Dead Asleep

by Jamie Freveletti

  No. Meet me halfway, she texted back.

  It’s raining. More comfortable inside.

  No, she texted. And waited. The limousine door swung open and she pulled on the handle and swung open the BMW’s door as well. She stayed in the seat, however, watching to see if the seller was armed.

  A man emerged wearing a long tan trench coat with a hooded sweatshirt underneath. The hood was pulled low over his face and he wore sunglasses despite the fact that it was night. He walked to the center point between the cars, the briefcase in his hand swinging back and forth as he walked. He stopped and waited.

  Stromeyer put the gun in her shoulder holster and covered it with her blazer. The air was warm despite the rain; she didn’t bother with a coat, instead grabbing an umbrella. It was a small one designed to fit into a tote, and it popped open and was almost immediately blown inside out by the wind. She turned it to face the wind and did her best to hold it steady while she walked to hit her own spot on the pavement. When she was three feet from the man she stopped.

  “Do you have the gun?” she said.

  “I do, but not here.”

  Stromeyer felt her irritation rise. Her sources had pointed to this man as a direct contact to the seller of the iridescent blue bullet that Sumner had shown Banner. She was told that he claimed he could deliver the latest in weaponry: a gun that could pass through electronic sensors without eliciting a reaction. She’d let it be known that she would pay well for such a weapon. Now she thought that she’d been hoodwinked into bringing cash.

  “Where is it?”

  “It’s in a safe place. There’s going to be an auction. You want in?” The wind whipped up a bit stronger and Stromeyer had to clutch the umbrella handle tighter in order to keep it from bucking back and forth.

  “I understood that we were going to close this deal here. Now.”

  He shook his head. “It’s a very valuable weapon and the materials to make it are extremely rare and difficult to obtain. There’s to be an auction. Several buyers have already flown to the auction site. If you would like, I can go there as well to represent your interests. To bid on the gun.”

  “I’ll go. Tell me where.”

  “They won’t let you in. Only trusted people are allowed to attend in person.”

  “So add me on the phone.”

  “I can’t. Only live bidding. No phones, no Internet, no wire transfers. Nothing that can be traced.”

  “I can’t just give you the cash and hope that you’ll do your job. I’m not that stupid.”

  His lips, which were all that Stromeyer could see under the tip of the hood, stretched in a parody of a smile, but there was no warmth behind it. She wondered if the man ever truly smiled.

  “A letter of credit held in a numbered bank account in the Cayman Islands will do. You can leave instructions that it may not be drawn down until delivery is completed.”

  Stromeyer rolled her eyes. Such an arrangement was common among legitimate corporations doing business, but she wouldn’t depend on it for an illegal transaction. The seller could just as easily obtain the money by putting a gun to the head of the bank branch manager and force him to release the funds, or, more commonly, create a fraudulent release and dupe the manager into releasing the funds.

  “Forget it. I’ll deliver the cash when you hand me the weapon. It’s that simple.” Up until that point the seller had kept his head down, using the hood to shield both his face and his eyes. Now he raised his chin a bit, and Stromeyer caught a glance at his face. She had an impression of a scar on one cheek and a narrow nose.

  “Then you tell me how much you are willing to pay. I will bid on your behalf, but be cautioned, should you win the bid, I, and the actual owner, will expect you to make good on your promise to pay.”

  “Of course. Where is the auction to be held? You forgot to mention it.” His lips stretched again in the hideous imitation of a smile.

  “I didn’t forget. I didn’t wish to say.” He shrugged. “But I suppose now it is of no consequence, as no one can access the location in any event. The sale is to be held on an island called Terra Cay.”

  Stromeyer did her best to keep her expression impassive while her mind raced with this new information. It seemed that Susan Plower’s intelligence source was on target, and it confirmed Banner’s suspicion that the bullet must have been fashioned by the mineral found in the nearby blue holes. The seller’s comment about lack of access, though, seemed the opposite of what he’d said initially.

  “If I can’t access Terra Cay then how am I going to bid? And why can’t I access it?” Stromeyer waited to see if the dealer mentioned the quarantine.

  “It’s under quarantine due to a spreading illness. No immigration official in any country will clear an arriving visitor from Terra Cay, and no legitimate air or boat company will travel there either.”

  “So how do you intend to make it to the island in time for bidding if no one will take you there?”

  “I said no legitimate company will take you there. I don’t use normal channels.”

  The wind buffeted her small umbrella again and this time it swung in her hand. The breeze caught it and it spun around, shedding water droplets and allowing the rain to hit her face. She wrestled it back under control.

  “And risk the disease?”

  He shrugged. “In this line of business I take worse risks than that. As you can imagine, some buyers of arms believe they can simply threaten me or kill me to obtain my wares. Compared to death, disease is a lower concern. So, do I bid on your behalf?” he said.

  Stromeyer nodded. “Yes. Up to five hundred thousand. Greater amounts need to be cleared by me first. Use the number I gave you for this meeting.”

  He nodded. “Don’t cross me. You’ll learn why I’m still upright while others that have tried are not.”

  “I have no intention of crossing you, simply because I need that weapon.”

  “We’ll see if you’re the highest bidder. Good evening.” The man turned away and crawled into the limousine. Its lights flashed once and it drove away.

  Stromeyer remained where she was until it disappeared from sight. When it was gone she returned to her own car and called Banner, who was waiting for a report of the meeting.

  “Glad to hear you made it through,” he said. “Did you get the weapon?”

  “No. There’s going to be a live auction. In person and by invitation only.”

  “Where?”

  “Terra Cay.”

  “Well well. So Plower’s source was right. Was he aware of the quarantine?”

  “He was and, just as you thought, he was more than willing to take the risk.”

  “Sometimes these guys are absolutely depressing in their predictability. With any luck the buyers will all fall asleep and Sumner and Caldridge can just waltz in and arrest them all.”

  “Something tells me that at least a couple will escape the infection.” Stromeyer turned on the car and switched on the wipers.

  “Why do you think that?” Banner said.

  “Because you know the saying, ‘Only the good die young.’ ”

  Chapter 40

  Joseph stood dripping water on the marble floor in the massive entrance foyer of one of the largest villas on Terra Cay. He had landed on the mangrove side twenty minutes ago and proceeded straight to the sprawling compound. He wanted to deliver the bad news of the woman’s escape to his employer before anyone else tried to twist the information. He watched as a large, pale, and bald man shuffled toward him from the back of the house. The man wore green work pants, a gray shirt, and a blank expression on his face. Joseph recognized the expression for what it was: a complete lack of original thought or force of personality. He had dealt with such men before. They killed with impunity and a careless ease, primarily because they lacked the imagination to see their victims’ despair. He killed with impunity, too, but he liked to believe that he put some creativity and panache into his work. The man lumbering toward him showed no sign that
he had enough intelligence to do anything except take orders.

  “Come with me,” the man said. He turned and headed toward the second door on the left. Joseph followed, still dripping water, but not as much, and clutching his rifle. It was the only thing he’d been able to salvage from the boat. It was his prized gun. He would rather have gone down with the ship than leave it behind.

  He followed the lumbering idiot to the door and walked through it into a large, imposing library. Books lined every wall from floor to ceiling. The remaining areas were paneled in a rich, dark wood. Long, elegant windows formed a bay area directly in front of Joseph, and a fire burned in a fireplace to his right despite the warmth. In front of the fireplace stood Joseph’s employer. He only knew the man by reputation, that he was called the Vulture because he swooped in and picked the bones of struggling corporations dry. He waited until they had no more options to obtain funds, offered a loan at exorbitant rates, foreclosed when the companies could no longer pay, and then sold off the assets piece by piece. He wore a ten thousand dollar bespoke suit and his eyes were two hard marbles in a vicious, thin face. The man stared at him.

  “Why are you here?” he asked. “I thought I made it clear that you were to complete your mission and then stay out of sight. Not show up here soaking my floors and stinking of seaweed.”

  “I wanted to deliver my report in person.”

  “So it’s bad news that you bring me,” he said. Joseph felt a flicker of fear. The man spoke in a mild tone, but the menace was unmistakable.

  “You didn’t tell me the boat would capsize.”

  The man raised an eyebrow and a smirk crossed his face. He’d known about the danger, Joseph thought, and he felt his own anger start. He’d been told that the stories of a monster in the area were merely sailors’ tales, but now he realized they were true.

  “I didn’t know that it would. Did Kemmer use a faulty vessel? If he did then he deserved to die. I assume that you did kill him at least, did you not?”

  Joseph nodded. “I threw him overboard. But the boat wasn’t damaged. Something grabbed at it and started pulling it into the ocean. I had to empty my gun into it to make it release. When it finally did, the chemist was gone.”

  “Did she have time to mine the holes?”

  He nodded. “She was finished.” The thin man stalked to the windows and looked out. Joseph didn’t like the silence and so he filled it. “I’ll kill her here. I’m almost certain they came back to Terra Cay.” Joseph watched with dismay as the man’s eyebrows slanted downward in displeasure.

  “I need to confiscate what she mined first. Get that from her before you kill her. And get it done soon. The buyers are here and the auction will begin. I intend to offer the remaining raw materials to the highest bidder as well. What she has may be the last.” Joseph did his best to contain his relief. He would be spared. His mistake wouldn’t cost him his life.

  “Where’s Kemmer’s boat?” the thin man said. Joseph hesitated and the man turned to look at him. “Where’s the boat?” he said again.

  “It sank when it hit a shoal near the mangrove. Without Kemmer, I didn’t know how to navigate through the rocks. It was lucky that I made it at all.”

  “Lucky,” the man said, his voice filled with sarcasm.

  Joseph fingered his gun and did his best to contain his anger. He felt a vessel in his temple begin to throb with the exertion. His rage bubbled below the surface, as it always did. Self-control was something he had never owned in abundance. He’d learned it only after being locked in a prison in Brazil and it was clear that the other inmates were as vicious as he was, but with the added benefit of knowing the ropes. But he’d adapted, and before he escaped had killed four inmates and two guards. The guards were the two that weren’t bribed. They didn’t look away as the inmates disappeared into the tunnel they had been digging for over three long years.

  “You need me. I’ve heard that she has backup. A man named Sumner. Rumor is that someone—I think you—paid two different men to try to take him out and both failed. You should have paid me.”

  The thin man snorted. “Pay you? I just did and you failed as well. You’ve got a lot of nerve.” The windows shook in response to a hard clap of thunder, as if the storm was trying to punctuate the thin man’s words. Joseph twitched with the effort of containing his anger.

  “No one can shoot better than me. I am the best and you know it. Everyone knows it.”

  The man pointed a finger at him. “All I know is that she has managed to avoid getting killed on three separate occasions. Once against long odds. She’s smart and she’s wily. I want her dead, Sumner dead, and the minerals brought here. Do you understand?”

  “I understand that you didn’t give me fair warning about the risk at the blue holes. Perhaps you hoped that I’d kill her and then the creature in the holes would do the dirty work of eliminating me as well?” Joseph took a step toward the man. His anger boiled. If he didn’t want the money so much he would have killed the man. But the amount offered far exceeded his usual fee and he wanted it. The skinny man sent him a look filled with derision.

  “Quit talking nonsense. There is no creature in the blue holes. The area is subject to unusual natural phenomena. It doesn’t happen every time someone passes over the area. There’s no way for me to predict when it will occur. Besides, I wanted you to kill her, climb on board her boat, take the minerals and bring them to me. How would you have done that if you were dead?”

  “Something grabbed onto the boat. It nearly pulled the entire thing underwater. If not a creature then what was it?”

  The thin man shrugged. “I have no idea. But you knew the fables before you took the job, so don’t act as though this is the first time you’ve heard of it and don’t accuse me of duplicity.”

  “Why don’t you just have your stupid giant kill her? If she’s here, she sleeps less than a mile away.”

  Even as Joseph suggested the solution he knew why the Vulture hadn’t simply killed her. Men like him wanted to pretend that they were as well educated as the others in the corporate world. He moved in the same circles and cultivated the image that he knew how to create the wealth and services that the others did, but in reality all he could do was earn money trading on the black market and troll for those businesses that were floundering. The Vulture sold the assets because he didn’t have the true intelligence or skill to make a company thrive. And he knew it. And Joseph knew it too. Joseph knew that the man was another version of himself in a tailored suit, nothing more. The difference was that he didn’t care if others branded him a killer. This man, though, wanted to appear an upstanding citizen of the world. He wanted to kill and remain anonymous while he did it. To obtain that result required hiring someone else with the ability to plan a killing with surgical skill and the willingness to wallow in the mud. Joseph knew he had both character attributes, and he didn’t care how deep the muck got as long as he was compensated.

  “I paid you well to do the job and leave no tracks back to me,” the Vulture said. “That’s what your reputation says that you do. I didn’t expect you to not only fail, but to come here. What if someone had seen you?”

  Joseph pointed at the window. “The storm covers all and the island is quarantined. No one will learn that you’re the one who arranged their death.”

  “Get the minerals and kill Caldridge and Sumner.”

  “And the others on the island?”

  The man shrugged. “I don’t care if they all die. The plague will do a large part of it for me, but kill them all if you think it’s necessary. Just make sure no suspicion flows my way.”

  “It doesn’t work that way. The more you kill the more clues you leave.”

  The Vulture nodded. “Then you’d better choose your victims wisely, hadn’t you?”

  “You don’t get it. I’ll kill them all. I’m not the one who cares if they figure out that I did it. You are.”

  “Do what you must. The blame comes my way and you won’t get pa
id. It’s that simple. Now get out.”

  Chapter 41

  The villa’s phone rang and Emma reached to the end table. She heard Stromeyer’s voice.

  “I have some bad news,” she said. Emma sighed.

  “You too? Sumner just told me about the quarantine.”

  “Not that. Different bad news. We have reason to believe that a major arms sale is going to proceed on Terra Cay within the next twenty-four hours. If we’re correct, the weapon will be transferred there into the hands of someone very dangerous. Sumner knows the details of the weapon. We’d like you and Sumner to check it out.”

  “You think they’re here despite the lockdown?”

  “I do. And I’ve done some research on the various owners on the island. Most of the residents are well-known businessmen and celebrities. Lots of information on the Web about them all and nothing that would indicate someone as dirty as this sale implies. However, I did find three possibles among the land records. All three villas were purchased by nominees in various blind trusts.” She gave the locations of the three properties. The last was one that Emma recognized.

  “You can scratch the West Hill property off the list,” she said. “That one is owned by Richard Carrow, the singer.”

  “Ah, I see. I presume that he had the property purchased by a nominee to ensure privacy. Do you recognize the other two?”

  “I know where they are. One is the largest villa on the island by far. It’s owned by some Russian billionaire. Very reclusive guy who’s obsessed with security.”

  “Ivan Shanaropov.”

  “Yep, that’s him. You know of him?”

  “He’s our main person of interest right now. His mistress was found hanging from a tree in St. Martin.”

  “Found? By the police?”

  “By Sumner. Let him tell you the story, but he should know that she’s been identified. So maybe you look to the Shanaropov estate first. Carefully, of course. And we’re paying standard Darkview rates.”