Inside Man

by Jeff Abbott

  “We don’t know for certain,” Zhanna said.

  “Then tell me who the suspects are. He had a very slight Russian accent. Have you pissed off some Russians?” I looked particularly hard at Zhanna.

  No one answered. I counted to ten inside my head. I turned to Cori. “You see how much they value you. And your dad.”

  “We’ll deal with the problem ourselves,” Zhanna said. “Although your offer is appreciated.”

  “Did Cori hire you?” This from Ricky.

  I met his glare with my own. “Hire me for what?”

  “Hire you to be her bodyguard,” he repeated.

  You mean like Steve? I wanted to say. He knew about Steve, and so did Galo. But the rest of them? Perhaps not.

  “No,” Cori said. “I didn’t.” She leaned over and took my hand.

  “I’m exactly what I said I was,” I told them. “Since I nearly got killed for your problem today, you want to tell me and Cori the truth about the ten million?”

  Kent said, “It’s a confidential business matter and you need not worry about its legality. I’m sorry if that bothers you, Cori, but it is, and we’re not going to talk about it with you. For your own good.”

  I laughed. “You see, Cordelia? Your father’s life in danger, and still they’re closemouthed.” I wagged a cocky finger at Galo and Zhanna. “Here’s something to think about. Your kidnapper had half a casino chip. If someone else here has the other half of that chip, then you know who’s behind the kidnapping.”

  They all stared at me and then, as I hoped, glanced at each other, except for Kent, who didn’t move. “I mean, you might conduct a search.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Kent said.

  “It’s such an unusual way to pay. I presume if you redeem the chip, you get the cash. It would be easy for any of you to arrange that, since the casino is a family business. You’re not going to bring a load of cash with you. You don’t want it traced to you. Back when I worked for Lada I got paid in all kinds of hard-to-trace ways.”

  “Why would any of us want Papa kidnapped?” Zhanna said.

  “Don’t play that card after you don’t report a death to the police.” I’d planted the seed of doubt. “It’s just a suggestion. I’m tired, I took a beating, and I’d like to go back to my room.” And I got up, and Cordelia and I left, and no one stopped us. I went back to my room and she said, in an unhappy whisper, “You shouldn’t have told them you knew about the money.”

  “I yanked on the thread.”

  “What?”

  “It’s just a phrase.” I lay down on my bed, Cori next to me.

  “Are they going to come in here and kill me?” I said.

  “No,” she said. Her breath was close on my cheek. “I don’t think so.”

  “You said they were incapable of violence before.”

  “They know smugglers in Prague,” she said. “I don’t know my own family right now.”

  “Do you think they’ll look for the other half of the chip?”

  “Probably, because you’ve scared them now. But this is someone outside the family, Sam.”

  “I’m glad you’re all so sure.”

  I excused myself to the bathroom. I hid the broken chip, in a better place than Steve had hidden his. I flushed the toilet for cover.

  When I came out of the room I crawled into the bed next to Cori and I closed my eyes. I needed to sleep. Everything hurt. Now we’d see what they would do.

  25

  I AWOKE THINKING about death. About Coma Thug, the thudding of his body as I ran over him with Steve’s motorcycle. His buddy’s scream as he lost balance and fell four stories to the pavement.

  The light was dim in the room, the sun sliding below the horizon, purpling the clouds. Twilight. Cori, who had been curled up next to me when I fell asleep, was gone. An evening breeze drifted through the window. I’d slept the rest of the day away.

  I ached, horribly. I trembled with thirst. I decided against a painkiller; I needed to be sharp. I got up, washed my face, went to the door.

  They’d locked me in. Not a good sign.

  I sat back down on the bed.

  Something had changed. Maybe Coma Thug, who might have worked for whoever the kidnapper did, had awakened. Carlos Tellez. He was my own personal time bomb, ticking away in his bed. If he died I was pretty safe. If he lived, it depended on what he remembered. What he wanted to say to the police or what message he could pass to his employer. I had to find the connection between Coma Thug and Rey, or whoever was after Rey and Cori. It didn’t matter if it was a family member or someone else who killed Steve. That was who I wanted.

  Except it would matter to Cori. She’d try to stop me if it was a family member. I’d deal with that problem if it got serious.

  Locked in the maze. You’ll think you can’t get out at some point, but you can, the burnt man had said. You can’t always fight your way out. Sometimes you will have to negotiate.

  Did I have a chance to negotiate? I’d done them a favor.

  Then came a knock on my door, the sound of the doorknob unlocking, and I said, “Come in.”

  Zhanna stood in the doorway. She wore a dark dress with bright indigo flowers. She looked stunning. She flicked on the room’s main light. “Did you have a nice rest?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Thank you.”

  She stepped aside and Ricky brought in my suitcase that I’d left at the Gran Fortuna. He set it down, hardly gave me a glance, and then he walked out.

  “Thank you, buddy,” I called out to him. He vanished down the hallway. Charming as always.

  “Never mind Ricky. You made the guards look bad. They didn’t protect Papa and you did.” Zhanna leaned against the doorway, smiling in a way that seemed designed to make me uncomfortable.

  “So if I’m okay, why am I locked in here?”

  She shrugged. “That’s my fault. I have a security mentality.”

  “You’re mad at me because I mentioned the chip you found.”

  Zhanna let three beats pass. “No. I would have done the same if I were you. I thought you might have planted it.”

  “I didn’t even know your family owned a casino until Cori told me at the hotel. I sure didn’t have much time to gamble up to an interesting amount.”

  “But then I decided you made a good point. A payment made half on taking the job, half on delivering Papa.”

  “A casino chip’s an unusual way to pay.”

  “Kidnapping is not a job one writes out a check for,” she said.

  “How did you decide to go into security work?” I asked.

  “I joined the Air Force out of college, was an investigator. Family tradition. My father was in the Air Force, in the old Soviet Union.”

  I remembered a detail I’d read in the history of FastFlex. “Your dad was Mr. Varela’s business partner. Sergei Pozharsky.”

  “Yes.”

  “That must be awkward.”

  The slightly friendly smile dimmed. “How so?”

  “When your father’s partner becomes your stepfather.”

  “My father…we were never close. And then there was the plane crash…” She shook her head at her past tragedies. “Papa—Rey Varela—took care of all of us, of me and my mama…even though Mama was never easy to live with.” She said this with the gravity of a person who has endured many trials.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She waved it away with a flick of her hand, like her lost family didn’t warrant much reflection. She had a new family, apparently one she liked better.

  “How’s your stepfather?”

  “Papa is resting.” I couldn’t miss the emphasis. “He wants to talk to you.” She gestured to the hallway.

  I followed her, and then saw Ricky, down the hallway, waiting for us. Zhanna put her hand on my arm, the uninjured one, and kept a grip on me as we walked. “You saved Papa.” This announcement wasn’t for my benefit.

  I said nothing.

  “Unlike do-nothings who are paid good
money,” she said to Ricky’s back. I saw his spine stiffen for the barest of moments, but he didn’t break stride.

  “Fifty acres are a lot to cover,” Ricky said. “Ten bedrooms are a lot to cover.”

  “Your paycheck is a lot to cover,” she said, still to his back.

  “Then it’s good you don’t pay it.”

  Did he work for her or Galo or Rey? I wondered. It might be good to know where his loyalties lay.

  “Everything’s about to change, Ricky,” she said.

  Ricky shrugged. “Not everything. You’re still a pain.”

  So clearly he didn’t work for her. Her mouth was a thin line; she wasn’t mad, she was enjoying the little duel with him.

  “Ricky,” she said, “maybe Sam can show you the moves he used to defeat the kidnapper.”

  “Sam was actually about to get his throat stabbed before Galo saved him,” Ricky said. “I don’t need to study his moves.” His voice was grating, a bit whiny, cold.

  “Do we have more guards now?” I asked.

  “No. Papa doesn’t trust anyone else on the island. We could fly in some from Miami but he said no.”

  So. Just the four, and now they’d be on high alert.

  “So thank you, Sam. I don’t think earlier I thanked you,” Zhanna said this last bit with the barest tone of apology.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Ricky glanced back at us, a frown on his face. “You’re welcome too,” I told him. He ignored me.

  At the end of the hall we reached a staircase and we went down to a foyer that divided kitchen and dining room. The dining room was large, with a massive wooden table of deep mahogany. Behind it, on each wall, was art. Modern stuff, but clearly inspired by the scenery of the Caribbean. At least there were no dead wives watching us. Cori and Galo sat at the table, and Kent sat next to Galo.

  “Ah, the hero awakens.” Galo tried a smile that didn’t quite work. Cori got up and took me from Zhanna—who’d let go of my arm as soon as we’d entered the dining room—and steered me to a chair between her and Galo.

  “Do you feel like eating?” she asked. Her grip on my arm was strong, purposefully tight. Danger signal, I thought.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m starving.”

  “The doctor said you should eat,” Cori said. “We’re having steak and salad.”

  Kent nodded at me. His dark glasses masked his eyes.

  “Wine?” he said. I saw he and Galo and Cori all had glasses, and an opened bottle of dark-red Zinfandel stood on the table. Galo looked tired, as though the weight of shooting a man had firmly settled on his shoulders. Cori seemed tense. Zhanna drank from a bottle of black tea, fidgety.

  “No, thank you, just water. I’m thirsty.”

  What do you talk about when no one wants to talk about the dead man? Or whether it’s safe to walk outside. The Varelas talked about sports and weather and audiobooks. Ricky and another guard brought in the steaks, baked potatoes, and bowls of salad. I ate my steak and said little.

  Find the map, the burnt man had told me. The ancient map of the family, in this case. Zhanna was the stormy seas on the map, always looking to be slighted, looking for an excuse to love, an excuse to be angry. Kent was steady, a lighthouse. When he spoke they listened. Cori was the distant island, a bit apart from the others. And Galo? I couldn’t decide. He was in a way the center, the bright sun, by the force of personality that not even his disquiet over having killed a man could eclipse. But he seemed tugged, like the moon, trying to please them all and pleasing no one. I drew a little map in my head. Varela-land. I was the dragon, in the corner of the sea, the unseen danger of the unknown.

  We’d just finished eating when Rey Varela came in and stood near Galo, surveying the remains of the dinner, and said, “I want to talk about today.”

  His eyes didn’t seem dulled by sedative or dementia. He stared right at me.

  26

  HE LOOKED LIKE a faded lion.

  We followed Rey Varela into the living room. He walked toward a large, ornate carved chair, gorgeous polished mahogany with a towering back lined with antique scrollwork; it looked like a throne. Before he sat down he came to me and asked, “Are you all right?” He reached out toward my purpled face—the bruise had deepened as I slept—but he didn’t touch me. He frowned, looked over at Galo. I wondered if they’d already talked about the shooting.

  I risked a smile and shook his hand. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Your bravery won’t be forgotten.” Rey Varela wore a black bathrobe and black pajama pants. He seemed frail and strong all at once: frail from the physical travails of the day, strong from a heat inside himself. This was not a man, I guessed, easily scared or bent. He eyed his children with a knowing gaze. I noticed his glance lingered longest on Cordelia, his mouth working, as though uncertain of the words.

  He released my hand from his grip and he sat in the thronelike chair. The rest of us sat on the more comfortable, softer seats that were arranged in a semicircle around Rey. Cori sat next to me. Zhanna and Kent were on my other side, Galo across from us and next to them.

  Rey said, “I need to talk with all of you about what has happened. And what we’re going to do about it.”

  Zhanna said, “Papa, while we’re all grateful to Sam for what he did today, I think if this is family business it should stay private. Just family. And this isn’t for Cori’s ears either.”

  I looked at her. “You want me and Cori to leave? We will. But you have to tell us who’s attacking the family.”

  Rey crooked a smile at me. “I like you. But you don’t set conditions.”

  “Then I don’t have to tell you what the kidnapper told me. It might affect your decisions here today.”

  Rey shifted in his seat, wiped a finger along his stubbly chin. “This doesn’t concern Cordelia.”

  “That ship has sailed, sir,” I said. “Cori knows. I know. So that dance is done.” I looked at all of them. “Ten million dollars you can’t explain, even with assertions and faked paperwork. You’re all a bit dirty, except there seems to be this big concern that Galo not be.”

  Rey’s mouth narrowed. “You said the kidnapper said something to you. I don’t remember him saying anything.”

  “You were drugged and had taken a couple of hard hits,” I said.

  “Well, I still threw a rock at him to help the fight. I still got it. No matter what my children think of me.”

  “Papa…” Galo began.

  Rey held up a hand. “What was said?”

  “Uh-uh. First you tell us who is after you.”

  He just stared at me, but then Zhanna interjected, “We don’t know for certain.” Then Rey glanced at her, as if annoyed she’d even bothered to answer me.

  “Is that money stolen?” I asked.

  “Of course not,” Zhanna said. “We’re not thieves.”

  Rey studied me. He seemed to decide. “Here’s the thing. I’m stepping down; the kids can run the company. So they can decide whether or not they need you.”

  You could feel the tension shift in the room. “Stepping down?” Galo asked.

  “Yes.” An odd little smile touched his lips. “You killed a man for me.”

  Galo looked down at the floor. “Yes, sir.”

  Was he going to pat his son on the head? Tell him he appreciated him saving his life? Ask him how he was holding up?

  Rey said, quietly, “Glad you grew a pair, but that was a mistake. We could have learned who he was.”

  Galo looked up from the floor, his mouth twisting. “But he was going to kill you and Sam.”

  “He would have killed me if he wanted me dead. Why bother dragging me to the beach?”

  “I didn’t want him to hurt you or take you, Papa.”

  “It was a mistake. You cannot have bloodied hands, Galo.”

  “It’s a little late for that, Papa. I shot a man.” Galo’s voice rose.

  “Get over it,” Rey snapped. “Honestly. Today you get to be shocked. Tomorrow, stand
tall. Be a man.” He glanced at Zhanna and she smirked back at him, as though a message had passed between them.

  In that moment, I felt for Galo. The room was so silent it seemed like none of us knew how to breathe.

  The smirk wavered on Rey’s face. “Men try to shoot me sometimes when I load the planes, when I taxi down the runway in the hellholes in Africa. You think I sit around and think about it and feel sorry for myself? No.”

  “Papa, you don’t fly anymore,” Cori said, but he waved away her words.

  “Yes, sir,” Galo said, barely a whisper.

  “Better you than him, eh?” Rey said.

  “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Whoever it was, they’ll send someone else.”

  Silence.

  “What is clear is that we are under attack, and a change must be made,” Rey said. “It’s time.”

  “Change,” Galo said. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ve run both the businesses for far too long,” Rey said. “I’m a target because I am seen as weak for some reason. Although I’m not.”

  “Of course not, Papa,” Galo said.

  Both, he said. Both the businesses.

  “And because I am seen as weak, we are seen as weak,” Rey said. “So. I’m passing what I’ve built to the three of you. Galo. You will take over FastFlex as CEO.”

  “All of it?” I could hear the incredulousness in his voice.

  “Yes.”

  I saw Zhanna tighten her grip on Kent’s hand. Kent tilted his head up slightly, as though listening to words no one else could hear.

  “Thank you, Papa.” But Galo sounded hesitant. “I thought…given what has happened. We might sell the company and shut down the…” He stopped, withered by his father’s sudden glare.

  “Sell? Never. Don’t you want what I’ve built for you?” Rey’s voice became harsh. “Maybe I could give it to Zhanna if you don’t want it. She’s tougher than you in some ways.”

  “I do want it, but…”

  This was painful. Watching him play one against the other.

  “Take it or don’t.” Rey seemed bored now.

  “Yes, Papa, I’ll be CEO.” But in those few words I thought I could hear Galo longing to be free. To do something else. I’d been there. Aren’t you going to go into relief work like your parents and your brother, Sam? Oh, no? And the implicit suggestion that I was somehow selfish for wanting a life of my own.