They pulled into the warehouse and Cole got out and closed the doors behind them. Then he and Lola got the two men out of the back seat and plopped them down in the chairs provided. Clarke sat wordlessly while Bradley, the moron, tried to run with the bag still on his head. Cole delivered a chop to the throat that sent him reeling backwards onto the oil-stained concrete. He’d not even hit the pussy that hard. He dragged him up onto the seat and placed him back down, slapping him once around the head to discourage further excursions.
Cole looked at Miller, who was sitting opposite. She nodded and then he pulled off the hoods.
Clarke and Bradley squinted into the lights. The SUV and three chairs aside, the large warehouse was empty, save for a few garbage bags in the corner. A two-story office with rusted metal stairs lay at the far end, behind Miller. The place smelled of oil, antiseptic and rotted meat. Cole didn’t want to know where exactly that smell was coming from. He was very good at avoiding the wrong questions.
After giving them a moment to adjust, Miller calmly nodded at Lola, who ripped the tape off both of their mouths.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? This is grade-A bullshit. You think you’re the only ones who know people? I know people. I—”
Brad Bradley stopped talking when Cole punched him in the kidneys. In a way, it was admirable. This Wall Street guy, so utterly high on his own supply, was one of the few human beings who had the sheer stupidity to come out swinging in this situation. Even when Cole had seen cartel guys caught like this, they’d not had the cojones to start rattling out threats.
Lola leaned down and placed the tape back over Bradley’s mouth, then gave the tape a big wet kiss.
Miller looked at Matt Clarke, who hadn’t said a word. “Mr Clarke, do you have anything to say?”
He nodded. “I’m the one who screwed up. There’s no need to take it out on Brad or Charlie.”
Miller raised an eyebrow. “How noble.”
“Also,” continued Matt, “you need us – so let’s not forget that. You want to scare us? Fine. Punish me? OK. But let’s not kid ourselves.”
Miller looked at him for a long moment. There was no sound, save for Bradley’s whimpering. From the smell, Cole would guess that Bradley had just made his own bandages considerably more uncomfortable.
Miller rubbed the palms of her hands together and then placed them against her pursed lips, as if praying. “You’re right, of course, Matt. We do need you. You have correctly evaluated the situation, but then that’s what you do, isn’t it? I would expect nothing less.”
Clarke said nothing.
“We need you,” continued Miller. “In fact, you currently have control of all of our funds, some of which are technically what you could call ‘on loan’ – although the people in question are not banks.” Miller smiled. “If you think the banks that foreclosed on your family farm were heartless, you should meet the people behind our loans.”
“OK,” said Clarke. “Perhaps we could get back to business then?”
Miller stood and began to walk back and forth. “Yes, of course, Matt. Sorry for any… I was upset, after your screw-up with blurting out our plans to your… let’s call her ‘lady friend’, shall we? I perhaps let my anger get the better of me.”
Clarke said nothing. Cole had to credit him for that. The kid might have been a smug little shit, but he could sense when there was a train coming down the tracks.
Miller kept talking. “On the Amy front, by the way, we have some good news.”
Clarke pulled in a breath before he spoke, the little hitch in it betraying more emotion than his face was giving away. “What did you do?”
Miller smiled. “Why do people keep asking me that? We didn’t ‘do’ anything. Miss Daniels – oh, that’s her real name by the way; you’ll see it on the news soon enough. But yes, I’m afraid she has been a bad girl. There’s no easy way to say this. Late last night, the NYPD were called to her apartment. It appears that during some sort of sordid sex game gone wrong, Miss Daniels overstepped the mark and killed a client.”
Miller placed her hands on the back of her chair and leaned lightly on it. She let a long moment drag out as she locked eyes with Clarke. She wanted him to walk it there. Put it all together for himself.
Cole could tell Clarke didn’t want to say the words, though deep down, he already knew. Miller remained silent, confident that he would blink first.
When his voice came out, it was a hoarse whisper. “You killed Charlie.” It wasn’t a question.
Miller shook her head. “No. Miss Daniels did that. Now she’s going to be far too busy being on the run to be an inconvenience to us. If she does show up, then she can be dealt with. I wouldn’t be worried about a long trial if I were you. The problem you have created has been fixed.”
Cole noticed Miller glance back in his direction – an uncomfortable reminder that she didn’t hold just Clarke responsible for that problem.
“Why the hell would I do anything you want me to do now?” asked Clarke. “You just killed my best friend.”
Miller looked across at Brad Bradley. “Oh Matt, we all know it’s the truth, but you didn’t need to say it right in front of him. Insensitive.”
Clarke looked down at the ground. “Go ahead; do what you want to me. I’m past caring.”
Miller dragged her chair over to sit in front of him, leaning her head forward to look up into his face. “Come on now, Matt. Think it through. This is what you do, after all. You see the angles. Don’t you think that I’d anticipate this? That you’d pull the martyrdom card, especially now Charlie is dead? We all know that saving Mr Bradley isn’t worth anyone’s time.”
This was greeted by a few muffled words from Bradley that everyone ignored.
Clarke raised his head as if to say something, and then spat in Miller’s face. He sneered at her. “Fuck you.”
Miller held her hand up to stop Cole or Lola from advancing forward. “That’s OK. Let it out, Matthew.” She pulled a handkerchief from the inside pocket of her suit jacket and dabbed at her face. “It won’t bring you the swift end you’re craving, but that’s OK. It’s a Catholic thing, isn’t it? The desire to be punished for your sins. Y’know, you and I are alike, Matthew. You see, we both have an eye for weakness. You see it in organisations, but I see it in people.”
From side-on, Cole could see the bravado smile on Clarke’s face crumble.
“Come on now,” continued Miller, in a voice like that of a cajoling parent, “think it through. Work the problem. I need you to do everything I tell you to. To execute a precise and incredibly delicate plan in exactly the right order. What would be the pressure point that would achieve that?”
Clarke said nothing, his chin sinking to his chest, tears welling in his eyes. Cole could see the precise moment that his spirit broke.
“C’mon, Matt. Don’t let me down. Tell me, what is behind door number one?”
“Please. Please, please, please. Don’t.”
Miller raised her voice. “If you please, Mr Baxter.”
Every pair of eyes went to the top of the rusted iron stairs at the far end of the room as Baxter, a big red-headed dude who Cole had worked with a couple of times before, appeared from the upstairs office, dragging by the arm a woman with a black mask over her head.
Miller raised her voice again. “Say hello to your brother, Ms Clarke.”
“Matt? Matt?! Are you here? Matt?” a woman sobbed.
Clarke pulled in a breath that looked like it burned his lungs. “It’s OK, Jennie. Everything will be fine.”
“MATT! Are you OK?”
Hearing her asking if he was OK, his head went down like he’d been punched in the gut. “I’m… I’m fine, Jennie. Everything will be OK. I promise.”
Miller nodded, and the girl was dragged back into the office. Her wails could be heard briefly and then stopped suddenly.
“Don’t hurt her. I’ll do whatever you want.”
Miller leaned forward. “I�
�m sorry, I didn’t catch that?”
“I’ll do whatever you want. I swear.”
Miller moved forward and leaned in close to Clarke’s head again. She spoke in a soft voice. “Oh, I know, Matthew. I know. Would you like to spit in my face once more? See if it makes you feel like a man again?”
“Please don’t hurt her.”
Miller stood up and walked across to Bradley, who looked up at her with eyes filled with terror.
“As for you, Mr Bradley, we also have the person you love most in the world.”
Bradley’s eyes darted towards the stairs.
“Don’t bother,” said Miller. “It does not speak well of your character, but that person is you.”
Miller nodded towards Cole. “When Mr Cole here took you to get medical attention yesterday, you were put under general anaesthetic. Although you were too dim to realise, there’s no reason to do that to treat burns. We have, however, installed a small explosive device in your body that we can activate at any time. It is tiny, but being where it is, trust me – it will kill you. It will be a slow, certain and excruciatingly painful death.”
Bradley was crying now, too – hard. He tried to speak around the tape but Miller ignored him. “Just do as you’re told and it will be fine.” Miller turned to walk away but glanced back over her shoulder after a few steps. “Oh, and a word of advice, Mr Bradley. I would definitely not have sex in the next few days. That would be a very bad idea. Also, avoid microwaves.”
The last thing Bradley and Clarke saw before the bags were placed back over their heads was Mrs Miller calmly walking away.
Chapter Seventeen
“OK, look – you need to calm down.”
“Calm down? Calm down!” Amy gave serious consideration to hurling the TV remote at Bunny’s head, but thought better of it. “It’s not your life that’s in ruins here.”
Evil the cat was nowhere to be seen, possibly sensing the tension in the room and rightly guessing that now was not a time when her sadistic charms would be appreciated.
Amy used the remote to flick up through another couple of channels. “Christ. CNN has got it too – that’s the whole set!”
Bunny stood beside the couch and held his hand out. “Alright, give me that.”
“No,” said Amy, “I’m watching this. It’s not every day you see your life, your future, go up in flames on national TV. Let’s look on the bright side – at least New York isn’t a death penalty state. Although, seeing as I’m such a depraved murderer, I’m sure there will be calls to bring it back.”
“Alright, but let’s not forget, you didn’t actually kill anyone.”
“Yes, I did – it’s on the goddamned news.”
Bunny stepped in front of the screen to block Amy’s view and continued to hold his hand out. Reluctantly, she handed him the remote and he turned off the TV. She had welcomed the anger, embraced her fury at the injustice of it all. That was because the other option was dealing with the reality and what it meant, and that felt like too big a thing to process.
Bunny took a seat beside her on the couch. “The way I see it, we need to think this through calmly and rationally.”
“That’s what we’ve been doing. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s not going super well.”
Amy was aware she was behaving like a brat. None of this was Bunny’s fault. He was just the only one there.
“We need to figure out exactly what this means.”
“I’ll tell you what it means – it means months, if not years, proving I didn’t do this thing, and even if I do, this case is the only one I’ll ever be involved in, as I’ll never be allowed to practice law. Even if I could, who wants the ‘Dominatrix of Death’ as their lawyer? That’s what they’re already calling me on a couple of the websites, by the way. Lord knows that nickname isn’t going to impinge on my constitutional right to have a fair trial before a jury of my peers, is it? When this is all over, I’ll not even be able to get my old job back, shovelling horse shit at my dad’s…”
Amy stopped talking as her hand was pulled reflexively towards her mouth. “Oh God, Dad. I’ve got to call Dad.” She sprang to her feet. “Where’s the phone?”
Bunny followed her, speaking in a soft voice. “You can’t do that, Amy.”
She ignored him and started walking around, checking the counters and table for the cradle for the cordless phone. “I’ve got to… Oh God, I’m going to have to explain that… Oh God. Where do I even start? And then there’ll be the neighbours and Aunt Carol and… Fuck!” She stopped in the middle of the floor. “The press will camp out on his lawn. I’ve seen that before. That’s the kind of crap they do. I’ve got to tell him to get out of there.”
Amy redoubled her efforts, frantically turning this way and that, her socked feet slipping on the wooden floor. “Where is it? Where is it?”
“Amy.”
“He could stay with Aunt Carol or… Oh God, there’s work. He’ll need to close the school or at least …” She stomped her foot on the floor in frustration. “WHERE IS THE FUCKING PHONE!”
Bunny had stopped following her around and was now standing by the faux fireplace, the cordless phone in his hand.
Amy took a couple of deep breaths and ran her hands through her hair before extending one out. “Thank you.”
Bunny put the phone down on the mantelpiece. He spoke in a quiet voice. “You can’t ring your father.”
“What the hell? Give me the damn phone.”
She moved towards the mantelpiece and he stepped forward, his outstretched arms blocking her path. “You can’t do that.”
“I’ve got to.” She pushed against him, but she wasn’t strong enough to get around him. “I’ve got to, I’ve got to…”
She pushed her hands against his bulk, but he didn’t take a backward step. Tears filled her eyes as she pushed. “Get out of my way, you big… Irish… bastard!”
He moved his arms gently around her. She tried to push them away before eventually giving in to the hug, tears streaming down her face. They stood in an awkward embrace for a couple of minutes. Eventually, Amy broke and gently pushed away, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Well, that was pretty pathetic,” she said, with a weak smile.
“Ah,” said Bunny, “’tis just nice to hold a crying woman and for once not be the reason for it.”
“Yeah, I bet you’ve broken a few hearts in your day.”
“I’ve had my moments.”
Amy sat back down on the couch, hugging one of the oversized cushions to herself.
Bunny sat himself down in the armchair opposite.
“You can’t phone your father.”
She nodded. “I know. Whoever these people are, they really know what they’re doing. Now, instead of having to look for me themselves, they have got the whole NYPD and the public doing it.”
“And,” said Bunny, “not to pile it on, but… well, looking at it logically, they have a plan here. They must know that if you hand yourself into the police or get caught, they can deal with you before you can make trouble for them, otherwise they wouldn’t have gone this route with it.”
Amy nodded again. “Yeah. I might not even get that day in court. If I run, I look guilty, and if I hand myself in… what are the odds I have a nasty accident in my cell or…” She trailed off, looking out the large windows at the billboard opposite, which advertised sun-kissed beaches where couples walked hand in hand.
“I know we already discussed this, but are you sure nobody knows you’re here?”
Amy shook her head. “I told you, me and Jonathan met at a stupid cooking thing. We don’t have a circle of friends in common. It’s not like that.”
Bunny nodded. “Still though, he’ll be in your phone, so we need to—”
Amy shook her head, more emphatically this time. “Jonathan is… eccentric. He doesn’t have a cell phone. He has a landline, but he never uses it. We’d arrange to meet most Fridays for coffee, but if I wanted to get hold of hi
m, I had to come knock on his door or actually send him a letter.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Honest. He is totally paranoid about technology and the government. It’s a little nuts but, well, he had an ex who worked for the IRS, and let’s just say it was a very messy break-up.”
“So, you think you’re safe here?”
She shrugged. “As much as anywhere, I guess. Even if Jonathan realises what’s happening and guesses I might be crashing here, he’s the last person on Earth who would call the cops.”
Bunny considered this. “Alright then, I suppose.”
“None of which helps us with the bigger problem, though, does it? I’m wanted for murder and some crazy lady on the end of a phone wants me dead.”
“Yeah, I’ve a suggestion on that front.”
“Fire away. It’s not like I’ve got many options.”
Bunny absentmindedly scratched his fingers at his beard. “Well, y’know how I said I was here to find a woman.”
“A particular woman,” said Amy, with a weak smile.
“Yeah. Well, I sorta have a contact in the – well, I’m not sure… some part of the American security services.”
“OK.”
“Her name is Agent Dove. She represents a group who want to help me find that particular woman. Look, it’s a long story. All you need to know is that she’s something in the security services, and if we contact her, she can maybe sort this – or at least help.”
“Can we trust her?”
“I’ve no idea but, well, she’s nothing to do with this at least and she does sorta owe me a favour. That’ll hopefully be enough.”
Bunny looked wary as he watched hope spread across Amy’s face. “This is great. Why didn’t you—”
“Hang on, hang on. It’s not that straightforward. Look, I’m here with no passport or anything. I basically don’t exist, and if I get myself in trouble, they’ve made it clear they’ll walk away. They got me into the New York port and they gave me an ATM card that’d get me two hundred bucks a day. And a phone – a special phone. This fancy-looking thing. It’s my only way of contacting Dove.”
Disaster Inc Page 11
