Omega Series Box Set 3: Books 8-10

by Blake Banner

  The fire which had been burning the night before was now ash and embers. Small trails of smoke rose from it, and there was a smell of soot in the air. The nearest of the two armchairs had been shoved to one side, and between the fireplace and the farthest armchair, the poker lay on the rug. It had left stains, some of them were soot. The others, I was pretty sure, were blood.

  Sitting in that farthest armchair, staring at me with incurious eyes, was a man. He was about thirty, with long, stringy hair that seemed to be reddish in color, though it was hard to be sure in the gloom. He had a long beard of the same hue that reached to his solar plexus. He had on brown corduroy pants, a pale blue shirt and a beige bomber jacket. His heavy, horn-rimmed glasses were on the floor and there was a thick trickle of blood from a blow to the right side of his head. The blow hadn’t killed him, though, and neither had the toothpicks under his nails. They had probably made him talk, but what had killed him was the kitchen knife that had been rammed through his sternum.

  I stepped to him, taking care not to tread in any soot or blood, and checked his pockets. He still had his wallet. I pulled it out and looked at his driver’s license. His name was Jerry Fines. So he did exist. Or at least, he had existed.

  I wiped my prints off his wallet with my handkerchief and put it back in his jacket. The rest of his pockets didn’t yield anything of interest, and neither did the rest of the house, but it wasn’t hard to work out what had happened. He had been picked up by somebody who knew he was an associate of Emily’s. He had been forced to call her and arrange a meeting at her house. That had been the call the Colonel thought he’d heard. After the call, they had killed him, and when she had arrived, they had taken her away.

  I thought about Rand. It would be easy for the CIA to monitor her calls and find out who her close associates were, and it was well known that they were not above using torture. But I would have expected the Company to be tidier, cleaner and more efficient. Besides which, they could have picked her up directly, without going through Jerry. It also struck me that Jerry would probably have been of interest to the Company anyway.

  This, I told myself, looking around at the mess, definitely had more the look and the smell of the Russian mob; and if it was the mob, it meant that my threats last night had meant nothing to them. All I had managed to do was make them mad.

  I went out, closed the door and climbed into my car. Then, I drove slowly toward Pier 32, trying to think. As I went, I called the Colonel.

  He answered and babbled: “Lacklan, is that you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you find her?”

  “No, not yet. Listen, did you ever meet a friend of hers called Jerry?”

  He was quiet for a moment. “No, why?”

  “I found him at Emily’s house. You need to brace yourself, Harry. He had been tortured and murdered. I figure they forced him to phone her. That was the call you heard. He asked her to meet him at her house, and when he’d hung up, they killed him. When she arrived, they abducted her.”

  “Oh, my God! But why, for heaven’s sake?”

  “I don’t know yet, Harry. But I’m going to find out.”

  “Do you think she…?”

  “Don’t lose hope. We’ll sort it out. Now, listen to me, you need to call the cops and tell them you’re worried about Emily. Ask them to check on her house. Do not tell them you contacted me, you understand?”

  “Yes, yes, of course.”

  “I’m going to try to find her. I have some ideas, but I can’t do anything if I have the local PD or the sheriff watching my every move.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”

  I hung up and called Rand. He answered, “Keep it short and sweet.”

  “Have you got her?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Let’s have a drink at Pier 32.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  I pulled into the near-empty parking lot, left the car near the entrance and pushed in through the doors. At that time of the morning, the place was quiet. JD had his elbows on the bar and was looking at his cell phone, laughing quietly to himself.

  “How come you’re not polishing glasses?”

  He didn’t look up. “I joined the zombie revolution. I sold my soul to social media.”

  “You have a soul?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Another giant bites the dust.”

  “What can I tell you?” He put his phone away and smiled at me. “What’s happening?”

  “Not much. I got burgled last night.”

  He frowned. “No shit? They take anything valuable?”

  “Not a thing.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “That’s good, then. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “Appreciate it, JD. I’m just going to have some coffee out on the deck with an old friend. Send him through when he gets here, will you? You’ll know him. He’s the size of a small moon.”

  “You got it.”

  He poured me a large cup of black coffee and I carried it out to the veranda, where I sat in the shade of a blue and white parasol and waited for Rand. I didn’t have to wait long. After ten minutes, he rolled up in a gleaming red Jaguar XE. He climbed out, waved to me, walked through the dark saloon, paused at the bar to talk to JD and then joined me on the terrace. He lowered his massive form into the chair opposite me and said, “Who is ‘her’?”

  “I’ve been asking myself the same question.”

  “Don’t be cute. Are we going to fence and play games, or cooperate?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  He raised an eyebrow. JD brought out a draft beer, placed it in front of Rand and withdrew back into the shadows.

  “When will you know? Shall I go away and come back when you’ve been enlightened?”

  “How did you find out there was going to be an auction?”

  He sipped his beer, then wiped a foam moustache from his upper lip with the back of his wrist. “That’s classified information.”

  “Then we are going to have to fence and play games, which is a shame, because I have information you need, and you have information that I need.”

  “You said you were the auctioneer. You should know who sent us the invite.”

  “I am the auctioneer now, Rand. I wasn’t the auctioneer before. I took over. Does that make sense to you?”

  “Mm-hm… When did you do that?”

  “Yesterday. I’ll tell you what we’ll do. I ask you a question, and if I’m wrong, you tell me I’m wrong. OK?”

  He shrugged and took another pull.

  I said, “Your invite was sent to you by Jerry Fines.”

  He didn’t say anything. I sipped my coffee, then as I set down the cup I said, “Jerry Fines is no longer involved in the auction.”

  “Why not?”

  “He has a bad case of death. The cops are probably discovering his body ’round about now.”

  He tried to hide it but I could see that he was mad. “Did you kill him?”

  “No, think it through, Rand. If I had, would I then call you and ask you if you’ve got her?”

  He frowned. “Jerry is a girl?”

  “No.”

  We stared at each other a while, trying to read each other’s faces while giving nothing away. Finally, I said, “Was he one of yours?”

  He hesitated half a second, then said, “No.”

  “So you were trying to recruit him.”

  He didn’t answer, but after a moment, he said, “Who is ‘her’? Who did you think we had taken?”

  I sighed and decided I had nothing to lose. “All I know is her name is Emily, and she was an associate of Jerry’s.”

  He looked at the sky. His eyes were narrow and I could see them shifting, jerking this way and that. Finally, he shook his head and said, “I don’t know of any Emily. But you would be wise to come clean and share what you know with us, Lack
lan.”

  I gave him my best lopsided grin. “Sure, I know that, Rand. Because the CIA are such a caring, sharing gang of nice guys. Equally, you know you would be wise to reciprocate.”

  He grunted. “Who killed Jerry?”

  “Till ten minutes ago, I thought maybe you did. Now I’m thinking maybe it was Gregor Ustinov. You got any ideas on that score, partner?”

  He shook his head. “What about this auction, Lacklan? You know there can’t be an auction, right? It’s us, or nobody.”

  I frowned and smiled at the same time. “Yeah? How’s that?”

  “Come on, Lacklan. I know you can be a ruthless son of a bitch, but I also happen to know you’re a patriot and you believe in those old values of freedom and democracy…”

  He trailed off and I had the interesting impression that his eyes and his mouth were engaged in two completely separate tasks. I kept watching as he furrowed his brow and squinted, hesitated a moment and then started to laugh.

  “Oh, man! Oh, man! You don’t know what you’ve got, do you?”

  I made the face of innocence. “I don’t?”

  “Son of a gun…! Who dares wins, right. You’re what the Irish call a chancer.”

  I shrugged. “I’m guessing it’s not a digital record of the crimes of the Shulaya clan, and their links to the Russian government?”

  “That what they told you it was?”

  I nodded.

  He frowned. “Lacklan, you need to come clean with me. Who is this Emily? and where is the…?”

  He hesitated. I said, “The box?”

  “OK, the box. Where is it?”

  “Here’s the thing, Rand. I don’t know who Emily is, aside from being the best liar I ever met in my life.” I shrugged again, more elaborately, and sighed. “And as to the box, I am going to follow Napoleon’s advice, when in doubt, do nothing.”

  “You know he lost, right?”

  “You tell me what it is, and I will decide what to do with it. While you think about it, I am going to try to find Emily, and see who turns up for this auction.”

  His face was tight. “We can help you find her.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Lacklan, if you sell that box to anybody but the U.S. government, you could be guilty of treason.”

  “So you say. Convince me. Tell me what it is.”

  “What it is is classified.”

  I shook my head. “Says you. Not good enough, Rand. Get authorization if you have to, but I am not handing that box over to anyone gratis until I know what it is.”

  He sighed, chewed his lip and drummed his fingers on the table. “Not much point threatening you, I guess.”

  “Let’s not go to that place, Rand.”

  He chuckled and his expression changed to one of good-humored gossiping. “Say,” he said, jerking his chin at me, “are the rumors true?”

  “What rumors?”

  “About Timmerman, and the European stock market crash[13]…”

  I gave an imperceptible nod, then said, “Let’s keep it friendly. Tell me what it is, we’ll discuss what happens to it. Who else can I expect to turn up at the auction? Can you tell me that?”

  “I can guess. The Brits will send someone. They’ll probably be among the highest bidders. Europe, China for sure, Saudi. Maybe others.” He made to stand. “I have to go and make a call.” He hesitated. “Lacklan, I know your history and your background. I know you’ve been to some dark places and come out alive. But believe me, you have never been in this much danger before. You don’t want to make an enemy of the U.S. Government. Keep us on side.”

  I showed him a face with no expression. “I appreciate the advice, Rand. Let me know what your boss says.”

  He walked out and a moment later, I watched him squeeze his huge bulk into his red car and drive away. I sat for a while after he’d gone, watching the seagulls circling overhead, occasionally crying out in what sounded like a Greek chorus of despair. I knew how they felt.

  The CIA had not known about Emily. Jerry had been her front man, her hit man, her all-purpose gofer. Two got you twenty he had been in love with her—she was not a hard woman to fall in love with. He had served her faithfully and paid the ultimate price.

  On the other hand, Gregor knew about her. That was odd: Gregor did but the CIA didn’t. That was as odd as it was interesting. I wondered if it meant that other intelligence services were also in the dark about her, and I decided there was a good chance it did. Then I got to wondering how those intelligence services were intended to contact Jerry for the auction, and how he had planned to contact them. He’d had no cell phone on him when I found him. Chances were, I decided, that he and Emily had used a computer at a secure location.

  As far as I could see, I had only two avenues to explore: Gregor and Jerry. Jerry meant finding out where he had lived and going through his apartment with a fine-toothed comb for some clue as to who and what I was dealing with. It wasn’t promising, but it would have to be done.

  On the other hand, Gregor was going to play out one of two ways, either he would contact me to negotiate the box in exchange for Emily, or I would go and blow up his casino and beat Emily’s whereabouts out of him before sending him back to Putin in twenty-four small boxes.

  I had just made up my mind to go and find Jerry’s address when my phone rang.

  “Yeah, Walker…”

  “Is Gregor. I think we meet now.”

  “You have a better offer for me?”

  “Yeah, we make better offer. You come to my office this afternoon.”

  “I don’t want to waste my time, Gregor. What kind of offer are we talking about?”

  “Four times previous offer.”

  “That’s it? Nothing else?”

  “Is good starting offer, we can negotiate.”

  I hesitated a moment, frowning to myself. Was he deliberately not mentioning Emily because he wanted to see if I would mention her, as an admission that I gave a damn? Or did he simply not have her?

  “OK, I’ll be there at two. And Gregor, you should be aware I already have another offer.”

  “From U.S. government. I know. I have seen.”

  The line went dead.

  Nine

  It didn’t take me long to find Jerry’s address. He was listed in the White Pages and had a house on Ralph Street, in Clute. When I arrived, the sheriff was already there, with a couple of deputies who were putting up yellow tape that said the house was a crime scene. He was a tall, rangy man in a denim shirt and a handsome white hat. As I parked at the end of the drive, he watched me, then strolled down to the sidewalk with his thumbs in his belt.

  I climbed out of the Zombie and approached him, frowning like a man who is wondering what is going on. He waited for me to speak.

  I said: “This Jerry Fines’ house?”

  He nodded slowly. “Yup. Who’re you?”

  I shook my head like I was saying I was nobody. “We have a mutual friend. Her father asked me to look in on Jerry and see if she was with him. Is he OK? What happened?”

  “I’m still waiting to find out who y’are, Mister.”

  “Walker, Lacklan Walker. I’m here on holiday.”

  “Who’s your mutual friend?”

  “I know her as Emily. She’s Colonel Harry Burgess’ daughter.”

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “I’ve known the Colonel for thirty years, and he ain’t got no daughter, Mr. Walker.”

  I smiled. “That’s what he thought. She turned up a couple of years ago from New Jersey.”

  “I know Emily, too. My understanding was they were friends.”

  “They’ve kind of kept it quiet.”

  His face was eloquently expressionless. “Is that a fact?”

  “I was as surprised as you are when he introduced me to her.” My mind was racing, trying to fit together all the pieces I was suddenly beginning to see. I kept pushing and he kept looking at me like he was a scientist and I was some new kind of bacterium. “In fact, last nigh
t I was with her at her house and dropped her off at the Colonel’s…”

  “You were with her last night at her house?”

  I nodded. “Sure.”

  “Where would that be?”

  “Lake Jackson, Bayou Road…”

  “At what time were you there, Mr. Walker?”

  “Sometime between six and seven. Sheriff, what is this all about? Is Jerry OK? Is Emily with him?”

  “Sometime between six and seven you dropped Emily off at the Colonel’s house. What did you do after that, Mr. Walker?”

  “I went over to the casino on Caribbean Island.”

  “Anyone confirm that?”

  “Sure, Rand Peabody was there. We had a drink. I have his number right here…”

  He sighed and looked at me with distaste. “It’s OK, I have Mr. Peabody’s number.”

  He labored the possible double meaning. I frowned. “Why are you asking me for an alibi, Sheriff? What has happened to Jerry? Is Emily with him?”

  He watched my face carefully as he spoke. “Jerry was murdered last night, Mr. Walker.”

  “Murdered?”

  “At Emily’s house. Emily was not with him.”

  “But that’s…”

  “You just got through telling me you dropped her off at the Colonel’s place.”

  “Yes, but she went out after that and he hasn’t seen her since. I told him to call you. I’m surprised he hasn’t…”

  He nodded. “He called. He just didn’t tell me she was his daughter. Why’d you think that is, Mr. Walker?”

  I shook my head again. “I have no idea, Sheriff. I’m just here on holiday, the Colonel and my father were friends back in the day.” I frowned, like I was thinking. “I wouldn’t read too much into it, though. From what she told me, he never married her mother. He didn’t even know she was pregnant. He may just be trying to protect her from any scandal.”

  He grunted. “Maybe so.”

  “So Jerry was killed in her house? While she was out?”

  “Looks that way...”