Killers and Keepers

by Charles Dougherty

  "You mean because we already made the appointment with him?"

  "Partly that, but also because if we work through the lawyer, we increase the odds that Kent will underestimate us. Then his guard will be down, and we might learn more from him. Remember, our first goal is to find out what he knows about who's trying to rebuild O'Hanlon's network."

  "I'd rather just waste him and be done with it."

  "Patience, Ms. Killer. We'll probably get our chance to do that, eventually. Don't deprive us of the joy of anticipation, though."

  "I know you're right, but patience isn't my strong point."

  "We need to work on that; it comes with practice. Think of it as another weapon in your arsenal. I only mentioned bypassing the lawyer in case he won't set us up with Kent. Focus your thoughts on working through him; the lawyer's our best way to get to Kent."

  "Right. I will. What's your bet on the lawyer? Will he call Kent straight away?"

  "Most likely, he's already talked with Kent and passed along what I told him this afternoon — that we helped Margie out of a little bind, but now we need Kent's help to deal with the repercussions."

  I didn't give the lawyer any more detail than that. He asked how I came to call him, and I told him that Margie gave us his name, in case we were ever in St. Vincent and needed help.

  "Don't you wish we could have listened in on their conversation?"

  "Yes. That's another reason we need to see the lawyer in person."

  "I don't get it. What are you saying?"

  "We'll plant a bug in his office."

  "How are you going to do that? We don't have a bug."

  I grinned. "Remember all the electronic goodies stashed in the compartment under the chart table?"

  "There's a bug in there?"

  "Among other things."

  "Will you need my help to distract him?"

  "No. It's tiny, and it's got adhesive backing. It won't be any trick to stick it somewhere, like under a chair where I'm sitting, for example. It's got a short-range radio transmitter that's voice-activated, and we'll put a repeater somewhere close by outside his office. Then we can listen to whatever goes on in his office."

  "Will we be able to hear phone calls? Both sides?"

  "Should be able to, yes. These things are super sensitive."

  "Where will we have to be to listen? What distance?"

  "Think in terms of Wi-Fi range from the repeater. Somewhere in the neighborhood of his office. But the repeater will record up to several hours of audio, too, so we don't have to camp out there."

  "I didn't know you were into that spy stuff."

  "Tools of the trade. There's more to this business than just killing people."

  "Okay. I guess this is part of turning me into an assassin instead of a plain old killer. Show me the hardware?"

  "Sure. Let's clean up the galley first. Then we'll test the bug, and you can get a feel for how it all works."

  19

  "So, Mr. Finnegan, you said Margie Kent gave you my telephone number."

  Harold Kingsley's secretary was pouring coffee for Mary and me. We sat in comfortable, leather-upholstered guest chairs across a massive mahogany desk from the lawyer. The secretary finished serving us and asked if Kingsley needed anything else. He told her no and asked her to close the door on her way out.

  "Yes, that's right," I said, once the secretary was gone.

  "And where did you say you met Ms. Kent?"

  "Actually, I didn't say."

  "Ah, I was afraid my memory was failing me. So I'll ask, then. Where did you meet Ms. Kent?"

  "I'm not sure she would want us to say."

  Kingsley smiled and nodded. "You mentioned that you and Ms. O'Brien helped her out of a 'little bind.' Tell me about this 'little bind,' Mr. Finnegan."

  "Mr. Kingsley, please don't be offended, but I'm not sure we should discuss Ms. Kent's affairs with you, sir. She gave us the impression that she preferred to keep herself to herself, as the British say. I wouldn't want to embarrass her or betray her confidence."

  If my response annoyed Kingsley, his demeanor gave no sign of it. He nodded without changing his expression. "I see."

  Kingsley put his hands together as if he were praying and raised them until his fingertips were touching his nose. Swiveling his big leather chair to face the window, he gazed out at the harbor. He rocked the chair back and forth for a few seconds, its springs creaking.

  Mary and I traded glances. I picked up my coffee and took a sip; it was strong and rich, a wonderful brew. Mary followed my lead. I watched the second hand on the ornate clock on the credenza behind Kingsley. Two full minutes passed before he sat up straight and swiveled back to face us.

  Kingsley sighed and then broke the silence. "You said you needed Mr. Kent's help in dealing with the repercussions of your assistance to Ms. Kent."

  I nodded. "That's right."

  "What, specifically, do you require of Mr. Kent, Mr. Finnegan?"

  "It's a sensitive matter that has personal ramifications for the Kent family. I'll only discuss it with Mr. Kent."

  Kingsley looked me in the eye and said, "I handle Mr. Kent's personal affairs, as well as business matters."

  I held his gaze and said nothing. After a few seconds, I picked up my coffee cup and stood, walking over to the window overlooking the harbor. I drank my coffee in silence. When the cup was empty, I set it on the edge of his desk next to Mary's. She looked up at me, raising her eyebrows. I nodded and extended my hand to help her to her feet.

  Turning back to Kingsley, I said, "Thank you for your time, Mr. Kingsley. You have my cellphone number. Please call me when you've arranged for us to meet with Mr. Kent."

  "Ah," Kingsley said, reaching for the telephone on his desk. "I'll — "

  "Don't trouble yourself, sir," I said, interrupting him. "We can find our own way out."

  Kingsley's secretary looked up as we opened his office door, her eyebrows raised and her mouth dropping open. She pushed herself back from her desk, preparing to stand, but she wasn't fast enough. I held the door into the hallway open for Mary and we walked to the front door.

  When we were out on the street, Mary giggled and looked at me. "You're something else, you know that? You should have been a lawyer; you outplayed him at his own game."

  "Please, Mary," I said. "You'll hurt my feelings."

  "What? Why?"

  "I have some ethical boundaries I won't cross; I couldn't sink that low. Me? A lawyer? No way." I shook my head, pouting.

  She laughed. "As long as we're dressed up with shoes on and everything, buy me lunch in one of those fancy restaurants we passed."

  "Might as well," I said. "We can listen for his phone call to Kent."

  We picked a place that looked upscale enough so we wouldn't stand out for wearing shoes and got a table. I put the receiver for the bug's repeater on the table as we studied the menu.

  After the waitress took our order and brought our drinks, Mary said, "You didn't play that at all the way we planned. I thought we were going to summarize the story for him. Why did you change direction?"

  "Gut instinct. When we were planning the meeting, I didn't picture Kingsley as such a stuffed-shirt type. Guys like that make me want to yank their chains. Besides, telling him about the girls, the shape they were in when we found them — it just didn't feel right. I tried to put myself in Kent's position. If Margie were my daughter and that happened to her, I wouldn't want anybody discussing it outside the family."

  Mary looked at me, nodding, grasping her chin with her right index finger and thumb.

  "We wanted to make them think we took the girls' story at face value, remember?" I asked.

  "Yes. That was a stroke of genius, though, Finn. Whether or not that girl was Margie, the way you behaved will sure make Kingsley and Kent think we believe she was. I had no idea you could act that well."

  I shrugged. "It wasn't exactly an act. Like I said, I handled it the way I would have wanted it handled if she wer
e my daughter."

  "Hey, Finn," Mary said, leaning halfway across the table and crooking her right index finger to draw me close.

  Puzzled, I leaned toward her.

  "I love you, sailor."

  I nodded. "Thanks. And I love you."

  Mary and I were on our way out of the restaurant when the monitor for the bug in Kingsley's office vibrated. Pulling it from my pocket, I steered Mary to an old-fashioned park bench just across the street. We sat on the bench with my arm around her shoulders, and she held the monitor between our heads with the volume turned down for privacy.

  "Hello?"

  "Michael?"

  "Yes, Harold. How did it go?"

  "They were cagey. He did the talking; the woman didn't say anything much beyond hello."

  "What do you mean, 'cagey?'"

  "I couldn't get anything out of Finnegan."

  "Nothing? Where did they say they met Margie?"

  "He wouldn't say. He claimed they wanted to protect her privacy."

  "What about the bind he said they helped her out of?"

  "That was as far as he'd go, Michael. I couldn't get anything out of him."

  "Why does he want to meet me? Yesterday you said something about his wanting my help. Something about the fallout from helping Margie. What about that?"

  "He'll only discuss it with you. He's a tough nut. If you want to know more, you will have to meet with him."

  "What about the woman?"

  "Mary O'Brien. Good looking, self-possessed. She let him do the talking, but she was listening carefully. I'd say she doesn't miss much."

  "Uh-huh. What's your take?"

  "I can get rid of them, tell them you're out of the country if you want. Something like that."

  "How did you leave it with them?"

  "After he declined to tell me anything, they stood up and left. He was rather abrupt, actually. On their way out, he said I could call him if you wanted to meet."

  "Set it up for two o'clock this afternoon. You and Sally get lost. I'll use the conference room. I have my key."

  "Very well. Call me if you need anything."

  "Sure. Thanks, Harold."

  There was a click as the call disconnected. A couple of seconds later, the monitor shut off.

  "Kent took the bait," Mary said.

  "Yes. It's — "

  The ringing of our cellphone interrupted me. The caller ID showed Kingsley's office number. I hit the button to accept the call.

  "Hello?"

  "Mr. Finnegan?"

  "Yes?"

  "Harold Kingsley here. Mr. Kent will meet you at my office at two this afternoon."

  "Thanks. We'll see you then."

  "Actually, I won't be here. My office will be closed. My secretary and I will be conducting a deposition at another lawyer's office. Knock on the door, and Mr. Kent will let you in."

  "All right. Good afternoon, Mr. Kingsley."

  "And to you." He disconnected the call.

  "Interesting," Mary said. "We've got a little over an hour to kill. What do you want to do?"

  "Let's stake out Kingsley's office. I saw a coffee shop across the street."

  Mary and I were nursing our second cups of coffee at a table on the sidewalk when Harold Kingsley and his secretary came out of his office. Each carrying briefcases, they walked up the street. Just before we lost sight of them, they entered another building.

  Five minutes later, a black SUV with heavily tinted windows pulled up to the curb in front of Kingsley's office. A man with a badly mangled left ear got out of the back door on the driver's side. He spent a few seconds checking out the street, his head swiveling as he took in his surroundings.

  His face had the battered look of a former prize fighter; there wasn't much doubt about what happened to his ear. He wore a loose-fitting tropical-print shirt with the tail out, the bulge of a handgun under the shirt on his right hip.

  Finding nothing to worry about from his scan of the area, he walked around to the passenger side of the SUV and opened the rear door. Michael Kent got out, and the bodyguard closed the door. As the SUV pulled away, Kent and his muscle went into Harold Kingsley's office.

  "They're a little early," Mary said.

  "Five minutes."

  "Think the bug will pick up anything?"

  "Only if they go in his office. The conference room was across the hall; I doubt if it will be sensitive enough for that."

  "What do you think of his sidekick?"

  I shrugged. "Kent probably doesn't go anywhere without protection. I wouldn't worry about it, but if things go south, I'll take the bodyguard. You can have Kent, but don't kill him. If it gets rough, we'll want to question him before we put him away."

  "Okay. You ready?" Mary asked.

  "Let's do it."

  We walked up to the corner and crossed the street. When we got to Kingsley's office, the door was locked. I used the knocker, and in a few seconds, we heard the sound of the bolt being drawn. The door swung open, and we were face to face with the bodyguard.

  "Mr. Finnegan? Ms. O'Brien?"

  I nodded, and he stepped back, motioning us to enter.

  "Mr. Kent is waiting in the conference room. I'll take you back there." His voice was higher than I expected, and raspy.

  He closed and locked the door. I noticed that the deadbolt required a key, even from inside. He put the key in his pocket as he led the way back to the conference room. The door was open, and Kent was standing beside one of the chairs at the highly polished table, waiting for us.

  When we stepped through the door, the bodyguard stayed behind in the hall. As the door closed behind us, Kent smiled.

  "Ms. O'Brien, Mr. Finnegan, I'm Michael Kent," he said, extending his right hand.

  I shook hands with him. His grip was firm, but not excessively so. Mary smiled and nodded, but she didn't offer her hand.

  "Thanks for seeing us," I said.

  "My pleasure. Please, sit down. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?"

  "Nothing for me, thanks," I said, holding a chair for Mary.

  She shook her head as she sat down. "No, thanks."

  I settled into the chair next to Mary, and Kent sat across from us.

  "I'm in your debt, it seems. Mr. Kingsley tells me you need my assistance. What can I do for you?"

  "The people who kidnapped your daughter are giving us trouble," I said.

  He studied me for a moment. "How did you meet her?"

  "The men who kidnapped her and the other girl were ashore eating dinner when a thunderstorm hit. Their boat dragged its anchor and hit ours. At first, we thought their boat was unoccupied. While we were untangling ourselves, we heard a banging sound from below deck. I went aboard and found the two girls. They were tied up, and in rough shape. I cut them loose and took them aboard our boat."

  Kent nodded but didn't say anything. I spun out the rest of our story, up to the part where we killed the two men and sunk Seaduction. I paused then, letting the silence hang, waiting to see how he would react.

  "I think there's more to you two than meets the eye," he said, breaking the silence. "That's not the way a typical sailing couple would react to that kind of situation."

  "I expect not," I said. "It wasn't what those two were expecting, for sure."

  "Did my daughter or the other girl tell you how they got there?"

  I looked at Mary, and she delivered the next part of our tale, leaving out the fact that she drugged the girls.

  "Once they were ashore and she made her call to you, she wanted to be left alone to wait for you," Mary said, wrapping up that part of the story.

  Kent frowned and shook his head. "Why? I wondered why you weren't there. She didn't tell me she sent you away."

  "I can't answer that," Mary said. "They were safe, and they seemed to be okay, so I left her. I guess you found them?"

  Kent nodded. "Yes, of course. But I'm still not sure why you've sought me out."

  "Margie told us she thought you knew the man be
hind their kidnapping," I said.

  Kent's face gave away nothing. "She did, huh?" He looked from me to Mary.

  Mary nodded. "That's what she said. She told us that boat was seen around here in the days before she was captured."

  "Their boat… Did it have a name?"

  "Seaduction," I said.

  "And that's the boat you sunk?"

  I nodded.

  "Yes. It's familiar, but I still don't understand what you want from me. A reward, maybe?"

  "Not exactly a reward, but we could use some help," I said. "The man who owned Seaduction is trying to kill us. After we left the girls in Les Saintes, we went to Pointe-à-Pitre. Some of his men followed us from there and attacked us once we were in open water."

  "Obviously, you survived."

  "Yes, but they didn't. We did question one of them before he died, though."

  "And who were they working for?"

  "A man in St. Lucia named Randall Travis."

  "I've heard of him. He's a gangster, rumor has it."

  "That rumor would be accurate," I said.

  "Why haven't you gone to the authorities?"

  "We have our own problems with the authorities; we have to deal with these things ourselves. Margie led us to believe that you would understand."

  "She did, did she?"

  Mary and I let the silence hang. After a full minute, Kent said, "Tell me how you two came to have the skills to kill five armed men when all the odds were in their favor."

  "That's not really a question we care to answer. I'm sure you understand our reluctance."

  "I see. Well, for the sake of argument, let's say that I'll accept that you have those skills. What is it that I can do for you?"

  "Before we get into that, let me suggest that if you help us, you'll be doing yourself a favor, as well."

  Kent frowned. "I don't quite understand."

  "The last three men Travis sent were ordered to question us. They were supposed to recover the boat and your daughter before they killed us."

  "You're suggesting my daughter is still in danger from Travis?"

  "Yes. So helping us is to your benefit, and hers."

  "What kind of help are you looking for?"

  "We're going after Travis. That's the only way to put an end to his chasing us."