Deep Dirty Truth

by Steph Broadribb

  Standing, we follow Decker across the open-plan area to the office in the far corner. He shuts the glass door behind us and gestures towards two chairs on one side of the table, while he steps around to sit on the swivel chair opposite. ‘So you’d like to open your security box today?’

  ‘That’s right,’ North says. ‘My wife and I have some items we’d like to remove.’

  Wife? That’s news to me. I try to keep the surprise from my face. Resist the urge to look down at my left hand, where my ring finger is awful bare for a married woman, and look at North’s instead. He’s wearing a ring I hadn’t noticed before.

  ‘No problem, Mr Knox, Ms Bendrois. As you know, we need to go through the usual security checks, and then I’ll take you through to the secure area.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘We sure appreciate it.’

  ‘Do you have your key with you?’

  North reaches into his pocket and removes a wallet. It’s not his real one – that was left in the room at Hampton Lodge when we fled. This one belongs to Bradley Knox. There are bank cards, his driver’s licence, some bank notes and a small fold of coupons inside, along with a silver card the size of a bank card, but without any writing on it. Removing it from the wallet, he hands it to Jonathan Decker.

  Decker holds it above the QR scanner on his iPad and waits for the hourglass symbol to come onto the screen before handing the card back to North. We wait, and I hold my breath. Then the hourglass disappears and on the screen appears two pictures: one of Bradley Knox and one of Nicole Bendrois.

  With an expression of intense concentration on his face, Decker looks from the pictures, to each of us, and back again. Then he smiles. ‘Thank you. If you could confirm for me your account number?’

  ‘PEX5406-K758-0034-874H.’

  Decker nods. ‘Good. Almost there, just a couple of security confirmation questions. ‘Ms Bendrois, your city of birth please?’

  Shit. I have no idea. I think back to the conversations we had on the way over but there’s nothing; North revealed little about the woman whose identity I’ve taken other than that she’s dead, and that’s hardly going to help me.

  My mouth goes dry. Sweat trickles down my spine. Decker is staring at me expectantly. I glance down at the screen of his tablet, and the image of the real Nicole Bendrois. Clench my jaw. Think. I need to speak, say something.

  Then it comes to me. I know who the picture of Nicole Bendrois reminded me of and why. It’s her eyes, the piercing stare. She has the same unwavering expression as Luciano Bonchese.

  I meet Decker’s gaze. ‘Miami.’

  He taps my answer into the tablet. The screen flashes green and he smiles. ‘Thank you, Ms Bendrois.’

  I can feel North staring at me, but I don’t turn to face him. We’ve got to keep focused on getting into his deposit box, collecting the evidence he needs to convince the Old Man around to our side, and get gone.

  The vault doesn’t look how they do in the movies. It’s smaller for one thing, more like a big safe rather than a room, as far as I can tell. But we don’t get to see inside. Decker leads us the opposite way along a short corridor in the secure area and into a room whose walls are lined with small metal lockers that house safety deposit boxes.

  ‘Take as long as you want.’ Decker hands North the keycard and steps out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  I look at North. ‘You know which one it is?’

  He nods, still not making eye contact. ‘Yeah. I’ve been here a few times.’

  With the real Nicole Bendrois I guess. I stay where I am as North walks across to the far corner of the room. There’s a solemnness about him, and as he presses the keycard against the sensor on a locker door at eye height I hear him sigh. There’s a clunk as the door unlocks. North opens it, takes out the deposit box and carries it across to the table in the centre of the room.

  Taking the empty messenger bag from over his shoulder, he unbuckles the straps and puts it onto the table beside the box. He stares at the box for a long moment. His shoulders are tense, his jaw rigid. It looks like he’s having to psych himself up to get this done.

  I step closer as he opens the box.

  Inside are two buff envelopes, an iPad, a cellphone and a charger that fits them both. North lifts everything out and puts it into the messenger bag. ‘I’m not coming back.’

  ‘Okay.’ I watch him put the deposit box back into its slot and lock the door, then pick up the bag and lift the strap back over his head. ‘Ready?’

  He nods.

  If Decker is surprised that we’re ready to go so quickly he doesn’t let on. He escorts us back along the corridor and out through the secure door into the public banking area. He tries to make polite conversation, but North is quiet and unresponsive. I smile and try to lighten the mood, keep the act going, knowing that we can’t afford to arouse any kind of suspicion.

  When we step back outside into the sun I’m relieved, but that doesn’t last long. Carly isn’t parked up where we left her. I scan the parking lot, but there’s no sign of her.

  I turn to North. ‘Where’s Carly? Did you plan that she’d meet us someplace else?’

  He looks dazed, confused. ‘We didn’t—’

  There’s a squeal of tyres on the blacktop, and the Range Rover swings around the corner into the lot. It brakes to a halt beside us and the passenger window buzzes down.

  ‘Quick,’ yells Carly. ‘Get in.’

  North stares at her. It’s like he’s having a delayed reaction.

  I move towards the vehicle. ‘What’s—?’

  ‘We need to move … now.’ Her usually calm voice has an undertone of panic. ‘We’ve got a big fucking problem.’

  37

  SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 22nd, 10:51

  We’ve hardly shut the doors before Carly guns the engine and pulls back onto the highway. The seatbelt sensors are beeping and I’m thrown sideways across the backseat as she accelerates hard to beat a red light, and then hangs a sharp right. ‘What the—?’

  ‘We’ve got a tail. I noticed them while I was parked up, waiting for you. They’re in a silver Ford, two guys in the front, maybe more in the back, but the windows are tinted.’

  North glances around. Frowns. ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure.’ Carly sounds irritated by him questioning her. ‘I pulled out of the parking lot and took a loop round the block. They followed. They looked like mob types.’

  Damn. It looks like Luciano could have sent more men, but how the hell did they find us? ‘Does Luciano know about your place?’

  Carly looks at me in the rearview mirror, her expression implying I’m some kind of dumbass. ‘Isn’t the whole point of a safe house that it’s a secret?’

  North doesn’t comment. He’s scanning the road, glancing in the mirror. ‘I don’t see any tail.’

  Carly takes a left. As we swing around the corner, I catch a glimpse of a silver Ford turning onto the street we’ve just left. ‘I do.’

  North cusses.

  I catch Carly’s eye in the mirror. ‘Can you lose them?’

  ‘No doubt.’ She steps hard on the gas.

  I hang on as she zigzags the Range Rover through the back streets. The buildings fly by fast. Every now and then, just before we turn into another street, I see a flash of silver and know we’re still being followed. There’s no question now: the silver Ford is after us.

  I look at North. ‘We need to get out of Tallahassee. Now.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  Carly yanks the wheel and slides the Range Rover around a tight bend, then tucks it tight behind a large dumpster and skids to a halt. ‘We get shot of the guys following us, then you can take this car.’

  ‘Won’t do us no good,’ I say. ‘The Feds have set up roadblocks on all the main highways between here and Miami. We need an alternative. I’m thinking the train.’

  North says nothing. He’s staring down at the messenger bag.

  ‘Could work,’ Carly says. ‘I’ll ta
ke you to the train station.’

  I think about my go bag. My Taser and gun are in it, and my purse with my real identity, but there’s nothing I couldn’t do without for a little while. ‘We should go straight there.’

  North turns in his seat. Shakes his head. ‘We can’t just leave; our stuff’s at Carly’s.’

  I’m confused. He’s got the contents of the safety deposit box in his messenger bag, and that’s all we really need. He arrived with nothing. What can be so important that he’d risk us dawdling in a place Luciano’s guys are searching for us. ‘Why? Can’t you get whatever it is later?’

  ‘No. This is important.’ North’s voice has a note of anguish. He turns to Carly. ‘There’s something I need from her locker.’

  Carly purses her lips, but nods in agreement.

  ‘You’ll have to be fast, then. Straight in and out. If Luciano’s men have been following us, chances are they do know where we’re heading.’

  Having shaken off the silver Ford, Carly takes us back to her place the long way, using a bunch of double-backs just to be sure they haven’t picked up our trail again. We park in the ground-floor lot and take the elevator to the fourteenth floor. Everything’s quiet. It feels too easy.

  Stepping out of the elevator, we move along the hallway to the end door, which I know leads to Carly’s loft. That’s when we see it. The electronic keypad beside the door has been pulled away from the wall at an angle and a jumble of wires have spilled out behind. The door is slightly ajar, and there’s a hole in just below the handle.

  ‘They’ve drilled out my fucking lock,’ Carly says. ‘Bastards.’

  I put my finger to my lips. We need to stay quiet. If this is Luciano’s men, I’m thinking there’s a good chance they’re still inside.

  We move fast to the door. Carly draws her weapon, a Glock, and uses her toe to nudge the door wider. It swings open, giving us a view of the bottom half of the living space.

  Nothing. No people. No mess.

  Carly enters first; North and me follow. I keep my breathing steady. Stay alert. Aside from the door to the concealed locker area being ajar, nothing looks any different to how we left it. They haven’t tossed the place.

  As Carly steps silently up the stairs to the mezzanine, I stop outside the door to the locker area. On the ground there’s a white photograph album. Reaching down, I pick it up and see that it’s empty; all the pictures have been ripped from the pages. Putting the album down, I grasp the door and open it wider.

  I gasp. Behind me, North makes a noise like a wounded animal; anger and pain expressed in one sound.

  North and Nicole’s lockers hang open, a bullet hole in each where the lock should be. Across the floor of the room, hundreds of photographs have been torn into shreds and scattered like mismatched confetti. Kneeling down, I pick up one that’s almost intact. In it a dark-haired man in a dinner jacket and a brunette woman in a gorgeous white-lace wedding dress gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes. I scan the photo fragments across the floor; a wedding ceremony on the beach, exchanging rings, cutting the cake, having their first dance. These pictures aren’t from a fake wedding – they’re not about creating cover IDs and aliases. They’re real. The emotion between the husband and wife is real, that’s obvious. The couple is Carlton North and Nicole Bendrois.

  I turn to North. See the anguish on his face and the quiver in his lower lip. Silently I pass the almost complete picture to him. He takes it, saying nothing.

  ‘Don’t zone out on me, North. We have to move.’

  That’s when the shooting starts.

  It comes from upstairs. I scoot around North and out into the open plan. There’s another burst of gunfire, and I hear Carly yell, ‘Run!’

  I do as she says. Hustle back into the locker room. North’s staring into Nicole’s empty locker, catatonic. I grab his hand and pull him with me. Fetch my boots and go bag from beside the couch then hustle out of the apartment and back down the corridor. The elevator’s still on this level. I jump inside, dragging North in with me, and press the button for the ground floor. The gunfire is getting louder, closer. I hold my breath until the doors close.

  ‘Snap out of it, North,’ I say. ‘I need you with me.’

  His voice sounds weak, his words more like a question. ‘I’m here.’

  ‘No, you’re not. And you’re going to get us killed.’ I put my hands on his shoulders. Fight the urge to give him a shake. ‘We don’t have long. I know you’re hurting, but right now you have to get your head in the game. If you don’t, the people back there will catch us. You don’t want that, do you?’

  He clenches his fists. ‘No.’

  ‘Good.’ I glance up at the floor counter. Three more levels to go.

  I grab my Taser from my go bag and hand North my gun. ‘Then start playing to win, okay?’

  38

  SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 22nd, 11:58

  They’re in lying wait, just like I figured they would be. Two armed heavies, blocking our path. I see them when I angle my head to see around the edge of the elevator and scan the foyer.

  The uniformed concierge is slumped forwards over the desk, unmoving, a red stain spreading out from the gaping wound in his back.

  I stab my finger back against the elevator button, keeping the doors open. The heavies are looking restless. They’ve got their guns drawn, and the closest one is starting to move this way. We don’t have long. Someone must have heard all these gunshots and called 911. Cops could arrive at any time.

  ‘Lori, it’s—’

  ‘Listen.’ Stuffing the Taser back into my go bag, I turn to North. ‘You’ll need to cover me. Let me get close enough for hand-to-hand, then act.’

  He frowns, but I can’t explain more. One of the heavies is striding this way. If he gets much closer he’ll see North.

  ‘I’m coming out,’ I shout. ‘Don’t shoot. I’m unarmed and alone.’

  The guy stops where he is, gun trained on the elevator.

  I raise my hands and move out into the foyer, heading one step at a time towards the closest heavy.

  The guy furthest from me cusses loudly.

  His colleague’s mouth opens, slack-jawed. Shock written all over his face. ‘Who the hell are—?’

  ‘Lori Anderson,’ I say.

  ‘Lori Anderson?’ He says my name like he doesn’t believe it. Still staring, a mixture of shock and fear on his face, he takes another pace towards me. He’s skinny with a ratty mullet and the yellow-hued teeth of a heavy smoker. His voice has a nasal whine to it. ‘Where’s North?’

  I glare at the rat guy, walking towards him, keeping his shaved-headed, heavily inked mate in my peripheral vision. ‘Bleeding out upstairs.’

  A smile flickers across rat man’s lips. He glances towards the other guy then back to me. ‘Just got ourselves a little bitch to handle.’

  Smug asshole. Underestimating me because I’m a woman – that’s a real big mistake. I take another step closer. ‘You going to take me back to your boss?’

  ‘Luciano isn’t interested in seeing your sorry ass again.’

  Rat-face is too dumb to realise he’s just confirmed two things for me: that Luciano is behind this attack, and that he’s out to kill me and North. North was right – getting the Old Man on our side is our only hope. But first, we’ve got to get out of this trap.

  I take another step closer to the rat. Tilt my head a little, looking coy. Bat my lashes. ‘Are you sure we can’t work something out?’

  He raises his brows and beckons me forwards. ‘Yeah, yeah, come to Daddy.’

  I move closer, smile real seductive. He’s just a couple of yards away now.

  Rat-face looks over at his mate again, smirking. ‘No reason why we can’t have a little party first before…’

  Two more steps and I’m square in front of him.

  He looks me up and down. ‘Bitch, you can suck—’

  I smack my fist into his smirking rat face. As he doubles over, I bring my knee up and slam it b
etween his legs. It’s not as effective as a one-two punch, but I can’t use my left arm with any power so it’s the best I can do. It’s good enough. Groaning, he flops onto his hands and knees. Down but not finished … yet.

  Out the corner of my eye I see Ink guy moving this way, raising his weapon. There’s movement behind me, from the elevator, as North steps out and angles the gun, firing a shot at Ink guy, covering me.

  It goes wide. Ink guy’s still coming for me.

  I need to act fast.

  Lifting my heeled pump, I stamp down hard. The spike heel stabs into the side of Rat-face’s head. Blood and a few teeth spray out of his mouth, and he goes down again. Doesn’t move. Good.

  Ink guy starts firing. Bullets cut into the stone floor to my right. I dive behind the Rat’s spread-eagled body. Keep myself pressed close to the ground.

  North moves further from the elevator, gun firing; one shot, two shots. Ink guy falls, flailing backwards, his aim unfocused as he lets off a shot. As he turns I see that his left eye is gone – there’s just a ragged bullet hole in its place. He’s dead before he hits the floor.

  ‘Come on,’ North shouts, running towards the exit.

  He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I’m already on my feet and sprinting, as best I can in heels, behind him.

  We hurtle along the sidewalk. Each time my heels hit the ground the jolt vibrates through my body. I vow to swap back to my boots as soon as we’re clear. North’s got the gun concealed in the back of his pants. The Taser is in my go bag. We look like two smart dressed folks in a hurry, and that could work to our advantage.

  I hear the distant sound of sirens getting closer.

  ‘Wait,’ I yell to North.

  Stepping off the curb, I throw my good arm up to hail a cab; the first I’ve seen with its light on. We need to put distance between us and Carly’s place. I feel bad that we don’t know what happened to her, that we didn’t help her, but we can’t go back. We just can’t.

  The cab stops and we jump in. I smile at the driver and try to act like I haven’t just almost had my ass shot off. ‘Can you get us to the train station? Fast as you can, please. We’re running late.’