The Kiss after Midnight (The Midnight Trilogy)

by Marvin Amazon

  Wheeler buried his head in his hands before striking the table. “I don’t want conjecture. I want answers. I’ve now got bodies dropping across the Atlantic with links to our own murders. I have witnesses dying, along with one of our own agents. I need this solved.”

  “Yes sir,” Tom said.

  “Now, what new evidence have we got on Antonio?”

  “We had Victoria Madison, sir,” Emma said.

  “Well, that’s over. We have to move on. What else?”

  “With all due respect, sir, we can’t just move on,” Tom said. “We found out that surveillance footage was probably deleted. A witness who could have blown the case wide open was assassinated in broad daylight. We were on to something there and someone made darn sure she wasn’t going to talk. That bastard probably used a look-alike to clear himself. It gave him time to get rid of Penélope’s body.”

  “But that line of investigation no longer exists. Who’s going to back that story now, huh? I’ll say it again. We have nothing as far as the look-alike is concerned or the missing footage.”

  “But are you going to at least accept that we have a leak in this office, and a serious one? How else could they have gotten to her so fast?”

  Wheeler took a deep breath and relaxed in his chair. Tom stood in front of him. “What about Nathan, sir? We have to get them back for that. They killed one of us.”

  “Get who back? We don’t know who ‘them’ is. We need to focus, people, or we’ll completely lose it. Work the workable leads and leave the deadwood.” He peered into Tom’s eyes. “I’m truly sorry about your friend. He was a good agent, but as of now, you need to pass that case to the NYPD. I have some of our guys looking into the possible leak in our office and the disappearance of the camera footage.”

  “The NY—” Tom took a deep breath. “Yes, sir.”

  Wheeler stood up and coughed. “This isn’t over by a long shot. We’ll get them, but in order to do that, we need to prioritize our efforts. I want a daily status report on your progress.” He walked to the door. “We can’t let them win.”

  Tom returned to his seat after Wheeler had left. He punched the table and looked at Emma, who looked back at him with no expression whatsoever. “Has the unit outside the house reported anything?” he asked.

  “Nothing yet. Just a few of Jane’s friends, but no sign of Annabel.”

  “And the phone?”

  “No calls either.”

  “Okay. I’ll keep looking into Annabel, but you need to look into Eichelberger. Find out everything you can about his relationship with Tobias. After reading the papers, he must be thinking about the money.”

  Emma walked to the door. “Should we tell the Germans why?”

  “No. We don’t want to spook them. We know Tobias can get out of the country if he wants. Let’s just keep an eye on things, but we have to allow him a way back there.”

  ***

  Juan said a prayer before opening the car door. He straightened his black suit and matching shirt. He had embraced Jorge at the funeral but didn’t get a chance to speak to him at length. Three Lincoln sedans were parked across the street, directly outside where Reynaldo used to live. He watched the dead man’s weeping mother embrace relatives before she entered the house.

  The passenger door opened, and Andrés stepped out in his pinstripe suit. He walked beside the gobernador and gestured for Pablo and Nino to remain by the car.

  “How do you think he’s doing?” Andrés asked.

  Juan glared at him. “How do you think? He cared a lot for Reynaldo. It must be killing him inside.”

  “You know what he’ll want, don’t you?”

  Juan nodded. “It’s only natural to want revenge.” He walked toward the house, and the door opened before he got there. Eduardo stepped out. He had taken off his blazer, and only wore a white shirt with his black pants.

  “How is he?” Juan asked.

  Eduardo angrily shook his head. “He’s mad, I’m mad. What’s happening, Juan?”

  Juan gave him a stern look. “Things are out of control at the moment, but we can’t lose ourselves in it. Understand?”

  Eduardo looked at the ground, his lips twitching. Juan stepped into the house and shut the door behind him. Old friends of Reynaldo’s greeted him, some shaking his hand. He looked up the stairs as Reynaldo’s mother, Salma, came down. He took a step back and extended his arms to her. She embraced him and sniffled.

  “I’m so sorry,” Juan said. “It’s a terrible thing what our streets are becoming.”

  She wiped her tears and looked at him. A fleeting scowl gave way to a crooked smile that she seemed to force. “What are we going to do? I don’t know what they wanted from my boy. His watch? His money? All I know is that he’s dead and someone’s walking around with no punishment.”

  “You have my word, Salma. I’ll find out who did this and they’ll pay.”

  “Will they? Is my son important enough?”

  “He was to me.”

  “I really hope so.” Salma nodded toward the front room. “He’s in there.” She walked into the kitchen and shut the door.

  Juan entered the living room to see Jorge sitting in a corner sofa, staring intently at a portrait he was holding. The gobernador leaned over the couch to see it. The photo must have been twenty years old, judging by Jorge’s appearance in it. Reynaldo—also in the picture—didn’t look a day over 5.

  “Even when he was just 6,” Jorge mumbled, “he was a handsome devil.”

  “He certainly was a handsome boy,” Juan said.

  “He could have had it all, you know.” Jorge sniffled and wiped tears from his eyes. “At first I didn’t want this life for him, but he just got into it so quickly. I had so many big plans for him.”

  “As did I.”

  Jorge threw the picture to the floor and approached the window. He drew the curtains. “Twenty fucking six years old,” he shouted. “That’s just too young, Juan.” He looked back to see Juan studying the picture. “I can’t let this go.” Juan looked at him. “I just can’t. It’s as if my son’s dead. I know we don’t let things like revenge get in the way of business, but I demand it.”

  Juan rose and folded his arms. “You’re upset, Jorge. Right now, you’re not thinking clearly.”

  “Don’t you dare patronize me. I’ve known you practically my whole life. We’ve done everything together. We made this family what it is. Have I ever questioned you? Haven’t I been completely loyal to you?”

  Juan walked toward his friend and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t say anything you might regret later.”

  “What’s there to regret?” He pushed Juan’s hand away. “We know who did this. His mother had to bury him in a closed casket, Juan. A fucking closed casket. Antonio beat him so bad he tore through his flesh. Who does that?” Jorge kicked the coffee table over and stamped on it, sending glass everywhere.

  Rodrigo ran into the room with his nine-millimeter in his hand. “Everything okay?”

  Jorge waved him away. Juan sat and lit a cigar. “I can’t pretend to know how you feel, but please don’t ask me for something I can’t do.”

  “Why?” Jorge said. “Apart from blood, what does that man bring to the table for any of us? The mess we’re in is because of him. His dead girlfriend, Tobias’ friend and now Reynaldo. Don’t you think the FBI knows something’s up? It’s only a matter of time before they get to him. Do you think he’ll not just want to save his own ass?”

  Juan stood up, his face tense. “I’m not having this discussion. We don’t know he’s responsible for Penelope’s death. He’s also my only nephew. What he did to Reynaldo was unforgivable, but as you said, he’s family. I’ll do whatever I have to make this right, even if it means hurting his pocket.”

  Jorge laughed. “And what’s that going to do? You think Antonio is just playing for us? You think he has nothing else on the side? I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to have us all killed.” He held on to Juan’s shoulder and spoke firm
ly. “That boy is going to destroy all of us, everything we’ve done over all these years. Is that what you want? You’ve paid your dues to your brother. Are you going to wait till you’re in a body bag to realize what this boy is doing?”

  Juan took a step back and stared into Jorge’s eyes. “I’ll do anything to ease your pain, you can be assured of that. But please don’t ask this of me. It’s just something I can’t do.”

  Jorge walked to the window and stared outside for a moment. “At least listen to what Rodrigo has to say.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “He’s found something out from our friends at internal affairs. Something you’ll definitely want to know. Hear him out and do what you have to.”

  Juan nodded and embraced Jorge.

  Jorge walked to the door and opened it, and Rodrigo walked in.

  “Listen to him, Juan,” Jorge said. “I’m going to talk to Salma. She needs all the love at a time like this.”

  Juan waited for the door to shut before fixing a firm gaze on Rodrigo. “Well, what is it?”

  “It might be nothing, but one of our guys in internal affairs has found something.”

  20. Evidence

  Tobias slept fitfully, confused by his feelings about his grandfather’s death. He had hated the man for as long as he could remember, but at the same time, he knew he didn’t have all the information. He had unanswered questions. After learning of his grand-father’s terminal cancer two years earlier, he occasionally thought about getting on a plane to Düsseldorf to attempt reconciliation, but he didn’t want it to look as if he was doing it only for the money.

  Annabel lay still in the bed, her back toward him and her butt sticking out. He knew she was awake because of the continued clearing of her throat. He also knew she had been right: With money, they stood a far better chance of vanishing and starting a new life.

  He put his arm around her, and she covered it with her own. “Did you know that Reynaldo guy?” he said. “The guy who died?”

  She was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, I knew him. I sort of saw him for a while.”

  “Really?”

  “Nothing serious, but it kinda pissed Antonio off.”

  “No way. You were seeing Antonio, too?”

  She nodded. “I know, right? It was one of the stupidest things I ever did. I don’t know why. I guess I just fell for his bullshit, you know?”

  Tobias chuckled.

  She turned to him. “What’s so funny?”

  “I don’t know. It just reminds me of what I used to be like. It was all about the chase back then. Always after the woman who played hard to get, hardly spending a night at home. It was crazy.”

  “A Casanova then, but then you met Penélope.”

  Tobias half-laughed. “Yeah, I did.”

  “And?”

  “She was just so different.”

  Annabel looked away. “That’s Penélope. All the men loved her.”

  Tobias turned her chin toward him. “You know, after we first got here, I thought you just hated all men, but I think I get you now.”

  “And what do you get?”

  “You’re just like every other girl, but you handle your problems differently.”

  She glared at him.

  “Something’s happened to you, hasn’t it?”

  She licked her lips and looked past him toward the faint light creeping in from the bathroom.

  “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” she said, her voice trembling.

  “Then why don’t you just let me in? We’re in this together now, right? What happened to you?”

  “It’s better you don’t know.”

  He caressed her shoulder. “Look, you’ve done nothing but help me. I’m here for you, too.”

  “Just stop talking, Tobias. You’re not the only one with a fucked-up family, you know. I’ve been through shit, too.”

  He pulled her head closer to his. “I’m not saying—”

  She kissed him on the lips, her tongue exploring his for a few seconds before she pulled back. They stared at each other, the silence in the room ominous. Suddenly she kissed him again and pressed her naked body against his.

  ***

  Rico sipped his glass of red wine as Antonio ate. Beside him, Fernando sat unmoving, staring at the restaurant door every time it opened. Rumors on the street had been flying thick and fast since Reynaldo’s funeral. Many said Juan would allow Jorge to retaliate, making all in Antonio’s crew nervous, especially Fernando.

  Antonio, meanwhile, continued on as if nothing had happened. He still paid regular visits to his favorite bookies, even in broad daylight. Worried about Marie’s safety, Rico ensured that she never ventured anywhere the other wives and girlfriends hung out, just in case Jorge intended to get revenge by first striking Antonio’s confidants and their families.

  Antonio placed another slice of rare-cooked steak in his mouth, but he stopped chewing and stared at his men. “What’s up with you two? Why the faces?”

  Fernando remained silent. Rico took a deep breath. “I’m hearing a lot. Jorge’s been saying a lot of shit.”

  “Oh, fuck Jorge. He’s all talk. Nothing’s going to happen.”

  Rico leaned forward. “We might have fucked up.”

  Antonio threw his fork down. “What the fuck did you say?”

  Rico held both hands up. “We’ve got Juan. Either way, he’ll go. We know that. But for the move we’re planning, we need Jorge and Eduardo.”

  Antonio sank back in his chair. “You know what? You’re right. I mean, what can I say? I didn’t think that through. I mean, how could I when that prick was calling my dead girlfriend a whore?” He sipped his rosé champagne and took a deep breath. But the thing is, I don’t think we were ever going to get Jorge, even if that thing never happened with Reynaldo.” He leaned toward Rico and his voice hardened. “What did you think would happen? That Jorge would stand by and let me run things?” He laughed. “Come on, Rico, you and I know Jorge was always the biggest problem, no matter how this played out.” He continued eating his steak.

  Rico gulped the rest of his wine and pushed his seat back. “I gotta run. I’ve got this thing with Marie.”

  Antonio rose and embraced his ejecutor. Rico shook Fernando’s hand—an awkward gesture—and walked toward his car, parked two minutes down the street. The Navigator unlocked after he pressed the alarm, but the keys slipped from his fingers as he reached toward the door. As he knelt to pick them up, he saw the edge of a baseball bat swinging toward him before crashing against his head.

  ***

  Rico felt a sharp pain in his head when he woke up. He moved it from side to side, and his eyes flickered open. He blinked rapidly, the pain growing more acute. He felt something sharp tearing into his wrists and quickly realized that his hands were shackled behind his back with very tight handcuffs. Two men stood in front of him, but his vision was too blurry for him to make them out. One seemed to be waving at him in a gesture of mockery.

  The room smelled moldy and damp. One of the men pointed at him and laughed. It was a voice he had heard many times. He closed his eyes tightly and opened them again—it was indeed Pablo who stood in front of him. And he didn’t have to look to know who would be beside him—Nino.

  Beside him was a dirty chair. His mind raced as he tried to figure out what was happening. Just then a door he hadn’t known was there opened and Juan and Eduardo walked in. The gobernador stood in front of him with his arms folded. Rico stared at him with questioning eyes, shock all over his face. Juan leaned forward and tilted his head from one side to the other as if studying him before stepping back.

  “Surprised to see me, Rico?” Juan said. “I bet you thought it would be Jorge.”

  “I don’t get it, boss.”

  “ ‘Boss’ is it? So you still think I’m the boss.” He knelt and glared at him. “One thing you forgot: You’re not my nephew. I can kill you right here without blink
ing.”

  “But what have I done?” Rico strained to talk, the pain in his head kicking in every time he opened his mouth.

  “Nothing, Rico. You’ve done nothing. Everyone knows that Antonio is a loose cannon. All you had to do was keep him in line, but you couldn’t do that, could you?” Juan stepped back and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. “But that’s not why you’re here.” He lunged forward and punched Rico in the face.

  Rico grimaced and held his mouth open for a few seconds, the pain slow to subside.

  Juan nodded at Andrés, who opened the door. “Bring him down,” he shouted.

  Shuffling noises came from above as if someone were being dragged down the stairs. Raul and Gregorio—runners for Pablo, known in the organization as los corredores—walked in. Raul held on to the heavily battered face of one of Rico’s own runners, Joachim. They marched the hobbling man to the seat beside Rico and handcuffed his hands behind his back.

  Blood gushed from a fresh wound on the side of the man’s head. He was dressed in only a string vest and shorts. Both kneecaps had dried blood on them, and multiple cuts ran all the way down his leg. Rico turned to Juan. “What have you done to him?”

  Juan nodded at Raul and Gregorio, and they left the room. “I’ve been hearing very disturbing news, Rico, about this Tobias fella, and the apparent damning evidence he has on me. Naturally, I thought it was all bullshit. I mean, how could a punk have anything on me?” He stepped to within a few inches of Rico’s face. “Unless, of course, someone in my family has given him something to use against me.” He stepped back and shouted, “Unless someone who calls me boss is planning to fuck me up.” He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “I’m a simple guy, Rico. I work with simple rules: Stay loyal and prosper; fuck me and die.”

  Rico felt the seat beside him shake violently as Joachin trembled.

  “Looks like your man over there needs reassurance,” Juan said. He nodded at Pablo, who lunged forward and planted a punch on the injured man’s head, causing more blood to flow.

  “Enough,” Rico shouted. “Look, I don’t know what you think you know or what anybody has told you, but no one in my crew is plotting against you. Do I look crazy to you?”