“There is no other way,” Kate said. “You’re the one who’s always saying Swann is all about control. If anybody else is driving that car, the deal won’t go through.”
“I don’t know about that. I only know I’m not your delivery boy.”
Victoria took a step toward him, then paused, oddly hesitant, as if approaching an unfamiliar specimen of wildlife. “You can’t be saying this,” she whispered.
Sam was silent.
“She’s your daughter, too.” A note of pleading entered Victoria’s voice. “Don’t you care about her?”
“Sure I do,” he said without a trace of feeling.
“That man will kill her. Or take her away forever.”
“If I go to him, it’s me who’ll get killed.”
“That’s ridiculous. You worked with him. He knows you. That’s why he wants you to make the delivery. He trusts you.”
“Swann trusts nobody.”
“I’m not saying you’re best friends—”
Sam let out a snort of laughter.
“But he’s got no reason to hurt you.”
“Swann don’t need a reason.”
“Sam,” Kate said carefully. “You and Swann were a team, years ago. Probably, he’s got nothing against you.”
“Right.” Sam smiled, a crooked smile that touched only half his face, reminding her uncannily of Lazarus. “Maybe he just wants to get together and talk over old times.”
“All you have to do is hand him the valise and go.”
“He’ll never let me go.”
“Why are you so certain of that? What’s between you and Swann?”
“Nothing.”
“We don’t have time for games. What are you afraid of?”
He set his teeth in a stubborn look, but his resistance lasted only a moment. “Shit, I’ll tell you. It’s not like you’ll think any less of me. I snitched on Swann.”
Kate stared at him. She couldn’t imagine what mixture of misguided self-interest and perverse self-destruction would prompt a move like that. “When?” she asked slowly.
“Last time I was arrested. That was…what…a year and a half ago. Some small-time shit, but with my record, they could’ve put me away for years. And I couldn’t go back inside. Didn’t think I’d make it out alive this time. When they find out you’re Chelsea’s dad, they all want a piece of you, and they get pissed if you can’t pay. And I can’t fight back as good as I used to…”
“So you made a deal,” Kate said, moving the story along. “You gave the police information in exchange for a reduced sentence.”
“You guessed it. I got off with community service, and they got a description of some old jobs I pulled with Swann and an agreement that I’d testify against him if he ever came to trial.”
“Why the hell would you ever agree to that?”
“To save my ass, like I said.”
“You weren’t scared of what Swann might do?”
“Fuck, lady. Of course I was scared.”
Di Milo spoke up. “You could’ve dished dirt on one of your other buddies. Why Swann?”
“He’s the one they wanted.”
“Why?”
Sam managed another smile, one that covered his whole face this time. “This guy don’t say much, but when he talks, he asks the right questions.”
“So give him some answers,” Kate said.
“The law’s been chasing Swann for years. He’s like a bogeyman to them. His name has turned up in connection with so much bad shit he’s like a fucking urban legend.”
“What kind of bad shit?”
“Well, there’s the drug wars, for one thing. Back in the nineties, Swann was a hit man. Got hired by a drug cartel to take out the competition. This was in Miami. Then the guys who hired Swann started getting whacked. Turned out”—Sam actually chuckled—“Swann sold his services to both sides. He was doing both sets of hits.”
“Risky game,” Kate said.
“Yeah, but he made his money. Spent it all, or lost it, like he always does. But he had his fun.”
“The cartels ever find out he was playing both ends against the middle?”
“Sure, but by then it was too late. He’d skipped town. The feds found out, too. That’s when he became a priority. DEA was hot for him. Still are.”
“And with the cartels and DEA looking for him, he’s stayed alive and out of prison all this time?”
Sam shrugged. “I wouldn’t have believed it myself. But the guy has discipline. He lives below the radar, totally off the grid. No paper trail. Never stays long in one place. He’s like a damn cockroach, adaptable. And damn near indestructible.”
“Why didn’t you say any of this before?”
“Didn’t figure it mattered. I told you what Swann’s all about. Hell, I even showed you. Bob Ellis is worth a thousand words, right?”
“Who’s Bob Ellis?” Victoria asked, but Kate and Sam ignored her.
“Even if you did give this information to the police,” Kate said, “there’s no reason to think Swann knows about it. He got this job because Farris hired him, not for any personal reason.”
“I’m not sure I buy that. Swann always works more than one angle. He’s already double-crossed Farris, hasn’t he? Nobody can buy him. He’s got his own agenda, always.”
“You don’t know he’s out for revenge against you. For all we know, he just thinks of you as an old acquaintance.”
“Maybe. But I’m not ready to start singing ‘Auld Lang Syne.’ Word could’ve reached him about what I done. If he knows, he’ll want payback.”
“It’s a risk,” Kate conceded. “But it’s one you’ll have to take.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then there’s no hope for Chelsea.”
Sam looked at her, then looked hard at his ex-wife. “C’est la fucking vie.”
He started to walk off. Amazingly, he held his head high, his shoulders straight. Conscious of the eyes on him, he would show no weakness.
He was almost out of the room when Victoria said, “Hold on.”
With insolent slowness, he turned to her. “Something to say?”
“Yes, God damn it, I have something to say. You’re not thinking very clearly right now, are you?”
“How so?”
“You’ve been mooching off me for years—off me and Chelsea. You’ve been riding the gravy train, and it’s been a damned smooth ride, hasn’t it? But not anymore. Turn your back on Chelsea now, and it’s over. You’re on your own.”
The cynical smile clung to Sam’s face, but the light in his eyes was dimming.
“You’ll be flat broke. You’ll be a bum on the street. You can sling hash in a diner, like you used to. Minimum wage. Enough to get you a rented room in some shit hole.”
“You wouldn’t do that, baby,” Sam said, his tone suddenly ingratiating. “You can see I’m only looking out for myself.”
“You’ve always looked out for yourself. Tonight you’re looking out for Chelsea, or you’re all done. You can rot in a housing project until you get desperate enough to start pulling jobs again. Then you can rot in jail.”
“We’re a team, Vicki,” Sam said, still wheedling.
“Not anymore. I’m pulling the plug. Unless you deliver that bag, you’re out of my life for good.”
She said it coldly, without hysteria or tears. Maybe that was what convinced Sam she meant it. Kate watched his face as it ran through a series of expressions, from fury to panic to acceptance.
Victoria had beaten him. She’d played her hole card, and played it well.
“All right,” Sam said quietly. “Get the shit ready. I’ll do it.”
Kate stared at Sam’s back as he retreated down the hall.
I’ll do it, he’d said.
She wished she could believe him.
IT took Skip twenty minutes to modify the Lexus’s onboard computer. Kate was beginning to worry he’d promised more than he could deliver. She couldn’t check on his pro
gress without the risk of being seen by Swann’s hidden camera.
Her phone rang. It might be Swann, but no. The caller ID showed a number with a local area code.
“Miss Malick?” Georgia from Teen Alliance. “Sorry to call at this hour, but…”
“It’s fine. I never sleep. What’s up?”
“I just wanted to say your secret’s safe. I swear.”
“My…secret?”
“About Amber. Who her father is. I won’t breathe a word.”
“How do you know…?”
“Well, he was here. He said you sent him.”
“He was at Teen Alliance? Amber’s dad?”
“Yes.” She lowered her voice. “Carson Banning himself. Is he a client of yours?”
“Just a friend.”
“Well, I can see why you’re keeping it quiet. It would be a tragedy if word got out. The press are so mean to him as it is. They never let the poor man be.”
“When did he see you?”
“Why, not half an hour ago. Can you imagine what that was like? Him, walking in out of the blue like that?”
“Was he alone?”
“I’m afraid so. I told him it wasn’t safe, wandering in this neighborhood at such an hour. Such a distinguished-looking man, so well dressed. He’s bound to attract the wrong sort of attention.”
Kate was barely listening. She knew how Banning had found Teen Alliance, of course. She’d mentioned it to him at his house. A mistake on her part, but she hadn’t thought he would follow up. He’d promised not to. She shouldn’t have believed him.
Banning must have sent his bodyguards home long ago and hadn’t called them back on duty. He was looking for Amber on his own.
Stupid. But a desperate father would do stupid things. She should have known that.
“Anyway,” Georgia was saying, “I just wanted you to know I’ll keep it under my hat. Amber’s identity, I mean. I’m sorry the overpass was a dead end, but I’m still trying to track her down. I’m asking everyone who comes in.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Carson Banning’s my very favorite. I couldn’t believe I actually met him. People say he’s washed up, but I see every movie he’s in. Some of them twice.”
“I’ll tell him you said so.”
“Actually”—a nervous laugh—“I told him myself. He gave me his autograph.”
“That was nice of him. Mr. Banning gave you his phone number, too, I imagine.”
“Why, yes, he did. In case I come up with anything.”
“Georgia, I have to ask you not to call him. He means well, but he really shouldn’t be out looking for his daughter. If he tries to approach her, he may just scare her off.”
“If you feel that way, why did you send him here?”
“Well…”
“Oh, I get it. You didn’t send him.”
“He can be a bit impulsive.”
“I understand.” She sighed, disappointed. “All right, I’ll call you and only you.”
“Thank you. It’s for the best.”
“We’ll find his little girl, Miss Malick. Don’t fret. I’m on the case.”
Kate had no doubt that she was. What worried her was that Carson was on the case, too.
She didn’t have time to think about it. Skip had appeared in the living room, trailed by Alan.
“That was awesome,” Alan said.
Skip shrugged off the praise.
“You got it reprogrammed?” Kate asked.
“Without breaking a sweat. Like I said, mad skills.”
“Isn’t it refreshing to use your powers for good instead of evil?”
“Yeah, but it’s not as remunerative.”
“There’s more to life than money.”
“True. There’s sex. But I kind of need money for that, too. By the way,” he added in a louder voice, “I tweaked the system so it’s permanently activated. It’s like the panic button has been pressed, and there’s no off switch. So if by any chance Swann decides to take Mr. Brewer’s car, we can still track him. There’s no way Swann or anybody else can kill the signal.”
He said this with a glance toward the Eames chair where Sam sat nursing another scotch.
Kate got it. It wasn’t Swann he was worried about. He thought Sam might try to make a run for it. Skip didn’t trust Sam Brewer any more than she did.
“Good to know,” she said. “Okay, Victoria’s got the paintings out of their frames and rolled up. So I guess we’re ready to get started.”
Alan spoke. “Just one more thing. I need to outfit Mr. Brewer with a headset so he can receive our transmissions without tying up his phone. If he keeps his cell on speaker, we’ll be able to hear Swann when he calls.” He produced a small transceiver with an earbud and stalk microphone dangling from it. “I rigged it up while Skip was doing his thing.”
The smile on his face showed that he was still looking for an apple from his teacher.
Sam eyed him suspiciously. “You want me to wear that thing?”
“Right. You talk into the mike and listen through the earpiece.”
“I know how to use a headset, jerkoff. But Swann’ll kill me if he knows I’m wearing a wire.”
“You’ll take it off before you meet him. Obviously.”
“What if he’s watching me and he sees that thing on my head?”
“He’ll assume it’s a standard hands-free kit.”
Sam gave in. “Fuck, I’ll wear it. What the hell, I’m a fucking lamb to the slaughter anyhow.” He snatched up the headset and slipped it on, then grabbed his cell phone and stuffed it into his pocket as he rose from his chair. “Let’s do it.”
He was trying for an air of bravado, but the tremor in his voice spoiled the effect.
Victoria had been staring out the window all this time. Now she turned to the man who had been her husband. “You’re doing the right thing. You know you are.”
“Guess I don’t have much choice.”
“You’re saving our daughter.”
“If she’s still alive to be saved.”
He said it casually, but Kate saw how Victoria flinched from the words.
“She’ll come back to us,” Victoria said quietly. “To both of us. You’re going to be all right.”
“Sure I am. Swann wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t hurt a fucking fly.” Sam pulled on his jacket. From its weight, Kate knew the gun was still inside. She thought about ordering him to leave it behind; Swann wouldn’t be happy if the messenger showed up armed. But if she pressed the point, Sam might not go at all.
“You’ll be all right,” Victoria said again, as if willing him to believe it.
He ignored her. “Where’s that satchel?”
Victoria gave him the valise, crowded with jewelry and the tight cylinder of paintings. Sam took it from her without a word.
“Remember, he wants you to get on San Fernando Road, heading northwest,” Kate said. “Then he’ll call with new instructions.”
“Been over that. Don’t need a refresher course.”
“Vince and Alfonse will be a mile behind you.” Kate knew he was aware of this also, but she thought he could use the reassurance. “They can catch up in a minute if they have to.”
“A lot can happen in a minute,” Sam said, not looking back.
He went out the door.
“Good luck,” Victoria called out, but the door was already swinging shut and he didn’t answer. Kate saw him glance up at the sky as if searching for something. Swann’s hidden camera, probably. It was out there somewhere and no doubt Sam Brewer could feel it. Could feel Swann’s eyes on him.
She wondered if she had just sent a man to his death.
CHELSEA wasn’t herself.
She knew that much. Her head was light as a balloon and her fingertips were a million miles away. The brightness was too bright and the ceiling was too high. Some kind of major weirdness was going on.
She even knew why it was happening. She just couldn’t remember right n
ow. But she was sure it had to do with Mr. Darkness.
She stood in a corner of the kitchen, shifting her weight from side to side, watching him. The kitchen was large and cluttered with saucepans and big pots, racks of spoons and spices, piles of dinner plates in a giant aluminum sink. Fans were mounted in the ceiling to blow smoke and steam into ventilation ducts. A big stand-alone freezer hummed against the wall.
It was the kitchen of a restaurant—something Trattoria. The aromas of tomato sauce and basil hung in the air, and would have made her hungry if she’d been there to notice.
Swann had driven into the alley behind the building and let her in through the rear door, using a key. She had no idea where he’d gotten the key. Maybe he’d produced it by magic, out of thin air, presto.
He’d made a call on his cell phone, punching in a long string of numbers before he dialed. Chelsea had listened to his side of the conversation without interest. Even the part about what he might do with her didn’t seem important. It was all just words.
Hearing Kate’s voice was nice. And her mom. She’d hoped she might get to talk to them again, but Mr. Darkness had closed the phone and pocketed it.
Now he was checking his gun and whistling. It was the first time she’d heard him whistle. She didn’t like it. There was nothing cheerful about it.
He wasn’t looking at her. His attention was fixed on the gun as he checked the clip. He didn’t look up when she moved toward him, holding the knife casually down at her side, the blade tucked behind her.
It was a medium-sized steak knife, and she’d seen it lying among the dirty dishes in the sink. It had been hidden under her blouse throughout the phone call. She would have used it then, if he’d given her any chance, but his eyes had been on her the whole time. His scary yellow eyes.
God, she would love to put out the light in those eyes.
She didn’t dare think of it. In a movie, sure, she could spring the knife on him and jam it into his heart. In real life, she knew it wouldn’t work that way. He was fast and strong and wily. She couldn’t kill him—at least not quickly enough to save herself. Even if she got in a good deep stab, he would have the strength and the rage to kill her before he collapsed.
But he would have to do it fast. That was what she was counting on. He couldn’t let her linger, not if she hurt him badly enough.
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