[Katerina Carter 01.0] Exit Strategy

by Colleen Cross

“It wasn’t supposed to be. McDonald’s wanted to keep it, but the city wouldn’t let them. Every time they came up with a new location, they couldn’t get the zoning approved.”

  “So they moved the McBarge here?”

  “It was supposed to be temporary. Then months turned into years, and when McDonald’s couldn’t get approval, they got fed up and abandoned it. It’s been floating here ever since, like a half-eaten Happy Meal. But you still haven’t given me an explanation—why aren’t we calling the cops?”

  Kat gave Rory a sparse outline of what had happened, starting with her run yesterday morning. She omitted the details about Liberty, saying only that she had witnessed a crime. Someone had paid off a bad cop, who had already killed the other kidnapping victim.

  Rory now seemed sympathetic.

  “Now I get it. Crooked cops are the worst. It’s their word against yours. But there’s gotta be someone you can trust. Isn’t there?”

  Kat shook her head. After Cindy’s betrayal, she would count on only one person from now on: herself.

  45

  “What happened to you? You’re a total mess!” Platt’s icy blue eyes scrutinized her as he marched towards her table, down the worn carpet aisle to the last window seat at the end. The marina restaurant windows overlooked the water, but they were foggy with humidity, creating a soft glow of diffused sunlight within.

  Platt’s indigo suit and kid-leather shoes were as equally out of sync in Maggie’s Surf n’Turf as Kat’s grunge-punk look. The restaurant regulars had been stealing glances and whispering about her cigarette-burned tights and Saran Wrap wrist corsage for the better part of an hour. They hadn’t found much else to talk about since Rory dropped her off and told Maggie to put her meal on his tab. Kat swallowed a bite of omelet and put her fork down.

  Maggie arrived at the same time as Platt, placing a steaming cup of coffee in front of him before he even touched the seat.

  “That’s part of what I have to tell you. There’s been another murder.” She downed the last dregs of bitter coffee and stood up. “Where’s your car?”

  “Not so fast. You promised me a tip on Takahashi. What is it?” Platt emptied both creamers into his coffee, then took a sip without stirring.

  Kat sat back down.

  “I can’t tell you here. Someone might be listening.” That was an understatement. Life in the diner was momentarily suspended. As she spoke, conversation died out and the clang of cutlery and dishes suddenly ceased. “I’ll tell you in the car.”

  “Fine. But give me a minute, okay?” Platt was in a testy mood. “That was my second rush-hour commute today. I’d like a few minutes before doing it for a third time.”

  Vancouver’s traffic congestion worsened every day. The morning rush lasted at least until ten-thirty, with a short window before starting again for the lunch hour.

  “Okay, but every minute we waste could mean less evidence.”

  Platt leaned back in his seat, sipped his coffee, and swished it around in his mouth before swallowing. Kat tried to hide her distaste. Everything about him irritated her. But he was the only cop she could trust right now. With no love lost between him and Cindy, she was fairly certain he wasn’t involved in the kidnapping.

  “This better be worth my while, coming all the way out here. I’m not a taxi service.”

  Fifteen minutes later Kat briefed Platt as they headed downtown in Platt’s unmarked, but obvious cop car with the jumbo antenna. She told him about the kidnapping, the McBarge, and Nick’s demise, leaving out Cindy’s involvement for the moment.

  “If that’s true, we should be heading to the McBarge, not driving in the opposite direction.” Platt gripped the steering wheel tightly, the tips of his fingers white from the pressure. “Why didn’t you tell me this at the marina? I could’ve had someone out at the boat by now.”

  He loosened his grip on the wheel for a moment as he awkwardly punched in numbers on his cell phone.

  “We’ve got to get to the Liberty shareholder meeting before the vote takes place.”

  “Vote for what?” he asked.

  Platt was either dense or trying very hard to annoy her. How could he investigate Takahashi’s murder and not know about the takeover offer?

  He barked some coded cop lingo about the McBarge into his cell phone. He was sending someone over to secure the scene.

  “The shareholders are voting today on Porter’s takeover offer. Porter Holdings is really a front for organized crime.” She watched Platt for a reaction, but his expression remained impassive.

  “They want control of Liberty so they can use it to launder black market diamonds.”

  “They need to buy a company to do that?”

  “You’ll see when we’re at the meeting. Nick’s the largest shareholder. If Nick isn’t there to vote his shares, someone else in management will vote them by proxy.”

  A light switched on in Platt’s cranium.

  “Ah. A motive. Someone else might vote in favor of the takeover.”

  Brilliant. The man just needed some guidance.

  “That’s right. Then Liberty would belong to Porter. When Nick started asking too many questions about the takeover, he was kidnapped.” They were only a few blocks away from the hotel, but traffic was bumper to bumper.

  “Why does Nick’s vote matter so much? Why not kidnap other shareholders?”

  Kat took a deep breath. Hadn’t he made the connection with Braithwaite’s or Takahashi’s murders yet? Liberty was the common bond.

  “Nick’s not the first one. I’m surprised you didn’t know that.” It was a thinly disguised barb on his thoroughness. “Braithwaite was the other major shareholder. He was murdered first. The two of them together held enough shares to decide the vote. And Ken Takahashi worked for Liberty too. That makes three murders connected to Liberty. Alex Braithwaite, Ken Takahashi, and now Nick Racine.”

  “There might be a connection,” Platt admitted grudgingly. “Why would someone want to kill them?”

  Kat suppressed the urge to pummel him. Had he ignored the information she had given when questioned about Takahashi? She took a deep breath and explained it again.

  “Whoever wants Liberty wanted to get them out of the way. Alex Braithwaite and Nick Racine were the two biggest shareholders. Braithwaite was against the takeover. Nick was being forced to vote for it because of loans to cover his gambling debts. Takahashi, as chief geologist, had to be eliminated when he questioned the doctored diamond finds.”

  “What new information do you have on Takahashi?”

  “I just told you. Nick is the new information.”

  “Katerina, why couldn’t you tell me this at the marina? Or on the phone? You made me come all this way by telling me you would show me new evidence on the Takahashi case.”

  They were stopped at an intersection a half block from the hotel. The light was green, but they were boxed in by a cab caught trying to run a red light in front of them. Platt was giving the evil eye to a dreadlocked squeegee kid, daring him to suffer the consequences if he so much as touched the windshield. He wasn’t going to be happy about rush-hour commute number four to the McBarge after the shareholder meeting.

  “Detective, if I told you any other way, you wouldn’t have come. Anyway, it is about Takahashi. You’ll see at the shareholder meeting.” She told him about Clara, her disguise as Susan, and about Ortega. Everyone who gets in the way gets murdered.

  Platt was silent for a moment. The traffic cleared and they were on the move again.

  “Where do you fit in? You don’t work for Liberty.”

  “I did, up until about a week ago. They hired me to investigate the Bryant fraud. When I started digging, I found out about the laundered diamonds. That’s when Takahashi was murdered.”

  “Why did they kidnap you? Why not just kill you too?”

  “They already did try to kill me when I was run off the road. Then they fired me. I guess I don’t take no for an answer. When I exposed Clara, they kidnapped me. T
hey want to keep me away from the shareholder meeting so the vote would go ahead.”

  “Why didn’t they kill you at the same time as Nick?”

  “I don’t know. There must be a reason.” The man was exasperating. “Ask Cindy Wong.”

  46

  Kat raced through the lobby, past the astonished concierge, almost tackling an elderly lady who veered right into her path. She feinted left, narrowly avoiding a side table with an expensive-looking vase.

  “Sorry!” she yelled, looking back at the woman, who waved her umbrella at Kat.

  “Slow down, missy!” The woman pointed the umbrella accusingly. “Show some respect and watch where you’re going!”

  The old woman’s voice trailed off as Kat bounded up the stairs to the Crystal Ballroom. Platt followed at a more polite distance.

  The chandeliers glittered and reflected off the mirrored walls, and it took Kat a moment to notice that most of the seats were empty. Was she early? She glanced down at her watch, but her wrist was covered in Saran Wrap. The watch was still on the McBarge, where she had left it after cutting through the strap.

  She didn’t have to search for Audrey. She was enveloped by Chanel No. 5 before Audrey came into view.

  “My oh my! Just look at you.” Audrey gave Kat a once over. “Is everything else in the laundry?”

  “I can explain, Audrey. I was kidnapped and just rescued an hour ago. I was held captive on the McBarge and—”

  “The McWhat? Let me guess. The McMafia’s to blame this time?”

  Kat couldn’t fault Audrey for her skepticism: she wouldn’t have believed it herself.

  “Audrey, I’m not crazy. But never mind that. When does the shareholder meeting start?” Kat spun around, puzzled. Where was everyone? Less than a dozen people were scattered throughout the room.

  “Start? It ended twenty minutes ago.”

  Kat’s heart sank. The meeting had been scheduled for ten a.m. She hadn’t realized it was so late.

  “But who voted Nick’s shares?”

  “I did.”

  “You voted no, I hope?”

  “We voted yes.”

  Kat felt like she had been hit in the gut. How could Audrey give up Liberty without a fight? She was too stunned to say anything.

  Detective Platt finally appeared, his face flushed and covered in sweat. Though trim, Platt wasn’t very fit, Kat noticed with a twinge of satisfaction. He took a deep breath in and blew it out his mouth, trying to slow his breathing.

  “Audrey Braithwaite, this is Detective—”

  “We’ve already met.” Audrey said tersely, then turned to face Platt. “Not that I’ve heard much from you lately.”

  Platt must be investigating Alex Braithwaite’s murder also. Apparently Audrey wasn’t part of the Platt fan club either.

  Audrey flung a cashmere shawl around her neck and sauntered past him, ignoring his outstretched hand. She walked briskly towards the double doors at the back of the room. Kat followed, hell-bent on getting Audrey’s attention.

  “Audrey, Nick’s been murdered.” Kat said the only thing she could think of to stop Audrey from leaving.

  “No!” Audrey’s face whitened and she froze in the hallway for a moment, before collapsing into a wingback chair. The chair swallowed her, making her seem tinier than ever. “First Alex, and now Nick? That explains why he wasn’t at the meeting.” She gripped the armrests, bracing for more bad news. “What happened?”

  Kat gave her a brief synopsis of the kidnapping, culminating with Nick being led away and shot.

  “You think Susan’s behind this too, don’t you?” Audrey asked.

  Kat couldn’t tell if Audrey believed her or not. Not that it mattered anymore. The vote meant Liberty was safely in Ortega’s hands now. Just about everyone who got in his way had been silenced.

  “Maybe not directly. But getting rid of the majority shareholder certainly doesn’t hurt, especially if he’s not cooperating.” She told Audrey about Nick’s gambling problem and Ortega’s attempted blackmail.

  “What am I going to do?” Audrey rose from the chair as her eyes darted around the hallway. “Am I next?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that.” But Audrey wasn’t listening anymore. She pressed the elevator button and turned back to Platt. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him.

  “You haven’t been a whole lot of help. Are you even working on my brother’s case?”

  “Ms. Braithwaite, we’re working very hard. But when people withhold information, it delays the investigation,” he said as he stared pointedly at Kat. “Unless we are told everything, we can’t react to it.”

  Kat interrupted, fuming.

  “I did tell you everything, detective. But you ignored me. I told you Alex Braithwaite’s murder was related to Takahashi’s, and now this. You could have prevented Nick’s murder, and my kidnapping. Why didn’t you listen to me? You sat on your ass too long.”

  The elevator door opened and Audrey stepped inside.

  “Every day you come up with nothing is another day for Alex’s killer to get away, Detective Platt.”

  The door closed before Kat could follow.

  Another day to get away with murder.

  47

  “Audrey—wait!” Kat charged down the stairs into the lobby, following the trail of Chanel. It only took a moment to catch Audrey, tottering along on her heels a few yards ahead. It was too late to change anything, but she needed to know. “Why did you vote yes?”

  “What’s wrong with you? Have you changed your mind again?” Audrey paused to pull a pair of gloves over her French manicure.

  “What are you talking about? You just gave Liberty to a bunch of criminals.”

  “No, we didn’t. We voted in favor of blocking the takeover. The board drafted a new resolution, to vote against the takeover. I voted the trust’s shares, and Nick’s by proxy. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  Time froze for a moment, then it sank in.

  “Yes! Oh, Audrey, thank you!” Kat grabbed Audrey and hugged her. Liberty would remain out of Ortega’s hands. One problem solved. “So I convinced you?”

  Audrey broke free of her embrace, brushing off her fur coat. Apparently Audrey wasn’t the touchy-feely type.

  “When you said Susan’s real name was Clara, I did some checking. Sure enough, I found a newspaper article on the Ortegas. Susan—I mean, Clara—was in the photo with her father. The story wasn’t very complimentary. They’re thugs, plain and simple. Then I called the references on Susan Sullivan’s resume. None of them had ever heard of her. My mind was pretty much made up, but when she didn’t show up for the meeting today—”

  “What? She didn’t show up?” Kat’s mind raced. Why would Clara run at such a pivotal moment? The money was frozen: she would never leave without it. What else was going on? She needed to get to the office and her laptop for reassurance that the money was still there.

  “You need a shower. Call me this afternoon. We’ve got a lot to talk about.” Without further ado, Audrey slipped into back of the black Cadillac waiting at the curb.

  48

  “Bryant?” Ortega caught his breath but recovered quickly. The guy was supposed to be dead by now.

  “Bryant who?” Ortega said, feigning ignorance. He cupped his hand over the phone and waved away his latest secretary, a Venezuelan beauty whose talents did not include answering phones or typing. She was getting tiresome and the plastic surgery was getting expensive.

  “You know damn well who, Mr. Ortega,” the voice on the other end replied. “Now listen carefully. I’ve got something you want.”

  “Not interested. I’m late for a meeting.” Why the hell was he still alive? Hadn’t Clara done her job and eliminated him?

  “Forget the meeting—what we’re going to talk about is far more important.”

  Ortega strained to listen to the background noise. Bryant was calling from a public place. There were broadcast announcements in the background, like an airport or maybe a tr
ain station. He had to pin down Bryant’s whereabouts. If, of course, this insolent bastard really was him.

  “What would I possibly want to talk to you about?” Aside from being the fall guy for the stolen money, Bryant was of no use to him.

  “I can think of five billion reasons why you should talk to me.”

  Ortega paused before responding. Bryant was just fishing for information. Of course he knew about the money. After all, he had been framed with it. But where did Bryant get this phone number from?

  “Really? Give me one.” Clara’s picture stared up at him from the desk, smiling. He put it face down. She wasn’t his daughter anymore.

  “I have the money.”

  Impossible. The Opal Holdings account at Bancroft Richardson was still frozen by the regulators. That in itself didn’t worry Ortega. Anyone could be bought if the price was right.

  “What money?” Ortega kept his voice even, determined not to betray his fury. His head throbbed as he felt his face redden.

  “The five billion, asshole. Cut the crap. You know what I’m talking about.”

  Ortega logged onto the Bancroft Richardson website and caught his breath. The money was gone, validating Bryant’s claim. It was withdrawn yesterday in three separate transfers. All of it. But there had to be a mistake. He kept his voice level and calm as panic percolated in his gut.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  “Fifty percent. Half of the five billion.”

  “Half?” Ortega was dumbfounded. People like him didn’t get robbed. Didn’t Bryant realize who he was dealing with? “Not a chance.”

  “Don’t answer too quickly. You want to think about this. Refuse me and you’ll end up with nothing.”

  “Why would I end up with nothing? That money’s mine. Besides, the account’s frozen right now.” There had to be a mistake, some sort of account mix up. But what were the odds of a posting error with another billion-dollar account?

  “It’s not frozen at all, Mr. Ortega. As a matter of fact, the money’s flowing quite nicely right now.”