Takedown (An Alexandra Poe Thriller)
Page 25
“St. Cajetan General, believe it or not.”
She tried to sit up. “What?”
“It’s okay,” he said, and gently urged her back down. “You’re here courtesy of Pappy Leo himself. All expenses paid.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“The police are saying you were attacked in your hotel by a stalker. Some guy you’d met in a Key Largo bar who became obsessed with you and followed you to St. Cajetan. They couldn’t find any identification on him, so they’re still trying to work that out, but you’ve been cleared for shooting him. They figure it was well deserved.”
“At least they got that part right. But why would Leonard Latham care about me?”
“After we left his estate, Hopcroft gathered the rest of Valac’s troops and fled. Latham played it all off as a band of thugs looking to rob his guests. There were a few people wounded, but fortunately none of the partygoers were killed.”
“Unbelievable.”
Cooper shrugged. “Works out for everyone, the way I see it. When he was briefed by Stonewell, Latham told them that Valac had barged into his life seven months ago and was slowly draining his funds. He was a virtual prisoner in that house, while everyone chalked it up to his eccentricity. The way he sees it, you’re one of the people who helped give him back his freedom.”
“Well, good for me.”
Cooper smiled. “McElroy and his bosses are very happy about the Valac acquisition. We told them your theory about Favreau’s head for numbers, and everyone agrees that the codes must have died with him. At least that’s what they want to believe.”
Suddenly remembering, Alex sat up again. “Shit. Where are my jeans?”
“What?”
“My jeans? Where are my jeans?”
“In a bag under your bed, I think. Why?”
“Get them for me.”
Her gave her a funny look, then bent down and retrieved the bag. She pulled it open and reached inside, squeezing the pockets of her bloodstained jeans until she felt the stiff plastic of Favreau’s key card. Then she fell back against the pillows and let out a long breath.
He looked at her. “Is that what I think it is?”
She nodded, deciding it was about time she was honest with him. “I know it was the main focus of the op, but I don’t want to give it McElroy. And I don’t want you telling him about it, either.” She gestured. “Or Warlock, or even Deuce.”
He didn’t even think about it. “Your secret’s safe with me,” he said. “All of them are, if you ever decide you want to share.”
“Thank you, Shane. It’s just that Hopcroft told me what’s on this thing, and I don’t think McElroy or anyone else at Stonewell can be trusted with the information. I’m not sure if I should destroy it, or hang on to it for a rainy day. Use it for leverage.”
“It rains a lot in our world.”
She offered him a wan smile. “I don’t deserve you.”
Then she squeezed his hand.
CHAPTER 43
Washington, DC
MR. GRAY LIVED in a very tidy brownstone apartment in Georgetown.
Every evening at six o’clock, his wife of thirty years greeted him when he came home from work, and brought him a glass of Pinot and the day’s mail.
Two days after the operation in the Bahamas was completed, although not quite to Mr. Gray’s satisfaction, he found a postcard waiting for him.
The photo on the front was an oversaturated shot of the St. Cajetan hotel, with all those ridiculous old cars parked in front of it.
Curious.
When Gray turned the card over and saw there was no stamp or mailing address, he frowned.
Had this been dropped directly into their box?
As his gaze drifted to the handwriting that formed the short message, a small chill ran through him.
He knew that handwriting.
No one else made Ss like that.
And if there was any doubt, the initials at the end of the note made the identity of the sender quite clear.
The message itself was innocuous, but the implied threat was evident to Mr. Gray. He knew that from here on out, he would have to stagger his routine. Not be so predictable. Because you never knew who might be watching…
The card said:
Sorry I missed you.
EH
EPILOGUE
Key Largo, Florida
ALEX SPENT THE bulk of her recovery at the Shimmy Shack.
Cooper and Deuce joined her there for a few days and helped her clean up the place, and as they worked, she decided she must have been possessed by demons when she had agreed to sell it. Spruced up, the place was a gem, and most of her memories here were good ones.
Thank God, the agreement had turned out to be bogus.
Cooper brought Danny out for a week, and they spent a lot of time laughing and making new memories. She could tell that Cooper was starting to get very comfortable being around her during the off hours, and she knew what he wanted from her. But she wasn’t ready to go there yet.
Wasn’t sure she ever would be.
One night, when she was alone and had fallen asleep on the front sofa, she was awakened by a noise coming from the back of the house. She reached for her pistol and carefully worked her way toward the den, noting that the patio door, which she had closed, was now ajar.
She stepped into the room and froze. There, on the floor, was the sleeping bag she had tossed over the rail when she had first returned to Key Largo. She had forgotten all about it.
Angry now, she stepped over the bag and slipped out onto the patio. Once she was sure no one was lurking there, she looked over the rail into the moonlit darkness but saw no sign of anyone. Heard only the gentle lapping of the water below.
Intending to toss the bag over the side again, she marched back into the house, snatched it up, and something fluttered out from inside it and landed on the floor.
Another photograph.
Alex’s skin prickled as she picked up the photo and stared at it. It was a shot from the same era as the wedding video, her mother standing near the steps of a mosque.
And it was clear by the bump in her belly that she was pregnant.
Pregnant.
Alex turned the photo over, saw another Google link, and her heart started to pound.
She ran to her bedroom and grabbed her tablet, then dropped to the bed and typed in the URL.
The file waiting for her was called FEP.mp4.
Her father’s initials.
Her heart really pounding now, she clicked the download button, entered the same passcode she had used for the wedding video, and waited as the file was retrieved.
After tapping the link, she watched as the screen filled with the face of her father, and she couldn’t quite believe it.
But it was him.
It was really him.
He was sitting in a dark room, only the light of a laptop screen illuminating him. He looked so much older than she remembered. Tired. Worn. But with eyes that had that same fire she had known as a child.
He said, “Hello, Alex. I know this has been a long time coming—too long—and I know what you must think of me and the way I left things with you and Danny. If I could have done it any other way, believe me, I would have.”
Alex couldn’t hold back. Tears were already streaming down her cheeks.
“But now that you’re involved with some of the very people who forced me to run—people I believe are responsible for Mitra’s death—I think it’s time I answered some of the questions I know you must have.”
He paused, his gaze focusing on nothing for a moment, as if lost in a very distant past.
Then he looked at her and said, “I think it’s time I told you the truth about what happened to your mother.”
Alexandra Poe Will Be Back
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We’d like to thank Elyse Dinh for her copyediting expertise, and Pam Stack of Authors on the Air for sharing her detailed knowledge of the Florida
Keys.
Thanks also go out to our families and friends for their continued support.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
BRETT BATTLES
Brett Battles is the author of over sixteen novels and several short stories. His first novel, The Cleaner, was nominated for a Barry Award for Best Thriller, and a Shamus Award for Best Debut Novel. His second, The Deceived, won the Barry Award for Best Thriller.
He is one of the founding members of Killer Year, and a member of International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of America. He lives and writes in Los Angeles.
More info available at: brettbattles.com
ROBERT GREGORY BROWNE
Robert Gregory Browne is an AMPAS Nicholl Fellowship-winning screenwriter and ITW Thriller Award-nominated novelist.
He has written several thrillers published in the US and around the world, including the Amazon bestsellers Trial Junkies, Trial Junkies 2: Negligence and Kiss her Goodbye. Kiss Her Goodbye was recently produced in Chicago as a pilot for a CBS Television series by Sony Pictures and Timberman/Beverly Productions.
Rob lives in California with his wife, dog, two cats, and his beloved moka pot.
More info available at: robertgregorybrowne.com
CONTENTS
Also by the Authors
Title Page
Copyright
CHAPTER 1 - New York City, New York
CHAPTER 2 - Istanbul, Turkey—Six Months Later
CHAPTER 3 - Washington, DC
CHAPTER 4 - Overseas Highway, South Florida
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9 - Key West International Airport, Florida
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23 - Washington, DC
CHAPTER 24 - St. Cajetan, Bahamas
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43 - Washington, DC
EPILOGUE
Acknowledgments
About the Authors