Benson turned and nearly fainted from pain. He had to call his doctor as soon as he got back in his office. He never got the chance. He fell, unconscious. Calls for emergency personnel echoed in the huge room.
Darren watched the medical team race to the amphitheater. He knew it was for Benson. Now what?
*****
Nick had received clearance from his Chief to go undercover for the FBI and the CIA. Phillips had received a cautious approval to participate in Nick’s plan. Dalton was still on hold for the Directorate. Finally, Benson’s assistant, Darren, answered the line that Dalton was on. He listened to Dalton’s request to use Nick to infiltrate the kidnapping group.
Darren answered, “Directorate Anders has been taken to the hospital for a medical emergency. You are the agent in charge in securing the DIANA team and identifying the kidnappers. I would think this decision falls on you at this time. I will keep you posted as to the Directorate’s condition. Or I can forward your call to the Executive Director?”
“Don’t do that. I’ll make the decision and keep you posted.”
Dalton hung up his call and looked at the waiting faces of Phillips and Nick. “They just took my boss to the hospital. The decision is mine.”
Nick smiled, “Well? This could be fun.”
Dalton felt more than a little apprehensive about joining Nick in a plan. Nick didn’t trust the CIA and Dalton didn’t trust Nick to keep him informed. “You know you can’t give them Chris, right? Where Chris goes, I go.”
Nick answered, “Got it. I think I’ll apply for my new job. I’ll let Joe listen.”
Nick entered the interrogation room. Phillips and Dalton stepped into the observation room.
Joe threw his arms in the air. “Dude? Do you realize I’ve been waiting for three hours? Can I go now?”
“Almost.” Nick pulled his chair over by Joe and said, “I’ve got all kinds of shit from the FBI, because I’m trying to save your ass. Your buddy that’s in the hospital is on top of the wrong list, Joe. I think I’ve got you covered. I lied and told them you guys were not together. You were an innocent civilian that I brutalized for no reason. I’m definitely losing my job for you.” Nick opened his notebook to the number Joe had given him. “If I get this new job, I’ll finish getting you out of here, deal?”
Joe leaned back and shook his head. “I don’t know, man. You’re still a cop. They’re pretty careful who they hire.”
Nick smirked. “Really? Did you know that the guys they sent to Lead to kidnap Dr. Sanchez, let her escape? The CIA has her now.”
Joe’s eyes opened wide. “Oh, shit! That’s bad.”
Nick continued, “Your side of this isn’t looking much better. Your buddy is in the hospital and Dr. Larson is here with me at the police station. I’d say some people are getting fired.”
Joe stood and began pacing. “They don’t fire you for mistakes in this job. They kill you.”
Nick shrugged, “I can’t help the guys in Lead, but I can help you. You’re replacing your buddy with me and I can get Chris. Problem solved on this end.”
Joe nodded. “Do it. But they can’t know you’re a cop.”
Nick looked at the one-way mirror. “I think my identity is fairly clean.”
Phillips and Dalton both cursed and pulled their phones from their breast pockets. Each placed calls ordering Nick’s bio to be blocked from every government database and internet search engine.
Nick dialed the number Joe had given him. “Hello? Who am I speaking to?” Nick noticed Joe had stopped pacing and was intently listening. His left eye had a slight twitch and his shoulders were rigid. Joe was deathly afraid this call would go badly.
A voice answered, “Who are you?”
“I’m the guy that’s going to clean up your mess if the price is right.”
“What mess?”
“Dr. Angel Sanchez has escaped and is with the CIA. Your people killed two CIA agents in the process. I put one of your Chicago men in the hospital when he tried to take Dr. Larson. Right now, you have nothing. Joe Small is with me now. I can guarantee you Dr. Larson will be secured within the hour, but I want Joe’s help. Dr. Larson trusts me. If this assignment is important, you will recognize that I am the only one that can get it done.”
“Who are you?”
“You get my name when I get yours.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Okay then. Nice talkin’ to ya.”
“Wait! Somebody has to vouch for you. Give me time to make a call.”
“Your name.”
“I’m called Mason.”
Nick said, “Call Dominick Guioni. Ask him about Nick Stryker. I’ll give you 15 minutes to call me back.”
Phillips slammed his fist on the wall in the observation room. “What the hell is he thinking? Jesus!”
Dalton frowned. “Who’s Dominick Guioni?”
“He’s the head of the Chicago Westside crew. He knows Nick’s a cop. He knows everything about him!”
Joe had taken a seat at the table and stared wide eyed at Nick. “Well? How do you think it’s going to go?”
“I think we’re okay. Look, I have a couple of things to do while we wait for Mason to call us back. You want a soda or something?”
Joe shook his head and Nick walked into the observation room where Phillips and Dalton waited.
Phillips yelled, “Why in the hell did you do that?”
Nick answered, “If I’m right, Dominick will smell that Mason has a plan gone rotten. He’ll do what it takes to distance himself. He’ll consider this a tip from me that this guy has serious trouble with the law. Dominick is only worried about Dominick. He’ll give me a good recommendation.”
Dalton laughed, “I forgot how much fun it is hanging around you. Only you would expect a mobster to give you a good recommendation to another mobster. You screwed this one, Stryker.”
Nick shrugged.
Dalton looked at Phillips. “Well, this is off to a good start. Do we have a Plan B?”
Nick’s phone rang. The Caller ID displayed the name Mason. “Yes?”
“How much?”
*****
Dominick sat puffing on his cigar at the big round table in Bruno’s Bar. He had stopped listening to the men seated with him. What was Stryker up to? How did he ever get Mason’s number? Maybe the high and mighty New York boys weren’t as smart as they thought. Dominick chuckled. It took balls to give Mason Dominick’s name for a recommendation. This was going to be fun.
*****
Dalton asked Nick, “So, you won this one. What now?”
Nick said, “Chris needs to be in on the plan, but I figure Dalton, Joe and myself will watch Chris at my place. We need to find out the names of the others in Joe’s group and why they want Chris. Joe will think Chris has been kidnapped, but it will actually be him.” Nick grinned.
Phillips looked at Dalton, “Just who are you supposed to be in this little play? Joe won’t take kindly to another new face.”
Dalton looked at Nick. “Who am I?”
Nick said, “He’ll make you as a cop. I figure you to be just another bad ex-cop in Chicago. My longtime partner in crime that I asked to help keep Chris isolated.”
Phillips nodded. “Why your place?”
Nick shrugged, “My stuff’s there.” Nick glanced at his watch. “It’s already six. I’ll give Joe my address and tell him to show up at eight. That will give us time to pick up some supplies, etc. I’ll make you guys some goulash.”
Phillips grabbed the handle of the door to leave. “I want names as soon as you get them. This group isn’t going to just go away. We need to know why these scientists are targets.”
They found Chris and Jen intently watching the evening news on Nick’s monitor. Lester Holt was reporting the massive international search for the missing Malaysian jet. U.S. officials had speculated that it was most likely the jet had experienced mechanical problems and had crashed. Lester Holt had a list of passengers’ names
rolling behind him.
Chris was pointing to his team members’ names and then froze. “That can’t be! They have Dr. Gustoff Kyser’s name on the list. He couldn’t have been on that jet!” Chris turned to Dalton. “Dr. Kyser is the head of our Malaysian team. You know he would not have been allowed on the same jet as Elliott.” Chris looked at Nick. “The CIA is lying.”
Chapter Nine
8:00 p.m., New Buffalo, Michigan
Lenny parked his truck in the casino parking lot, changed into the t-shirt he had purchased at the gas station and sprayed mint breath spray in his mouth and armpits. He checked his reflection in the rearview mirror and practiced a wide toothy smile. Hopefully the ladies would find him irresistible tonight. He moved the large bills from his wallet to his tarnished money clip. It never hurt to flash a little green around.
Lenny hoped he would run into Butch and Raymond again tonight and flaunt his new wealth. He figured they would find him easy enough if he sat at a blackjack table. Butch had said they drive to the casino almost every night from Chicago. Listening to Butch and Raymond exchange mob stories was fun and Lenny’s life, these days, didn’t provide much fun.
The only benefit of taking the job at Frankie Mullen’s house, besides the great pay, was its proximity to the casino. There was little else to do in New Buffalo and driving all the way back to Chicago every night didn’t hold much appeal. As long as the weather was nice he could sleep in his truck bed or on Frankie Mullen’s carpeted floor. Last week had been Lenny’s first visit to the casino. As luck would have it, he ran into Butch and Raymond from his school days growing up in the hood. The three of them had been inseparable as young hoodlums and quickly earned a reputation as troublemakers.
Uncle Artie intervened in Lenny’s fate and bought a house on the Northside for Lenny and his mom. He didn’t want his sister’s son to end up in the mob. Lenny had managed to graduate high school and learn the carpentry trade before exchanging his future for a bottle. Butch and Raymond stayed in the neighborhood and, indeed, ended up deeply entrenched in Dominick Guioni’s Westside Crew.
Lenny strutted through the casino doors thinking about how running into Travis had been a streak of good luck. Travis had done most of the work today and almost all of the digging. Lenny patted his fat wallet and chuckled. Yep, his luck had finally turned for the better.
The noise of the slot machines chinking, the clinking of the chips, and the humming of the spinning wheels created an infectious excitement in the cavernous room. The glitzy casino was breathtakingly beautiful and Lenny instantly felt famous and important. He had only played a couple of hands of blackjack when Butch and Raymond arrived. They waited for Lenny to lose his hand and then suggested they head over to the bar to watch women.
Four beers later, Butch looked at Raymond and said, “Just relax, man. There’s no way he’s dumb enough to come here. Just have a little patience. I’m tellin’ ya, I’ve got a good feelin’. This one is ours!” Their beer mugs came together with a clink.
Lenny gulped the last of his beer and asked, “What are you guys up to these days?”
Butch and Raymond looked at each other and shrugged. Butch said, “Ain’t no way Lenny’s got the balls for this. Go ahead and tell him.”
Lenny frowned. “Tell me what?”
Raymond leaned in close and said, “We’re on a bounty hunt. We’ll get one million dollars for a dude’s head.”
Lenny swallowed. “You mean when you catch the guy or…?”
Butch laughed and whispered, “When we turn in the head.” He made a slicing motion with his finger across his throat.
Lenny nearly toppled from his bar stool. “Whoa. You gotta take the head to get your money?” Lenny couldn’t believe his childhood friends were capable of cutting off a man’s head. “Who’s paying for this?”
Raymond narrowed his eyes. “What do you care? You got the balls to cut off a dude’s head?”
“Hell no! Just curious. You better make sure you got the right dude. Ain’t like you can just say ‘oops’.”
Butch said, “Did you follow that big mob case in the papers: the one where the bookkeeper testified for the FBI against Dominick?”
Lenny nodded. “I saw somethin’ like that, yeah.” Lenny was starting to have second thoughts about renewing these friendships.
Raymond reached in his pocket and pulled out a picture. “You see this dude, you call us, right?”
Lenny nearly passed out. It was a picture of Travis.
Suddenly Lenny felt as if the walls were caving in on him. The noises around them took on a circus sound and he felt a flush of heat rise up his neck.
Butch asked, “You alright? You look like you saw a ghost or somethin’.”
Lenny put a twenty dollar bill on the bar and said, “These beers ain’t sittin’ so good. I’m goin’ to head home.”
Butch and Raymond watched Lenny quickly push his way through the casino crowd toward the exit.
Butch’s eyes narrowed. “Somethin’ fishy here. He was fine ‘til you showed him that picture.”
Raymond took a slow drag on his cigarette. “Always could read Lenny like a book. He’s spooked alright. You think he knows where this dude is?”
Butch threw some money on the bar and turned toward the door. “Come on. Only one way to find out.”
*****
Frankie Mullen felt a migraine brewing. He eased himself onto his recliner, rubbed his aching knees, and thought about his conversation with Dominick. Dominick seemed pretty confident he wouldn’t be spending any time in prison. The way he smirked when he said he was trading something to the FBI made Frankie’s skin crawl again. Frankie knew Dominick’s history and pulling off Jimmy Hoffa’s disappearance was definitely the highlight.
Hoffa’s disappearance had been a thorn for the FBI since July 30, 1975. The FBI’s embarrassment of never solving his murder had grown to legendary proportions. Frankie had shot everyone there: including Dominick’s number two hitman. Frankie didn’t feel bad about that; he considered that a suicide. He should have known Frankie wouldn’t leave a witness. Taking Jimmy’s head had been a last minute decision; his ace in the hole if he ever had trouble with the ‘family’. It was indisputable proof that he had earned ‘special bones’ status.
Frankie rubbed his temples again and sighed. He had been so careful. No one knew he had kept a trophy. Dominick must have found out. How else could Dominick prove to the FBI he could give them Jimmy? That also explained his crack about Frankie ‘keeping his head’.
Frankie rested his head back and closed his eyes. Even with the heavy drapes pulled and the kitchen window closed, he could smell the exhaust from the street penetrating the walls. He couldn’t stand the thought of another day in this stinkin’ city. He would finish his moving tomorrow. Then he would kill Dominick.
*****
It was dark outside as Raymond and Butch followed Lenny’s truck at a safe distance. They saw him pull into a dirt drive and shut off his truck lights. Raymond waited a few minutes and then pulled the car onto the shoulder of the road and killed the engine. Massive trees lined the road with low branches obstructing their view. They crouched in the tree line and waited for Lenny to enter the house. A light came on and illuminated the interior.
Butch checked his pistol and nodded to Raymond. They crept toward Frankie’s house. The crunch of the gravel under their shoes soon gave way to the silence of walking on sand. They inched their way up to the front window.
*****
Lenny had burst into the house screaming for Travis. Travis jumped up and met him in the bedroom hallway.
“What?”
Lenny leaned against the wall panting. “Holy crap, dude! Do you know that people are looking to cut off your head? Dominick’s put a million dollars on it!”
Travis tried to assess if Lenny was a threat. He didn’t look like it, but a million dollars was a lot of money. Travis put his fists up. “I’m not going down without a fight!”
Lenny jerk
ed his head back. “I ain’t here to kill ya! Shit, I’m so scared I peed myself! I came here to warn you, fool.”
Travis relaxed, “How did you find out?”
“A couple of my buddies told me. They showed me your picture and everything. Don’t worry none, I didn’t say I knew nothin’. I just got out of there.”
Travis felt his gut flip. Lenny was not exactly subtle. Travis could actually picture the look on Lenny’s face when he saw the picture. Odds were that the guys that showed Lenny his picture noticed his shock, too. “Could they have followed you here?”
Lenny stopped talking. “Maybe.”
Just then there was a knock on the door. Travis whispered, “I’m going to sneak out the back. Stall them.”
Lenny looked horrified. “Shit, man! There’s two of ‘em.”
Travis was gone. Lenny walked slowly toward the pounding at the front door and cracked it open. Butch smiled at him, “We got to thinkin’ you left mighty fast. You said you were sick and all.” Butch pushed Lenny aside and walked in followed by Raymond. “Thought we’d make sure you got home okay.”
Raymond started walking down the bedroom hallway. Lenny backed his way out of the house and started toward his truck. “I’m fine. Just stopped here to get my tools. I’m headin’ back to Chicago now. You guys might as well leave.” Lenny made it halfway to his truck.
Butch yelled, “Stop right there.” In the dim light from the front window, Lenny could see that Butch and Raymond both had their pistols pointed at him. “You know where this dude is, don’t you? You’re gonna tell us. We can do this the hard way or the easy way.” Butch fired a shot at the gravel next to Lenny’s foot. Lenny jumped. Butch waved the gun. “Next shot might be the thigh. I’m gonna count to three and you’re gonna tell us where he is.”
Lenny saw Travis run from the side of the house with the shovel. He hauled back and hit Butch squarely on the back of the head. Butch’s gun flew towards Lenny. Lenny instinctively picked it up, grabbed it tight with his shaking hand, and pointed it at Raymond. The gun went off. Raymond fell to the ground. Lenny dropped the pistol and stared at Travis.
Zero Margin: Nick Stryker, Book Three The Shallow End Gals (Nick Stryker Series 3) Page 8