Downfall

by Jeff Abbott

  Over her shoulder the flat-screen TV fed a bottom line that read: THE INVESTIGATION OF DEATH OF BEST-SELLING AUTHOR BARBARA SCOTT CONTINUES. She tried not to let her eyes drift to the words. She needed an excuse to see him again, to get close to him again. She turned on her brightest smile. “Do you visit this club in the evening? Maybe we could have a quick drink. I am fascinated by how you wove in so many cultural references to magic here in the casino. How did you decide what to include? It’s spectacular.”

  “You’re so kind. Unfortunately I won’t be here this evening. Perhaps another time?”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you for introducing yourself.”

  He nodded and moved on to the next table, where two television stars—Janice was sure she’d seen them on a cable drama about two mismatched cops—were doing wiggly-fingered waves, delighted to see Lucky. Janice returned to her paper, thinking, This doesn’t seem like a man who would commit suicide.

  After Lucky said his hellos to the television stars—who did not seem inclined to let him leave—she saw him gesture to the bodyguard. “Go bring her down.”

  The bodyguard nodded and left. Missed chance, Janice thought. If she’d asked him to join her for coffee, she could have poisoned the cup. Now she couldn’t get close enough to him, not without good reason. He must be heading out again with his girlfriend.

  “A girl other than us?” One of the starlets made her voice a mock complaint.

  “Absolutely. Spending the weekend with her.”

  “Incorrigible you.” The starlet swatted at his arm.

  Janice got up and left Enchant. She edged through the crowds and she saw the bodyguard enter the penthouse’s elevator. Lazard, she knew, had one of the penthouse suites on the top two floors of the building. She took the next elevator up; hurried to her room; taped the Glock to the small of her back, under the blouse, under the suit jacket she wore. She got her purse and dumped the cash and gear into it. She wanted to be done. She knew she was hurrying and possibly making a mistake but she wanted to be done. She’d shaken his hand, hid in plain sight like Belias suggested, and it was a mistake. She didn’t want to chat with him; she wanted to strip away his luck and end him and then leave town, go on to the final target. And get home and see if the doctors could give her an extra six months, an extra year, maybe longer.

  She dialed the valet parking service and told them to bring her rental car to the front.

  She could follow him and the girlfriend. Maybe the bodyguard wouldn’t be around, not if Lucky wanted to romance the woman. It might be her best chance. Spending the weekend together, he’d said. She’d have a chance then, perhaps if he and the girlfriend wanted a bit of privacy. A girlfriend would be much easier to handle than two bullnecked bodyguards.

  She hurried back to the elevator. She pressed the button, waited for the cab. The penthouses had an express elevator; she hoped she wasn’t too late.

  She stepped out of the elevator and Lucky Lazard stood five feet away from her, talking to another man in a suit, listening, nodding, then giving instruction. She walked slowly toward the front of the casino. She knew what kind of car he drove and where the exit ramp was for the resident penthouse. She could wheel the rental around and follow him and his date…

  “Daddy!”

  Weird, she would think later, that a child’s voice could slice so neatly through the jangle and laughter and noise of the casino, through the chiming glory of the slots, the brayed laughter of the surprised winners, the sheer buzz of the room.

  She glanced back and saw a young girl, maybe ten, dashing into Lucky Lazard’s arms. She was spare as a bird, pretty, brown haired, brown eyed, dressed in jeans and a purple shirt, hair pulled into a casual ponytail. He ruffled her hair, nodded at the bodyguard. Then he and the girl walked toward the back of the casino. Probably to where his car was.

  The bodyguard stayed behind.

  Now, she thought. No bodyguard. The voice in her head wasn’t hers, it sounded like Belias.

  Are you going to kill a man in front of his daughter, Janice? That voice sounded like hers. Are you going to let that little girl see your face? She stood, a shiver touching her flesh. The gun, strapped to her back, felt heavy as iron, felt like it was piercing her skin like a doll’s turnkey.

  She watched Lucky Lazard and his daughter amble out of sight. Then slowly, she walked toward the front, where her car waited for her, decision made.

  45

  Saturday, November 6, afternoon

  WHAT ON EARTH is going on?” Audrey’s voice wasn’t at its usual dramatic whine; it had deadened to a whisper.

  Holly stood in the entrance of her ex-husband’s home. Her purse felt heavy, and once it had been loaded with everyday mom stuff: water bottles, snacks, chocolate melting in its wrapper, her cell phones, including the one that was used only by Belias. Now it was heavy only with the gun she could have used to kill Sam Capra.

  The blood pounded in her ears.

  Belias. Where was he? Still in the park?

  “What is going on?” Audrey’s voice sounded thin, like a mosquito’s, behind her.

  “It’s all about Glenn,” she said quietly.

  She watched the confusion pass over Audrey’s face. Oh, I thought of killing you before, Holly thought. Then I saw you were too selfish and stupid to hate; you weren’t worth the energy.

  “Tell me what is going on with my husband!”

  My? Ours, Holly thought. The pact she and Glenn had sworn to Belias outweighed those flimsy vows in the church. They were bound like blood.

  “Glenn is in trouble. You cannot help him, and if you go to the police, you will just make it worse.”

  Her earpiece buzzed. Belias. She clicked it while Audrey frowned.

  “Are you with the new wife?” Belias said in her ear.

  “Yes.”

  “She knows too much.”

  “That’s an overstatement.”

  “Explain to me what is going on,” Audrey said. “Get off the phone now.”

  “Kill her if you must…” Belias said.

  “I cannot do that.” Holly hoped her voice sounded firm enough.

  “Then sell her a workable lie. But there is no point in explaining if you have to kill her.”

  “Honestly!” Audrey said. “Do you have to take a call right this minute, Holly?”

  The man who was just here? He killed your husband. You kept me from avenging the man we loved. She had to sell this, though. “Glenn asked me not to involve you.”

  “That woman said this had to do with my family…”

  “Because if you know details, you could go to jail, Audrey. Glenn is in trouble and wants to keep it far from you.”

  “You’re not telling me just to punish me.”

  I’m trying to keep you alive, you little idiot, Holly thought. “Glenn has gotten involved in a very bad investment with some people. That woman wanted you to tell her where Glenn is.”

  “And that security consultant?”

  “He’s trying to keep Glenn safe, find out who these people are. That’s why you must keep your mouth shut.”

  Doubt made Audrey frown. “Why?”

  “Because Glenn doesn’t like to make a mistake. He doesn’t want you to think less of him.”

  “He needs me.”

  “Yes, he does, but he doesn’t see that right now. Give him some alone time.”

  “So he didn’t go on a trip?”

  “Apparently not. But I think you give him some time, maybe a few days, to fix this. If you call the police, it will just be a bigger mess.” Deep breath, she told herself. “Does Glenn have a laptop here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Give it to me.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Do you want these people coming back here? Glenn needs it; I’ll make sure the security guy gets it to him.”

  Audrey shivered. “I should call the police. I should.”

  “Glenn will be crushed if you make this public. He’ll be humiliated. Pleas
e let him handle it.”

  “Can’t you even tell me who these people are?”

  “No, Glenn will tell you when he can. Right now you need to go about your normal business. Yoga class, volunteer work, a reality TV marathon.”

  Audrey shook her head. “It’s not right you know more about Glenn than I do. I’m his wife. You will tell me right now where he is—”

  Holly slapped her. Hard.

  Audrey blinked at her in shock, her hand to her cheek.

  Holly said, “I will tell you nothing. I am doing what he’s asked. I’m doing it because doing what he says is going to keep him out of prison. Do you understand me?”

  Audrey lifted her chin, like a defiant martyr tied at the stake. Oh, that’s right, Holly remembered. Strike a pose. You were sort of an actress once.

  The Bluetooth clicked in her ear. “If I tell you to,” Belias said, “shoot Audrey in the head. And don’t pretend like you haven’t wanted to in the past.”

  “Prison,” Holly repeated. “Did that word get your attention? Good, because if you help him right now and this goes wrong, you’re going to prison, too.”

  That shut Audrey up. Sullenly, she rubbed at the cheek.

  “Now. I need any phones, any computers he has here.”

  Audrey went upstairs, Holly following.

  What if she couldn’t kill Audrey in cold blood? There was no Glenn to win back. Was she going to kill a woman who couldn’t hurt her anymore because Belias said so?

  Are you keeping her alive because you’re a good person or because you don’t want to have committed something as awful as murder? There’s a difference, she thought.

  Holly opened up the study door. She opened the desk. A laptop. It was still warm, sleeping. Presumably Glenn hadn’t left it asleep two days ago. Which meant someone—maybe Sam Capra, he’d been on this street for a reason—had turned it on. She typed in the password Glenn used when they were married; it still worked and the screen popped to life. Maybe Sam Capra had gotten to the laptop, but he’d been stymied by the password.

  Wrong. Then he just would’ve taken the laptop, not left it behind. He’d gotten in, she was sure with a sinking heart.

  “And when will you deign to give me some news on my husband?”

  Holly stood up from the computer. “Audrey, stop it. Why did you make yourself look like a Barbie doll? Why did you chase a married millionaire? Why don’t you have a job or any interests beyond yourself? You want to be shielded. You’ve built your whole life around being taken care of and protected. Well, I’m giving you exactly what you want.”

  Somehow Audrey’s look was more shocked than when Holly slapped her. “I’m not some weakling, Holly.” Audrey turned and flounced down the stairs.

  She actually stomps her feet, Holly thought.

  Audrey pouted in the kitchen and Holly told her good-bye and left. Audrey didn’t turn around or acknowledge her. Holly walked on to the street. From the opposite direction came an Audi. Belias driving. She got in the passenger side.

  “Are you sorry I didn’t have you kill her?” Belias asked. “Isn’t that the first wife fantasy, get rid of the interloping second wife?”

  “Not mine. I’ve never killed anyone in my life.” But she would. Sam Capra. She would not waste another chance.

  He drove in silence back to the safe house in the Mission District. They went inside. “I listened to the police bands. Sam got away.”

  “What now?”

  “Sam thinks he got something valuable from Glenn’s place. So he’ll be in touch, and then I’ll spring my surprise on him. You look like you could use some fresh air. Go get us some coffees. There’s a place down on the corner.”

  She did want fresh air. The apartment stairs led down to the street, and she walked in the cooling breeze. In the coffee shop, she ordered three black coffees—she wanted two for herself; she’d hardly slept the night before—got them in a cardboard tray that held the cups into fitted slots, filled the middle with sugar and cream packets and stirrers. She walked out, and next to the coffee place was a small hardware store, the kind that shook its fist in defiance at the chains and the online sites and managed to eke out an existence on the kindness of the neighborhood.

  She held the coffees and stared in at the windows.

  Poison. They probably had rat poison in there. Would it have a taste? Could she douse it into Belias’s cup? Just end all this?

  But he’s finding the man who killed Glenn.

  The smell of paint above the bed where Glenn died. It wouldn’t leave her alone.

  She stared at herself in the window’s reflection, realizing she was contemplating murder for the third time that day.

  Belias watched Holly from the window. She acted like she didn’t want to come back to him. That troubled him. Glenn had openly defied him in hiring the Russian. The web he’d built was fragile; what kept it tight and functioning was fear. Fear of exposure, fear of loss, fear of what would happen if one tried to break away. Fear of him.

  Was she not afraid of him anymore?

  He watched her, watched the soft breeze stir her hair. Glenn was a fool. Belias had done a careful and thorough vetting of Audrey when Glenn started dating her. He worried she might be a plant from the FBI, or other law enforcement that might have stumbled into his secret, or from even the CIA or a foreign intelligence service. Sadly Audrey was exactly what she seemed to be: a talentless actress who’d set her goal to seducing Glenn Marchbanks into a marriage that meant comfort and security. But if Holly had asked him to kill Audrey, to eliminate her rival, he would have. Although murder was always a last resort. He didn’t care much for murder. But only murder would do sometimes.

  He watched her. She stared at something in the hardware window. She smoothed an errant lock of hair back behind her ear. He wondered what her hair felt like, what the skin of her ear would feel like against his tongue. He bit his lip. It had been so long. Women did not care for his cold hands. Except Svetlana, who laughed and whispered, cold hands, warm heart. But his heart wasn’t that warm and he knew it. He thought of himself as a priest of sorts, a man who troubled himself with the troubles of others and took none of the baser pleasures of life. He had felt bad for her when Glenn left her. It wasn’t something that he could say because he knew his sympathy would scald her.

  But how would she feel now? Glenn was gone. She was alone.

  But she didn’t have to be. He didn’t have to be. Couldn’t he put on a new name, not be John Belias, live in the sunshine rather than the shadow? He’d do it for her. Belias could be a mask, a name that just existed on the computer and phone screen when he issued orders and rewards. He could be…someone else. For her.

  He went to the mirror, smoothed his hair. There had not been a woman as a constant in his life since…Svetlana. Glenn had been handsome and he was a bit plain, except for his blue eyes, which women always said they liked. Did Holly like black hair? Did she like her men thin and lean? He felt suddenly stupid for even harboring such hopes.

  He went back to the window to watch her.

  Belias would wonder why she was taking so long. The coffees would get cold. She turned back toward the street and she saw Belias, standing at the window, watching her. She hurried back to the house.

  “Was there a problem?” he asked.

  “No. Just lost in thought.” She handed Belias his coffee. He took a long slurping sip and now she felt relief she hadn’t poisoned it. He was a horrible man, but this Sam and Diana were the real and true threat to her children’s happiness. She wondered if she was losing her mind.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I was married to Glenn once, and he’s dead, and I don’t think I’ve quite processed that, John.”

  “Of course not.” Belias put his cold, pale hands on her shoulders.

  “Haven’t you ever lost someone you loved?” she asked suddenly. “Don’t you remember what it’s like?”

  “Yes, I have. I loved a woman once. I loved Roger, in a
way, and I think I’m going to miss him more and more as the days pass. Are you surprised I could have ever loved someone?” he asked.

  “No, John, of course not.” But her voice betrayed her.

  “I know I am asking so much of you. I have asked before, but never like this. We’re fighting for our lives here, Holly.” Like they would have a life together. He wished he’d chosen different words.

  The pause became awkward and she turned away, sipping her coffee.

  He turned back toward the computer. “Here’s what I want you to do. Watch the bar. I’m going to call him and I want to know if Sam comes alone or if she comes with him.”

  I could kill Sam then, she thought. I could kill him then.

  “All right,” she said.

  46

  Saturday, November 6, afternoon

  HE KNOWS I CALLED the Rostovs to strike a deal.” Mila shifted gears as we headed back to The Select. “You were right, he has their phones bugged.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “He wanted to kill me. He needs me alive because he’d rather show you I’ve ‘betrayed’ you. You deciding what to do about me will be a test.”

  “A test.”

  “One you have to pass. He has to believe that you feel completely betrayed by me and are open to dealing and working with him now.”

  “He’s already gotten the police off me and killed a man who would have killed me,” I said. “Isn’t gratitude enough?”

  “But you have to break from me. If you want to get inside with him, I have to be tossed aside.”

  “I don’t like this.” I looked at her. “What if he decides tossing you aside means you dead?”

  “I’m quite sure that is exactly what he means.” She turned off Haight, turned onto the side street, pulled up into the lot behind The Select. “Allow me to state the obvious and say that’s unacceptable.”

  “Well, I agree. So here is my idea…”

  47

  Saturday, November 6, afternoon

  JANICE WATCHED LUCKY LAZARD stroll through Sunset Park with his daughter. She cursed herself for allowing him to talk to her at the casino, to register her face. A park. Who knew that Las Vegas had parks? A tourist could forget that starting a few blocks off the Strip there was a relatively normal city, like any other—a city with schools, hospitals, churches, and shopping centers. And here was a park near the airport, with a huge pond and a disc golf course and several sports courts, people walking their dogs, families out enjoying the Saturday. After all, did you want your child at a casino all the time? No. Of course not.