Landslide

by Robin Mahle

  Claire searched for her cell phone, then remembered it was still in the den. She began to run the conversation through her mind. Cooperate or risk prison. That was the gist of it. Beth had to know that. Unless they had threatened her children. Either way, the authorities still needed her; Claire needed her.

  She passed through the family room, noticing the grey skies outside the window. Good day for a movie. The big question still loomed like her own grey cloud. When? When would she do as she’d promised herself? Today, tomorrow? Claire paused a moment longer. Standing still, she peered through the window. The neighbors’ houses were cloaked in drab hues of beige and cream, utterly lacking color. On the occasion the sun did cast its rays along her street, it was awash in bright and airy pigments. Even in the winter, a blue sky made everything look more colorful. But not today. Fitting.

  Claire continued into the den and found her phone resting on the desk, as she’d left it, next to the company cell she no longer felt safe using. She picked it up and prepared to call Beth, but her work phone flashed with messages and captured her attention. When she’d unlocked it, several texts and calls had been missed. As she read the messages and listened to her voicemail, a possible solution had come last night by way of Charlie himself.

  ***

  Annoyed was putting it mildly. Charlie was being dragged from his home at this late hour on a Friday night and had no desire to go back down to the office. He’d had enough for one week. But as usual, a summons from Winters wasn’t open to negotiation. Not when the man was padding Charlie’s bank account every month.

  The fog had already settled in now that it was nearing 11:30, making the drive downtown especially challenging. He flipped on his fog lights and grabbed his travel mug, which contained mostly coffee; maybe just a little whiskey. He was on his way to deal with the crew, likely pertaining to his handling of the Claire McKenna situation and it was always easier dealing with them after the edges had been smoothed out a little. Charlie took a sip.

  He had to make up some excuse to Margaret and he hated lying to her. But it was plausible, the need to go and retrieve some old files for the FBI, which had been his chosen story. She had thought it strange that it couldn’t wait until Monday, but what did she know of FBI investigations?

  Charlie turned on the radio, finally settling on the only station he’d decided was not blasting incoherent noise that passed as music. He landed on a late night talk radio host ranting about whatever political party wasn’t his own. Seemed the entire nation was being divided by extremists on both sides and it sickened him. He’d grown so weary of it over the years. Maybe that was why he decided to go in on this deal. Yeah, it was bad and it was illegal, but he’d seen a hell of lot worse in his time. He wasn’t robbing innocent retirees of their life savings or pushing some Ponzi scheme. He was just reallocating funds that would never even be noticed by the clients, who were also big corporations, not little mom and pop shops.

  Charlie had spent many hours, probably days, justifying his actions over the past few years. He even started believing his own bullshit.

  But there was always someone to answer to and that someone didn’t like what was happening lately and had called a meeting to rectify the situation, giving cause for the midnight drive down the empty freeway. There was some good news. It seemed that Beth Graves was backing down. Someone had finally gotten to her and he was glad it didn’t have to be him, although he expected he knew the culprit. He didn’t like threats; dishing them out or receiving them. It had almost killed him to do what he did to Claire.

  “Enough of this shit.” Charlie switched the station again, tired of listening to the man spouting divisive theories. “These people are going to destroy this country.”

  Charlie’s heart had hardened over the years. After losing their only son, David, when the first tower collapsed, he and Margaret seemed to lose hope for all of humanity. David’s widow and their granddaughter eventually moved to Connecticut and now they hardly got to see the girl. Margaret would fly back once a year and that helped her for a while. But Charlie was still angry and seeing his granddaughter brought back such painful memories, although he missed her terribly.

  He pulled into the parking garage and swiped his employee access card at the elevator doors. It was the only way to get in this late at night. Charlie made his way into the lobby where Jim sat reading an issue of Sports Illustrated and glancing at the CCTV monitors on his desk.

  “Evening Jim.” He didn’t stop to chat.

  “Must be some big to-do upstairs, eh? Got anything to do with the investigation?” Jim asked.

  “Probably. They just told me I needed to come down, so here I am. I’ll see you later, Jim.”

  “Okay, Charlie.”

  ***

  “I’m telling you, he’s been very unpredictable lately.” Lucas Abbott was perched on the edge of the sofa in Evan’s office. His knees rattled below his lanky arms.

  Next to him was Frank Winslow, leaning back in his all-too-casual way. Seemed everything rolled off him without so much as a second thought.

  Chris Goyal was slumped in one of the guest chairs opposite Evan’s desk. He had a carefree attitude, similar to Winslow’s. Arm draped over top of the chair, smacking gum, and waiting to go home so he could get back to his online world.

  “When it comes to Claire, Charlie just doesn’t think straight. I don’t think he’ll follow through on the threat.”

  “Then you may have to step up, Lucas,” Evan replied. “We need everyone to be on the same page and do what needs to be done.”

  A knock on the door grabbed everyone’s attention.

  Evan gave a nod to Lucas, suggesting he get up.

  “I’m here. I made it.” Charlie pushed his way past Lucas. “Would someone mind telling me why we’re all here at an hour that would normally find me snoozing in bed next to my wife?”

  “Please, Charlie, have a seat.” Evan motioned for him to take a seat next to Chris. “Where are we at on the Claire situation?”

  “I’ve got it under control, Evan.” He never called the man by his last name, unless in a derogatory fashion and well out of earshot. “I’m just giving her a day or two to come to terms, but I believe she’ll fall in line.”

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  “Then I’ll do what needs to be done, just like always.” Charlie answered. His matter-of-fact tone was steady and convincing.

  “Well, that may need to be sooner rather than later. It seems our Claire had a rather lengthy conversation with Agent Sanchez earlier this evening,” Evan continued.

  “We bugged her home phone last week when she was out of town. It took some doing to get the husband out of the house, but once we did that, it was a piece of cake really.” Chris felt the need to pat himself on the back.

  “Point being is that Claire got a hold of some information that could prove to do us some damage.” He shot a glance at Lucas, who had been so careless as to write the password down. “But, I think we’ll be okay. Chris here seems to have found a way of erasing the data logs they would need to figure out who had been using that password.”

  “Problem solved then. What’s it got to do with me and how I’m choosing to handle Claire?” Charlie felt the eyes of the men fall on him and he didn’t like it. Nor did he like the fact that the temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees in the five minutes he’d been in his seat. “She’ll come around, Evan. You said so yourself in Portland. This is just a hiccup and I don’t expect she’ll have cause to speak with the FBI again.”

  Evan pushed up from his desk chair. “Charlie, I have a plan of my own where Claire is concerned and I can’t have you jeopardizing that plan.”

  “Well, if you’ll tell me what it is, then I’ll know, and we can continue to work together as we have for the past fifteen years, Evan.” Charlie looked straight into Evan’s eyes. He wasn’t afraid of the man, even if everyone else was.

  “Has it been fifteen years already?” Evan strolled aro
und the room, glancing at the few canvases that hung on the walls. “You know, I particularly like this painting. It speaks to me.” The prominent hues of crimson, gold, and black appeared menacing and severe. It brought to mind power and control, two things Evan Winters admired greatly. He turned to face the gentlemen, whose eyes had been following his movements with precision. A smile casually formed on his lips, although his eyes appeared cold and he began to approach Charlie.

  Charlie stiffened. “You think I’ll betray you in some way, Evan? Have I done something to make you believe that?” The thought that he’d been watched seemed to have become a real possibility.

  “The problem is, I can’t have you interfering where Claire is concerned. You’ve made no secret of your affections for her. I can’t blame you really, since you don’t have children—anymore.”

  The heat in Charlie’s neck began to rise at the mention of his family. Lucas was the problem here, not him, and he couldn’t figure out where this was coming from. Unless, of course, his actions had been monitored. Charlie’s eyes blinked a moment too long at the thought.

  “Your task was simple, Charlie. Convince Claire that you would send the pictures if she didn’t cooperate. You said you had this under control, that I shouldn’t worry. I need Claire. I need her to be on my side. I specifically asked you to send the pictures, but you haven’t. And, in fact, it seems you may have had a change of heart. Now, why is that?”

  He knows. “I told you. She’s with us now. There’s no need to destroy her family.” Charlie was growing increasingly uncomfortable with Evan at his back, but refused to turn and face him. He had to establish his own dominance.

  “You’ve taken it upon yourself to come to this conclusion? This is the problem, Charlie. Without her husband seeing those pictures, her marriage will remain intact and she won’t come to me for help over the possibility of losing him. I need her to be left with nothing, so that she’ll have no one to turn to except us—or rather, me.” Evan inhaled deeply. “I can’t have you making these decisions of your own accord. You’re not the one in charge here; I am.”

  It was then Charlie realized his assumptions about Evan had been correct and why he’d chosen to take precautions. This wasn’t about money. This was about her. The man gets what he wants, Claire. “You took advantage of her, you son of a bitch. Got her good and drunk, didn’t you? Hell, I wouldn’t put it past you to slip something in her drink too. Is that the only way you can get a woman, Evan?” He was baiting the man now. But it had become crystal clear that Evan was monitoring Charlie’s every move.

  That brief moment of clarity would prove too short for Charlie to act. Evan’s desire for Claire had grown far beyond the ability to reason with the man. Charlie was about to leap from the chair; the primal awareness that his life was under threat spread through his body.

  But it was too late. The stinging point of the blade pierced the soft tissue between his shoulder and spine, thrust with excruciating force. Charlie’s eyes amplified in pain and horror. He could feel his muscles spasm at the intrusion, forcing the holder of the knife to push harder until finally, it could go no deeper. The blade’s handle pressed against the now cold, pale white flesh, the blood beginning to surface around it.

  Charlie looked to the others in the room, his vision fading swiftly. Their ghostly faces stared at him. Not one of them moved to help the man dying before their eyes. The intended effect, for Evan’s exertion of control, had been achieved. I’m sorry, Margaret. Finally, all went black and Charlie slumped over his round belly.

  The first to move was Lucas, leaping from the couch, pressing his body against the wall. “What the fuck!” He shot a glance to Chris, who seemed paralyzed in the chair next to the dead man. Frank remained fixed, casting his eyes from Charlie to Evan and back again.

  None of the men, partners in what was supposed to be an easy, low-risk plan, had expected events to unfold in this manner. Each of them now expressed fear for his own life.

  “Everything all right, Lucas? You look white as a sheet.” Evan pulled the knife from Charlie’s back, the task appearing difficult. He proceeded to wipe it with the tissues from the box on his desk. “Here’s what you’re going to do.”

  ***

  “What the hell, man?” Chris appeared to struggle with the weight of Charlie’s legs while Lucas worked to hoist the man’s upper half, dumping him into the trunk of his own car. “I didn’t sign on for murder. And now it’s up to us to get rid of him?”

  “We need to get the hell out of here, dude.” Lucas was out of breath, not just from the weight of his now-dead boss, but from the weight of what he’d just witnessed. Self-preservation had become top priority. “Winters has gone fucking crazy. I never thought something like this could happen.” He stared at Charlie’s limp body, the pink color faded, replaced by an eerie, ashen hue. “We should just go to the cops now.”

  Chris seemed to consider the suggestion carefully, eyeing the crumpled body shoved haphazardly into the trunk. “What if he comes after us? The guy’s got a shitload of cash. You don’t think he could pay someone to take us out?”

  Lucas’s nerves were frayed. Sweat had formed along every crease of his body. He knew if they didn’t make a decision quickly, they’d be discovered. “Let’s just stick to the plan.”

  “That’ll make us accomplices, man. How the hell are we supposed to explain it when they find him?”

  “Get in the car, Chris. If we stick to the plan, they won’t find him. We need to get the hell out of here before someone sees us.” Lucas jumped into the driver’s seat of Charlie’s car and turned the ignition. The oversized Mercedes roared to life, echoing throughout the parking garage. “Get the fuck in the car, Chris,” he shouted over the engine noise.

  ***

  It was up to Frank to ready the boat. He’d driven out to the marina, per the plan set forth by a man he was sure had just lost his damn mind. None of this was supposed to happen. One more year and he could get out, no questions asked. He and Rebecca could settle into a nice place in Palm Beach. That was the plan; early retirement. Not life in prison, which was what would happen if they found Charlie washed ashore somewhere, a day from now, maybe a week, maybe even a year. He would always be looking over his shoulder.

  Claire McKenna. She was the reason. How the hell a brilliant man like Winters could get reeled in by that woman was beyond him. Their entire future had been jeopardized because Winters wanted her all to himself.

  Frank’s anger boiled over as he arrived at the docks, waiting for Lucas and Chris. He considered turning around, running to the police. But in the end, fear won out. Evan Winters had command over all of them now and there was little they could do, unless they wanted to end up at the bottom of the Sound as well.

  CHAPTER 14

  THE MESSAGES CHARLIE had left on Claire’s phone contained the answers she needed. He was going to destroy the evidence, was sorry for the situation he’d put her in, and he would need to talk to her as soon as possible to put a plan in place.

  A glimmer of the man she remembered was still there. This was the Charlie she knew and, with his help, she could see this thing through. Whatever brought on this change of heart eluded her, but she was damn grateful for it.

  Her attempts to contact him had gone unanswered. It was late Saturday morning and she knew him well enough to know that the man almost always rose with the sun. The thought of calling his landline crossed her mind. Maybe he was already taking precautions. In that moment, she jumped at the sound a call coming in.

  Damn it. No doubt it was Sanchez, but she needed to talk to Charlie before bringing this to his attention. But why was he calling her on the company cell? Hadn’t they discussed this? Eyes and ears were on her, tracking her every move, they were both sure of it. The call went to voicemail. He’ll call the landline next.

  The room was silent, no calls. Claire picked up the receiver to make sure it was working. Dial tone. Her phone buzzed again, only this time, it was the signal that ther
e was a voicemail from the previous caller. The message began to play.

  “Hi, Claire, this is Margaret, Charlie’s wife. I’m so sorry to bother you, but Charlie had to go into the office late last night and, well, he’s not home yet and he’s not answering his phone. I didn’t know if you were there last night with him, but could you please call me at the house if you know where he is? I’m very worried, Claire.”

  What would Charlie be doing, going all the way to the office late on a Friday night, or any night, for that matter? She scrolled through the text messages from him to check when they’d been sent. 10:45 p.m.

  Claire dialed Charlie’s home number and, after the third ring, Margaret picked up. “Hello?”

  “Margaret, hi, this is Claire. How are you?” Her voice was steady and calm. The last thing she wanted to do was give Margaret additional reason to worry. This wasn’t setting right with Claire and she had to tell herself not to panic.

  “Claire, I have to tell you that I’m getting very worried about now. I didn’t sleep at all last night. Have you seen or heard from him? About eleven thirty or so last night, he got a call from the office telling him that he needed to go in and pull some old files for the FBI. I tried his office phone and his cell phone, and he isn’t answering.”

  “I’ll tell you what, Margaret, the kids are at friends’ houses till later today, and Colin is out golfing. Why don’t I run down to the office and find out what’s going on?”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful, Claire. Thank you so very much. This just isn’t like him not to let me know where he’s at.”

  “I know. Please don’t worry. I’ll head down there in about twenty minutes or so. I’ll call you as soon as I see him. The FBI can be very demanding. My guess is they needed more information and Charlie got stuck down in archives pulling files all night. I’ll bet he’s exhausted. Speak with you very soon, Margaret.”