Hired to Kill (The Nathan McBride Series Book 7)

by Andrew Peterson

  Holly’s voice broke in. “Nathan . . . ? Are you there?”

  “Sorry, Holly. I missed what you said.”

  “Hey, you have nothing to apologize for.”

  “I’m okay. I just zoned for a second.”

  Harv said, “I’m starting in your direction. Are you at your La Jolla house?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll pack a bag and head over there right away.”

  “Thanks, Harv. My dad was in his mid-nineties. I hate to say it, but this probably spared him from a slow, convalescent death.”

  It wasn’t public knowledge, but his dad had been suffering the late stages of prostate cancer. He might’ve lived another year at most. Harv and Holly knew, but few others.

  “Will you call me as soon as you know more about Lauren’s condition?” he asked.

  “Yes, absolutely. We need to find your sister. Can you try calling her?”

  Harv cut in. “I think it’s better to let her initiate contact.”

  What Harv just said made sense, but he didn’t know why . . .

  His mind seemed to be experiencing a cascade failure, too many images flooding into his thoughts to process.

  Trying to anchor himself, he grabbed a childhood memory.

  A fishing trip. His father smiling as he reels the bass in. The lake’s so beautiful. He knows why. It’s the color of his father’s eyes. It’s the happiest moment of his life. Ever.

  He pulled the memory closer, grasping it with both arms like the stuffed lion he’d adored. The lion had protected him, made him feel safe.

  Memories. They were all he had now.

  His poor mom. This was going to kill her.

  Harv’s voice emerged out of the void again. “. . . doesn’t have me or Nate in her contacts. I don’t want either of our numbers popping up on her phone until we know what her status is.”

  “On second thought, I agree,” Holly said.

  “Nate, did you catch that? Don’t call Jin, okay?”

  Harv knows I zoned again. “I won’t.”

  “My house is being fumigated,” said Holly, “so I’ve got Harvey in the Abraham Lincoln Suite at the Willard, and, Nathan, you’re in the Jenny Lind Suite. I’m in a tiny hotel room with a single queen for the next few days. Nathan, I’d love to come over and stay with you.”

  “Count on it.”

  Harv said, “That private jet you chartered for us is a five-digit deal, especially on such short notice.”

  “Trust me, we all think you’re worth it.”

  Nathan eased his grip on the phone.

  “Listen, Ethan just came in. I have to run. I promise I’ll keep you guys in the loop every step of the way. I’m so sorry this happened.”

  “Thanks, Holly. We’ll talk again soon. Stay on the line, Harv.”

  “I love you,” she said.

  “I love you too. Thank you for calling.” Damn it, that sounded so cold and impersonal. “Holly, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like that. I’m just . . .”

  “It’s okay. I can’t begin to imagine what you’re feeling. Don’t worry about Lauren. Metro PD has half a dozen officers guarding her and the other survivors—”

  It hit him hard; his father wasn’t the only one killed. Many families were hurt by this senseless butchery.

  “We’re sending some of our SAs as well. I’ve personally agreed to oversee the investigation. I think of Lauren as my niece. I’ve got to go. We’ll talk again soon.”

  There was no sound, but Nathan sensed Holly leave the call.

  “You still there, Nate?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Don’t worry about Lauren. Holly would never lie about her condition. She just wouldn’t do it.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just really angry right now. I’ll never see my dad again. And Lauren had to watch him die.”

  “You’ll see him again.”

  “I meant here, on Earth.”

  Harv said nothing for a long moment, then asked, “What do you make of Jin being MIA?”

  “We shouldn’t second-guess her motive. We weren’t there.” He thought for a few seconds and came up empty. “I told her if this sort of thing ever happened, she should contact me using the code words Sierra Charlie.”

  He didn’t state the obvious: I hope the attackers didn’t take her prisoner.

  “Let’s hope you see those two words on your phone really soon.”

  “I probably shouldn’t say this, but please don’t feel like you have to come with me.”

  “You’re right; you shouldn’t say it.”

  He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Sorry, Harv.”

  “Already forgotten. Don’t worry about it. Candace isn’t home right now. She’s visiting Lucas at Hillsdale College. I’m bacheloring it.”

  “Bring your dogs. They can hang with Grant and Sherman. Angelica can take care of them.”

  “What about the woman and her niece you rescued?”

  He’d told Harv about his grocery store incident earlier. “They don’t need twenty-four-hour care. They’ll be okay.”

  “In the meantime, it would be wise for us to be on a higher level of alert even though no one should be able to find us.”

  “No one’s totally unfindable, given a good enough tracker.”

  Nathan wouldn’t say what they were both thinking. His sister could be strapped to a table, being rendered, holding out as long as possible. He hated the visual.

  “Whoever it is, they found my dad. But he’s easier to locate than you or me.”

  “And unless someone’s hacked the state department or DOD, no one’s going to get our personal information. The biggest variable is Jin. If they’ve got her, whoever they are, she could give us up.”

  Well, there it was. He didn’t have to say it; Harv had. “That’s assuming they want us, not her.”

  “Either way, it’s an unhappy ending for her.”

  “If she’s okay, she’ll go after them and might get herself killed in the process.”

  Harv didn’t say anything.

  “Lauren needs her mom. I’m not parental material.”

  “Tell that to your dogs.”

  “Dogs don’t drive and go on dates.”

  “Point taken, but I happen to know for a fact that Lauren would love to have you as her adopted dad.”

  “Do you have any idea how terrifying that sounds?”

  “We’re getting ahead of ourselves here. All we know is that Jin hasn’t made contact. There are only two possibilities. She’s unable to call, or she’s unwilling to call. Let’s stay positive and believe the latter. It fits her personality.”

  Again, he didn’t say anything, and Harv waited through the silence. He really liked that about his friend.

  “I need to call my mom.”

  “She’s gotta be torn up over this. Promise me one thing, Nate. Don’t watch the news coverage, okay? I’m serious. Don’t watch it.”

  “I won’t—” His phone made a telegraph sound. “Holly’s text just came through. We’re leaving in two hours.”

  “Since it’s a private charter and we don’t have to wait through long security lines, we’ve got enough time. I’ll be there in thirty minutes, depending on traffic. Put Grant and Sherman on alert status.”

  “I will.”

  “Hang in there, partner. I’m on my way.”

  CHAPTER 18

  During their drive to the airport, Vincent called with tragic news. One of his sons was dead. Anthony had died on scene from multiple gunshots to his chest. Charlene was still alive, but her condition remained critical. She’d be in emergency surgery for several more hours. The only good news in this whole sordid chain of events was that Vince’s oldest son, Brian, had survived, and Denise Tabor was expected to be released from the hospital later this afternoon without major complications from the head trauma she’d sustained.

  Hearing about Vince’s murdered son hammered them. As did the growing realization that both the McBrid
e and Beaumont families had been targeted almost simultaneously. The questions now became, who did it, and why? Nathan wasn’t in the mood for much conversation, something Harv instinctively knew and respected. They spoke a little more about Nathan’s concern for Lauren, Jin’s MIA status, and his mom, but the death of his father remained at the forefront of his thoughts. He wanted to talk about it at some point but didn’t yet feel in the right frame of mind.

  They arrived at San Diego’s jet center a little early, and their aircraft hadn’t yet been cleared to leave. Jet pilots couldn’t simply take off and land at will like they could at smaller airports.

  So here they sat, waiting in luxury but feeling uncomfortable.

  Nathan couldn’t take his eyes off an annoying sight. Sitting across the room, a well-dressed man in his mid-twenties was either waiting to leave or waiting for someone to arrive. It didn’t matter which.

  Nathan shook his head. How could any human being become so deeply held hostage by a small electronic device? It defied understanding.

  Five minutes into his surveillance, he’d discovered a predictable pattern in the young man’s behavior. He’d pull his phone out of his pocket, peck away on it for about a minute, then put it back. That’s when Nathan started his countdown. The kid wasn’t able to go more than thirty seconds without looking at it again.

  Cell phone out.

  Peck, peck, peck, peck, peck . . .

  Back in pocket.

  Thirty seconds.

  Cell phone out.

  Peck, peck, peck, peck, peck . . .

  Back in pocket.

  On and on and on . . .

  Nathan knew about the crippling effects of addiction all too well. He’d suffered from chronic alcoholism after returning from Nicaragua. Harv helped him beat it. Was cell phone addiction equally destructive? Maybe, maybe not. But he was willing to bet the mortgage this kid used his phone while driving. He’d seen a recent news story about a church van being plowed by a distracted driver who’d been texting. Twelve people killed. It pissed him off. A lot.

  Harv’s voice startled him. “Don’t watch.”

  “Huh?”

  “That kid. Don’t let him bug you.”

  “It’s friggin’ unbelievable. He’s a drooling addict with no situational awareness. None.”

  “In his defense, he doesn’t need to be alert right now.”

  “Just like the people at the Brussels airport bombing didn’t need to be alert?”

  “He’s not like you and me. Don’t condemn him.”

  “Shit, Harv, you’re right. I’m being a jerk. I don’t know that kid’s story. He could be an abuse victim or have some kind of mental condition. Maybe his phone is the only source of contentment he has. Why should I care?”

  “Because someone with that degree of addiction also uses his phone while driving.”

  “Do me a favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If a cell phone addict ever kills me because he was texting while driving, deal with it.” He knew Harv understood what he meant.

  “Count on it. In a purely legal way, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  Harv nudged him. “Remember that conversation with Lauren you told me about? When she asked if it was hard to be a Christian? I totally agree with you. Right now, it’s really hard. It’s easy when things are going well. Your father’s murder is tough to stomach. I’m sure Vince is dealing with the same emotional turmoil—worse.”

  “I’m so damned angry. I could scream until my throat bleeds. I’ve been having these dark fantasies of torturing the assholes to death with medieval devices.”

  “A certain amount of that is normal. I’m guilty of the same thing. Stone was more than a friend; he was like a father to me.”

  “He loved you, as much as me.”

  Harv didn’t say anything.

  “Don’t let me stray, Harv.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t. Forget about that kid. He’s not why you’re angry anyway. Given different circumstances, he wouldn’t bother you at all.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Thanks for putting your phone on speaker when you called your mom earlier.”

  “She also thinks of you like family.”

  “Same here. I was glad to hear Lauren’s going to be okay.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  They sat in silence for a spell.

  “Don’t worry about Jin,” Harv said. “She’s a survivor.”

  “I’ve got these horrible thoughts of what she might be going through right now.”

  “Let’s not assume they took her captive. The reverse might’ve happened: she might’ve nabbed one of the shooters. I wouldn’t put it past her.”

  “Me either. I just wish we knew which it was.”

  “Are you angry that she hasn’t made contact, assuming she can?”

  “Yeah, Harv, I am. It’s so . . .”

  “Cold-blooded?” Harv asked.

  “I didn’t want to use those words, but yeah.”

  “Maybe by the time we land in DC we’ll know if she’s okay.”

  “Let’s hope so, for Lauren’s sake.”

  Their Challenger touched down at Reagan National within one minute of the pilot’s prediction of 11:23 p.m. eastern time. Not too shabby. He sent a text to Holly even though it wouldn’t be a long taxi over to the jet center.

  Neither of them had dozed off during the flight. Too much on their minds—like hunting down the people responsible for attacking his and Vince’s families and dealing with them.

  They’d reminisced about some good times he’d had with his father on camping trips, family vacations, and church mission trips. But neither had felt especially talkative. Understandable, given the events of the day.

  Truth was, Nathan hated small talk. How’s the weather? How’s the family? How’s the dog? It was so pointless. Oh, he made small talk when the situation called for it, but he didn’t like the pretense. He and Harv were quite comfortable sitting in silence. At least the chartered flight had been stress free. He’d send a personal thank-you note along with a case of wine to Director Lansing.

  Ever since college, he’d had a hard time with air travel because of his size. Coach? Forget it. His knees always pushed against the seat in front of him. Several years ago, he and Harv had considered buying a small jet. They’d run some numbers and determined they’d still lose money even if they rented it. Pilot salary. Maintenance. Fuel. Hangar rent. Management fee. Airport taxes. A loser all the way around.

  Still, flying by private jet remained a guilty pleasure, but not without unforeseen risks. At one point, Harv had caught him staring at the liquor cabinet. His friend cleared his throat and issued a don’t-even-think-about-it shake of the head.

  Truth was, for the first time in many years, Nathan had been thinking about it, strongly thinking about it.

  Holly sent a return text saying she was waiting on the tarmac.

  Even as dark as his mood was, he looked forward to seeing her. Because of Holly’s job, they only saw each other four or five times a year, mostly when Nathan traveled to DC. Being the chief of staff for the FBI’s thirty-five thousand people, she didn’t get a lot of free time. Much to Harv’s chagrin, Nathan often flew his helicopter across the country. It took about seventeen to eighteen hours of actual flying time—including departures and approaches. The biggest challenge was the radio work, and in reality, it wasn’t all that difficult. He always preprogrammed the frequencies for the next leg prior to taking off. There was something about sitting in the cockpit of a helicopter that appealed to him, something he couldn’t explain to nonpilots.

  At any rate, he’d be visiting DC a lot more in the future.

  His mom was alone now.

  The pilot taxied over to Signature Flight Support’s jet center, the same place where he parked his Bell.

  He crossed the aisle, looked out the window, and saw Holly standing near the building. She must’ve used her FBI badge to
get through.

  Seeing her made him feel light-headed, almost euphoric.

  How does she do this to me? I must be under some kind of spell.

  A minute later, the first officer emerged from the cockpit and opened the fuselage door.

  Signature’s staff offered to carry their bags, but neither of them needed help. Nathan had a lot of faults, but being stingy wasn’t one of them. Everybody within eyesight got a twenty-dollar tip, except the pilots, who gratefully accepted $300 each.

  With that taken care of, he and Holly practically ran toward each other.

  No words were spoken. They simply merged.

  It felt so good to hug this woman. One of life’s unexplained miracles. The coldness and cruelty of the world disappeared into white noise. Nothing else mattered.

  Life became Holly.

  “You two are made for each other,” Harv said.

  They were.

  “I’m sorry I live so far away,” Nathan said. “I should move out here or buy a condo or something. My mom is going to need me.”

  “It wouldn’t break my heart. I’d love to spend more time with you.”

  “Why don’t you do it?” Harv offered. “I can handle First Security.”

  Nathan figured it was Harv’s turn for a hug, so he let go of Holly and watched two irreplaceable people embrace each other. If anything ever happened to them . . .

  Don’t think about that. Enjoy the moment.

  The pilots were in the process of doing a walk around, but they stopped and waved when the automatic door leading to Signature’s plush interior whooshed open. He waved back.

  “You don’t have security?” Harv asked, looking around.

  “I’m afraid I don’t warrant it.” She smiled. “I’m just not that important.”

  “You are to me,” Nathan said. “Thank you for picking us up.”

  “Of course. Besides, I don’t get to drive all that often. I need to keep in practice.”

  “Nate told me your house in Rockville is only a five-minute walk from the Metro station.”

  “I take the Red Line to Federal Triangle. The Hoover Building’s only a couple of blocks away. I use a bureau car once I’m there. Seems like I’m doing a lot of traveling lately. More than I’d like.”