Whatever It Takes 2

by Christy Reece

  So yes, it had been a bit of fun he shouldn’t have allowed, and he was paying the price. But as he looked around his new surroundings, he couldn’t exactly complain. Nestled in the mountains, his hideaway had every amenity he’d had in Vermont, just on a smaller scale.

  It would all work out fine. As a man of vision, there was no contingency he hadn’t thought of, no situation he couldn’t handle. While other men dreamed of doing great things, William simply and quietly did them.

  He was also a man with a noble goal. Some goals were nobler than others. One might become a doctor to save lives. Another might become a world-famous opera singer to create beauty. And one might become a killer to rid the world of scum.

  Not that William considered himself a killer. He’d never picked up a weapon in his life. In fact, if he held a gun in his hand, he’d be more likely to shoot himself than anyone else. No, he was most definitely not a killer.

  But he was a promise keeper. He had made a vow and intended to keep it. If that wasn’t a worthwhile, noble cause, he didn’t know what was. A promise to his father. What could be more important than that?

  It didn’t matter that his father was no longer living. Debts didn’t disappear, promises didn’t go away simply because of death. Promises had to be kept.

  Almost from the time he’d been able to walk, comprehend words, he had heard about the hatred his father had for the men involved in the robberies. His father had been coerced, lied to. He’d been the youngest of the men, only seventeen. They had forced him to go along with them, and his life had been destroyed. All the other men had gone on to enjoy their lives and never had to pay the consequences.

  The measly amount of money they’d paid his father through the years had been nothing. A small, insignificant token, an acknowledgment of guilt. His father had accepted it as such, but then they had stopped paying. It had been an insult to turn their backs on the guilt they should have borne for the rest of their lives. When it became apparent that there was no remorse, probably never had been, his father’s path had become clear. They and their blood kin must all be destroyed.

  William had learned to hate what his father hated. And even if death claimed him, as it had his beloved father, the vendetta would live on until it was finished. It was almost biblical, really. Well, with maybe a little twist. Sins of the father would be visited upon his children. The fathers were dead, many of the children had paid with their lives. So far, the Slaters, and one Callahan, had eluded justice. But that was about to end.

  Of course they didn’t know that. They believed they’d won. But he would show them…he would show them all. He was a winner through and through. And they were the losers.

  He glanced at the wall clock and deemed it a reasonable time to make the call. Even though he was paying the woman—she was his employee—he knew to be careful with her. One didn’t rile a wild dog.

  Taking a burner phone from his desk drawer, he punched in a number, and felt a minor embarrassment at the resentment for having to punch in eleven numbers. He really had become quite spoiled.

  She answered on the first ring and, as usual, got down to business. “The targets have become unreachable. We’ll need to wait until they come out of hiding before pursuing it further.”

  “There’s been a development.”

  The silence was his cue to continue. This one didn’t waste words.

  “They know my identity.”

  “How do you want me to proceed?”

  She exhibited no worry or concern for his safety. He let the brief flash of anger pass. He didn’t pay her for fake platitudes, he paid for results.

  “The plan hasn’t changed.”

  “If you’re caught?”

  “You’ll still be paid,” he answered a little irritably. Really, her uncaring attitude was a bit irksome.

  “How?” If she heard the irritation in his tone, she didn’t let on. She had an agenda.

  “I have a man in Geneva, Switzerland. With each fulfilled contract, he’ll wire you the appropriate funds.”

  “Very well.”

  “The gloves can now come off. Since they know who I am, accidents or subterfuge are no longer required. Feel free to do what you must, any way you prefer. Take out the whole damn family with one fell swoop if you like.”

  “That will make things easier.”

  For the first time since their association began, he heard a hint of emotion in her tone. One that sounded distinctly like condescension.

  Deciding to ignore the mild insult, William went on, “The contract continues, no matter what happens. Even if I’m dead. Even if years pass, I want the job completed. Do you understand?”

  “Perfectly.” The line went dead.

  William dropped the phone on the desk beside him, unsurprised to see his hands shaking. She might be his employee, but the truth was, she scared the hell out of him.

  Chapter Forty-four

  High on a mountain, secluded deep in the dense woods, with only a small access road, the large stone and log home was a formidable well-hidden fortress, blending into the background as if it were part of the forest itself. Anyone looking with the naked eye wouldn’t be able to see it, even from the sky.

  But William Johnson wasn’t nearly as clever as he believed. Locating the hideaway had been no challenge for Grey’s researchers. Within an hour of being given the assignment, his people had found it.

  As far as hideouts went, it was luxurious to the point of ostentatious. Johnson most likely believed he was roughing it. The man enjoyed his luxuries.

  Grey knew his own lifestyle could be considered quite lush, but it hadn’t always been so. When he’d first come to the States, he’d had to scratch and scrape for everything.

  William Johnson had inherited his wealth, and if allowed to continue unencumbered, he would lose most of that wealth within a couple of years or so. The man was a piss-poor businessman. But they weren’t going to give him the chance to go bankrupt. The bastard was going down. Tonight.

  “We’re set?” Grey said it a low voice.

  “Yes.” Standing on one side of him, Nick said, “Place is surrounded. Two deputies covering the back. One on each side, if he decides to go through a window. Eli, Kathleen, and I have the front.”

  “The sheriff and I will go in first,” Grey said. “Once he’s secure, I’ll let you know.”

  “I still don’t like this,” Eli said behind him. “The asshole could have any number of traps set.”

  Grey didn’t like it either, but he’d had to compromise to get the cooperation of the local law. “He might not blink at hiring a killer, but Johnson is about as physically dangerous as a mouse. Besides, this guy thinks he’s smarter than everyone else. He doesn’t believe for a second that his hideout could be found, so there’s no reason for him to set traps. Bastard is sure he’s safe.”

  With a grim nod to the sheriff, they started toward the house. He was well aware that two of the people behind him deserved to be going in with him. Grey planned to make sure they got their pound of flesh.

  A gung-ho, damn-the-torpedoes method could be a helluva lot more efficient but didn’t always produce the needed results. William Johnson had information they needed to find the killer he’d hired. The fake Irelyn. The very concept infuriated him. When she was caught, Grey planned to spend a few moments alone with her. He had his own theories of why she was impersonating Irelyn. He’d damn well get answers.

  “I’ll knock on the door,” the sheriff said. “You stand to the side.”

  Sheriff Ronald Sanders was nobody’s fool. His faded blue eyes held both wisdom and knowledge. With the scruff of a beard covering half his face and a body the size of a grizzly, he didn’t need the nine-millimeter in his hand to look intimidating. Despite Grey’s frustration of having to play by the rules, if the authorities had to be involved, he was glad it was a man like Sanders.

  When the knock yielded no response, Sanders called out, “Sheriff Ronald Sanders, here to serve a warrant, is enter
ing the premises.” He turned the doorknob, and when it opened, he didn’t spare Grey a glance when he said, “Be ready.”

  His favorite handgun, a Glock 17, steady in his hand, Grey followed Sanders. They were in the middle of the living room when a querulous voice called out, “Who’s there?”

  “Mr. Johnson? It’s Sheriff Ronald Sanders. Would you please come out?”

  They heard a mechanized humming sound before William Johnson appeared before them. Though his face had the appearance of a healthy, if somewhat slight, man, and his shoulders, though not broad, looked strong, the fact that he was in a wheelchair was a surprise. Grey had no intel that William Johnson was physically handicapped. Eli had said nothing about it either. So either his intel was faulty, which he doubted, or Eli hadn’t thought it pertinent, which he knew better, or Johnson was faking it, making the bastard even lower than the slug Grey knew him to be.

  “What are you doing here?” Johnson asked. “What do you want?”

  “I have a warrant for your arrest,” Sheriff Sanders said. “Please place your hands above your head.”

  Though Sanders hadn’t holstered his gun, he had lowered it to his side. Grey couldn’t tell if he’d bought Johnson’s act or not.

  Johnson complied immediately and raised his hands above his head. The sheriff stepped forward, took Johnson’s hands, cuffing them to one of the arms of the wheelchair.

  “What’s this about?”

  “You’re under arrest for the murders of Alice Cavanaugh and attempted murder of Eli Slater.”

  “Murders?” Johnson’s eyes were wide, but Grey swore they were gleaming with excitement, not fear. “I don’t know anything about any murders.”

  Determined to show the man he wasn’t the least bit fooled by the man’s innocent act, Grey snapped, “Cut the crap, Johnson. We know everything.” He glanced over at Sanders. “Do what you need to do, and then we’ll need that ten minutes I asked for.”

  As Sanders read Johnson his rights, Grey spoke into the mic on his wrist unit. “You guys can come in now.”

  Fighting back the anger at this indignity, William barely paid attention to the sheriff as he eyed the big man in front of him. He’d recognized Grey Justice immediately. Ego maniac got featured all the time in magazines and on television specials. Just because the man had a charity, the media acted like he was something special. Like he was some kind of big deal.

  If he’d wanted to, William knew he could be just as popular and get just as much press. He just didn’t want to.

  Grey Justice was a friend of Slater’s. Probably pulled all kinds of strings and paid a boatload of money to dig out his location.

  None of that mattered. He was a Johnson. And a Johnson always had a contingency plan. What happened over the next few minutes was what counted.

  Even though his heart was pounding and his palms were wet with sweat, he would play this out. No, it wasn’t exactly what he had planned, but it would still work out fine. These people were so damn arrogant, so sure they could outsmart him. He had worked all his life to get respect, and no one had ever truly appreciated his genius. He would soon prove that underestimating a Johnson was a foolhardy thing to do.

  “I assume you have some solid evidence, or you wouldn’t have been able to persuade the law to come with you. I’m willing to cooperate.”

  “Fine,” Justice said. “Before we leave, though, there are a couple of people who want to meet you.”

  The door opened, and the two people he’d never thought to see alive were standing before him. Hatred boiled within him. It didn’t matter that they wouldn’t be alive for long. He shouldn’t have to suffer their presence.

  Determined to play the game to win, William smiled brightly. “And who are these two lovely people?”

  “Cut the crap, Johnson,” Eli Slater growled. “We have everything we need on you and your screwed-up father, but before we leave here, you’re going to tell us how to get in touch with the woman you hired to kill us.”

  “Why, I never. I—” William chuckled, unable to keep up that much pretense. Besides, he could have fun another way. One they would never suspect.

  “What’s the woman’s name?” Slater asked. “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know her name, and I have no idea where she is.” He was delighted that they would assume he was lying when he wasn’t.

  Eli pulled out a cellphone, dropped it on William’s lap. “Call her.”

  “And say what?”

  “Tell her the contract is canceled.”

  “She’s already agreed to that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Our agreement is, if I’m captured, the contract is void. I can’t very well pay her from prison.”

  Perhaps he had overplayed his hand. Both Slater and the Callahan girl looked at each other, and then the girl moved forward. She’d holstered her gun the moment she’d seen him in his chair, which had tickled him, but as she came closer, she pulled a long knife from a sheath at her waist.

  “Call her. Now.”

  William bristled at the woman’s bossy, unladylike tone. He had expected rudeness from Slater. Considering who’d sired the man, he was surprised he wasn’t crawling on his belly. The girl surprised him, though. He remembered his father talking about Daniel Callahan being quite genteel—a gentleman thief, his father had called him. Too bad the girl hadn’t learned her daddy’s manners.

  When she held up the knife, it glistened in the light, and William swallowed thickly, imagining how easily she could stick him and how much pain it would cause. The very thought of pain caused his bowels to loosen.

  “Very well.” Inwardly wincing because he knew the woman wouldn’t be happy to hear from him again so soon, he punched in the numbers.

  “Put it on speaker,” Slater said.

  William pressed speaker, and there was complete silence other than the ringing of the phone. As they waited for her to answer, William worked to settle himself down. This would take subtle finessing.

  As they waited, Kathleen glared silently at Johnson. He looked even more like a pip-squeak than she had imagined. How could someone so innocuous and harmless-looking cause such destruction? He had thinning black hair, a small goatee, and light green eyes. He didn’t look like a man who’d destroyed so many lives. The wheelchair had been the biggest surprise. None of their research had indicated a physical disability, which made her doubly wary.

  After about the tenth ring, the phone was finally answered. “Yes?” Though it was a one-word answer, the tone indicated suspicion, disdain, and irritability.

  “There’s been a change of plans,” William said.

  “In what way?”

  “I’ve been captured.”

  “I see.”

  “As per our agreement, the contract is now voided.”

  Total silence.

  “Do you understand?” William asked.

  “Perfectly,” she said without the slightest hint of emotion. And then she added with surprising amusement, “Have a nice life…sentence.” The phone clicked dead.

  “Satisfied?” Johnson asked.

  Kathleen saw the arrogance, the contempt in his eyes. He believed he was far from beaten.

  “No.” She took the phone from him and handed it to Grey.

  Eli had pulled up two chairs, and sending him a quick smile of thanks, she sat down in one. The minute he’d settled into the other, Kathleen leaned forward, making sure the knife in her hand gleamed with sharp brilliance. “Now, we’re going to talk. You’re going to tell us everything we want to know.”

  “And why would I do that?” Johnson asked in a pleasant voice, as if they were discussing the weather.

  She held up the knife and said softly, “Because I asked you to. That’s why.”

  Eli relaxed into his chair, preferring to stay quiet for the moment and give Kathleen the floor. She had lost so much and deserved to be the one to begin the questioning.

  “Tell us why you hired a hit on our families
,” she said.

  “I thought you said you knew everything. Why then must I repeat it?”

  “Because killing two generations of families for something that happened half a century ago seems quite lame.”

  Johnson sniffed. “You weren’t the injured party.”

  “Yeah, well, neither were you, pal,” Eli scoffed.

  “My father suffered, so I suffered. It was a sin that carried consequences beyond death.”

  Kathleen cut her eyes over to Eli, who gave her a slight nod of agreement. Ego and overconfidence would be Johnson’s downfall.

  Eli took the first shot. “Something that petty?”

  As first shots, it was enormously effective. Johnson’s face went to an unhealthy, florid color, and his handcuffs rattled as he gripped the armrests of his chair. “Petty? You call the death of my grandmother and the ruination of my father petty?”

  Sending a “can you believe this guy?” look over at Eli, Kathleen took her own shot. “Was your father not in on the robbery? Didn’t he cause the whole mess in the first place?”

  “He was just a young man. They coerced him in to going along with it.”

  “So he was such a weakling, a coward, that he couldn’t say no.” Eli nodded. “Yeah, I can see why he’d carry a grudge. He blamed other people for his own spinelessness. Much the way you have.”

  Johnson’s body began to shake. “You know nothing of what he suffered, we suffered. He was disowned by his family, forced out into the world to fend for himself.”

  “You know,” Eli continued, “what I can’t for the life of me understand is why those men, who obviously did have some guts, if questionable ethics, would pay your weasel of a father a penny, much less thousands of dollars for decades.”

  “They had reputations they didn’t want ruined.”

  “But the amounts were so measly,” Eli said. “Why not ask for more. The men, other than Daniel Callahan, had millions. Why only a few thousand?”

  “It wasn’t the amount that mattered. My father didn’t need the money. It was the acknowledgment of their guilt, their perfidy. My father asked for so little. Then they refused to pay even that. It was an insult. A slap in the face to a man who had lost so much. They had to be punished. Put down.”