“Well, now that I’ve found you, I guess it’s time to get on back to Connecticut. Your family has a big day tomorrow too.”
Sinclair sipped his coffee. “Aren’t you going to call your team? Tell them to stop looking for us?”
“Oh, you’re right!” Cara laughed to cover her irritation. That was a stupid slip. “I can’t have them hanging out in bars on the company nickel, can I?” She pulled out her phone and began typing. Of course, her team wasn’t actually searching for anything. Her team had headed back with the family members assigned to them, so they needed no message. Instead, she opened the notes folder on her phone and wrote herself an encouraging message.
There will be bloodshed. There will be screaming. There will be chaos.
And you will control it all. Enjoy it! (smile emoji)
She dropped her phone back into her bag. “All done. Ready to go?”
Dani kicked Choo-Choo underneath the table. How could they go back to Connecticut without knowing the results of Booker’s scan? Even if Choo-Choo didn’t have a tracker, Dani did, and she wanted it out as soon as possible. She could practically feel it pulsing beneath her skin. Cara didn’t seem to notice the loaded looks they were sharing.
Plus, she knew he had not said his piece about the phone she carried.
Choo-Choo played it cool. “Isn’t everyone staying in the city tonight? You said they had rooms at the Intercontinental.”
“The senator does. She had some press work to do and it’s just as easy to do it in the city as at the house, but everyone else has headed home. Tomorrow is the big photo shoot. You know how nervous your mother is about that being absolutely perfect, to say nothing of having everyone back to the house afterwards, remember?”
Good lord, another party? Dani wanted to cry at the thought of it. She nearly leaped to her feet and kissed Choo-Choo when he countered.
“Yeah, but I think we’re going to stay here tonight. Stay with Olivia. I’ve done a lot of family stuff. I could use a break. And Dani and I have some stuff to talk about.”
Dani saw the smallest edge of irritation on Cara’s face, just a knifelike flicker behind her eyes that quickly gave way to cheerful surrender. It must be exhausting trying to wrangle Charbaneauxs. They gave way to nobody.
“That does sound like fun, Sinclair, but I have a job to do. And part of my job is keeping all of the senator’s family within a range of security. There are some elements that I’m not free to discuss with you, but which obligate me to get you—”
“We’re staying in the city.” Choo-Choo punctuated his statement with a bite to a cold French fry. Dani didn’t think anyone else could have imbued that act with more imperialism and dismissal than her friend. If he had he ever dismissed her with a tone like that, she would have come across the table and smacked the potato right out of his mouth. Then again, she never worked for Choo-Choo or the Charbaneauxs. Cara was in a different position than she.
Cara took it in stride, although that little muscular twitch beneath her eye flared again. God, she must be exhausted, Dani thought. No matter how much she was getting paid to run this circus, it wasn’t enough to endure the hours or the abuse.
“How about this?” Cara asked with a strained smile after consulting her watch. “How about you stay with Olivia tonight while the senator stays at the hotel. Then in the morning, when the senator returns to Connecticut, you come too. Does that work?”
“Does that work for you, Dani?” Choo-Choo smiled at her.
“It does.” She smiled at Cara in sympathy. “I appreciate you bending the rules a little bit for us. This has been kind of a drag for me. I can only imagine what a headache it’s been for you. I just can’t stomach the idea of being locked into that house with all those people again.”
Cara studied her for a long moment, almost long enough to make Dani uncomfortable. But when she smiled, the irritation and fatigue were gone.
“I totally get it, Dani. It’s a whole different world out there. Feeling out of place can make it hard to relax. You enjoy your night in the city. Please don’t disappear, either of you. Then tomorrow we’ll all gather for the post-photo party one last time. Then you never have to worry about being trapped in Connecticut again. Deal?”
CHAPTER THIRTY
This wasn’t adrenaline.
He wasn’t picking up on Kaneisha’s tension.
What coursed through Booker’s body at that moment was something he hadn’t felt so purely, so thoroughly since he had escaped the hell of his childhood.
Booker felt rage.
He pressed himself back into the seat, letting his muscles reacquaint themselves with the heat of that fire, giving himself time to acquire his new equilibrium.
Cara Hedrick was going in to meet with Dani and the kid. That wasn’t a coincidence. They didn’t just happen to be in the same neighborhood, the same diner, in this busy city. Cara had made it clear that she had been tracking Dani all along. There was always the possibility that Cara was going in to finish them, to clean up the job herself, but Booker knew the odds of that were as slim as him paying income tax.
That just wasn’t how things worked.
Cara didn’t clean up her own messes. A diner wasn’t the place for a hit. It was the place for a meeting.
Cara Hedrick was meeting with Dani Britton and Sinclair Charbaneaux.
Why?
Booker laid his hands flat on his knees, letting the warmth of his square fingers seep through his khaki trousers. He considered his fingernails – short and clean, two slightly jagged from his unconscious habit of chewing on them when deep in thought. He thought of all the blood he had washed off these fingers in the decades he had been using his knives. He thought of the blood he would be washing off them again soon. He thought of his knives – the long one with the hooked tip, the little one at the small of his back – his favorite. He thought of his garotte. He thought of the power in his bare hands.
This quick inventory of his deadly options slowed his heart rate and cooled his skin. The anger didn’t so much dissipate as transform from distraction into another weapon in his arsenal.
It had been a long time since Booker had killed in anger.
But he had to think this through.
Why was Cara meeting with Dani and the Charbaneaux kid? Cara was clever and he didn’t doubt her ability to manipulate people emotionally. But Dani wasn’t just anyone. She wasn’t some wide-eyed citizen believing in the authority around her. She was savvy. She was brave. She had been angry and shocked at the idea of the tracker placed within her.
Hadn’t she?
Or had she just been shocked and angry that Booker had told her about it?
How well did he really know Danielle Kathleen Britton?
“You with me, Tom?” Kaneisha asked.
“I am.”
They wove through traffic, headed for the apartment the Paper Sisters kept in Spanish
Harlem. That’s where Kaneisha’s larger computer system was set up, where she would be able to analyze the data she had pulled from her scans of Dani and Sinclair Charbaneaux.
“Before I run this through the programs, I’m going to ask you a few questions.” She glanced his way as she turned through an intersection. “I don’t need to remind you the importance of telling me the entire truth as you understand it, do I?”
“You do not.” He knew what lying to the Paper Sisters brought about. He had been the hand that had brought it to enough people over the course of his career.
“There’s something different about that kid’s tracker, something more complicated. It’s not just sending out a tracking signal. From what I can tell, it has the capability of receiving information as well. I’ll need to take a closer look to see exactly what we’re dealing with but there aren’t many reasons someone has a receiver implanted in their body. Can you think of any?”
Booker shook his head even though she wasn’t looking at him.
“One big
reason is to become a walking talking listening device. A bug. A plant. You were in the diner with that kid. Think very carefully about what you said to him. Do you remember? Did you say anything that could implicate you in a crime? More importantly, did you say anything about me or my sisters that might do the same?”
Booker shook his head, trying to remember the encounter. His thoughts were fuzzy, his focus mainly on Dani and her serious face. They had talked about Rasmund, hadn’t they? About getting shot?
“I didn’t mention your sisters at all.”
“That’s good, Tom. What about you? If I’m working with you and you’re going down, I will put you out right here, right now.”
He felt the sharp edges of a headache returning.
“What do you know about brainwashing, Kaneisha?”
That got her attention.
“Why are you asking me this?”
There was no point in hiding anything from her. Regardless of what side Dani was playing, the Paper Sisters were his best hope for getting out of this mess. “The kid with the tracker, he was present during the Rasmund mess. He was one of the people I was supposed to clean up, along with Dani Britton.”
“But they both escaped.” She said it with no judgment in her tone.
“They did. We were all badly injured after the operation. I can only assume we were all taken to the same facility to recover. I never saw either of them while I was there but since we all have implants under our skin…”
“It stands to reason. What’s your point?”
“My point is that the kid was with Dani that night. I saw him get shot. I saw him with Dani when I went to Florida and I’ve seen him several times since I’ve come to New York.”
“And?”
“And I can’t ever really see him. Does that make sense to you?” He spread his fingers out across his knees, resisting the urge to squeeze them against his legs. He didn’t want to give any body to the tension rising within him. “It’s like I can’t remember his name. I can’t remember his face. Even now, having just left him, I cannot picture him. When I was in the diner, just looking at him gave me a headache. I feel like I can’t think clearly.”
It sounded insane and Booker would not have been surprised if Kaneisha laughed but she didn’t. She listened as she drove, her brow knitted in concentration. It gave him the confidence to continue with his disturbed train of thought.
“The woman who hired me for this job, whatever this job is, knew about the trackers. She knew about Rasmund. She works for the people pulling the strings. I just saw her go into the diner as we were pulling away.”
Kaneisha blew out a soft whistle. “That’s not good, Tom. What are you thinking?”
“Nothing good.”
“Doesn’t sound like there’s much good to grab onto. These are big money people, Tom. The Charbaneauxs, the Nestors, the Wrens. These families are connected in ways that make the Mob look like isolationists. I can’t imagine the depth of shit they can think up, but I am damn sure confident that they have the chops to make it happen, whatever it is, whomever it hurts. You’re asking about brainwashing. It sounds like someone may have utilized some aversion techniques on you regarding that kid. You know, like when you snap a rubber band against your skin every time you think about smoking.”
“This feels like a very bad rubber band.”
“And you have a history of doing very bad things. My guess, these folks want to be sure you don’t do any of those things to their precious blue-eyed boy. They don’t even want you thinking about him.”
It made sense but didn’t answer all of his questions. “So, they put a tracker into him to keep him safe? What’s the extra tech? A panic button? And why doesn’t Dani have the same rig?” He drummed his fingers on his knees, unable to remain still. “Why don’t I? If it’s a bug and they wanted to bring me down, why not bug me? For that matter, if they wanted to bring me down, all they needed to do was let me die after Rasmund. It’s not like they needed my special skills for the ridiculous, sloppy hits they’ve been sending me on.”
“Your tracker was nothing special, all things considered. The girl’s seems to be the same. Here’s what I know about people like the Charbaneauxs. They protect their own. They close ranks. They keep all their goodies for themselves and anyone who tries to crack their precious clubs gets crushed and wiped out of existence.” Kaneisha tapped out a matching rhythm to Tom’s drumbeat, their dark thoughts syncing to the same beat.
Booker checked his watch, doing a quick calculation. “And let’s not forget this countdown Cara has going. We’re coming very close to the moment she’s been waiting for. She doesn’t strike me as the type to oversell her anticipation.”
The phone in his pocket buzzed. Kaneisha cocked an eyebrow at the interruption.
“Speak of the devil?” She asked.
“Uh-huh.” He thumbed the text open. “I’m being called to another location in Connecticut in the morning. Nine a.m. sharp. Which, if my math is correct, is right about the time this countdown hits zero.”
They rode in silence for several blocks.
Kaneisha broke the heavy silence as they pulled up to the curb outside the apartment building. “The way I see it, Tom, you have a couple of options. You’ve got your papers; you can take off right now and make the best of what you’ve got. Or you can take your chances and see this through to the end. Go to Connecticut, follow your orders, and see what this crazy bitch has planned. Maybe it’s just some bullshit white-collar, nefarious government shit that doesn’t translate to simple peasants like you and me. God knows, those folks do enough of that every day to keep them busy.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
She shut off the engine and turned to face him. “I do not, but it’s not my call. It’s not my gig. I promised to help you find out what’s going on with these trackers and to get you two sets of deep identities. I’ve got half of that promise taken care of – papers for you and that girl.”
Booker’s stomach clenched at the thought of telling Dani he had a false identity created for her. That part of his plan seemed like a relic from another lifetime.
“You want to know what scares me, Tom?” Kaneisha swung the keys around her index finger. “The only thing that makes me more nervous than being around whatever might be buried in that boy’s chest is the thought of getting picked up carrying false papers for the only person I know who has ever been capable of shutting down the instincts of Tom Booker.”
He said nothing to that, only stilled his hands once more on his knees.
“You used to be the most dangerous man I had ever known, Tom, and I have known some dangerous motherfuckers in my life. I don’t know who these people are. I don’t know what they want, and I don’t want to find out. I only want to know one thing.”
“And that is?”
“If you find out this girl of yours, this Danielle Kathleen Britton, is working with the crazy bitch pulling all the strings, if they’re using whatever this technology is to bring you down, if they’re counting on manipulating you with this weird fixation you have with her, what are you going to do?”
Booker relaxed when he realized how easily the answer came to him.
“I’m going to kill them all. I’m going to start with Dani.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Yes, ma’am. Yes. I understand.” Cara nodded as she listened. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re making the right decision. I think that’s a very good idea.”
She closed her eyes as the chatter poured through the phone.
“Yes, Mrs. Charbaneaux. I don’t see how it can be any other way.”
Nod. Smile into the phone. Enjoy the blossoming of the seeds she had been planting.
“That sounds perfectly reasonable. Would you like me to make the call? No?”
Oh, you sweet little lambs who think you are lions. You have an idea that you think is your own? That’s darling. Cara thought b
ack to the seeds she had been planting upon meeting Jack and Connie Charbaneaux, long before they had even spoken of bringing their prodigal son back into the fold for the funeral and family photo.
A little push here. A little shove there. The faintest trace of concern in a passing comment that she quickly glossed over and dismissed. Poor Sinclair, so lost, so undependable. No, of course not, he was a lovely young man. But such questionable friends, no? No. Lovely. His little friend is just lovely. Not exactly family material but of course she should be welcomed with open arms. But you might want to count the silver. Not that she would steal! Would she? Nobody has even hinted at such a thing.
On and on. The suggestions grew and changed – mentions of restlessness and being antisocial. Of pulling Sinclair away. Nothing big. Nothing overt. Certainly, nothing anyone would remember Cara herself saying. Never Cara.
That was the real secret to getting people to bend to your will – getting them to think it was their own idea.
“Of course, Mrs. Charbaneaux. I’ll make sure she understands. And if there’s anything I can do to make this easier for your family, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Cara ended the call and laid the phone in her purse on top of the matching red pebbled cases below it. Her thumb stroked the textured surface. Soon it would be time to clean the smallest device of certain data files and fingerprints. Soon she would remove the security protocols and make a particular set of files easily accessible. Soon she would rid herself of the device she had kept guarded and marveled over for over a year. Soon.
But first, Jack Charbaneaux had to call her son and deliver the bad news, insisting he obey her in that way that only mothers could command. He would obey her too, because he would not be able to argue against the decision she thought she had made herself.
Cara pulled out the linen napkin she kept in her purse for moments like this. Fold. Unfold. Fold. Unfold. She closed her eyes, soothed by the repetitive, orderly activity and imagined the conversations taking place right now.
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