by Jeff Abbott
I smiled at the flight attendant as he collected our empty glasses. We were in first class.
“You look like you’re happy to be back in Miami,” he said.
“Oh, we are,” I said. Next to me, Edwin stared out at the skyline, the one he probably thought he’d never see again.
The morning flight landed and we didn’t have luggage, only backpacks bought in São Paulo. Mila waited outside in a Mercedes and we climbed into the backseat together.
“Hi. Mila, this is Edwin Varela,” I said.
“Lovely to meet you, Edwin. And you’re welcome, Sam,” she said as she drove into the exit lanes.
“I think I’ve said thank you multiple times,” I said. “But thank you again.” Mila had flown in a team to help extract our little band once we reached a village three days after the escape (including two doctors, who relieved us of our subcutaneous trackers). Her people had gotten me and Edwin passports, wired money, arranged travel. The team also dispatched Mengele, whose real name was Menendez, along with the other survivors, to a Round Table location for debriefing and assistance. I was fairly sure said location was my bar in Rio de Janeiro, which sat inside a high-rise hotel owned by the Round Table, where they all could be hidden until we figured out what to do with them. I’m sure the Hungarian was having a great time. No one could go home yet. Except Edwin and me.
The Round Table, the CIA no one knows about. Mila and Jimmy didn’t want to tell me its secrets. Did I really want to know? Not now. Not while they were useful to me. “What is the situation this morning?” I asked.
“Ricky is presumed guilty in Zhanna’s poisoning. There was evidence he’d been in the apartment. A combination of poisons found in his house. Financial records indicating she’d been embezzling from the company and feeding him money. And notes left between them. A relationship—she ended it; he took it badly. The police are looking for him. I suspect he’s at the bottom of the bay, put there by the Varelas to prevent too many police eyes looking too closely at their business. Already the story has begun to fade a bit from the papers.”
“All neatly manufactured. And the police bought this?” I asked.
“They’ve looked very hard at Kent, obviously. The wronged boyfriend. But Ricky’s rather nasty past is making for a good alibi for the family in regards to Zhanna’s death.”
“Was there a DNA test on her baby?” I asked.
“Yes,” Mila said. “The baby was Kent’s.”
I felt punched. I was sure it was Galo’s, just because Zhanna was sure.
“What about Coma Thug?” Carlos Tellez had been the other ticking time bomb in my life, if he talked about being chased from my bar.
Mila glanced at me. “We monitored police communications. According to an e-mail sent by the detective assigned to the case, he finally asked to make a phone call to a lawyer but instead of calling an attorney here in Miami, he called an unlisted number in Virginia from a hospital phone. Two days later he was dead. Aneurysm. He never gave any statement to the police or answered questions.”
“Silenced,” I said. Or maybe his injuries really had caught up with him. Maybe the number he called was whatever back corner of the government had contributed to Nanny’s prison. I remembered they’d found a matchbook from a Washington bar in his pocket. “Did you get that number?”
“We haven’t hacked into the hospital phone records yet. By the way, Paige is a gem and I think you should hire her as a manager. She’s working on getting that number.”
“Has Cori come by looking for me?”
“She did the first day. Not since.”
Because after that first day she knew I was in Kent’s power, at his mercy. “I’m sure she’s being watched. And I don’t want Kent knowing we’ve returned. No doubt he knows that the prison escape happened.”
“Does he?” Mila asked. “The Varelas are just a transport arm, used only when needed. They may not be privy to more information.”
“Surely they’d warn him. Ricky is dead; Kent has lost his ‘eyes’ here in the family, because I think that’s what Ricky was to him. Together they would be able to keep the Varelas in line for the clients. Trusted, and close to being family, and above suspicion. Just like how Zhanna’s mother was their spy.”
“So where do we go, Sam?” Mila asked. “I am not fond of being your chauffeur. Also, you have a nice suit but your face, ugh, the jungle didn’t agree with you.”
“I want to see my family,” Edwin said. “Well, my sister at least.”
“I know, but we have to be careful. You can’t just reappear and announce you’re back. The news media will want to know where you’ve been for four years.”
“So what do we do?” he asked. He wanted the people behind the prison burned to the ground, and I didn’t blame him, but he was furious and impatient and I’d spent days convincing him not to go straight to the press in Rio, to play it my way. I thought I had him convinced. But Edwin could ruin everything with a single phone call to the Miami newspaper or a cable television channel. So I had to give him what he wanted, even at a risk.
“You want to see Cori. Okay.” I dialed Cori’s number. She answered on the third ring.
“Cordelia. It’s Sam.”
Her voice was a whisper. “Oh my God, where are you?”
“Close. I’d like to see you.”
“What…I don’t know if that’s possible. They watch me now. All the time.”
“That’s okay. How many follow you?”
“Two guys. They look like FBI agents. Dark glasses, suit.”
“Okay, so they follow you. Let’s flush them out. Come to The Barnacle park in Coconut Grove; it’s right by the bar. Walk down past the old house, down to the mangroves and the woodworking shop. I’ll see you then.”
“But if they follow me…”
“I’ll deal with them.”
“Sam, Papa—he’s gotten much worse. He’s raving most of the time. Zhanna and Ricky dying, it’s unhinged him. The clients threatened me. And Galo. We have to stay quiet…”
“We’ll get your father some help.” Beside me I felt Edwin get tense. “How is Sergei?”
“Not well. Zhanna’s death has undone him. Even with all the bitterness—she was still his daughter.” And wasn’t that the awful truth? Death made a family division complete. I just wondered if he’d made his move yet to take over the business.
“Meet me at the park. Twenty minutes.” I hung up.
Edwin gripped my arm. “You didn’t tell her I’m with you.”
“Let’s see how she reacts,” I said.
“I can’t believe this. I’m home.” Edwin stared out at the passing sights of Miami like it was Wonderland.
63
THE BARNACLE STATE Park was a strip of land used as a dock by Coconut Grove’s original families—both Anglo settlers and Bahamian immigrants—to bring in supplies. A building original to the settlers stood in the middle and you walked down a tree-lined path to reach it (being asked to abide by an honor-system donation of a couple of dollars—I dropped in a ten, in case of damage in the next few minutes). It led down to a boatwright’s workshop and an old dock, edged with mangroves, that had been there long before man and would be there long after. Edwin waited in the shadow of the woodworking shack, watching a man plane the wood of a boat. I wondered if the boatwright only worked when a tourist stood close by.
“I’m shaking,” Edwin said. He blinked at me.
“She loves you.”
I went and stood on the other side of the house, out of sight, cell-phone ear bud in place so I could hear Mila. From my spot I could see Edwin, and I could see the one path Cori could take down toward the boatwright’s studio.
Edwin waited, fidgeting. He wasn’t used to life without rigor, without guidance.
I saw Cori. And I saw Galo, walking with her. They hurried past the house and then I heard Cori give a shocked, brief little cry. I watched from the corner. Edwin had raised his hand in a slight, shaky wave.
Cord
elia and Galo froze for three long seconds and then she screamed and ran for Edwin. He ran toward her. The twins threw themselves into each other’s arms, Cori sobbing. Galo hurried up behind them, disbelief and joy fighting on his face, and the twins made room for him to join the hug.
The three children of Rey Varela brought back together, happy for a moment, siblings not dealing with their opposite three: an amoral father, a monstrous stepsister, a scheming, backstabbing adviser.
I blinked. Something in my eye.
Then Mila’s voice in my ear: “Trackers at six o’clock relative to you.” She was positioned near the park’s entrance.
I turned. Two men, in jeans and short-sleeved shirts, ear buds in, watching the reunion. One turned immediately and walked away.
“One heading back to you,” I said.
“I see him. He’s so darling. I’ll stop him for a little chat.”
I saw the other one watching and he began to move forward, toward the Varelas, and I ran out of the shadows and punched him. There weren’t any tourists around and the park employees were inside the old settler house. It was a good punch, devastating, and he lifted up off the ground and smashed into the path. I picked him up and dragged him by his collar past the house, around some bushes, and into the restroom building. I kicked the door shut and propped him on the toilet. He was starting to come around, spitting blood. My hand was bloodied where it had caught a tooth.
“I’d like to know who you work for,” I said. “Kent? Did he send you?”
The guy’s gaze wasn’t quite focused. I pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Did Kent send you?”
Dazed, he nodded.
“CIA?”
He wouldn’t answer. I yanked his phone, checked the call log. Last call to a northern Virginia area code. The dark shadow, coming to life. I pressed the number.
“Grantham Pet Store.”
I thought this was right up there with New Horizons Dental Care. “You tell Kent Severin to withdraw from Miami. You tell him to pack up his crew and leave the Varelas alone.”
“Sir, you have the wrong number. This is a pet store.”
“I’m the guy that shut down the prison in Brazil,” I said. “Don’t mess with me. You connect me to whoever’s in charge.”
“This is a pet store, sir.”
“I took this phone from your man following the Varelas. I am going to shoot him if you don’t connect me to your boss.”
“One moment, sir.” Ten seconds later a woman’s voice came on the line. “Yes?”
“I bet your hired Colombian in the Miami hospital called this number, as did the guy following the Varela family. It stops now. It’s over. Over. You pull out Kent Severin and whatever leftovers were backing Ricky.”
“You certainly are full of demands,” the woman said.
“You are certainly full of problems. Prison’s emptied, survivors ready to tell the press about you, and you’ve lost your transport arm. Life is tough at Omega Investments, isn’t it?” Just a stab, just a guess.
It hit home. I heard the woman’s angry intake of breath. “And if I give in to your demands, then what?”
“Then you leave the Varelas alone. Forever. No more underside business with them. Or I will go to the press with what I know.”
“That would destroy them too.”
“Maybe. Or maybe they cut a deal with the federal prosecutors here in Miami. Rey Varela’s given a lot to this town. He bought his respectability. He’s mentally slipping. They’d probably make him one more deal.”
“Maybe him. But one of his kids would have to take the blame. Life’s unfair that way.”
“You’re about to find out how unfair life is. I have the resources to come after you. I really want to come after you. But I think you’re going to find yourself shut down soon enough, because you’ve gone from being an information feed to an information leak. A scandal. A career-ender. You’re going to get shut down and your dirty little crowd will scatter to the winds, and I think that’s all I can hope for. But if you aren’t, I will find out. And I’ll come for you.”
“I’ll find out who you are. Who you really are. It won’t be so hard.”
“I killed Nanny with just a book,” I said. “I killed her guard with just a pencil. And now I have people willing to spill their guts about you,” I took a deep breath. “I offer you a truce. We’ll stay quiet. I expect Kent Severin to leave and to never contact the Varelas again. I expect Sergei to leave the company alone.”
She made me wait ten seconds. Then she said, “It’ll be done.” And then she hung up. Good. I wanted Kent running. Because I thought I knew where he would run. And there I could trap him.
I took the guy’s phone and left him sitting, still dazed. I went back outside and the Varelas were still standing together, blind to the world. Except for Galo, who broke away from his sister and his brother and hurried toward me. He stopped short of me. I’d killed his best friend. But I’d also brought his brother back to him.
I waited to see what his reaction would be.
“You brought us Eddie. You found him.”
“Yes.” I kept my voice cool.
“Thank you, thank you.” Tears welled in his eyes. “Sam, I tried to stop Kent, I swear I did…”
“I don’t believe you, Galo.” But I remembered him pleading for Kent to not hurt me on the boat. A final memory from that day.
“He said…what they were doing, it was for the government. A secret contract that broke international law but we had to do it. Because of Papa’s past.” His voice broke. “You were my friend. He said you were a hostile agent, sent to infiltrate us.” He laughed, a shattered sound. “He said they were sending you to be questioned…Kent and Ricky aren’t who I thought they were. And Zhanna…” He glanced back at his brother. “Where…where was he?”
“I think you know.”
He shook his head. “I don’t, I don’t know. I didn’t know!”
And what had Zhanna and Rey kept saying in Puerto Rico? Galo had to be the face of the company. He had to be kept clean. Maybe he truly didn’t know.
“Your company has been shipping people from all over the world to a secret prison deep in the Brazilian jungles. Your brother was shipped there, by Kent, four years ago, because he found out the truth.”
It was like a physical blow. “Oh my God.”
“I think Ricky’s family had long, deep ties to the CIA. So does Kent, but to something off the books, not legitimate. It may not be what you think of as a government agency. It’s a dark corner, somewhere, maybe a cancer inside, obviously unencumbered by the rule of law. I’m taking care of Kent. Just stay out of my way.”
“I have to make this right. Papa, the company, my brother…Kent must have been the one to kill Zhanna…”
“Stay out of it.”
His face crumpled. “I want to kill him. I want to make him pay.”
“You have Edwin back,” I said gently.
“Because of you. Kent took him from us.”
“I will deal with Kent. But if you kill him, you could lose everything, Galo. Your company. Your family. Just let it go.”
“What do we tell people? We can’t tell them the truth…Eddie can’t tell them the truth. The company…” His voice trailed off.
“Was built on a lot of lies, and now it’s done,” I said. “You’re not the guilty party. Your father and Kent and Zhanna are. You and the twins are going to have to decide how to move forward. Go to the FBI. Tell all and make a deal.”
“But I’m the face of the company now,” Galo said. “It’s mine. I can’t…”
I can’t lose it, he was going to say. He couldn’t lose the comfortable, enviable life he had. I glanced over at Cori and Edwin. They were survivors. They could restart. Galo had been shaped too much by his father, his family, to be anything except what he’d been told to be.
“Kent’s at home.” He glanced toward Edwin. “I’m going to call Papa and I’m going to get him here to see Eddie.”
“He may have known Edwin was in the prison.”
“No way. No way.”
“And what will you do if he knew?”
I went to the twins and for the first time Cori let her brother go and put her head against my shoulder and said, “Thank you, thank you.”
Life is weird. I’d been determined to bring down the Varelas and instead I’d saved them.
So I thought.
64
MILA AND THE second guard had concluded their “chat”—and he’d surrendered both his weapon and his car keys to her. I don’t ask. He’d gone to retrieve his semiconscious partner in the bathroom. We left, quickly. Mila threw the car keys over a stone wall into heavy greenery.
“To the apartment?” Mila asked.
“No,” I said. “The bar. It’s closer. Let’s end this.”
The bar was locked, the Closed sign hung on it. I opened it and hurried them all inside. The siblings kept looking at each other, stunned, like the truth was too bright a light to bear. Cori kept holding on to Edwin’s arm like he might vanish in a wisp of smoke.
“I’m going to deal with Kent,” I said. “But the three of you have to decide what the future is going to be. These people who run the prison are either going to go underground and not try to restart it, or they will. The escapees will be talking. My hope is they’ll want nothing to do with you now.”
“I’m telling the police everything I know,” Edwin said.
“You can’t. It’ll destroy us,” Galo said. “FastFlex will be ruined.”
“I don’t care,” Edwin said.
“We’ll lose everything,” Galo said.
“I don’t care,” Edwin repeated.
“Your brother has been through hell,” I said to Galo. “Perhaps you should listen to him.”
“I’m grateful to you for your help,” Galo said, “but this is a family matter.”
