was placed on an oriental carpet, which made a horseshoe around a marble fireplace. The curtains were open, revealing large sealed windows, the Delta growing dark outside. To her left was an open kitchen with light marble floors, stainless appliances, pickled wood cabinets, and granite countertops.
“I could grow accustomed to this,” she called out.
“We sure ain’t in Kansas anymore,” he hollered back. “I’m almost presentable.”
“I brought your money back. I can’t keep it. I appreciate the gesture though.”
“Whatever you say. Just put it on the coffee table, would you?”
Alexa walked into the room and stopped at the large coffee table. She was about to put the cash on the table when she saw, evenly spaced out in the center of the slab of frosted glass, four red toothpicks. She picked one up and smelled it.
Realization gave way to a thick disorienting fear. She let the currency in her hand fall to the table as she reached into her purse for the Glock. She knew-as she sensed a figure rushing up from behind her-that she’d never get it out in time.
She turned, registered that the man coming at her was narrower than Jason Parr, and felt a stream of cold liquid hit her face-searing her eyes. Even so, she almost got the Glock out.
89
After Massey left, Kurt Klein sat in silence for several minutes, thinking over his options. All things considered, five million was a bargain. Even if it were not, purchasing the land from Mrs. Gardner was the only move he could make without changing the location and starting over, which was not an option. Time was money, and every hour of delay would be financially painful, because his family’s entire empire depended on the continuing trust of a trio of international financiers. These men, who didn’t know better, believed Klein sold them points in RRI’s profits as a personal favor. If they lived, they might find out that Klein had oversold future profits to nine investors at an inflation of almost three hundred percent. However, Klein counted on the fact that for a fee, Paulus Styer would whittle down the money men, and the percentages, to something he could live with.
Klein was in financial straits because of unfortunate choices he’d made regarding the futures of new markets and acquisitions that had unexpectedly tanked. His financial balance sheets were fiction, and if the River Royale resort didn’t open on schedule, everything could collapse like a house of cards. He was a man on the edge.
Styer was the only problem that had not yet been solved. Kurt would call him off, pay him a nice bonus, and send him home until he required his services again-and he was going to need to call on him in the near future.
Kurt placed the five tiny figures from the scale model on the table before him. He lit a cigarette and studied them before separating the two mystery men from the three deaths he was aware of. He had to talk to Styer and get some assurances.
He reached into his pocket and squeezed the key fob he kept close. Seconds after being summoned electronically, Finch walked into the room.
“Steffan, I need my laptop.”
Finch strode to the master bedroom and returned with the laptop, opened it on the table before Kurt, and stepped out to allow his boss some privacy.
Kurt watched the AirPort symbol darken as it found the hotel’s wireless router and connected to the Internet. Kurt went to his private encrypted site before typing the hyperlink to the page he had used to communicate with Styer for the past few years, and keyed:
New developments require an immediate halt to your assignment. I am purchasing some land at nine P.M. tonight. I understand you may have some company. Do remember that young ladies should be home before ten P.M. Please acknowledge receipt of this message.
After he closed the link, he typed an e-mail to the GM of RRI in Manhattan, which read:
Harvey, RRI paying 5 million US dollars for parcel C tonight. Have that amount in bearer bonds delivered immediately. Alert Jerry Cunningham to come at once with papers for the transaction. Kurt
He sent the e-mail. Klein smiled
. Even though the relief he felt at that moment would be temporary, any break in the chaos of commerce was welcome.
90
Winter climbed into his jeep, slid his Reeder.45 from under the seat, holstered it, and drove toward the plantation at seventy miles an hour, checking his rearview mirror every few seconds for a tail. He was now certain of several things. When Kurt Klein had immediately agreed to pay the five million, Winter knew that Klein had not only been informed of the land situation all along, but he believed Klein himself had put Styer in play to make it happen.
Klein would have to call Styer off the family and go through with the purchase, but Winter figured that would have little, if any, effect on Paulus Styer’s intention to kill him.
Winter approached the roadblock at Leigh’s driveway, slowed and rolled down the window so the deputy could see him.
“How’s it going?” Roy Bishop said, slinging the AR-15 onto his wide shoulder.
“Never better,” Winter said. “Any traffic?”
“Nope. Cold and quiet. Had a Memphis TV crew come up, asking to see Ms. Gardner, but I shooed them off. The sheriff is expecting you.” Winter rolled the window back up and drove toward the house.
91
When Alexa woke up, she was groggy and lying in an extremely large bathtub, enclosed by marble on three sides. The frosted glass sliding doors were closed. Her wrists were handcuffed behind her. She was wearing only her bra and panties, her suit and blouse on hangers suspended from one of six showerheads above her. Her ankles were joined with cable ties, and a strip of duct tape covered her mouth.
Classical music played from hidden speakers. Her head ached, and she remembered the stream of chloroform hitting her face.
Had Styer partnered with Jason Parr, who had masqueraded as a pig farmer? They could have seen her get out of Brad’s truck. If Parr hadn’t won, and put the money in her jacket, she never would have come back. Winter had told her that nothing was beyond Styer’s diabolical planning ability. She cursed her naivete, squirming against the cold marble.
She managed to scoot forward, lie on her back, and open the doors using the bottoms of her feet. The heavy doors slid aside effortlessly and Alexa maneuvered into a sitting position. She yelped involuntarily at what she saw. Wearing a tightly stretched T-shirt, starched jeans, and cowboy boots, Jason Parr sat on the floor in a corner of the bathroom, staring out through wide-open but dry and frosted eyes. In death, he looked subtly different than she remembered. His mouth was open and his swollen blackened tongue protruded from his lips like a half-inflated balloon. Around his neck was the red silk tie that had been used to throttle him. The tie looked like the same one that the bellboys, clerks, dealers, and probably room service personnel at the casino wore as part of their uniform. The real Jason Parr looked as though he had been dead for a couple of days, which meant that the man she had gambled with was Paulus Styer.
She saw shadows under the door, and watched as the gold-plated lever dropped from the nine to the six o’clock position and was cracked open. There was a gentle rapping followed by a voice she knew but couldn’t quite place. “Ms. Keen. Are you in there?”
She felt momentary relief at hearing the familiar voice. That was replaced by horror as the man entered the room, and looked down at the corpse in the corner. “Oh, damn, you’re in quite a predicament,” he said in a honey-smooth Southern-edged accent.
When the man turned his gaze on her and smiled, she realized it was Styer in another nearly perfect disguise. Although the similarities to the man Styer was impersonating were more than superficial, his smile was an insincere imitation of the original owner’s.
“I see you’ve found me,” he said, switching to Jason Parr’s voice, indicating the body. “You’re an honest gal, but not a very careful one.”
Alexa glared at her abductor as she realized what he could do with his current disguise. Paulus Styer had found the perfect Trojan horse.
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 e
xplicitly 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.”
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