Cornered

by Brandon Massey

  The rain had subsided to a steady drizzle, the lake and woods layered in blackness. He saw the home in the darkness, though tall trees veiled the upper room at the rear of the house.

  As he remembered what he had seen in there, fear quivered through him.

  But he would have to face his fear. He would have to go back.

  Because he was thinking that maybe the child at the window was his daughter.

  44

  The Silverado was equipped with the OnStar package, which included a GPS navigation feature. Corey entered the address Todd gave him and received turn-by-turn directions to the meeting point in Covington.

  Located on the other side of the metro area, nearly an hour’s drive, Covington was a booming eastern suburb in Newton County, off I-20. As he drove on the interstate, Corey was watchful for anyone following him, though he figured that if the Feds had him on their radar, by this point they would have closed in, without preamble, and taken him into custody. But staying on the alert had become habit that day.

  After hours of slow drizzling, a thunderstorm was brewing. Thunder clapped across the low sky. Violent gusts whipped the trees, and jagged blue lightning forked the horizon.

  His state of mind was as chaotic as the weather. He’d been mulling, sporadically, over Simone’s weird remark during the last call: Remember when Jada was stung by a bee? That’s how I am right now. That’s how Jada is, too. He was no closer to understanding what the hell she was talking about-but with Leon’s crazy ransom demand, the tighter deadline, and the upcoming meeting with Todd spinning through his thoughts, there was so much weighing on him that he simply lacked the mental capacity to decode Simone’s words. Perhaps he and Todd would come up with something that would render everything else moot.

  The navigation system directed him off the interstate, through the creature comforts of suburbia-chain restaurants, subdivisions, strip malls-and into a desolate, industrial area of warehouses and tall, barbed-wire fences. Loblolly pines flanked the road, the pavement pitted with the occasional jarring pothole gouged open by rigs hauling massive loads back and forth from the highway.

  As his watch ticked toward nine, his destination came up on the right, a rectangular sign standing outside a wide entrance, the letters in reflective white paint: GATES FOOD-SERVICE, INC., SERVING SINCE 1969.

  Todd’s family owned numerous businesses, and Corey recalled that the food distribution company was one of them. Since Todd hadn’t worked for his father in years, Corey doubted the Feds would think to look for them there.

  A chain-link fence fringed with barbed wire enclosed a complex that covered perhaps twenty acres. Slowing, he swung through the open gate. Two wide asphalt lanes curved to a long brick building, the windows dark. A fleet of half a dozen rigs were parked in a fenced area, and a large parking lot abutted the warehouse, empty except for a rusty Honda sitting on a flat tire.

  Todd’s text message had instructed him to park in the back. Corey took an access road around the perimeter of the building. Twelve loading docks lined the rear of the structure. One of the bay doors hung open, weak light sifting from inside.

  Todd’s black Mercedes-Benz convertible coupe was parked at the open dock, glimmering like a beetle’s carapace in the rain.

  As Cory drew near, Todd got out of the Mercedes and motioned for Corey to park beside his car. Todd wore a black leather jacket and carried a briefcase that resembled the one Corey had left behind at the bookstore, which the FBI agents would have confiscated.

  Corey made a mental note to buy Todd a new briefcase when all of this was over.

  Outside the car, Todd greeted him with an enthusiastic handshake. “Is this not like a movie, or what? Meeting out here in the middle of nowhere ’cause we’re under suspicion by the freakin’ Feds? You”-he tapped the hood of the Silverado-“driving somebody else’s ride probably ’cause the law is looking for your wheels? Wild, huh?”

  “I’m glad you find this entertaining,” Corey said. “Meanwhile, that bastard still has my family.”

  “I know, I know, the cash drop didn’t pan out, sorry.” Todd’s eyes dimmed. “Sure you weren’t tailed?”

  Corey looked behind them. There was only the black sky charged with lightning, and the lashing rain. “Positive.”

  “Cool.” Todd squinted at the sky, rain beading on his lip. “Let’s head in to the office, then. I don’t know about you, but it looks to me like it’s gonna storm like a mother out here.”

  Nodding grimly, Corey followed Todd inside.

  45

  The warehouse was enormous, the lightbulb above the bay door revealing tall aisles of metal storage racks loaded with boxes and pallets, the rows dwindling into the darkness beyond. A bank of walk-in freezers and coolers stood off to Corey’s right, green status indicators glowing in the dimness. The cool air smelled of cardboard and lemon-scented disinfectant.

  The only sounds were the humming of refrigerators and air conditioners, and the dull roar of the storm.

  “Are we alone here?” Corey asked.

  “Just you and me,” Todd said with a conspiratorial wink. The raindrops gave his dark hair a slick luster, and his tanned skin looked oiled. “The last shift leaves at eight, same way it has since the beginning of time. I haven’t worked here since my college days, but I still have keys. Convenient, huh? I ought to host a Hold ’Em tournament or something here.”

  Todd pressed a button beside the doorway. The sectional loading dock door clattered down from the ceiling and thumped against the floor.

  “We’ll chat in the office,” Todd said. “Follow me.”

  Walking with long, swift strides, Todd led Corey around a gleaming array of forklifts, stacks of wooden pallets, and a small crane. Their footsteps echoed off the concrete floor and faded in the deep, cavernlike shadows.

  “You could garage a few 747s in here,” Corey said.

  Todd grunted, swept one hand around without slowing his gait. “The old man’s got a million cubic feet of dry storage, five hundred thou of perishable storage, another five hundred thou for frozen goods. He distributes across Georgia, Alabama, Florida, and the Carolinas. It’s a hugely profitable business-I’d be working here myself if I could stand being in a room with him for five minutes.”

  Corey remembered that Todd and his father had suffered a major falling-out soon after Todd had graduated college. Todd had struck out to make it on his own steam, to prove to his dad that he could build his own business empire. Corey seemed to recall, in an ironic twist, that a Gates-Webb alarm system secured the warehouse premises, which probably explained why Todd, in addition to having an old key, was able to get them inside after hours.

  Todd led them around a corner. Ahead, there was an enclosed office space with plate glass windows. Todd opened the door and flicked on the lights.

  The spacious office was furnished with a large metal desk and matching credenza, executive chair, and two armchairs. Industry award plaques adorned the walls, and Corey saw framed photographs of Todd’s family on the credenza.

  Todd set his briefcase on the floor and dropped into the chair behind the desk, propping his loafers on the desktop as if he owned the place. Corey settled into an armchair.

  The overhead florescents sputtered, casting them in brief darkness, and then blazed back into life.

  “Damn storm,” Todd muttered with a glance at the ceiling. He blinked, looked at Corey, drew in a breath. “Anyway, so you probably figured out that the Feds were talking to me when you called earlier. Ass wipes. I told them I didn’t know anything.”

  “Thanks,” Corey said. “I didn’t think you would.”

  “I don’t think they believed me, but, whatever.” He shrugged. “Between what you said on the phone and what the FBI dickhead told me, I know some of what went down at Lenox. Can you fill me in?”

  “Basically, they tailed me into the mall,” Corey said. “On Leon’s orders, I left the briefcase in a bookstore, and the agents popped up as I was walking away. I guess they
thought they’d find him hiding in the store. Of course, he wasn’t in there, but wherever he was, he saw everything.”

  Todd was tapping a pencil against the desk blotter. “Does he think you snitched?”

  “He sure does, and he’s pissed. He’s upped the ransom.”

  “He has? To what?”

  “One million.”

  “One million? Are you kidding me?”

  “And he wants it by Friday morning.”

  “This is nuts.” Todd pulled his feet off the desktop and snapped upright in the chair. “I never saw this coming. Christ, I’m so sorry.”

  “I take full responsibility,” Corey said. He lowered his gaze to his lap, clasped his hands together. “I took a gamble, the best idea I had at the time, and it didn’t pan out. Now I’ve lost fifty grand and I’ve got the FBI thinking that I’m helping Leon.”

  Todd hissed. “Fuck, this really sucks.”

  Corey looked up at him. “Listen, I don’t care about losing the money. At the end of the day, all I care about is getting my wife and daughter home safely. I don’t have a million dollars, period. Leon’s living in a dream world if he thinks I’ve got that much to give him.”

  “How much can you draw down?” Todd asked. “If you had, let’s say, a week?”

  Corey shook his head, massaged the back of his neck. “Man, I don’t know. Minus the fifty grand I lost today? I’d guess somewhere in the range of a hundred and sixty-five thousand, if I liquidate all of our investments.”

  “Not even in the ballpark.” Todd drummed the pencil against his chin. “At this point, since he’s big-time pissed and feels some heat from the law, he’s not going to settle for less. He’s willing to go for broke now. We’ve got to give him what he wants.”

  “Todd,” Corey said in a low tone, steel in his voice, “I just told you I don’t have a million dollars.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Corey frowned. “What?”

  “Remember Gates-Webb Security, LLC? Do you know what our company is worth? I’ll tell you-three point eight million dollars. As of last month. You know I love keeping tabs on the financials.” Todd twirled the pencil in his fingers, eyes bright, like a student who’d solved a perplexing algebra problem.

  “So?” Corey shrugged. “I figured the value was in that range, but I don’t see your point. I can’t tap into company bank accounts for this. That’s highly unethical and probably illegal.”

  Todd tilted forward in the chair, elbows on the desk. He jabbed the pencil at Corey. “That is true. But selling your interest in the business is perfectly legal. You could sell your fifty percent share to me, and the company could cut you a check. You’d walk away with one point nine million-that’s almost two million dollars, Corey. That’s more than enough to send this jerk-off packing and get your family back, and you’d have plenty left over, even after Uncle Sam takes his cut.”

  A thick vein throbbed in the center of Todd’s shiny forehead. He was smiling broadly, capped teeth gleaming, an almost lunatic grin that made him look like a used car salesman desperate to close a deal.

  Corey felt a greasy coiling in his stomach. He looked at the briefcase standing beside the desk. The briefcase that Todd had conveniently brought with him.

  The briefcase that, undoubtedly, contained legal documents that would facilitate the sale of Corey’s share of the company to Todd.

  His realization of the betrayal was so painful that he didn’t want it to be true. . but in his heart, he knew that it was.

  “What’s in the briefcase, Todd?” Corey asked softly.

  Todd winked. “After the FBI clown left, I started thinking through all of the options we might be facing. On the remote chance that you’d have to come up with some insane amount of money to get rid of this Leon thug once and for all, I took the initiative to pull together a few documents.” Rising, he grabbed the case, placed it atop the desk, and opened it. He withdrew a sheaf of papers held together by a butterfly clip and handed them to Corey. “If-big if-selling your interest in GWS is something you want to do, all the paperwork you need to sign is right there.”

  “That was considerate of you, Todd, to bring all of this for me,” Corey said. His breath rattling in his lungs, he flipped through the pages, scanned the legalese-dense text. “Wasn’t it last summer that you’d first asked me about selling my share of the company? Hadn’t you said that you’d found some interested party willing to give us a few million?”

  “I totally understand why you turned it down back then,” Todd said. “You wanted to build a legacy for your family, I get that. But this time. . you could use the proceeds from selling your share to actually save your family. How ironic, right?”

  Corey glanced at the documents in his hand. “I’ll need to have my attorney review this, of course.”

  “Oh, there’s no need for that.” Todd sat on the corner of the desk, crossed his long arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t try to screw you.”

  “But business is business, right? We’ve gotta cross all of our t’s and dot our i’s.”

  “But you need to move fast on this.” Todd stroked his upper lip, laughed nervously. “This thug, Leon. . he’s got your family. Can’t waste time while some overpaid attorney drags ass through the paperwork. If you sign these papers tonight, we could process a check tomorrow, Friday at the latest, and I’m sure Leon might be willing to give a little on the deadline, if he knows you’ve got the funds on the way.” Todd’s gaze was electric, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he spoke. “Think about Simone and Jada, Corey. Think about how you can finally bring them home safe. Tell me what kind of guy gives a shit about some company when the lives of his family are at stake, huh? You’re a loving husband, a great father. Do the right thing, for them.”

  Corey pushed to his feet. His hands trembled as he dropped the papers on the desk. He was so angry he could scream, but in the calmest voice he could muster, he said, “Sorry, Todd, I’m not interested in selling out. I wasn’t interested when you brought it up before, and I’m not interested now. If this is your idea of a plan, we’ve got nothing left to talk about. I’ll see you around.”

  Heart thundering, Corey turned on his heel and walked to the door. As he put his hand on the doorknob, Todd grunted and said, “Park it back in the chair, partner. We’re not finished here, yet.”

  Todd had a gun, and he was aiming it at Corey.

  46

  Corey slowly raised his hands, gaze riveted on the gun.

  “It’s a Walther PPK,” Todd said. Although he was holding Corey at gunpoint, pride flushed his face. “James Bond’s semi-automatic pistol of choice, a classic. Won it in a card game in Miami.”

  Corey’s throat felt stuffed with shards of broken glass. “Listen, Todd, don’t do this. Please. Let me go.”

  Todd’s sculpted face hardened. “Do you still have the piece you had with you earlier at the office? Put it on the floor, now. Move slowly.”

  “Okay, just calm down, man.” Corey lifted his shirt and withdrew the.357 from his waistband holster. Kneeling, he placed it on the tile floor.

  “Kick it over here,” Todd said.

  Corey booted the gun. It skated across the floor and clanged against the edge of the desk. Keeping his eyes on Corey, Todd picked up the revolver and shoved it in his jacket pocket.

  Corey swallowed thickly. He should have been shocked by Todd’s betrayal, and he supposed that on some level he was, but the past twenty-four hours had been so crazy that nothing seemed impossible anymore.

  More than anything, he was angry. Angry at Todd for stringing him along. Angrier at himself for failing to scope out the signs sooner.

  “So how long have you and Leon been working together?” Corey asked.

  Todd pointed the muzzle at the chair. “Sit down. Keep your hands up where I can see them.”

  Corey edged into the seat and placed his hands on the armrests, his sweaty palms dampening the fabric. As nonchalantly as possible, he scanned the desk and walls f
or possible weapons, something he could use as a distraction, and found nothing. To get out of this, he was going to need a miracle.

  Please, God, cut me a break, he prayed. Please.

  “Christ, you’re so stupid,” Todd said. He plopped into the executive chair, still clasping the Walther, muzzle angled toward the wall. “I gave you a chance to sell out and bring your family home, and you snubbed me. I ought to waste you right now for all of the headaches you’ve caused me.”

  Corey struggled to pull his gaze away from the gun. “I can’t see you and Leon as partners.”

  “Tell me about it! Jesus Christ!” Todd pinched the bridge of his nose. “What a lunatic. I thought we could work this out together, you know? When he showed up at the office and told me he was there to see you, I knew you’d done some heavy dirt in your time, if you’d used to be buds with a thug like him.”

  “Leon came by the office? When?”

  “Three weeks ago. I bumped into him in the lobby while you were out to lunch. He’d seen us on the Hot 100 list in Entrepreneur magazine.”

  The dots finally connected in Corey’s mind. Leon read about him in the mag, decided to come to Atlanta and use the threat of going to the police about their past to shake him down for money. But Leon happened upon Todd first, who saw Leon, smelled dirt, and hatched a scheme.

  It explained how Leon had “run in to him” at the gas station yesterday; he had simply followed Corey from home. It explained how Leon had encountered Simone at lunch; he would have found out from Todd where she worked and tailed her to the restaurant.

  It explained, too, how Leon had skirted their home alarm system and gotten inside to abduct Simone and Jada. As co-owner of Gates-Webb, Todd had the highest security clearance, and could have dipped into the company’s customer database and supplied Corey’s pass code to Leon. And since Corey kept a key to his house in a desk drawer at work, Todd could have merely made a copy of the key and given it to him. Leon wouldn’t have needed any high-tech gadgets, no lock-release guns. Invading their home would have been as easy as unlocking the door and deactivating the alarm.