Chameleon Assassin (Chameleon Assassin Series Book 1)

by BR Kingsolver

  I found an empty table by the railing and looked down at the crowd. Nellie was just starting a set, and she started out slow and sensual. It didn’t take me long to locate Ron, dancing slow and close with a petite blonde. I could tell he had the charm turned on, and she seemed very receptive.

  Mulling over how I felt about that, and whether I felt jealous, and whether I had any right to feel jealous, gave me something to do. I decided a little introspection was probably good. My thoughts drifted off on a tangent about whether introspection was good when I made my living doing nefarious deeds, which led to questioning whether or not Ron being a horn dog was nefarious.

  A waiter came by, and I ordered another one of whatever I was drinking.

  While it was nice to have a handsome guy to spend time with, and I truly enjoyed the sex with Ron, I had a hard time defining my feelings for him. I wasn’t sure what love felt like, but I’d had crushes on guys in high school and university, a couple of them very intense. My heart didn’t skip beats when Ron walked into the room. He was fun and comfortable.

  My heart did skip beats when Wil looked at me a certain way. That scared the hell out of me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the red t-shirt move toward the exit. Turning my attention in that direction, I saw Ron taking the blonde with him. I decided Mondays and Tuesdays must have been my nights. Any other time, he always pleaded that he had to work in the morning.

  I suddenly realized that Ron screwing around didn’t bother me. In fact, I felt a bit of relief, and that bothered me.

  Chapter 14

  When I got home, I checked the computer runs I had set. One of my computers chimed, and I examined the screen. Diane’s mystery lover was Liam Campbell, head of new drug research for CanPharm. Divorced, but still living with his ex. He and his ex-wife married immediately after college, and their marriage contract was surprisingly slanted in her favor. I could see where a little extra cash would be tempting.

  A check on his bank accounts was eye-popping. In a little over a year, he’d salted away over thirty million credits—three times what Diane and her brother had earned. What they were doing wasn’t even illegal yet, although Wil told me luvdaze would soon be outlawed.

  Some things became clearer. Still murky was the involvement with the Donofrio organization.

  None of the alerts I’d set for Diane had triggered. Maybe she was hiding out in a northwoods cabin with enough supplies for the winter. I took a couple of pictures of her and set up searches in the security systems of the airport and train station. As I finished, I realized she could have driven down to Buffalo, or ferried across the lake, and caught a plane there. I set up the same search in the Buffalo and Rochester airports.

  After a few minutes’ thought, I duplicated the search in Detroit. That was about the farthest airport she’d be able to drive without recharging her car’s batteries. And charging the batteries meant using a credit card.

  The last thing I did before I went to bed was send an email to Wil asking about Fred. The Chamber had picked him up days before, but I hadn’t heard anything they might have learned from him.

  I checked my email while the coffee brewed. Wil had responded to my query.

  Call me when you wake up.

  I texted him. I wasn’t awake enough to speak coherently. The phone rang almost immediately.

  “Libby? Are you home?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Stay there. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He hung up.

  I hoped he bought his own coffee. I had only made half a pot. I poured myself a cup when it was ready and popped a frozen quiche in the microwave. I only managed one bite before the doorbell rang.

  “Man, are you a go-getter this morning—” I started, then the expression on Wil’s face stopped me. He brushed past me, handing me a takeout cup of coffee as he passed. I closed the door, and he whirled around to face me.

  “Fred Smythe is dead.”

  “What did they get from him before they turned him loose?” It didn’t surprise me that Fred’s buddies would reward him for getting caught and losing their money.

  “They didn’t turn him loose,” Wil said. “He died in custody.”

  He had my attention. I inspected the coffee I held in each hand and said, “Would you like some coffee?”

  “No, thanks.”

  I walked into the kitchen and poured the cup I had been drinking back into the pot. Then I took a sip of the mocha Wil brought me.

  “Tell me about it.”

  Wil paced. “I was told he had a heart attack. I think that’s bullshit. They’re telling me that they held him for three days without questioning him, and then he died.”

  I headed up the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “Need to check on some things.” I heard him start up the stairs behind me.

  Sliding into my chair in the computer room, I keyed in half a dozen searches as fast as I could type. I barely heard Wil’s startled exclamation as he gazed around the room.

  Results from a couple of the searches came back to me, and I followed them up. After about fifteen minutes, I turned back to Wil.

  “Liam Campbell, Director of New Product Research for CanPharm, was Gareth Blaine’s university roommate.” Wil blinked at me, then his expression told me that what I’d said sank in. “Campbell is also Diane Sheridan’s lover.”

  “Aw, crap.”

  “Remember when we were wondering about clinical tests? I found vids on Diane’s computer of her and Campbell testing the drugs.”

  Wil ran his hand over his head and paced back out into the hall. “You’re telling me that the Chamber’s security chief is in on this thing? He’s the one who hired you.”

  I ignored him. “There was a man in Dallas named Nikolai Sholokhov, the North American sales director for a Russian electronics control company. One of his employees named Adnan Erdowan used to make regular trips to Toronto.”

  “I know who Sholokhov is,” Wil said.

  “The drug started drying up in Dallas over the past month, starting about the same time that Sholokhov and Erdowan died. Sholokhov had a bank account that showed a number of transfers to Gareth Blaine, coinciding with Erdowan’s trips to Toronto.”

  I turned a monitor so he could see it. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Fred Smythe is dead.” The screen showed Blaine’s Swiss bank account with several million credits in it.

  Wil studied the two screens where I showed Blaine’s bank accounts and transactions while I switched to another session and began typing again. I sensed Wil watching over my shoulder.

  “What are you doing now?”

  “Sending Blaine an invoice. I want to get paid before you accuse him of running a drug ring.”

  After reviewing the evidence I’d gathered, Wil needed little convincing. He got on the phone with his boss in Atlanta and they began pulling their agents from other cities to Toronto. At my suggestion, they avoided people from the cities with the largest luvdaze markets.

  “Tell me you feel comfortable that the Chamber security agents in Dallas aren’t caught up in this,” I said. Wil acted like he wanted to refute my statement, but ended up just shaking his head.

  We ordered Chinese takeout and ate as we brainstormed strategy. We still didn’t have the two main pieces to the puzzle, the lab and the distribution chain. Wil told me the postal service, airlines, trucking companies, and the train lines were cracking down on shipping. The result was large busts of other drugs, but they hadn’t intercepted a single shipment of luvdaze.

  “The mob usually transports stuff in their own trucks,” I said.

  “Yes, I know, but Campbell and Sheridan don’t have access to those trucks,” Wil answered. “They’re either using individuals, such as that guy Erdowan, or they have another method.”

  My phone rang a little after dark, and I saw it was Dad calling.

  “Hi, what’s up?” I answered cheerfully.

  “A hit team is at my ho
use,” Dad said. “Watch your ass.”

  I heard an explosion in the background, and the phone went dead.

  I leaped up and snagged my bag on my way to the door. “My dad’s under attack. Time to go.” The armaments I’d taken to the airport were still in my bag.

  To his credit, Wil didn’t ask questions or argue. When we got outside, he sprinted for his car while I opened my garage door.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  I grabbed my motorcycle and rode out, stopping by his car. “My dad’s house. I’ll give you a call when I can.” I gunned the motor and shot off down the street. I could get there a lot faster on two wheels.

  I drove down the next street over from Dad’s place and left my motorcycle under a tree. Sneaking through a couple of backyards, I peered over the fence into Dad’s yard. Everything was quiet, but I could see smoke and debris near the front of his house.

  Two bloody bodies lay in the backyard, both near fresh holes in the ground. I did a mental check, calling up my memory of the map of his defenses. The holes corresponded with the map. Dad had activated the land mines. I had always thought he was a little paranoid, but his maxim was ‘hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.’

  Blurring my form, I hopped over the fence and kept to the shadows as I made my way to the backdoor. I peered through the window and could see a gaping hole at the front of the house. I snuck around toward that side, a submachinegun in my right hand and a stun grenade in my left.

  When I rounded the corner, I saw another body in the yard. Lights were on in every house on the street except Dad’s. Sirens in the distance grew louder as they approached.

  Something moved to my right. Looking over that way, I saw a man with a gun hiding in the neighbor’s bushes. Checking my weapon, I thumbed the selector to a three-shot burst, aimed and fired. I didn’t know who he was, but he had no business with a gun facing my father’s home.

  “Dad?” I shouted, and moved ten or fifteen feet in case someone zeroed in on the sound. Especially in the dark, I doubted anyone could spot me. I whistled a tune he taught me. His whistle answered me from inside the house.

  Crawling over the rubble where a bomb had blown out the front door and foyer, I whistled again. Two more bodies lay just inside the entrance.

  “Are you inside?” I heard his voice, calm and quiet.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you see any movement outside?”

  “One. I doubt he was alone.”

  “I’m on the landing,” he said.

  “Okay. I’m going to crawl up the stairs.”

  He sat in his chair at the top of the stairs. Most people saw him and that chair and thought him a pitiable cripple. I looked at that chair and saw a tank. Swiveling machineguns mounted front and back and two rocket launchers, combined with retractable armor plating, made him the last person on earth I’d consider attacking. I never doubted my father had made enemies over the course of his life, and that chair was proof.

  When I got to the top, I stood and moved to where he shielded me from any fire from the first floor.

  “Man, when you piss someone off, you do a good job,” I said.

  “It’s called the rewards of being a father,” he growled. “I’m pretty sure this is a reaction to my visiting Alonzo.”

  “Really? Those are Donofrio men?”

  “Superficially. If Alonzo wanted me out of the way, he didn’t have to let me leave. I think they’re people involved with your drug deal. How many bodies did you count?”

  “Two down in the backyard, one in the front, the one I shot, and the two in the entrance. That’s six total, but I only saw the backyard and the east side. Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. I think we can stand down. It sounds like the cavalry has arrived.” He was referring to the sirens that abruptly ended right outside the house. The armor plates shielding his body started retracting into the shell of the chair.

  “Not necessarily,” I said. “I discovered that Blaine is one of Alderette’s partners. The fox in charge of the hen house hired me. Why, I don’t know.”

  I wished I had a free hand to take notes. His profanity was always so creative.

  Gunfire erupted from outside and then abruptly stopped.

  We looked at each other and waited.

  “Mr. Nelson? Libby?” Wil’s voice came from outside.

  “Come in unarmed with your hands in the air,” Dad responded.

  Peeking around Dad and his chair, I saw Wil pick his way carefully over the debris and bodies, his hands above his head. He looked around, and then up.

  “Please identify yourself,” Dad said.

  “Wilbur Wilberforce, Deputy Director of Security, North American Chamber of Commerce.”

  Dad turned his head up to me and whispered, “You’re kidding me.”

  “That’s really his name,” I said.

  “His parents must have hated him.” Dad raised his voice. “Is the situation outside under control?”

  “I believe so,” Wil said.

  A new voice called from the entrance. “Jason, are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for dropping by. I’ll be down in a minute. The usual?”

  I gave Dad a questioning look.

  “Noah Talbot, MegaTech.”

  The armor retracted into the chair. Plates slid into place, hiding the machineguns and rocket tubes. Dad kept his pistol in his hand, however. He nudged the chair forward, and it tipped over the edge, riding its cushion of air down the stairs. I followed him, my weapon at the ready.

  Wil and Talbot waited in the living room. Two men in MegaTech SWAT uniforms stood guard at the entrance. I hadn’t seen Talbot in several years. He’d been my dad’s second-in-command before Dad retired from MegaTech.

  “Hello, Mr. Talbot,” I said.

  “Miss Nelson. You’ve grown up since we last saw each other.”

  Dad surveyed the wreckage of his home. “What a mess. The insurance company is going to have a fit.”

  Talbot chuckled.

  Turning his chair toward the bar, Dad pulled a bottle off the shelf and set out four glasses. I felt a grin break out on my face, in spite of the tension, adrenaline, and general concern I had. That bottle had sat there all my adult life, and I’d never tasted what my father called the best whiskey in the world.

  That’s when I noticed the two SWAT guys were staring at me with their mouths open. I realized I had the high ground with a machinegun pointed at the room. I lowered the muzzle and saw them relax.

  Dad lifted his glass, and the rest of us joined him at the bar.

  “Thank you all for coming to my party,” he said.

  We all chuckled, clinked glasses, and tossed the two-hundred-year-old whiskey into our mouths. On first impression, it was smooth as glass on the tongue and slightly sweet. Then it turned smoky, and went down like someone turned a blowtorch on my throat. Wil and I both gasped. Dad and Talbot smiled at us.

  “So, who did you piss off?” Talbot asked.

  Dad turned to Wil and I. “Perhaps you’d care to explain?”

  Wil glanced at me, pulled out his identification and showed it to Talbot, then said, “Mr. and Miss Nelson are assisting the Chamber with an investigation into some drug trafficking. It appears we’re getting closer to some of the principals than they would like.”

  Talbot nodded. “Does this have something to do with the ODs I keep seeing on the newscasts?”

  “That’s the problem we’re working on.”

  “Simon Wellington’s son died recently,” Talbot said.

  Wil turned to me.

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “I’ve been working undercover, and I was there when it happened. I just found out today that the source of the drugs that killed him has also died.”

  “Counting the nine here, we’re well into setting a record for any investigation I’ve been part of,” Wil said. “We think these guys, or buddies of theirs, were responsible for seven deaths last week.”

&nb
sp; Another SWAT guy came in and spoke to Talbot. After a couple of minutes, Talbot turned back to us.

  “We intercepted a car coming into the neighborhood. The four men inside were heavily armed, so we’re detaining them for questioning. Jason, where are you spending the night?”

  “My place,” I said. “Go get packed, Dad.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Wil asked. “If they came after him here, what makes you think your place is safe?”

  I shrugged. “They’d have to find it first. No one knows where I live. All my mail comes here, and Dad rents the townhouse to some guy named Noah Talbot.” I winked at Talbot. “Or, at least that’s what it says on the books.”

  “Gareth Blaine knows,” Wil said.

  “That’s true. I forgot.” I felt a little stupid for not fully considering Blaine’s involvement.

  Talbot’s head snapped around. “What does Gareth have to do with this?”

  “That’s a good question,” I said. “He’s the one who hired me to investigate the drugs, but we think his college roommate is manufacturing it. He was also friendly with the man we think was taking the drugs into Dallas.”

  “Was?”

  “Blaine’s buddy died, and word is that the supply in Dallas is drying up.”

  Dad gave me a raised eyebrow, and I nodded very slightly. His eyebrows raised higher.

  Talbot turned to Wil. “Perhaps you should have a conversation with Gareth.”

  The Chamber was powerful, but it derived its power from its members. MegaTech was one of the top fifty corporations in the world, and the largest company headquartered in Toronto. The company’s chairman was Simon Wellington’s neighbor.

  Wil took some time to formulate his answer. “I have agents coming in from other cities, mostly from cities where luvdaze isn’t a major problem. We have a major player on the run. The scientists who developed the drug are dead. Our information is that these guys,” he waved his hand toward the hole where the front door used to be, “are part of the Donofrio family. My instinct is to put Blaine under surveillance, but not tip him off to our suspicions.”

  Talbot thought about that, then said, “Sounds like you have your hands full.” He held out his business card. “If you need any help from us, let me know.”