I donned a dark suit, and at dusk, I drove Moates in a town car from the city up I-10. We cruised over a narrow portion of the eastern edge of Lake Ponchatrain as the sky gave itself over to night, and the headlights washing the road ahead became a constant view and repetitive the rest of the way to the other side. For a while it felt like we were on a treadmill going nowhere, the way I’d felt since I’d been released. At last the crossing ended, and we began a glide toward the house.
“Depending on how many people they have here, they’re either going to take you to the second floor or to a guest house on the grounds.” We moved through a turn toward Alexeeva’s street.
“Why do I have to go in at all if you know where she is now?”
“We’d rather walk her out than shoot our way in and out or cause a siege. Bullets flying, someone gets hurt. You just worry about getting in place and signal if there’s a problem.”
He had a concealed pen light for signals. We weren’t relying only on cells. I’d suggested a hiding place that would conceal it from all but a cavity search, but he’d been reluctant about that even when we offered Kenny to help. We settled on his breast pocket beside a Levenger’s fountain pen. It was supposed to be a super-bright LED output.
“Suppose I’m on the wrong side of the house?” he’d asked. “You don’t see it.”
“Go to another window,” I’d suggested.
I announced Moates at the front gate intercom when we arrived, and after a second, the gate parted, and I eased the vehicle forward in a slow crawl that took us up the cobblestone drive toward a circle in front of the house. I noted one small guest house to my left just inside the gate where rows of palm trees paralleled the drive. A guy in a red vest at the end of the drive motioned me to follow another sedan into the circle then leaned in at my window where I repeated who I was delivering.
“Great, you can drop your passenger then pull over to the parking structure,” he said after checking a guest list.
That was a white-roofed canopy to my right. Beyond it I could catch sight of one of the docks on the property. I knew from Jael’s research another sun deck stretched out in back and that another free-standing building overlooked the pool.
My money was still on the guest house out front for Moates because he was a new potential partner, and it offered more privacy for a newcomer.
In spite of being out front, it wasn’t as likely to be in line of sight from the areas people would be mingling, but I couldn’t be sure. I focused for the next few seconds on getting to the front door where another vested attendant was opening doors for guests.
I tried not to think about the intricate network of canals Arch would need to navigate to get the boat in place while maintaining access to open water. Activity like we were engaging in wasn’t really to be encouraged in a residential area. The canals were for residents.
“This is absurd,” Moates said as we inched toward the door.
I couldn’t argue with that, so I didn’t speak.
“Any final words of advice?”
“I don’t know. Break a leg?” I paused. “Be polite. Nervousness is okay since you’re engaging in a new criminal enterprise, but not too nervous. You must’ve developed pretty good nerves with your fund and the way it works.”
“It’s like the frog in boiling water,” Moates said. “You wade in and it’s not so bad, and the heat rising gradually doesn’t get your attention until suddenly everything’s bubbling around you.”
“The water in my pot was already hot when I got in,” I said. “But there’s one quantum theory that says if you keep watching, it’ll never boil.”
“I don’t think we can count on that,” he said.
“Worth a try. Keep your eyes open.”
We reached the entrance, and an attendant opened Moates’ door with a professional smile pasted on. Time for the show to begin. I watched him slide out, and he strolled toward a brightly lit front door.
When the back door thunked closed, I did a slow crawl the rest of the way around the circle and back to the canopy. There I backed in with an attendant waving me a few directions. No scratching the paint on the other limos. I wondered if he knew what was going on inside and decided probably not.
Once I was in place, I could sit watching the front entrance, and I was ready to move if needed.
I unfolded a newspaper and rattled it a bit in case anyone was looking my way. It seemed like an appropriate prop. Looking over the top of the pages, I watched other guests arrive. It was a small soirée, so I only spotted a couple of local officials I recognized then a few other guys in nice suits before arrivals ceased.
Only a few had come with drivers, and, like me, the other chauffeurs seemed content to stay in their vehicles once they’d parked. I didn’t have to get out and share a smoke or make conversation about sports I hadn’t kept up with.
I’d been through the paper and was on a second trip, reading the things that hadn’t caught my interest the first time, when movement at the gate demanded my attention. The bars flagged slowly open, and a couple of long, black Lincoln Navigators cruised up the drive, pulling to a stop near the house.
Girls with long hair, decked out in sequined dresses emerged, accompanied by women in dark evening attire. From what I could see, none of them were Dagney, but I stopped paying attention to the newspaper.
After a while, the gate opened again, and a white town car cruised forward and stopped at a sidewalk leading to the guest house.
I saw figures slide out. It was far enough away that I could see only outlines without distinctive features. A tall man, dark suit, exited first then held the back door open. I decided the other two were both female, one taller than the other. They headed up the front walk toward the guest house, the taller figure holding the other’s arm. The man followed after slamming the back door. After a second, the car eased forward, heading on up the drive toward the canopy.
If it was Dagney, I couldn’t confirm it. Yet it had to be, and the white car seemed like the kind of symbolic flourish Alexeeva might come up with. Was that proof enough? Did I move now or wait? If they took Moates over, that would prove it, but that would be after cigars and drinks and probably a handshake. Right now, if only one guard was in the guest house, that might make it an easier time.
Maybe there were more guards already inside. Alexeeva wasn’t stupid. He had lost Dahlia and had probably launched an initiative to figure out what had happened. He had to be taking some extra care with Dagney, especially if he was making a game of things.
Adding Moates and his handler to the mix meant that much more complication, though. I felt some sense of obligation not to get him shot.
Time to break radio silence.
I dialed Arch’s number.
“It looks like my uncle has a house guest,” I said, feeling a little stupid talking in code. If we were being monitored it would be easy enough to interpret.
“Entertaining friends?”
“Only a couple, I think.”
“Maybe we could drop in a little early. I’m in the neighborhood.”
“Maybe not a bad idea.”
I clicked off, tossed the newspaper into the passenger seat and popped my door handle, reaching for my other chauffer’s prop, cigarettes. I put one in my mouth as I walked to the back of the car and looked out toward the strip of water behind the canopy.
A cobblestone walk stretched around the edge of the property, allowing for a scenic walk beside the water. As I lit the cigarette, I headed to the sidewalk, drawing a puff and trying not to cough as I stopped to look out at the water.
The parking attendants stood in a small cluster chatting. I saw a couple take notice of me but they turned back to the conversation after a glance. I drew another puff then stretched my hand out at my side and studied the wavering white reflected light on the black water for a while.
Then I went for a casual stroll along the walkway up the peninsula. No one noticed, and I scanned for security cameras. I didn’t spot
any posts or obvious camera bubbles, but some had to be there, and the guest house would definitely have open eyes. I wouldn’t be free to snoop around and peek through cracks in curtains, and someone was probably eye-balling my stroll from somewhere I was missing, noting my gate matched that of the guy who’d snatched Dagney from the club, no doubt.
The prevailing wisdom on hostage extraction, at least the last time I’d attended a continuing education lecture had been go in later unless a situation demanded otherwise.
Gather intelligence, make an informed move.
You know, luxuries.
Surprise was generally considered a plus as well.
I walked on along the sidewalk, puffing and casually dialing again.
“Where are you?”
“Getting close.”
I turned, trying to seem engrossed in the conversation I was having. If I was on camera, it shouldn’t look like I was heading toward the house, looking for a view through the curtains.
“I have a little bad news,” he said.
“You want to fill me in?”
Slivers of light slipped out around a couple of front windows, but I couldn’t make out people or anything distinct. Intelligence was out unless I waited for Moates to go in, and there’d be more security at his back. Had we done enough to assure it was Dagney in there? If it wasn’t, as I’d been worried all along, we’d drive her so far out of reach we’d achieve all the things we’d been trying to avoid. That was probably going to happen anyway. Dagney needed to be in the house, and this needed to work. It was up to fate at this point.
“We had a little trouble getting a bass boat into the right channels,” Arch said. “Some private security guy was sniffing around.”
“What’d you do?”
“We found an empty house with a dock within the channels and borrowed a boat there.”
“Okay, theft, bad, but we can work with that. We’ll be leaving it. There’s more bad news?”
“It’s a, uh, party boat.”
“Like one of those floating decks with a canopy?”
“Sorta, yeah. Good news, though. It’ll do thirty-five. That’s faster than you think on the water. All we need to do is take it as far as the spot by the road where we can just transfer to the speed boat and get moving. We’ll shoot off across the lake at ninety. Hard for them to set up road blocks or give chase.”
“There are some kind of boats in a little boat house over here,” I said, scanning. “They’re on the opposite side of the peninsula to the guest house and they’ll have to mobilize to get in those and get after you. You’ll have a little lead, but you’ll also have to go past that dock to take the shortest distance to the road.”
I worked on the scenario in my head. The trip was around Alexeeva’s peninsula. Then back up the channel on the side I’d come from. They’d have to connect to another channel that would stretch to the spot where a small strip of land could be crossed on foot to reach the speed boat. It waited in the spot Arch and I had surveyed. The channel there ran parallel to the roadway and would lead on to open water.
“They’re not going to get above fifty in this canal system,” Arch said. “Things should be all right.”
“How close are you to the dock?”
“Look southwest.”
I could see their silhouette chugging up the canal that ran behind the neighboring land strips, Kenny’s massive form near the front gazing forward.
“You see the guest house?”
“Yeah.”
“Get there. Let’s move.”
I headed across the grassy area beside the driveway, crossing the cobblestones and picking up speed as I neared the front door. I slid my arm to the small of my back and tugged out the PSM.
If anyone was awake at security cameras, they’d spotted that move, so there was really not much more need to be discreet. I hurried under the front door’s overhang and tried the door. Locked, and it’s not as easy to kick in or shoot in a door as it looks on TV, and given the hurricane activity of recent years, I suspected the sidelight windows were wind-resistant and that meant resistant to just about everything else as well. Read that as hard to smash.
I rang the bell.
The matron I’d seen at a distance answered, a fortyish blonde woman in a sleek black evening dress. The hospitality started at the entrance. She had a burgeoning smile, expecting to meet the man her charge would be entertaining this evening, a part of the overall experience.
I put the gun in her face and interrupted the uptick of her lips.
“Where’s the girl?”
“Who the…?”
I shoved her aside.
A little sitting area spread just inside the door. A lug wrench in a sports shirt sat with an iPad between his hands, playing a video game. His weapon was nestled under his armpit.
I leveled the PSM toward his face.
“The girl.”
He didn’t have to speak. The commotion had traveled down the narrow hallway. She’d stepped slowly and awkwardly out of the master bedroom to see what was going on.
One problem solved. It was Dagney. I’d looked at enough pictures and at enough computer renderings to be sure. Careful and subtle makeup had been applied, dark eye liner, blush, a little heavy but I could still recognize her. She wore an all-white ensemble, a lacy negligée with a sheer, matching robe.
“Back door,” I told her.
She didn’t hesitate. She spun and ran that direction.
I got the lug wrench in the face with a hammer fist blow enhanced by the fact I held the PSM. His nose crunched inward and spurted blood which really caught his attention. His hands shot to his face and pressed in, attempting to staunch the flow. I kicked him in the sternum while he was busy and sent him sprawling onto the sofa.
Then I grabbed the matron’s arm and pulled her in front of me. I wasn’t sure if any gunmen that might be in the back would hesitate to shoot her, but she’d slow the slugs down. It was a shitty move on my part, but she was in a shitty line of work and I didn’t really care what had led her to that point.
Dagney had cleared the hallway and was headed across a kitchen area. The house plans Jael had accessed were still accurate. The girl skittered to a stop there near a counter because an intact version of the guy bleeding on the sofa had stepped into view.
“Down,” I ordered.
Dagney found the presence of mind to obey.
The matron caused just enough hesitation.
I squeezed the trigger, and the slider moved rapidly as the shell flew. Even with one arm, I’d managed to maintain a little accuracy as the refresher from Arch coupled with my old, trained reflex kicked in.
A red blossom bloomed near his collarbone. His hand shot up to it, pressing in, and he dropped to his knees. I abandoned the matron and thundered forward, swinging the barrel into his face in a backhanded blow.
As he went over a glossy breakfast table, I knelt, grabbed Dagney’s arm, and we sprinted for the back door. She actually reached forward and fumbled open the dead bolt and popped the handle lock, and we were out on the back deck in an instant. No Stockholm syndrome here. I guess she sensed who the good guys were here.
Relief gushed over me when I saw Arch standing outside with a lightweight black rifle.
“Get her to the boat,” he shouted.
He fired a couple of bursts in the air then. The guard inevitably headed our way would hesitate a second.
I didn’t look back I half dragged the girl across the rough-hewn planks of the dock, and then Kenny reached forward and hoisted her easily up and over into the small barge’s interior.
I followed with Arch a few steps behind.
“Keep watch,” he shouted, scrambling on his knees to unravel the quick mooring he’d looped around one of the dock’s support ties.
Then he headed for the craft’s controls. I dropped near the bow with the PSM ready, though we’d be out of its range soon.
“Who are you?” Dagney asked.
Arch fire
d the motor and steered the craft away from the dock, building speed without hesitation once he had us pointed in the right direction.
I turned toward her. “Your parents sent me.”
She wept. In seconds the eye liner melted onto her cheeks.
Chapter 46
We reached the end of the strip of land on which Alexeeva’s mansion sat and the engines whirred with greater fervor as Arch opened the craft up with a little whoop.
As the water kicked up around us, I had to agree with Arch. Thirty-five, if that was what we were doing, felt faster than I’d imagined. I looked back toward the house. We rounded the end of the peninsula and began the trip up the other side.
So far no one was headed toward the dock with weapons ready.
I yanked out the cell and keyed Moates. Radio silence be damned at this point. He answered after a few rings.
“There’s going to be some confusion in a few seconds,” I said. “If it hasn’t started already. Use it to get out while you can. The keys are over the town car’s sun visor.”
“Do you have the girl?”
“I do. Good luck. They’ll figure out who’s connected soon enough.”
We shot on past the dock and forward, sloshing into the perpendicular channel that ran beside the roadway. If we hadn’t been doing top speed, we started then as Arch opened to full throttle, and we bounced on the water. As we’d established, this craft wasn’t built for speed, but he didn’t let up now. The path was straight enough, and seconds might matter.
We moved past a couple of houses and a waterfront apartment complex, and then he slowed, angling toward shore alongside a vacant lot, a single strip of undeveloped land. I wasn’t sure why, but I was thankful for it. Arch drove the boat’s bow up into the soft sand at the lot’s edge, as if he were trying to run it aground.
“Go,” he shouted. “Get the girl and go. Kenny’s waiting for you”
Without pause, I went over the front railing then spun back and grabbed Dagney under her arms, lifting her over.
We hurried through the ragged grass that dappled the lot, moving toward the roadway and the channel on the other side that would stretch out to the open lake. I lifted a silent prayer that Kenny would be waiting and not distracted, and as we rushed through shadows, I peered forward looking for a silhouette beyond the road.
Fool's Run Page 20
