The skiff’s usefulness expired, its inflatable pontoons were punctured and it was summarily sunk, outboard motor and all. Its plunge to the seabed would be a long one—several miles.
Back inside the bridge, the captain entered a course of 76.65 degrees into the nav computer and dialed their speed to sixteen knots. Their first destination was the Hawaiian Islands for a refueling stop. The voyage would take 237 hours, just under ten days. Until then, they’d just have to endure one of the most prestigious luxury yachts afloat.
CHAPTER 11
Every two minutes, Toby stopped pacing and peered through the curtains. McBride and Fontana couldn’t get back here fast enough. Mara had repeatedly asked him to relax, but after what he’d seen, he wouldn’t be relaxing anytime soon. For the twentieth time, he wished he’d never followed Hahn.
Despite the circumstances, it felt good to see McBride. They’d kept in touch, even after he’d paid off his academy debt. Toby couldn’t consider McBride a close friend, but they shared the brotherhood of the Marines, and that was enough. He wished the auto accident hadn’t ended his career as an MP—he’d really liked being a military cop. Looking back on his life, he’d have done a lot of things differently, like taking better care of his finances. When you spend more than you make, the outcome is never good.
At least the video he’d made for McBride was complete. He’d been surprised at the amount of detail he’d remembered.
Mara’s reaction at seeing McBride hadn’t surprised him. She’d told him they’d seen each other frequently when she’d worked for Karen. Toby had many faults, but hanging onto baggage from the past wasn’t one of them. They loved each other and were getting married in a few months. Since Mara had been open and honest about her past, he’d never hold it against her.
He’d finally stopped pacing and settled his nerves when a car alarm went off, and it sounded like his Sentra’s. He rushed over to the window and cracked the curtains.
“What’s going on?” Mara asked.
“Some dickhead’s breaking into my car!”
“The curtains just moved,” Chip whispered. “He’s at the window.”
Mason reared back and kicked Haynes’s door. It flew open with a loud bang.
Inside, he pivoted toward the window and caught Haynes by surprise.
Movement on his left caught his eye.
A woman stood in the living room, her hand covering her mouth.
Bad move, Mason thought. You should’ve screamed.
Chip was on her before she could remove her hand.
Dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, Haynes reacted quickly. He lowered his head and charged toward Chip.
Mason stepped aside and swung his suppressed handgun. The blow caught the big man squarely on the side of his head. As if short-circuited, Haynes’s legs quit working. Mason knelt close and belted him a second time, not as hard. He didn’t want Haynes unconscious, only dazed.
He spotted the car keys on the kitchen counter and ended the obnoxious shrieking. The ploy had served its purpose, moving Toby to the window overlooking the street.
Mason propped a chair against the front door to keep it closed.
“Darla, status?”
Her voice came through his ear speaker. “A few people looked out their windows, but no one’s coming out.”
“Keep eyes on the stairwell. We’re secure in here.”
His radio clicked.
Chip had the woman on the ground, his hand firmly across her mouth. She wasn’t struggling, but that could change. Mason stepped forward, took a knee, and pressed his pistol’s suppressor against her forehead.
Her eyes widened.
“If you scream, you’ll never finish it. Now, my associate here is going to remove his hand. Give me a nod of understanding.”
When she didn’t respond, Chip maintained his hold.
“Hablas inglés?”
A nod.
“Do you know who I am?”
She shook her head.
Mason squinted and pressed the suppressor against her head hard enough to force it back.
“One more time. Do you know who I am?” Chip removed his hand so she could answer.
“Yes.”
“And . . . ?”
“You’re from BSI.”
“Did Mr. Haynes tell you what he saw tonight?”
Her eyes reflected indecision.
“The truth, please.”
She nodded.
“We know Mr. Haynes didn’t call the police; we’ve been monitoring our scanner. Did you or Mr. Haynes tell anyone else?”
“No.”
This woman’s lack of hesitation with her answer had Mason believing her. In Afghanistan, he’d conducted many interrogations and he usually knew when people were lying. “You’re wearing a ring; are you and Mr. Haynes married?”
“Engaged.”
“My associate here is going to escort you into the other room to secure your hands and feet and apply a gag. We aren’t planning to hurt you; all we want is information. If you don’t remain calm, your alternative is unconsciousness. I trust that won’t be necessary?”
She shook her head.
After Chip escorted her out of the room, he heard the telltale sound of disposable handcuffs being applied. They sounded like oversized zip ties, and basically were.
Chip reentered the living room. “She’s pretty freaked, but I don’t think she’ll make trouble.”
Hahn helped him hoist Haynes into a dining room chair. The big man groaned but offered no resistance.
After they secured his ankles and wrists, Mason said, “Wake his ass up.”
Chip activated a smelling salt pack and wafted it under Haynes’s nose. The ammonium carbonate did its job, making Haynes stir and shake his head. With anger on his face, he jerked his weight against the binds. Mason was no stranger to this sort of thing and recognized defiance—not a good sign.
“I don’t see any reason to waste time,” Mason began, “so let’s get right to it. We know you saw what happened at Hickman Field. Your fiancée already told us.”
Haynes looked around the room.
“And we know you didn’t call the police.”
“Where’s Mara?”
“In the bedroom.”
Haynes began a violent struggle against the plastic cuffs. “If you assholes hurt her, I’ll—”
“Let me guess,” Mason interrupted. “You’ll kill us.”
Haynes didn’t say anything, which Mason thought was appropriate. Any response would sound lame, and the man probably knew it.
“Chip, please fetch the young lady, so Mr. Haynes can see she’s unharmed.”
A few seconds later, Chip returned with the woman in tow. Her bound ankles forced her to shuffle her feet. A cloth gag occupied her mouth, probably a T-shirt, and her hands were secured behind her back.
“Are you okay?” Toby asked. “Did they hurt you?”
With her eyes full of tears, she shook her head.
Mason motioned with his head, and Chip escorted the woman back to the bedroom.
“It’s okay, Mara,” Toby called after her. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”
“That’s true for now, Mr. Haynes, but things could change. Chip doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
“Please don’t do that—”
“The truth then. Who else knows about tonight?”
Haynes licked his lips. “No one. I swear.”
Mason went into the kitchen and grabbed a plastic garbage bag from under the counter.
In a quick move, he pulled it over the top of Haynes’s head and tightened it at the neck. Haynes sucked in a breath, but all he got was plastic. A concave dimple formed at his mouth as he tried to breathe. In a quick move, Mason grabbed Haynes’s right hand and cranked his index finger ninety degre
es in the wrong direction.
The dimple changed to a protrusion.
A muffled scream followed, but the bag made it more of a mewling sound.
Mason pulled the plastic free.
His eyes watering and his skin red, Haynes sucked in a labored breath.
“It’s a horrible feeling . . . being denied air like that. It produces a certain kind of panic that bores into the core of who we are. The fear of suffocation is rooted deep within us.”
“Deeply,” Toby gasped.
Mason hid his irritation at Toby’s correction. Remaining unemotional was key to a proper interrogation. “Since you’re so smart, you’ll appreciate this irony: the reason we had a tracking bug in your car is because we identified you as a potential candidate for promotion. Funny, huh?”
Still breathing heavily, Toby looked around again.
“Focus on me, Mr. Haynes. Don’t think about anything else right now. Now, let’s start over. Did you tell anyone about what you saw at the soccer fields?”
Haynes squinted and remained defiant. “I already told you no!”
Mason slapped the side of his head where he’d pistol-whipped him.
“Fuck you,” Toby said. “You just broke my fucking finger for nothing!”
“Not so fast, tough guy. I’ve still got nineteen more fingers to work with.”
Toby squinted in thought.
“That’s right, I’m including your fiancée in the count.”
“Please don’t hurt her.”
“That’s entirely up to you, Mr. Haynes. Now, I’m going to ask you again, did you tell anyone about tonight?”
“No!”
“Where are your cell phones? I’m assuming your fiancée also has one. We didn’t see them anywhere.”
Haynes said nothing
“You lost both of them.”
Again, no response.
Mason brought the plastic bag up.
“Wait! They’re hidden.”
“And you did that because?”
“I made a video of what I saw.”
“A video.”
Haynes frowned and closed his eyes for a few seconds.
“I know your finger’s throbbing. Stop and think. What video are you talking about?”
“I used the video app on my phone.”
“You used it like a dictation device?”
He nodded.
“Why did you do that?”
“I was afraid if you killed me, there wouldn’t be any evidence.”
“Where are your phones?”
“In the back of the silverware drawer.”
He pressed the transmit button. “Darla, status?”
“All quiet, no change.”
Mason clicked his radio, strode into the kitchen, and began opening drawers. It didn’t take long to find the devices. He assumed the phone with the Hello Kitty cover belonged to the woman—at least he hoped so. The home button on Haynes’s phone produced a passcode screen. Irritated, he tried the Hello Kitty phone and saw it wasn’t locked with a passcode.
He selected the text message icon and frowned.
“Chip,” he called. “Get the woman back in here.” He let Haynes see the text message on Mara’s phone. “Did you know about this?”
“No! I swear.”
“What’s your phone’s passcode?” Mason asked.
“What about Mara?”
“You’re in no position to dictate terms, Mr. Haynes. But I’ll give you my word we’ll definitely hurt her if you don’t give me your passcode.”
“T-H-X-one-one-three-eight. Uppercase letters.”
“Clever. I’m a George Lucas fan myself.” Mason tapped the passcode and opened the photos app. He saw the triangle indicating a video and tapped the clip. Haynes’s face appeared, looking rather stressed. “How long is the recording?”
“A few minutes. I’m not sure.”
“Did you send this to anyone?”
“No.”
Mason opened the email and text apps; they didn’t show a recent message being sent. Haynes also hadn’t made any recent calls. It was possible Haynes had already erased the logs, but Mason had to be sure either way.
“Where’s your computer?”
“It’s in the spare bedroom. I backed up my phone before I made the recording.”
“Why did you do that?”
“In case I decided to wipe its memory.”
“And you’d do that because?”
“I didn’t call the police—doesn’t that mean anything?”
“We’ll explore that later. Does your computer have a log-in screen?”
“It’s the same code as my phone.”
“Sit tight, Mr. Haynes.”
Nathan now understood why Mason had chosen this particular spot. Despite being in the middle of a huge city, the location was ideal. There weren’t any light standards for night play. When the sun went down, this place went to sleep.
So far, they’d avoided walking on any nongrass surfaces that would leave footprints. Once this place became a crime scene, the investigators were going to scour the entire area. As long as they stayed on the thicker areas of grass, they should be okay.
Every twenty seconds or so, Harv scanned for heat signatures. A dead body continued to radiate for a while, but the cold conditions would accelerate the cooling. Still, given the time elapsed, the thermal imager should reveal any objects, human or otherwise, with a warmer signature than the background.
Based on Toby’s description, Nathan believed the dead men would be in or near the center of the complex. He angled to the left slightly, believing that would take them in the right direction. Straight ahead, a line of trees emerged from the mist. As they got closer, they found a gravel access road.
“We need to watch our footprints,” Nathan said. “The police will take notice of our missing cleat patterns, and my size thirteen isn’t especially common.”
“Ya think?” said Holly.
“We’ll cross the road up ahead to our right. I see an area where there’s more gravel.” Nathan noticed the road wasn’t just a road: it doubled as a parking aisle and it was at least fifty feet across, probably closer to sixty.
Harv stopped short. “There’s no way we’ll get across this without leaving some prints. You go first and I’ll walk inside your tracks. Holly can follow inside of mine. Can you see well enough to do that?”
“Barely,” she said.
“We’ll come back across in the same spot. Look for a landmark.”
“We’ll use that big tree at two o’clock as our anchor point. Walk straight toward it.”
Nathan avoided puddles and soft mud, stepping on areas that were mostly gravel. On the opposite side, they paused at the trunk of the tree.
Harv used the thermal imager again. “I’ve got something. Two signatures at eleven o’clock, maybe fifty yards out. Neither looks bright enough to be alive.”
Nathan checked the entire area with his NV and saw the prone forms. “Let’s double-time it out there.”
They ran at a good clip and slowed as they approached the two motionless forms. It looked as if Toby had seen things pretty accurately. Their hands bound behind their backs with nylon rope, two dead men lay on their sides. The gunshot wounds to the backs of their heads couldn’t be missed: both of them were bald. The rest of their exposed skin was covered with expensive tats. Oddly, each man had a 1,000-peso bill tacked to his forehead with a pushpin.
“Check it out,” Nathan said. He handed the scope to Harv.
“Weird. It looks like some kind of signature killing.”
Harv passed the device to Holly.
“I’ve seen this before . . . ” she said slowly.
“I’ll turn on the IR illuminator.” Nathan knew the naked eye couldn’t se
e the infrared light. “We’ll maintain our perimeter while you check these guys out.”
“Toby didn’t mention the money pinned to their foreheads,” she said.
“He probably couldn’t see it,” Harv added. “They aren’t breathing, but I’m gonna check for a pulse anyway.” Harv removed a glove and took a knee. He looked up at Nathan and shook his head. The other man was also dead. Harv put his glove back on and scrubbed the area of their necks he’d just touched to eradicate any possible prints.
“Check for IDs,” Nathan said.
“Be careful you don’t move the bodies,” added Holly.
Harv removed their wallets and used the flashlight app on his phone to illuminate the IDs. “One of them’s from Mexico City; the other’s from Seoul.”
Holly suggested Harv take pictures of the IDs.
Harv nodded. “The mist should mask the flashes. I’ll take a couple of overall shots and get some shots of those bills tacked to their foreheads. Their tats as well.”
“I’m sure I’ve seen this before,” Holly said.
“The money thing?” Nathan asked.
“Yes. I think it was a few years ago—some kind of ATF operation.”
Nathan looked at Holly. “I don’t think we should call this in tonight. It’s better to let the bodies get discovered in the morning. I know it’s important for the police to begin a murder investigation as soon as possible, but we already know who did this.”
Holly asked, “Are you thinking Toby’s sick call might create a possible link?”
“It’s a long shot, but the timing’s what worries me. Toby doesn’t go to work on the same night his boss commits a double murder. Look, if you insist we call this in, we’ll do it. No questions asked.”
She didn’t answer right away. Nathan knew she was considering all the consequences.
“Since we have an eyewitness to the crime, I’ll agree to delay reporting this under protest, but I was never here. I never saw this.”
Nathan turned off the IR illuminator. “Let’s get back over to Toby’s and figure out our next move.”
Back at Harv’s car, Nathan felt strangely deflated. Even if those two dead men were mixed up in a criminal organization, they might’ve had very different futures ahead of them. Now they’d never have the chance. Nathan had seen his share of death over the years, but it never got any easier.
Contract to Kill Page 9
