by C. C. Gibbs
“You’ll have to go look later. Andy was right; he flew out on a chopper. We have to plan for a flight to Bangkok, Zou’s most likely destination. Fingers crossed”—a quick gesture—“’cause if it’s Bangkok we’ll have it made. Crowded as hell, lots of dark corners, bent law enforcement, a river for easy disposal. Fuck, it almost makes you believe in a god.”
“With the reach of his enemies, his bolt holes are limited. And keep in mind, he could be gathering his troops there.”
Rafe shrugged. “I still like the advantageous terrain. We’ve got him on satellite, so we can fine-tune our plans if and when he approaches the city. Another thing, someone has to look into Dubai banking. It’s an extralegal maze I know, but Zou’s gonna need money.”
“Will do. What the status on the girl and baby?”
“And her boyfriend. Yeah, how about that?”
Carlos blew out a breath. “You think you’re beyond surprise and—”
“Out of the blue,” Rafe said with a smile.
A nod, then a raised eyebrow. “Complications?”
“Minor, Webster tells me. He and Gina are going to wait until dark, then visit them at their house.” Rafe slid down on his spine and studied his bare feet for a moment before he looked up. “I tell myself that a lot of people have been working hard to succeed at this mission, so the fact that everything’s falling into place shouldn’t make the hairs rise on the back of my neck. But—”
“Zou’s no dummy.”
“Yeah times infinity.” Rafe slid upright. “That means we have to scrutinize everything six different ways. No one takes chances. Especially Ganz. He wants the kill shot. So if and when we get to Bangkok he has to be on a leash.”
“She’s gotta go home now.”
Rafe gave him a flinty-eyed look.
“Nicole has to go home now,” Carlos corrected, his tone more polite.
“Thank you.” Rafe exhaled softly. “And yes, I know.”
“Want me to set it up?”
Rafe shook his head. “Let me talk to her first.” Then he smiled faintly. “Just in case Zou decides to stop for a couple days on his way south.”
Carlos scowled. “You’re going right up to the wire, aren’t you?”
Rafe came to his feet and grinned. “Let’s just say I’m gonna try like hell.”
“Goddamn some things never change,” Carlos muttered.
“Don’t worry, when all systems are go I’ll be right beside you.” Rafe’s grin flashed. “Keeping up with you ain’t a problem.”
“Get the fuck out of here. You got that much energy you might as well put it to better use.”
“That’s what I was thinking. Get some sleep while Zou’s on the road. It’s gonna be a while.” Rafe patted his shorts’ pocket. “My phone’s on. I’m waiting for Webster’s call.”
Chapter 19
Gina and Webster’s plan to wait until dark to abduct Bao-Yu and her child had to be adjusted on the fly, because after the repainting was finished, the small family had no more than driven away in a taxi than a gray panel van pulled out into traffic behind them.
“Another interested party,” Gina murmured as she and Webster walked to their rental.
“Worse. A don’t-give-a-shit high-profile party.” Webster lengthened his stride. “Need your door opened?”
“Not since my finishing school days,” she drawled.
He shot her a grin and sprinted for the car.
A few seconds later, Webster hit the ignition, murmured, “Hang on,” stomped on the gas, and punched his way into traffic. The driver in the car he missed by a hairbreadth laid on his horn. Webster tossed him the finger, accelerated around three vehicles despite the narrow street and oncoming traffic, slowed only marginally before shooting through a red light, and then speeded up again. “Bingo,” he said a moment later, catching sight of their target two blocks ahead. Decelerating, he wove through traffic more slowly now until only three cars separated them from the van. “Would you rather drive next time?” he asked, giving Gina a sideways glance. He’d seen her push an imaginary brake a few times.
She shook her head. “Reflex, that’s all.”
“You like to be in control?”
An undercurrent of more than simple query resonated in his voice. Or maybe it was just her libido’s wishful thinking. But whether she was reading his remark correctly or not was irrelevant. Her dark gaze was cool, her voice cooler when she said, “Yes, I do.” Looking away, she pulled her Beretta from her purse and slipped the handgun into her shoulder holster.
Webster almost smiled. She was shutting him down. He’d have to be more careful; try not to tease. Got it. “I saw two men in the van,” he said, his tone strictly business. “Same for you?”
“Yeah. Unless there’s more in the back.” Lifting four more clips from her purse, she slipped two in each jacket pocket, shot him a glance, and murmured, “Life’s a mystery.”
He shrugged. “More of a mystery in some occupations than others.”
An eyebrow tilt. “You’re not just a hacker are you? Don’t answer if you’d rather not.”
“I’ve never worked with a woman before,” he said.
There was her answer. “Why are you still in the game when you have a wife and child? You don’t have to answer that either.”
He exhaled softly, debating whether he wanted this conversation or not.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Actually,” he finally said, “I’m doing this as a favor to Rafe. Sorta,” he added, still equivocating on how much to disclose, this entire profession predicated on needing to know.
His reluctance was so pronounced, she held up her hand. “None of my business, really.”
He gave her a tight smile. “Make up your mind.”
“As long as you don’t fuck up this operation, I’m good. The rest doesn’t matter.”
He scowled. “You can be real irritating.”
“That’s because I asked you some personal questions and men don’t like personal questions. Or maybe just the men I know.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Keep being a prick and I won’t want to know you.”
Her little sniff at the end was such a girly chick sniff it seriously screwed with her lethal killer persona. He grinned. “Jesus, did I just meet you in a bar and you turned me down?”
“Goddamn right,” she muttered.
“So you’re not gonna give me a tumble?”
“Fuck no.” Wait, wait, what?
He gave her a killer smile that could have melted metal. “Okay, here’s my life story, babe. ’Cause if we’re gonna stay alive I don’t want you pissed at me.”
She sucked up her sudden stab of horniness, told herself he was right and she was wrong, and said, “I’m not pissed.” At his lifted brow, she added with a smile, “Anymore.”
“Good.” Another of those heart-melting smiles. “Here’s what I got. The guys are all my friends. I met Ganz first, online, in a dark market chat room. Years ago. We were kids. So I’m doing this as a favor.” He shot her a look. “I’m guessing you’re doing Rafe a favor too.”
“Me and a lot of other people. He’s a good guy; a loner like so many of us, with no strong family ties, no place to really call home, a few demons in his past. But willing to go to the mat for you if you ask. And look, I apologize for being curt. I’m just trying to keep my hands off you. Not your fault in any way,” she added with a nod.
He smiled. “No problem. I shouldn’t tease you either. But you make it tempting; you’re not all hard-ass shooter with a reputation for—”
She shot him a squinty-eyed look.
“Relax. I meant a reputation in this business of ours.” He grinned. “You’re a legend, babe. With a star dossier.”
“Why haven’t I heard of you?”
“Because I like it that way.”
“You’re not really Aussie are you?”
“Let’s just say I lived in Australia longer than I live
d anywhere else. My father was career Marine Corps. We lived everywhere on the globe. I was born in San Diego, but that was about it for roots. Undergrad years at Berkeley; finished my degree in three to get the hell out. Then graduate school and a couple years teaching at UQ. After that rugby. Always hacking jobs on the side. That’s about it.”
“And the covert shit?”
“Pretty much all along. With my family background, weapons were a way of life. Combine that with, let’s say, the fringe world of hacking, and you meet all kinds of people who need things done.”
“Any limits on what you do?”
“Lots. I just do white hat. You sleep better at night. Although sometimes it’s hard to know who the good guys are, right?”
“You asking me?”
“No, just stating a fact. You better than most can testify to double-dealing and betrayal. By the way, I’m completely trustworthy. We’re in this together.”
There was something deeply honorable in the way he spoke. A benevolence rarely seen in her occupation. She almost choked up. Not good. At all. “Thanks,” she said, knowing better than to elaborate with the lump in her throat.
He smiled. “Don’t mention it.” He lifted his chin at the thinning traffic ahead and politely changed the subject. “I think I know where they’re headed.” Lifting a finger off the steering wheel, he pointed. “Nice neighborhood not too far from here.”
There was something in his voice. She looked at him. “How nice?”
“Billionaire nice. Big houses, walled properties, gated. It’s gotta be Zou’s place. Unless her boyfriend slash husband’s rich.”
“I doubt it. Although he’s sure as hell bigger than Zou and whole lot prettier.” Comfortably back to business again, she smiled. “A plus for her, I’d guess.”
He was tempted to say, You like ’em big? but knew better than to flirt now that they’d cleared the air. “She’s into him, that’s a fact,” he said instead. “Can’t tell if it’s reciprocated. The guy was careful. Not with the kid though, in fact—”
“Oh my fucking ass,” Gina interrupted. “Look, look—where they’re turning in. It’s a humungous castle.”
“Set well back from the road, with a long open driveway so you can see trouble approaching and pull up the drawbridge. But first”—Webster jabbed his finger at the van as it drove past the property—“we follow the tail and make them go away.”
“We’re so far out there’s no other traffic. We don’t have to worry about witnesses.” Manicured estates lined the road, the architectural variety testament to the owner’s whimsies, some mansions hidden behind high walls, others, like the castle, on show.
“Now to see what they’re gonna do. I’m still surprised they showed their faces in broad daylight.”
“Overconfident.”
“I’m hoping stupid.” He smiled. “They haven’t been here before. Look, they’re slowing down, looking for somewhere to turn around. If it’s okay with you, I’m all for simplicity. Provided they’re not hiding a crew in back, a couple of shots and it’s over.”
Gina pulled out a second handgun from her purse. A Glock 19. “Just in case the numbers change,” she said, checking the load with a one-handed slide. “For starters though, which one do you want? Driver or passenger?” Glancing behind them, she slid her Beretta from her shoulder holster.
“Driver.” Webster scanned the road ahead, glanced in the rearview mirror, then reached down and pulled a custom assault rifle from under his seat.
Gina’s eyes widened. “When the hell did you put that there?”
“You were in the shower.”
“It’s a beauty,” she said in breathy awe.
Webster smiled. “A friend of mine makes these.”
“You’ll have to introduce me to your friend. I could use one of those. It’s purse size.”
“Will do. Head’s up, babe. They’re coming back.” Slipping off the safety on the rifle, Webster hit the switch to open the car windows, slowed his speed, gripped the steering wheel with his knees and said quietly, “On three.”
They both surveyed their surroundings one last time—a quick automatic glance—and, assured of their isolation, unlatched their doors and focused on their targets. Webster waited until the oncoming car was thirty feet away, then gently squeezed the brakes to slow the car, but not in an obvious way. Neither spoke; this was a business they knew.
“One,” Webster said, as the van neared. “Two.” Thirty feet. He brought the car to a stop, shifted into Park. Twenty feet. “Three.”
Kicking open the car doors, they jumped out, sighted in with a cool second’s worth of professionalism, and, firing full automatic, pissed bullets into the van windshield.
Blood and brain matter sprayed the shattered windshield in a pink mist before the glass disappeared completely. Webster raked the ragged opening twice more, emptying his mag in a stream of lead, then snapped, “Get in.”
The van was still slowly rolling forward.
As they slid back into the car, Webster slammed it into Drive, jerked the wheel, and steered into the path of the van, hoping like hell nothing major would be damaged. Calling a tow truck wasn’t an option. The hit was only a jolt, not a crash. He let out a breath.
Gina had reloaded their weapons. Stepping out of the car a moment later, guns drawn, they moved toward the silent van in a low, defensive posture. As they approached, Webster straightened and gave Gina a grin. “Really, babe, right between the eyes? Showing off?” One side of the passenger’s head was raw meat from Webster’s rifle burst, but the entry point between his eyes was clearly visible.
“Play it safe. That’s my motto. Speaking of safe,” she said, “we have to stash this van.”
“I know a place. I’ll drive the van, you follow.” Gina was already walking back to their rental when Webster opened the driver’s door. Pulling latex gloves and a packet of baby wipes from his jacket pocket like someone who’d done this before, he set the wipes on the floor, slipped the gloves on, and heaved the driver’s bloody body over the seat. After quickly wiping off the steering wheel and seat, he tossed gloves and wipes in back, took off his jacket, folded it, slid the side panel door open and hung his jacket from a metal bracket. Then he shut the door, stepped up into the driver’s seat, and calmly turned the van around.
Ten minutes later, they watched the van with two dead bodies slide down the bank of the Brisbane River and slowly sink. “We can’t wait till nightfall to take Bao-Yu,” Webster said. “When these two don’t return, the B team might show up.”
“Or, considering Zou’s enemies list, teams plural. Let’s go in the castle from the back. I take one side, you the other. I’m good with door locks.”
“I was thinking we’d just drive up to the front door and knock. They know us as buyers. Come on,” Webster said to her dubious look, “I’ve got a good feeling about this.”
“I don’t believe in good feelings when I’m working. My mantra’s logic and weapons.”
“Trust me,” Webster said with a smile. “We bought four of Bao’s paintings. They love us.”
“Trust me? You’re fucking kidding.”
“Okay, then, put on Kevlar. It’s in the car.”
“If I could cover my whole body, maybe.”
“Forget it. I’ll just go in. You can wait somewhere.” He grinned. “Safe.”
“As if I’m going to risk my life cause you’re jerking my chain.”
“Sorry. I’ll be serious. You don’t have to do this. I mean it. But consider all the ways Bao’s so-called husband was protective of her and the girl. He didn’t explicitly show his feelings but he cared for them both with a gentleness you don’t normally see in a bodyguard who’s just doing his job.”
“Hmmpf,” she muttered, biting her bottom lip.
“You know I’m right. And I’m not saying it because I’m some macho prick who has to be right. If you don’t want to do this though, I’ll drop you off at one of the coffee shops down the road and you can wait
for me.”
She didn’t speak again on the way to the car or as they drove back the way they’d come. But as they neared Zou’s castle, she turned and said, “Okay, but I’m putting on a vest.”
Bringing the car to a stop at the side of the road, he reached in back and pulled out the smaller of the two Kevlar vests from the seat.
“You should too,” she said, taking off her jacket.
He shook his head. “Told you I had this feeling.” But he pulled his handgun from his shoulder holster, checked it was loaded, and slid it back.
She lifted an eyebrow in his direction.
He smiled. “Good feelings aside, a loaded weapon is reassuring.”
A few minutes later Webster drove slowly up the long drive so they didn’t surprise anyone and came to a stop at the front door. Gina’s heart was hammering in her chest; full frontal wasn’t her style. “You know they’re watching us.”
“Then smile, babe. Look friendly.”
She blew out a breath. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. And don’t you dare say trust me again or I might shoot you.”
He held up his hands. “Relax, this is a done deal.” Then, without waiting for an answer, he dropped his hands, opened his car door, and stepped out onto the raked gravel drive. Whether she followed him or not, he was knocking on the door. He didn’t get these feelings often—try never. He was going for it.
By the time he reached the door and rapped the lion head knocker on its brass plate, Gina was at his side. He turned and smiled. “Hiya.”
She grimaced. “So I like crazy people.”
He was chuckling when the door opened.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” the bodyguard said in a perfect English he’d not used before. “Please come in.”
Webster took note of the man’s linguistic versatility but, intent on his mission, smiled anyway. “Don’t tell me we look that benign?”
“In contrast to the others?” The man’s brows lifted. “Yes.” He shut the door.
“We don’t have much time,” Webster said, a new briskness to his voice. “As soon as you’re ready, we should leave. You saw the van following you.”
