That surprised Zack. First Brown? Then Carducci? This morning Alex, and now Espinosa’s two buddies? “Who’s behind these murders? The Tigers?”
“Possibly.” David intervened, halting on the curb as they headed back to their van. “Wait here. Whoever’s it is, they made it look like Carducci hung himself from his second floor banister. The ME was not convinced. There were too many defensive wounds on Carducci’s arms and hands. He definitely fought his attackers. There’s something else you need to know.”
Zack caught the warning in David’s words. “What else?”
“Alex has continued to actively investigate Debargio. He’s got an account in the Caymans the same as Carducci. Alex showed me dates, transactions, deposits, and money transfers–all originating from the identical account in Mainland China.”
“Lenny Huang?”
David shrugged. “It’s hard to know for sure. We haven’t been able to link any of the transactions directly to Huang, only to Mainland China. Interpol is pursuing that end of the investigation, but it seems obvious.”
Zack had to bite his tongue. It made sense. If Lenny Huang was the mastermind behind this crime spree, Zack wanted a piece of him, preferably his head.
“There is one more thing.” David glanced around like he was nervous. “Alex also has a dossier on Senator Lord.”
“Yeah. I knew he was suspicious of Lord. How’s it going?”
David’s hesitation only lasted a second. “According to Alex, Daniel Peters suspects Senator Lord is Lenny Huang.”
“Say what?” Murphy sputtered.
Zack couldn’t have been more shocked, either. A United States Senator? Running the most despicable crime family in the world? From the Senate floor?
“How’d he come to that conclusion?” Roy asked. “What’s he got on Lord?”
“Peters didn’t say, but after he made the claim, Alex had Ember dig into it. It didn’t take her long to track an email correspondence from Huang to Richards. The IP address originated in Georgetown.”
“She tracked it to Lord’s residence?”
David nodded.
“So that’s our next stop,” Zack said. “Let’s go.”
“Before we get into the van again, there is something I need to do.” David pressed a finger to his lips. He pulled a bug detector from the back of the van and proceeded to sweep the inside compartments with meticulous care. To Zack’s amazement he found two listening devices; one fastened beneath the steering wheel column and the other on the back of a monitor in the rear of the van. He left them where he found them, but switched on the jamming device installed in all The TEAM’s business vehicles. Once outside, he swept the exterior of the van. Nothing.
“Alex suspected as much,” David whispered. “Someone is very interested in our intelligence gathering.”
“Who?” Murphy growled.
“Whoever’s tying up all the loose ends,” Zack replied quietly. “Looks like Lord if you ask me. Time to pay him a visit.”
“No kidding,” Roy muttered.
“Now wait a minute.” Murphy slowed the conversation down. “I know we’re all ready to fight. Seeing Alex like he was this morning’s got us all itching for a payback, but are we sure about what we’re doing? We can’t waltz into Lord’s home and accuse a Senator of being the Chinese mastermind behind a string of unsolved murders. No one’s been fingered for any of them yet, and Lord’s already laying for Alex as it is. Do we want to give him more ammunition?”
“Maybe not, but do we want to wait until he kills the Boss?” Roy asked. “He came close.”
“How about we stick to what we do best, Murph?” Zack asked. “If I can get into Lord’s place, I’ll plant a few Tattle Tales and see what we come up with. If I can’t get in, we’ll check in with Peters.”
Murphy shook his head, clearly undecided.
“Come on,” Zack cajoled. “I’ll be in and out before you know it. We owe it to Alex.”
“But that’s breaking and entering, plain and simple. What if you get caught?”
Zack shrugged. “I don’t plan to.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Zack hit the ground running, his Ruger tight against his chest and his mission clear. He needed to get inside Senator Lord’s palatial, white brick colonial-style mansion in the upper crust neighborhood of historic Georgetown without being detected. The home looked quiet, but challenging. It had a helluva lot of windows.
The west side of the home offered three at ground level and another two at the second story, all facing a charming carriage-house where the upper level housed a possible studio apartment, judging by its one curtained, east-facing window. The ground level boasted a single standard-sized window without the curtain; another chance to be spotted and the mission blown before it started.
Zack’s challenge was to avoid notice from all those points of view as he infiltrated the grounds and entered the residence through the side door, also facing the carriage-house. His primary goal was simply to bug the good Senator’s establishment from one end to the other. If Alex was right and Lord was Lenny Huang, the world needed to know.
To avoid all those points of view, he entered the snow-covered yard along the west side of the carriage-house, where a walkway had been cleared. The last thing he needed to leave behind was boot prints.
Murphy monitored surveillance from within the now-sanitized van parked at the front of the neighboring home. The listening devices had been disabled. Roy had settled at the rear of the property toward the east, where a dense patch of oak and pine provided thick camouflage. David was set up opposite Roy’s location, also in the cover of brush. From these positions, they could easily provide backup if needed.
Zack was bound and determined he’d be the one taking the risk despite his recent injuries. They were yesterday. This was today. Besides, he was going into the residence on Echo Protocol, The TEAM’s descriptor for getting the hell out of a tight spot before the sound of your voice could come back to you.
“You seeing this?” Zack whispered over his earpiece as a single individual exited the side door of the mansion and entered the carriage-house. The man’s square bulk made identification simple.
“Vinnie Espinosa,” David and Roy responded in unison.
“Copy that,” Murphy muttered. “Guess that answers our question about an alarm system. You seeing any sign of dogs?”
“Negative,” Zack whispered, his body flattened against the carriage-house, listening intently. Now was not the time to be distracted. With his adrenaline pumping on high alert, every nerve in his body became a highly sensitive receiver gathering input from all directions. He waited, analyzing the men’s voices as well as the sound of footsteps on wooden stairs coming from inside. A chair scraped against the floor.
“Two individuals inside the carriage-house,” he reported.
David’s voice spoke calmly through the earpiece. “Assume Debargio is on the property as well.”
“Hmm,” Zack said. “Two gangsters on the premises. That kind of changes things, don’t you guys think?”
Roy chuckled. “Is it breaking and entering to enter a guy’s home because you’re afraid for his life?”
“I don’t know. You afraid for the Senator’s life, Zack?” Murphy asked.
“Terrified,” Zack muttered as he planted a Tattle Tale to the outside window frame of the carriage-house and stepped back. No sense of urgency came from within, so he turned to the house and entered quickly through the side door, just in case Senator Lord might need his help from the gangsters in his garage.
“Number one is in place. I’m inside,” he whispered as he eased the door closed behind him. “Wait. I think I hear Lord. Someone is screaming, ‘Help me. Oh please. Help me’.”
“Good one,” Roy muttered. “Sure glad you’re inside where you can help.”
“Gentlemen,” David’s calm warning came through loud and clear. Playtime was done.
“Proceeding into the home,” Zack said.
“
Copy that.” Murphy’s canned response became a trail of breadcrumbs. He knew where Zack was at all times. Zack knew he knew. It was tactical risk assessment every step of the way. Nothing more. Nothing less. Nothing better.
Two doors stood closed inside the side entry, one at his left and right. He paused, listening for any sound to indicate a maid or housekeeper might be at work in the residence. Nothing. Very carefully, he eased the door to his right open, revealing a mudroom complete with laundry and shower. Empty. Silently, he tried the opposite door. It opened to a chilled pantry. Also empty. Before taking another step, he pressed the second Tattle Tale to broadcast from the side door.
“Number two is in place. You receiving, Murph?”
“From carriage-house and side door. Clear as a bell.”
So far so good. An elaborate gourmet kitchen gleamed ahead. Tiled floors, copper pans hung overhead, and stainless steel appliances, sinks, and countertops created a very utilitarian ambiance. He’d expected something more...snobby. This workspace looked like someone actually used it. The basement door stood ajar in the far corner beside a row of windows facing north.
Zack continued into the residence, searching for Lord’s den where he planned to leave another Tattle Tale or two. The silence of the house raised his hackles, making him edgier and more alert. He’d expected to encounter staff, maybe a few maids. That no one was home unsettled him. The sensation grew.
He proceeded past the lavishly decorated dining room and up the ornately carved staircase that most likely led to bedrooms and such. Zack did not require a tour. Only one Tattle Tale was needed. He placed it at the base of the second level open banister newell, where it could pick up whatever might transpire at ground level.
“Coming in fine,” Murphy advised. “You found the den yet?”
“On my way.” Zack descended quickly, every nerve taut and on overload with anticipated input. The problem was there was no input. The place felt oddly vacant for a man at the center of D.C. politics and a very active socialite wife.
At the bottom of the stairs, he passed into a living room filled with a grand stone fireplace and leather couches. Everywhere artwork was displayed in fancy framed pieces, or life-sized gilded statues. A heavy wooden door just past the living room revealed the Senator’s den. Zack cracked the door and entered, closing it silently behind him.
“Found his love me wall,” he muttered to Murphy.
Pictures of Senator Lord with past presidents, various Hollywood celebrities, and notables throughout the world adorned every wall of the man’s study. Throughout the room, his suave, slicked-back hair and bright eyes watched Zack at his clandestine work while he placed two Tattle Tales, one at the doorway and the other behind Lord’s desk.
“See what you mean,” Murphy grunted. “He does like to look at himself, doesn’t he?”
Zack did a double take when he exited Lord’s study and spotted the bronze bust of the senator ensconced in an alcove at the opposite wall. Without thinking twice, Zack pressed a bug to the underside of the bronze chin on the pretentious bust. Lord never looked so good.
“Sorry, Murph. I couldn’t resist that last one. First and upper level complete.”
“Copy that.” Murphy’s faithful reply came quickly into his ear. “Basement next?”
“Yes.” Zack walked stealthily into the kitchen. With Espinosa and Debargio on the premises, he was antsy to get the job done. Things had gone extremely well so far. Too well. He didn’t want to push his luck. “Give me two minutes and I’m out of here.”
“Door’s open,” Murphy replied easily. “Coffee’s on.”
Zack proceeded past the bank of four ovens set in a travertine-tiled wall, two industrial sized refrigerators, and more culinary instruments than he knew what to do with. His mind went to Mei living in her ratty apartment and making do with next to nothing while these people had so much. All Mei wanted was her daughter. Her needs were so basic. What made Senator Lord happy? Anything?
Zack had no more than entered the heavy door to the basement when he heard it. The side door of the house had opened and closed. Someone else was in the house. At the same moment, he got Murphy’s warning. “Espinosa to your left.”
“Anyone else?”
“Negative.”
With no place else to go, Zack stood watching through the crack in the barely open basement door where he could see into the kitchen and all the way to the side door. Espinosa plodded into the house like the moose he was. He looked quite comfortable opening one of the refrigerators like he already knew where everything was kept.
After loading up a tray of cheese and deli meats, he opened a handsome wine-keeper Zack hadn’t noticed. It looked more like a wooden cabinet instead of a temperature-controlled wine cellar. Espinosa selected two bottles, stowed one under his arm and secured the hefty snack tray while carrying the other. He nudged the wine-keeper door closed with his foot and plodded back the way he came, elbowing the side door open.
“Looks like old Vinnie’s a glorified gopher,” Murphy said quietly as the side door shut behind the mobster.
“Am I clear to go?” Zack asked quietly, the encounter too close for comfort.
“Yes. Espinosa is back in the carriage-house. Go now. Be quick.”
Zack intended to be better than quick; he planned to be greased lightning. He placed one Tattle Tale at the top of the steps facing the kitchen. Gliding down the basement steps, his heart beat urgently fast. It was past time to leave.
Still in unpainted sheetrock, the staircase was hung on slats that opened on the right side while the left side was solid wall. It gave the steps an airy feeling instead of the tunnel-like effect most basement staircases evoked. With his gun drawn and ready, Zack placed the final Tattle Tale on the partially framed wall directly opposite the staircase. As far as he was concerned, that was pretty darned good for a place where not much happened other than storage. Feeling a little smug with his success, he pivoted on his heel to retrace his path upstairs, when—
“Sonofabitch!”
“Zack?” Murphy asked in alarm.
“Damn it! Holy shit, Murphy! Sonofabitch!” Zack honestly could not stop his lips from spewing profanity. Adrenaline had just dumped a huge burst of fight-or-flight into his system. His mouth dried up at the same time his stomach pitched. Now he knew where Senator Lord was. Good hell, did he know.
“Zack?” Murphy’s loud, urgent voice in his head only made the scene more surreal. “Answer me, damn it!”
“Give me a second.” Taking a few steps back, Zack grunted, his hands to his knees and his heart jack-hammering in his head and chest. “Just found...the Senator. Number eight is in place.” He stepped to the side of the Tattle Tale, so Murphy could take in the view.
There between the wooden slats of the basement steps, wrapped in asphyxiating but clear plastic sheeting, were the gray, bloated faces of Senator Lord and his wife, Carma Sue. White zombie eyes stared through the wooden planks of the steps in unseeing condemnation of Zack’s trespass through their elegant estate.
“Holy shit.” Zack scrubbed his face and blinked hard at what he was seeing.
“Looks like they’ve been dead a while,” Murphy commented drily.
“Ya think.” Zack hadn’t recovered yet from the sucker punch of shock he’d received. He swallowed hard, wanting to spit if he could only gather enough saliva to do so. It wasn’t physically possible, not with the shock of the ugly sight still reverberating through his system.
“Guess we know why Debargio and Espinosa are here.”
Zack couldn’t answer right away. He needed a second to get his balance. This was the ugliest thing he’d seen in years; two corpses in definite decomp leaned together like lovers between the wall and stair joists. “How long you think, Murph? Days? Weeks?”
“Hard to say,” Murphy answered. “They look plenty ripe. A couple days maybe. Can you determine COD?”
Zack shook his head grimly, not wanting to get close enough to determine cause of de
ath. He peered between the steps, not really noticing anything that resembled a bullet hole until he walked to the open side of the staircase. Carma Sue had a black mark at her temple.
“Gunshot, by the looks of the missus. Execution style. Right temple. Definite stippling, but I am not moving these bodies to check any further. Let the ME figure it out. That’s his job.”
“No need. I’ll contact him when we’re done here.”
David’s voice calmly joined the conversation. “Movement from the garage. Debargio and Espinosa entering the house. Side entrance. Stay put.”
Zack glanced around the basement for cover. He didn’t need any more surprises. The place provided multiple choices to hide, with an unfinished closet-sized room across from the bodies and facing the stairs. Stacks of industrial-sized paint buckets offered decent camouflage with a view. He leaned against the wall behind the buckets, thankful for the solid support.
Within seconds, Debargio and Espinosa’s voices traversed through the house and toward the front entry. By now, Murphy should be getting an earful as well as plenty of video.
“Zack. They’re waiting for someone. Haven’t mentioned a name yet.”
“Copy that.” Zack focused on the heavy footsteps and muted conversation overhead as he calmed his heart rate, trying real hard not to look at the bodies only feet away. But zombies still had eyes, and these were staring right at him. An icy chill slithered up his back and neck. He shook it off and focused on the living, breathing guys upstairs who could kill him.
“Whoever they’re waiting for, they don’t know why he’s late.” Murphy relayed another scrap of conversation.
“What are the chances of two bad intels during one op?” Zack asked.
“You mean us being sent to Espinosa’s hideout when he’s here?” Roy asked.
“Yeah, and Interpol going to Maryland when Debargio’s not there.” Zack surveyed the scene displayed before him. The basement was giving him the creeps in a big way. “Why didn’t Peters know that?”
Zack (In the Company of Snipers Book 3) Page 24
