Devil's Advocate (Trackdown Book 4)

by Michael A. Black

  Chad came running up and started throwing punches in the air.

  “Hey, Uncle Steve,” he said. He was holding the purple toy dragon. “Where’s my belt? You told me yesterday that you were gonna bring it this morning.”

  “He can show it to you later,” McNamara said. “He’s gotta eat breakfast now. And you gotta get ready for school.”

  The boy’s face puckered up. “But you promised.”

  “That’s right,” Wolf said. “I did. Just let me run back and get it.”

  He turned and sprinted across the driveway, shuffling his door key out as he went. It was ironic that Chad had seemed to like the dragon better than the police car or army Humvee his grandfather had bought him.

  Perhaps the dragon connotes more pleasant memories.

  After unlocking the door, he trotted up the stairs and retrieved the belt from his travel bag. He also found the purple T-shirt that they’d picked out for Kasey. Mac had forgotten to give it to her yesterday. He grabbed both and went downstairs again. As he was locking up, he saw a cloud of dust stirring on the access road.

  Someone was coming.

  THE VON DIEN WINTER ESTATE SOUTH

  BELIZE

  Soraces was packing his suitcase when he heard the quick knock on the door of his huge room and Fallotti came waltzing in. The lawyer was wearing a green polo shirt, tan, knee-length shorts, and white gym shoes. He held a tennis racquet in his right hand and a large, 8 x 11 manila envelope in his left. The two of them were alone in the room.

  “Good morning,” he said, smiling. “How was your breakfast?”

  “Fine,” Soraces said, zipping up the case and setting it on the floor. As he picked up the spy pen from the table next to the bed where he’d used it the night before to record his amorous adventures, he once again activated it to capture this interlude.

  “And how was the girl?” Fallotti asked, his grin turning a bit lascivious.

  “She was fine too.”

  “I’ve got a pilot standing by to take you to the airport.”

  “Pilot?”

  Fallotti nodded. “Mr. Von Dien’s helicopter. His Lear Jet is being prepared as we speak to get you back to the States.”

  “I appreciate you setting up such an expeditious departure,” Soraces said and glanced around the plush room wondering where the camera was.

  How else would they know that he was almost ready to go?

  Perhaps the rich bastard had videos of Fallotti getting laid as well. It made sense, especially in view of the video he had of the late Jack Cummings confessing to setting Steven Wolf up for the killing of those Iraqis. It was the best form of insurance to ensure total compliance in place of loyalty. Or maybe he was just a real wealthy voyeur. Von Dien wouldn’t be the first rich son of a bitch with a few kinks. Plus, anybody willing to pay a couple hundred thousand and kill a lot of people just to get a pair of carved rocks from the fourth or fifth century had to be a little off his rich rocker.

  Or maybe he intended to use the video for something else …

  “I’m considering a second career as a porno star, you know,” Soraces said.

  Fallotti’s brow furrowed. “What?”

  “You heard me. I was wondering how you and the old man enjoyed the video of me balling that chick.”

  Fallotti looked a bit shocked, then his expression of surprise changed to one of mirth.

  Artificial mirth, Soraces inferred. It confirmed what he already had surmised. Somewhere in this massive mansion, that looked like it had been transported from the antebellum South, was a recording of him doing the nasty with the girl last night, and most probably the other two bonitas mujeres from his previous trip. He was pretty sure those two had been professional hookers though.

  But so what, Soraces thought. Let the rich bastard think he’s got something to hold over my head. When it comes time for the final negotiation, he’ll be in for a little surprise because I’m nobody’s patsy.

  Just the same, he was doubly glad he’d been discreet when setting up his own recording last night.

  “What video is that?” Fallotti asked, the forced smile still framing his mouth.

  “Never mind,” Soraces said. “I’m not going to make an issue of it at the moment. But I will expect a copy to be included along with my final payment.”

  Fallotti kept smiling but his tongue darted out and went over his lips.

  For a big shot lawyer, Soraces thought, this fucker doesn’t know shit about maintaining a poker face. Or maybe he’s just not used to somebody being a step ahead of him.

  “Whatever,” Fallotti said. His mouth twitched as the smile went away. “I just came by to tell you that I’ve taken care of those legal matters you asked me to.”

  “Any problems?”

  “None. All taken care of,” Fallotti said, handing him the envelope. “Additionally, the funds have been deposited in your personal account in the Caymans, and a separate operations account has been reopened in your name in the States. The credit and debit cards are in here, along with some expense money and that thumb drive with the portion of the video.”

  Soraces pressed the metal clasp hands together and glanced inside. He removed the cards, slipped them into his wallet, and partially unzipped the suitcase and shoved the envelope into it.

  “It’s a good start,” he said and zipped it back up.

  “I’d like to have an update on what you’ve done so far,” Fallotti said. “So I can convey your progress to Mr. Von Dien. And we’ll need periodic reports from Phoenix.”

  Soraces thought about replying with a wise crack about Fallotti’s nose being so far up the rich man’s ass that he must have trouble breathing but remembered the now almost certain probability that their conversation was being secretly recorded. Appearing overly deferential would make him appear weak nor did he want to evoke the rich man’s ire by being defiant or disrespectful. Soraces knew the fine line he had to walk to milk the situation for all it was worth.

  “I’ve contacted a few of my old compatriots,” he said.

  “They’re dependable?”

  “Dependables that I can trust and who know how to get the job done discreetly and efficiently. I’ve left a message for one and I’m waiting for him to call me back. He’s the muscle.”

  “That fellow Derek you mentioned?”

  “Dirk,” Soraces said. “Cameron Dirk, but don’t try finding him on the Internet anywhere. Technically, he doesn’t exist.”

  “You’re certain he’ll be able to deal effectively with Wolf when the time comes?”

  “More than certain. I’d stake my life on it.”

  Fallotti raised his eyebrows as if to say, And you will be.

  “I’ve already got some men in place in Phoenix now,” Soraces said. “Experienced surveillance men.”

  “Surveillance men?” Fallotti frowned. “Is that wise, in view of what’s already happened? What if Wolf notices them?”

  “He won’t. They’re good. I’ve worked with them before. Both pros. Their nickname is the Shadows.”

  “The Shadows?” Fallotti said, his brow wrinkling. “What the hell kind of name is that?”

  “An appropriate one,” Soraces said. “Charles and Clyde Perkins. Two identical twin brothers. Experts at disguise. They can look exactly the same or totally different, depending on the nature of the assignment.”

  “I don’t know about this,” Fallotti said. “You’re sure about them?”

  “Take it from me, there’s nobody better for surveillance than them. That’s why they’re called the Shadows.”

  Fallotti smirked. “How appropriate. And what do you call that Dirk fellow?”

  “Just Dirk. He prefers it that way.”

  Fallotti compressed his lips and took in a deep breath. “And you’re sure they can all be trusted?”

  Soraces nodded his head. “Absolutely.”

  Fallotti grunted an approval. “And our plan is still to offer Wolf a deal, using the video as well as some … financial i
ncentive, to get him to relinquish the item?”

  The item … The lawyer’s reticence to spell it out reaffirmed that the videotaping was indeed in progress.

  Soraces nodded again.

  “And,” Fallotti said, “you’re absolutely certain that he’ll deal with you? Even after the mess up last time?”

  “Like I told you and Mr. Von Dien,” Soraces said, silently pleased with his exaggerated deference by using the title in case Big Brother was listening. “The last time was a bit of an aberration, thanks to Cummins. But he’s no longer in the picture.”

  Fallotti pursed his lips.

  “Like I told you before,” Soraces said. “Everybody has a price, and I’ve got moves in mind that he won’t even see coming.”

  Chapter Four

  THE MCNAMARA RANCH

  PHOENIX, ARIZONA

  As Wolf watched the approaching vehicle drawing closer, it became more evident who it was. If the familiar dark navy-blue sedan with the federal government plates didn’t give it away, the slender form that became distinctly visible behind the wheel was a sure give-away.

  Special Agent William Franker, Wolf thought. Sort of like Opie Taylor from those old Andy Griffin TV shows, all grown up, but still having the air of a naïve schoolboy.

  Wolf lifted his hand in a casual wave and Franker waved back as he turned onto the asphalt driveway and pulled the sedan to a stop.

  “How’s it going?” Wolf said, uncertain about Franker’s reason for the visit and also noticing that the agent was alone. They usually worked in pairs.

  “Figured I’d stop by before I went into the office,” Franker said, smiling and pointing to the championship belt in Wolf’s hand. “I heard you won.”

  Wolf held it up for Franker to see. “I did, and here’s the proof.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks,” Wolf said. “But exactly where’d you hear about it?”

  “It’s all over the Internet,” Franker said. “They’ve even posted a clip of you knocking the guy out.” His eyebrows rose in unison. “Quite a punch.”

  “I was lucky,” Wolf said. “I didn’t know you followed mixed martial arts.”

  “I don’t, but when the guy who promised to give me some much-needed information on an open case I’ve been working does something that significant, I take notice.”

  Touché, Wolf thought, remembering his agreement with the FBI man to clear up the Mexico investigation when they thought Chad had been kidnapped.

  The deal had fallen through when the real culprit, Cummins and Kasey’s ex-husband had been shown to be responsible. Franker had been waiting for Wolf outside the Pima County Jail when he’d been released without charges after the shootout in the ghost town adjacent to where the Devil’s Brigade had made its last stand. Wolf had been cooperative up to a point, giving them the location of a couple of dead perpetrators as well as a cache of stolen bank loot. Mac had been brought in for questioning, too, but both of them were released without charges thanks to a high-powered attorney that Ms. Dolly had brought in.

  “I thought you guys were able to clear that one?” Wolf said. “The armored car heist, the kidnapping of Mac’s grandson, and a couple of previous bank robberies.”

  “Those were cleared,” Franker said. “And thanks for that. But the one I’m talking about, which I’m sure you know, is the still-open case of those murders down in Mexico.”

  Wolf clucked sympathetically. “You know, I really don’t have anything more to add to what I’ve already said on that subject. And that’s on the advice of my attorney.”

  “Which one?” Franker asked. “That thousand-dollar suit that represented you in Pima County, or the one who was murdered?”

  Wolf thought about Rodney Shemp’s untimely demise and felt a twinge of pity. It seemed like everything he touched became blighted. He took in a deep breath and didn’t reply.

  “Look,” Franker said. “I came here today, off the record, so we could talk. You did give me your word. So, are you going to tell me what happened?”

  Again, Wolf said nothing.

  If you don’t cooperate now, I may not be able to help you.” Franker said, his voice rising. “Or should I just wait for you to be involved in your next shootout?”

  Wolf grinned. “What can I say? Trouble follows me.”

  “Dammit, Steve. Can’t you see that I’m going to get to the bottom of all this eventually?”

  It’s “Steve” now, Wolf thought. Pretty soon we’ll be going out to have a beer together.

  He was just about to speak when the door to the ranch house opened and McNamara came sauntering out.

  “Well, well, well,” he said. “Look who the cat dragged in. How you doing, Mr. FBI man?”

  Franker straightened up. “Fine, Mr. McNamara. I just stopped by to—”

  “To say hello to the champ here and see how we’re doing?” McNamara finished for him. “Well, come on in. We’re just fixing to have breakfast and we’ll be glad to set up a spare plate for you.”

  “I really shouldn’t sir,” Franker said. “I’m on my way into the office.”

  “There you go with that ‘sir’ shit again,” McNamara said. “Hell, a man shows up on my doorstep just when I’m having breakfast, the least I can do is give him a plate at my table.”

  “Well, maybe just a cup of coffee then.”

  “Sure,” McNamara said. “As many times as you’ve come a calling here, I guess it’s time I introduce you formally to my daughter and grandson. He’s recovering nicely from that kidnapping, but, just the same, I’d appreciate if you didn’t bring it up in front of him. He’s only five and I know you wouldn’t want to say anything to upset him, right?”

  “I certainly won’t, sir,” Franker said, taking small steps as he fell into step alongside of the other man.

  McNamara extended an arm around the thin FBI man’s shoulders and ushered him inside.

  Wolf grinned.

  Good old Mac, he thought. There’s nobody better at disarming the enemy.

  He followed them in and saw Chad running toward them. He stopped short when he saw the unfamiliar figure of the FBI man.

  “Hey, Kase,” McNamara said. “Rustle up another plate, will ya? We got a new guest.”

  Kasey glanced over and smiled tentatively, the space between her brows furrowing slightly.

  “It’s one of them FBI fellas that was giving Steve and me such a hard time about getting shot up down in Mexico,” McNamara said, his arm still around Franker’s back and his big hand clapping the fed on the shoulder. “Special Agent what’s-his-name.”

  “Franker,” the fed said quickly, his eyes glued on Kasey. “But please, call me Bill.”

  “Not Special Agent?” McNamara said.

  “Are you really an FBI agent?” Chad asked, running up to him.

  I guess he’s forgotten all about my belt, Wolf thought, enjoying the look of discomfort on Franker’s face.

  The FBI man looked like he was caught in a riptide.

  “Yes,” Franker said, looking down at the boy. “I’ve been with the Bureau for four and a half years.”

  “You have a gun?” Chad asked. “My grandpa has one. A real big one, too.”

  Franker’s smile looked forced.

  Wolf moved around to the place set for him at the table. A plate with scrambled eggs, bacon, and rye toast sat on the table next to a glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee. The coffee was no longer steaming, Wolf noticed.

  “Hey, Chad,” he said. “I brought my belt like you asked.

  The boy immediately shifted his gaze to Wolf as he held up the belt. Running to him, he reached up and touched the emblem in the center.

  “When you gonna teach me to fight, Uncle Steve?”

  Wolf immediately glanced at Kasey, who was busy dishing up another plate.

  “We’ll have to see, Chad,” Wolf said. “But sometimes fighting is the last thing you want to do. Your schoolwork’s more important.”

  “Schoolwo
rk?” Chad said. “What’s that?”

  You’ll be finding that out soon enough, he thought, and looked again at Kasey, who was smiling. He then glanced at Franker; whose eyes were still glued on her.

  “Sit down, Bill,” McNamara said, pulling out a chair and practically forcing the FBI man to sit in it. “How do you like your coffee?”

  “Black’s fine, sir. But I really should be going.”

  “Aw, hell,” McNamara said. “You don’t want to hurt my daughter’s feelings, do you? She’ll think you don’t think she’s a good cook.”

  “I’ve already got a plate started for you, Mr. Franker,” Kasey said.

  Franker smiled nervously and shrugged as he sank into the chair.

  Kasey came over and set the plate in front of him.

  Wolf was already shoveling some eggs into his own mouth. He bit off a piece of toast and shifted it to his cheek.

  “Great breakfast, Kasey,” he said. “Thanks.”

  She smiled at him and then raised her eyebrows as she turned to Franker.

  “Would you like some orange juice to go with your coffee, Mr. Franker? Or should I say, Special Agent?”

  Franker’s nervous smile reappeared. “Oh, ah, Bill’s fine. And orange juice would be great. Thank you.”

  Chad was holding Wolf’s belt around his waist now and was prancing around. “I wanna be a champ, too. I’m taking this to school to show the other kids.”

  Before Wolf could say anything Kasey interceded.

  “Give that back to Uncle Steve,” she said. “And then go brush your teeth. We have to leave soon.”

  “Aw, mom.”

  “No arguments,” she said.

  The boy’s head lowered and he shuffled back to the table and gave the belt to Wolf.

  “I was going to give this to Reno’s gym,” he said. “But maybe I’ll give it to you, instead.”

  Chad’s face lit up. “Oh yeah?”

  “No,” Kasey said. “You have to earn things like that. Now go brush your teeth.”

  Chad glanced from his mother back to Wolf, who winked.

  The boy’s grin reappeared, and he ran out of the room taking the belt with him.