“Like this King Ranch?” Badde said. “What’s up with that?”
“King’s is one of the biggest spreads in the world. Takes up damn near all of South Texas. My father wasn’t looking for that-just something big enough down along the border. I oversee my cousins who run it.”
“So how did you go from that to what you’re doing now?” Badde said. “The private equity?”
Santos grunted. “You ever smell cow shit, Rapp?”
Badde, looking out the windshield at the dramatic colorful skyline of downtown Dallas in the near distance, had to think about that. After a long moment he shook his head, then looked at Santos. “Maybe once, as a kid, out in Pennsylvania’s Amish country. If I did, I don’t really remember it.”
“Well, you’re not missing a damn thing.”
Badde then snorted.
“What?” Santos said.
“I just remembered I did. It was in Lancaster County. In a tiny town called Intercourse.”
Santos laughed.
“I’m calling bullshit on that,” Bobby Garcia said from the backseat, but Badde saw that he was grinning.
Badde turned on his politician’s big toothy smile and shook his head. “No. And get this: Intercourse actually isn’t far from a place called Blue Ball.”
Garcia now laughed.
“You’d think it would be far the hell away,” he said.
“They were dairy cows,” Badde said. “It was a long damn time until I drank milk again after that trip.”
“There you go,” Santos said. “I decided that I didn’t want to spend a lifetime smelling shit-especially back home. But because I was still a Colombian national and my student visa was all but expired, I had to find something fast so I could legally stay in the States. I wanted to go into venture capital and that got me-got Bobby and me, after starting OneWorld Private Equity Partners-introduced to the Fed’s EB-5 green card program.”
OneWorld funded a huge part of the casino, Badde thought.
And is funding part of the new sports complex.
Each of those to the tune of a hundred million.
I’d like to get more than the crumbs I’m getting. .
“Speaking of that,” Garcia said, “Yuri says you’re doing good things in Philly with PEGI.”
Hearing the Russian billionaire businessman’s name always made Badde uncomfortable. Especially in the same sentence as PEGI.
And he just pronounced “Peggy” right.
How much do these guys know about Yuri’s involvement? That is, the intimidation beyond the money. He’s made it clear that there are consequences for failing to meet his high expectations.
“PEGI is working,” Badde said, trying not to overplay it.
It’s been a pain in the ass. But it is looking like it will work.
If no one pokes their damn nose in it. .
The Philadelphia Economic Gentrification Initiative was a special program developed-and solely administered-by the city council’s Housing and Urban Development Committee. Specifically by its chairman, one H. Rapp Badde, Jr. He had conceived it after attending an urban-renewal conference with Jan in Bermuda.
PEGI was helping pave the way for new projects-including those of Yuri Tikhonov. The first had been the Lucky Stars Casino amp; Entertainment. And soon to begin construction was a new indoor sports and live music coliseum that could fit sixty thousand fans under its retractable roof. It was owned by Diamond Development, forty-nine percent of which was in the hands of Tikhonov. The rest, the fifty-one percent majority, belonged to minority-owned companies such as Urban Ventures LLC, of which Badde quietly had a piece, one much smaller than he preferred.
“And,” Santos added, “that as mayor, you will make even better things happen. But first you have a hotel to build, yes?”
Badde met his eyes and said, “I certainly hope so. About being mayor, I mean. And I’m definitely going to build the hotel. Just takes money.”
And I’m not going to deal with Yuri having a piece of this project.
“I don’t think there’ll be any trouble finding that money,” Garcia said.
Santos slowed the truck. Badde saw that they were just shy of downtown proper. A towering stone-faced complex loomed ahead. Before it, centered in a large berm of lush green grass, was a block of granite the size of a city bus. Chiseled in four-foot-tall black roman lettering was: TWO YELLOWROSE PLACE. Badde then saw individual signage for street-level high-end retail stores and restaurants and for a hotel, clearly a luxury one, he’d never heard of.
Across the street from the complex was an equally impressive high-rise residential building.
Santos steered the truck into the high-rise’s cobblestone driveway and pulled to a stop before the enormous well-lit front doors. Doormen on either side of the doors were swinging them open, and out marched three stylishly dressed women. One was olive-skinned, one cocoa-skinned, the third ivory-skinned-and all looking like stunning fashion models. They seemed to float across the walkway as they headed toward the revolving door to the bar of a chophouse next door.
Philadelphia City Councilman H. Rapp Badde, Jr., could not stop himself.
“Is there not a single ugly woman in this town?” he blurted.
Santos and Garcia laughed.
“It’ll take a second to get you your room,” Santos said, “then we can head over there for a little something liquid to cut the trail dust.”
Their doors were opened by valets in red blazers.
“Welcome back, Mr. Santos, Mr. Garcia,” one said, and to Badde added, “Welcome, sir.”
“Yeah,” he replied, flashing his well-practiced politician’s smile.
IV
[ONE]
Little Palm Island, Florida
Sunday, November 16, 10:01 P.M.
Matt, approaching the entrance to the restaurant’s bar, could see Amanda through the big window that overlooked the patio deck. She was standing with Chad at the bar, and it took a moment before she saw him coming up the tiki-torch-lit path. She said something to Chad, who nodded, and then she walked outside to meet Matt.
Matt went up the short flight of steps to the deck, watching appreciatively as the ocean breeze blew her dress and hair. But then he noticed that there was something in her expression that he couldn’t quite place.
I know she’s upset. But there’s more to it than just that. .
He reached the top of the steps.
“Hey, you okay?” he said, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.
“Chad is ordering our meals now,” she said. “I don’t think I can eat, though. I’m sorry, Matt. I’ve just been sick to my stomach over this.” She paused, glanced out at the ocean for a long moment, then went on: “I know what it’s like to be taken, to be powerless, and cannot get over that that might be happening right now to Maggie.”
She was anxiously flipping the phone in her hand.
He looked at that and said, “I’ve been juggling calls, too.”
“I imagine one was to Jason? Maggie is why he called earlier?”
I knew she’d pick up on that!
I’m not going to lie about it-I don’t want to lie to her about anything.
“Yeah. Something strange is going on with Maggie’s disappearance. He won’t tell me what it is-won’t tell me anything. But he did say he wants to know if we hear from her, which suggests to me that they believe she’s alive.”
“That’s something, I guess,” she said, with no enthusiasm.
“You have any luck with anything?”
“I talked with Mrs. McCain. This afternoon Maggie sent a text to her cousin Emma.”
“They heard from her? That’s good news.”
“I don’t think it helped. Especially since Mrs. McCain is more than a little upset that no one can reach Maggie. She used one of those websites that lets you send anonymous texts and e-mails.” Amanda shook her head. “She may have meant well, but it really backfired with her family.”
“What did she say?”
>
Amanda thought for a moment, then quoted: “‘Tell everyone I’m fine, I love them, and not to worry. Explain later. Will be in touch soonest. Hugs.’”
“That’s all?”
“That was it.”
Matt grunted. “Pretty damn vague. And doesn’t begin to address what happened at her house.”
Amanda nodded.
“Because the text was sent anonymously,” she then said, “how would they know it’s legit? Couldn’t someone be forcing her to send it?”
“Yeah, there’s always that possibility. But hard to say. What doesn’t make sense is why, if she’s okay, she’s going out of her way not to be reachable. If there was a way to get to her, we could ask for proof of life.”
“What would be proof?”
“A photograph of her holding, say, the front page of today’s newspaper or even holding a laptop with Mickey’s website on the screen with some current news story. Hell, with her story on it. Anything that shows her alive doing something that’s recognizable as right now.”
She thought for a moment, then in a hopeful tone said, “She did begin the text with ‘Spider.’”
“‘Spider’?”
“Mrs. McCain said it’s the nickname Maggie sometimes calls her cousin. It alludes to Emma’s modern dances, to how she moves. And to the spider rolls that are her favorite. They shared one Saturday night at that Rittenhouse sushi place, the one near your apartment.”
Matt shook his head. “Not exactly proof of life. But that could help confirm the message is legit. Not many people know she’s missing. And bad guys, even if they had the cousin’s phone number, would have no reason to contact her, let alone know to call her by a nickname. They’d go right for the big money-her parents.”
“So then that’s probably why it’s being considered legit,” Amanda said. “But it’s clear she’s not ‘fine.’ Not being reached and only sending messages is anything but fine.”
“And that’s been the only communication, just the one text?”
Amanda nodded. “As far as I know. Mrs. McCain did ask me to see what you thought about the police asking if she had any knowledge of Maggie letting girls from Mary’s House stay at her place. That’s suggestive, no?”
Matt nodded thoughtfully.
So, that’s who the ME bagged.
The questions, though, are still: Was she the intended target? Or was it Maggie? Or both? Or someone else?
“What are you thinking, Matt? One of them was there and started it?”
“What I’m thinking is about what Mickey O’Hara said. He was one of the calls I was juggling.”
“What does he know?”
“Not much. He was calling to see what I knew, and I told him what Jason said. But what he did say was that one of the crime-scene guys quietly told him two things. One, that the place was firebombed-”
“Firebombed!”
“Molotov cocktails. Coke bottles filled with gasoline.”
“Oh my God! Then it wasn’t just a home invasion?”
“Doesn’t look that way. At least I don’t think so. And two, that the medical examiner’s van was put in the garage, the door closed, then whoever died in the house was snuck out.”
“A girl from Mary’s House. .”
“Or girls? But why was it done quietly? And why is Jason not talking?”
They were silent for a long moment. Then Matt exhaled audibly and blurted, “I’ve really had enough of this.”
“What? Enough of what?”
“I’m sorry, baby, but I’m beyond frustrated. And mad. I brought us down here to have a good time. And we were doing that.” He paused and ran his hands through his hair. “But now this has happened, and there’s not a damn thing I can do, even if I knew it wouldn’t make you more upset.”
Amanda stepped toward him and ran her fingertips down his cheek.
She met his eyes.
“I understand,” she said. “I’m torn, too. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Torn? So that’s what I saw in her face but couldn’t figure out.
“Torn about what?”
“We’ve been dodging the issue since we found out that I’m pregnant,” she began softly. “I meant what I said that night at my place. That we’re at a critical time in our lives. That we’ve both been given second chances. That I want us to get this next one right.”
And, he thought, his mind filling with the image of them in the Hops Haus penthouse condominium on the leather couch, I can see you saying it in that stunning sequined dress that shimmered like the ocean is doing right now. You were really in your cups.
“Remember?” she said.
Matt nodded solemnly.
He would never forget her explaining, with uninhibited honesty, that she wanted them to have what Anne Bancroft had said was the key to her happy marriage of a half century to Mel Brooks. Amanda had quoted Bancroft saying that her heart still raced at the thought of her mate, just as it had at the start, because there was both love and excitement in their relationship: “When his tires crunch coming up the gravel driveway, I think, ‘Now the fun begins.’”
Amanda now went on: “Thanks to my dad having been a cop, I deeply understand what it is you do. And why you do it. It’s in your blood, and you do it well, which is a tremendous honor to the memory of your father and uncle. My dad knew them, and you know he speaks highly of them. As does everyone else I highly respect.”
Matt felt his throat constrict.
Amanda inhaled deeply, then let it out slowly.
“But I have to be clear,” she said softly. “You willingly put your life in danger. And you put it on the line for strangers. Damn it, Matt, if you die, the fact remains that it will destroy me. It will destroy our family-but it will really destroy me. And, yes, I know I’m being selfish with all this.”
He cleared his throat and said, “It’s understandable-”
“Let me finish, please,” she interrupted softly. “I could be dead now from the kidnapping. And you have scars from being shot while on duty. . It’s a miracle you aren’t dead.”
The door to the bar opened, and she went suddenly silent.
Out walked an attractive couple who looked to be in their fifties. They sipped at cocktails as they held hands. The husband, smiling broadly, quietly said something to his wife that caused her to laugh, then to move in closer and kiss his cheek.
Amanda forced a thin smile as she and Matt stepped aside and the couple passed and went down the steps. They watched them, still hand in hand, start walking the tiki-lined path toward the beach.
Matt then met Amanda’s eyes.
You may know what she’s thinking-“That could be us in twenty years, if you don’t get killed”-but keep your mouth shut, Matty.
That way you won’t have to spend the rest of the night trying to extricate your foot from it.
“’Tis better to remain mute and thought the fool than to speak and confirm it. Again.”
She gathered her thoughts, then went on: “I said I’m torn because I without question believe in what I said about us being given second chances. We can’t lose that. I want a million days like we had today on the boat.”
“Yeah!” he said. “And so do-”
She held up her hand.
Try it again, Matty: Mouth shut!
“I’m not finished. Matt, I never thought I’d say this, but I want you to go back to work. Not for strangers-for Maggie. Find her. But for God’s sake”-she paused and placed his left palm on her dress over her belly-“and especially for ours, promise me that you will be careful.”
Her belly rose and fell with her breaths. He felt its warmth through the soft linen fabric. He looked in her eyes as she squeezed his hand.
Tears were welling as she whispered, “Now the fun begins.”
He leaned in, put his arms around her, and kissed her on the lips softly and slowly.
They had not finished when her phone began ringing. It wasn’t until the fourth ring that she
pulled back and glanced at its screen.
Then she handed the phone to him.
“Answer it,” she said, wiping a tear from her cheek.
“Who. .?”
Matt took it and saw that the caller ID read: MRS. MCCAIN.
She knew this was coming. .
Matt cleared his throat, then spoke into Amanda’s phone: “Mrs. McCain? Hello, this is-”
A male’s stern, gravelly voice cut him off.
“Hello? Who is this?” he demanded. “Matt? Matt Payne?”
Matt looked at Amanda. She was watching intently.
“Yes, sir. Matt Payne speaking.”
“Will McCain here,” he went on, his tone impatient. “Listen, it’s been one long, hellish day. I’ll cut right to the chase. I want you to find my girl and get to the bottom of whatever the hell is going on. I’m not getting the answers in the manner I’m accustomed. I was about to hire the best private detectives my people could find. Then I overheard my wife speaking with Amanda tonight, and she mentioned your name. When can you get here?”
Matt was quiet for a moment.
How can I possibly do this outside of the department? Without its resources, I’m at a huge disadvantage.
“Matt? You there? Hello? Hello? Damn these phones!”
“Yes, sir, Mr. McCain. I’m here. I would do whatever I possibly could to help. But please understand that right now there are limits as to what I’m able to do. For one, I’m in Florida-”
“Not a problem.”
“Yes, sir, I agree that’s minor. But there’s more. I’m assigned to the Homicide Unit, and I’ve been taken off the job-”
“I understand that you’re on leave. I just talked to Jerry about that. If he doesn’t have you put on this. . this situation. . I told him that I’ll hire you privately.”
No surprise he has a direct line to the mayor.
That’s the way it works at that level. Call in a favor or a contribution-or, if necessary, a threat.
The Last Witness boh-11 Page 11
