“What's your point?”
She gestured toward the car behind her. “Those people are killers. Go see your daughter, Lesko, but stand back from this. Leave it to those whose heads are clear and who are not encumbered by a policeman's rules.”
“That's good advice. Thank you.”
Elena screwed up her face. “I beg your pardon?”
“I mean it. When you're right, you're right.”
Makes a lot of sense, he thought. It was more their style. Let them kill each other off. As many as possible. Then he'd go clean up whoever was left.
CHAPTER 25
On the second floor of Palmer Reid's home, shortly after two in the morning, Charles Whitlow tapped on the door of his superior's bedroom. He was fully dressed having seen it as his duty to remain in control of events while Palmer Reid slept. He tapped again, more loudly, then entered at the sound of Reid's voice. He carried a cup of steaming tea that he placed on the bedside table, then sat primly in a straight-backed chair as he waited ¯ for the older man to signal that he was sufficiently awake.
“The girl?” Reid rubbed one eye.
“Still alive,” Whitlow answered dismissively. “We have several more urgent concerns. Some may be opportunities as well.”
“Just report, Charles.” Reid sipped from the cup without acknowledging its source. “I will evaluate.”
Very well, Whitlow sniffed inwardly. See what you make of these. He produced a note pad, folded open. “Raymond Lesko has arrived in Zurich in the company of two of Bannerman's top agents. They were met by one more, plus some young hoodlum who apparently left after bringing them a car. They were also met by Elena Betancourt herself, accompanied by two bodyguards. As we speak, this entire retinue is probably just arriving in Davos.”
Reid blinked. “For heaven's sake.”
“Your suspicions would appear to be vindicated. A conspiracy, if l dare offer an opinion, has clearly existed all along.”
“Elena knew them? All of them?” Reid straightened.
“So it would appear. Her greeting of Raymond Lesko was characterized as guardedly affectionate. As for the others, we had asked that any of Bannerman's people be detained for questioning. Elena waltzed them right through. They proceeded to the parking lot and departed in three cars as a group.”
“Impossible.”
Whitlow, smugly, tapped the notebook with his index finger.
“Bannerman doesn't know Elena. He assured me of that himself. He'd never even heard the name until I mentioned it.”
“Bannerman's ‘assurance,’ you say. You don't suppose he might have been fibbing.”
“I know the truth when I hear it, Charles.”
“Of course, sir.” Whitlow kept his expression blank.
“Could it be possible, Charles, that Bannerman is being duped by his own people? That they've begun a drug enterprise right under his nose? That the girl, under the direction of her father—you'll recall that I suggested this scenario—seduced Bannerman in order to distract him?”
Whitlow could hardly bear it. If it weren't for the money, the power. . . .
“There is certainly some confusion here, sir. But there is also the fact that four of Bannerman's key operatives are now with him in Switzerland.” He ticked them off, including Dr. Russo who had been questioned and released by the police, again in spite of his own request to the contrary. “Whatever else may be afoot, such a gathering would seem to seriously deplete Westport's capacity for effective resistance.”
“My order stands, Charles.” More's the pity, he thought, because Whitlow undeniably had a point. “There can be no action against Bannerman or Westport while that damned basketball player is breathing down our necks.”
Whitlow pursed his lips. “That brings up another problem, sir. General Ortirez's people are still at large. He claims he cannot withdraw them unless they contact him and he does not expect them to do so.”
”A moot point, I think. Bannerman and the girl would seem to be adequately protected for the moment.”
“One would think so, sir. Ortirez, however, has demanded the immediate execution of Elena Betancourt. He insists that it be done within the next twenty-four hours.”
“Ortirez demands? Ortirez insists?” Reid conjured a vision of this beribboned and pomaded little spic and then shook it away as too distasteful to contemplate at such an early hour. Still, the idea had its attractions. If Paul Bannerman didn't know Elena before, he was now at the point of making her acquaintance. A cozy exchange of information between them would not be to his benefit.
“It seems, sir, that he made an ill-advised call to Elena. He thought the girl was dead. He called Elena to boast of it. The call was intended to unnerve her, but I'm afraid she got the better of the exchange. She responded with a threat or two of her own and now Ortirez wants her killed before she can put them into effect.”
“Get Ortirez to Washington, Charles. It's time I clarified our relationship.”
“He's quite beside himself, sir. I'm not sure he'll leave the protection of his compound.”
“Then redirect his concerns, Charles. Get him thinking about his place in world affairs.”
“Sir?”
“In eighteen months his country will need a reliable presidential candidate. Whisper to him, Charles, that the United States would consider its interests well-served if he would accept the burdens of that office. Promise him a secret meeting at the White House. Anything. Just get him here.”
“Yes, sir.” Whitlow liked that. Not only would it fetch Ortirez, but he might even shave for the occasion.
“In the meantime, arrange whatever is necessary to give him peace of mind.”
“I'm afraid nothing short of. . . .”
“You do follow my meaning, Charles.”
“Yes, sir.” Whitlow snapped his notebook shut.
“You're a very good man, Charles.”
Susan was dreaming. She was on the mountain. With Paul. But he was skiing too fast again. He wouldn't wait. It was because they'd had an argument. She couldn't remember about what.
But Caroline stayed with her. And Ray. Caroline tried to make her feel better. Saying life's too short to fuss over every little thing. Especially between two people who like each other so much. Plain as day. Written all over both your faces.
Caroline tried to make her smile. Pushed her into a snow bank. Threw snow in her face. Funny that Ray and Caroline are skiing in their street clothes. Then suddenly she couldn't see. Her cheek hurt. She was dizzy. Now her eye hurt. And she couldn't breathe. Caroline? Caroline, help me.
Better now. Feels good. Feels won-der-ful. Oh, wow. Oops. Have to stop saying that. But it feels soooo good.
Not now, it doesn't. Hurts. Face, nose, chest. Everything. Caroline? Oh, you're here. Why are you staring? Is something wrong with my face?
“Come on, Susan.” Caroline Bass leaned over the bed and kissed her forehead. “You're gonna make it. You're gonna be just fine.” She turned to face Paul, who'd drawn up a chair to the opposite side of the bed. “I believe she's comin' back, Paul,” she smiled warmly.
He nodded hopefully. The breakfast from the Dolder Grand was balanced on his lap. He'd touched none of it for all Ray Bass's repeated urgings that he get something in his stomach. In truth he was ravenous. He'd barely eaten since a late lunch Monday. He couldn't take the chance that the rolls or coffee were doctored. Nor would he leave the bedside though his bladder had settled into a dull, crippling ache.
His last opportunity to relieve himself came an hour earlier when a nurse came in to give Susan an alcohol bath. But before he could stir, Caroline Bass asked if she could bathe Susan herself. She'd been, she said, a nurse's aide in Mississippi. It would occupy her mind while helping her to feel useful. The nurse had no objection. Paul said, “Not yet. Let's wait a while.”
Now Caroline picked up the alcohol again. “Why don't you two boys get a breath of air? Give the ladies a few minutes* privacy.”
“Sounds good to
me,” Ray Bass stood and stretched. “Come on, Paul. Do you good.”
“Not just yet, if you don't mind,” he said. “Every now and then I'm getting a little squeeze from her hand.”
“That's sure a hopeful sign. But when that girl wakes up and gives you a proper squeeze you'll faint dead away, the rate you're goin.”
“Just a while longer. Please.”
Another forty minutes passed. A waving white-clad arm caught his eye from the nurses station. The nurse was holding up a phone. He rose gingerly and walked over to it, trying not to waddle.
“It's Molly, Paul.”
Thank God.
“We're parked at the Davos station. We have a small army here.”
“Who?”
She told him briefly. He did not take time to ask how the various Bruggs came to be with her. It was enough that Molly seemed comfortable with them.
“I want you to stall Lesko for a full fifteen minutes and then let him come see his daughter. There's another American couple here now. Pleasant-looking, medium height, late fifties. She's wearing a light-colored fur and he has a tan cashmere overcoat. If they leave the hospital in those fifteen minutes, they'll have just tried to finish Susan off.”
There was barely a pause. “Take them or follow them?”
“Take them, but quietly.”
“Fifteen minutes,” she acknowledged. “It's a long time to hold Lesko if he doesn't want to be held.”
“Tell him his daughter's getting a bath.”
Crisp and efficient was fine, Lesko thought, but Molly was becoming a pain in the ass. They'd pulled up all three cars at the railroad station and then waited while she made a phone call. Then she says sit tight while the three from Westport go scout the hospital for signs of a stake-out. What Lesko wanted was to see his daughter, and he wanted to see her now. But he couldn't argue that looking the place over made sense. Just ten, maybe fifteen minutes. Besides, Elena agreed with her. Elena also agreed that her two cousins would be strictly back-up. Good, then give me one of their guns. No, said Molly. Why the hell not? Because you're too worked up. The librarian gets one but I don't? Fact is, she doesn't get one, either.
Bullshit.
But she left before he could argue.
Ten minutes. Twelve. Almost fifteen. Then Molly returned alone and drew up alongside Elena's Mercedes.
“Susan has visitors with her,” Molly said. “I think they're just leaving.”
“So what? I'm supposed to wait my turn?”
“Then Susan's getting a bath. Paul thought she'd prefer to be cleaned-up before you see her.”
“Yeah, well, fuck him, lady.” What the hell is this? He turned to Elena. “You going to drive me over there or do I get out and walk?”
“Susan's all set, Paul.” Caroline found them sitting in the front lobby. “Clean as a whistle. I brushed her hair and gave her a dab of Shalimar behind the ear.”
Paul saw that she'd put on her coat and was carrying Ray's over her arm. “Thanks, Caroline. Are you leaving?”
“Just to take a walk. I think I breathed in as much of that alcohol as I splashed.”
“Take your time. It'll still be quite a while.” He walked back toward Susan's bed.
Elena gripped Lesko's arm as they climbed the steps of Davos Hospital and pushed through the double doors. The couple, approaching them obliquely from the lobby's sitting area, caught her eye. The woman in the light fur suddenly began to weep. She turned her head into the man's chest and he buried his face in her hair, comforting her. Something about them. Vaguely familiar. Lesko tugged her toward the information desk. Elena pointed to a sign showing that the Intensive Care Unit was just down the corridor. She led Lesko in that direction.
“You get a gold star for your timing, darlin’.” Ray Bass patted Caroline's shoulder. “I would say we now have one too many fellers named Ray around here.”
“That was him all right,” she glanced over her shoulder. “Who'd have thought a big, ugly brute like that would have such a pretty daughter?”
“Well, my own daddy was plain as a post and you see the fine-looking gentleman he produced. You do know that was Elena with him, don't you, love? Though I don't believe she recognized us.”
“She didn't get much of a look, not now or back then, either. You covered us real smooth, by the way.”
“Thank you, darlin'. But I think we have to assume we might have rung a little bell and at least that Elena didn't come here without some kin. What do you say we use another door?”
“Then what, precious?”
“Let's get at least an hour away, down toward Italy,” Ray said thoughtfully. “Then we can call like we're still here in town and get the bad news about poor Susan. It's a shame, though.”
“Now darlin’,” she gave him a squeeze, “you keep tellin' me not to go makin' this personal.”
“Oh, I don't mean about the girl. I mean we just had all three of 'em standin' practically within the swing of a cat.”
“Everything in its time and place, darlin’…Goodness, what was that?” A loud crash echoed down the corridor. A woman shouting in German. White-clad people running.
Susan was naked. And she was lying in a snowfield under a bright, warm sun. Her skin felt cool, not cold, and fragrant. She could smell spring flowers in the air. It was so much better now.
Caroline had undressed her. Was massaging her. Cold hands. She could feel them rubbing lightly over her breasts and stomach, then lower, probing now between her legs. Caroline? What are you doing? Caroline…I don't think this is such a good idea. Caroline, don't. Don't touch me there.
Oh, wait. It's all right. It's Paul. Paul, honey, for a minute I thought you were… never mind. Paul, sweetie? Not so rough, okay? Gently. And not in my ass, damn it. I don't like that. Paul, stop. My father. Not in front of my father.
“You fucking creep…!”
Her father's face over Paul's shoulder. Now grabbing Paul, by the hair, flinging him out of sight. Crunching sounds. Smashing sounds. A woman shouting. Susan wanted to cover her nakedness but her arms were too heavy to move.
“Here. I got it. ” A man in a loud sport coat drew the sheet over her.
“Uncle David?”
“How you doin’ kid?”
“I'm fine…Uncle David, they're fighting.”
“Your old man's just feeling parental. Don't worry. Let him get it out of his system.”
“But Daddy will kill him. You know how he gets.”
“Kill who? James Bond? Myself, I wouldn't worry too much. Frankly, it'd do your father good to get his own ass kicked for a change.”
“You fucking creep….”
What Lesko saw, what had made him snap, was the man who had to be Paul Bannerman standing over Susan, her body exposed from rib cage downward, his hand deep between her thighs, probing, massaging, as her body arched and trembled.
Bannerman saw Lesko but he didn't stop. He probed deeper. Even when Lesko seized him by the hair and bent his head backward he kept his grip. Lesko's right fist drove into his kidney. Bannerman went rigid, he gasped, but still he blindly groped.
“No, Lesko,” Elena shouted. “Leave him.”
Another blow to the kidneys. The hand came free. Elena saw it, encased in a plastic glove that gleamed with moisture. She saw the hand clawing at the sheet between Susan's legs, finding and grasping an object that resembled a dirty piece of chalk.
Lesko tore Bannerman from the bed and sent him tumbling over a metal chair. He lunged after him. The hand with the plastic glove was balled into a tight fist but Bannerman made no move to strike with it. He used his feet. He whipped one leg at the side of Lesko's knee and again at Lesko's head as, off balance, the bigger man fell. He landed on Bannerman's legs, pinning them, then clawed toward Bannerman's neck.
The Bannerman Solution (The Bannerman Series) Page 43