Thread of Revenge (The Joe Tyler Series, #6)

by Jeff Shelby

  He shook my hand. “Like I said. This is nothing. Let me know if I can do anything else. Good luck, man.”

  I watched him go back down the hall, nodding at the two guys as he passed them.

  I took a deep breath, exhaled, then stepped through the doorway.

  The room was small, almost like an office, with two leather armchairs and a couple of side tables. There were some nondescript paintings mounted on the burgundy walls, landscapes, mostly, and a dark brown curtain covered the only window.

  “Mr. Tyler,” Dominic Stefano said, standing up from the chair he'd been sitting in. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  I shook Stefano's small, frail hand. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

  Stefano nodded as if it were no big deal, then gestured for me to sit.

  I sat down and tried to take a good look at him without staring overtly. Thinning gray hair, combed to the side. Tanned skin that had an artificial tint to it. Big, green eyes. His small frame was slightly stooped and his black turtleneck sweater looked almost too big for him. I put him somewhere in his early seventies.

  Stefano smiled at me, much in the same way a kindly grandfather might. His teeth were straight, coffee-stained, and if I didn’t know better, it looked like we were settling down for a nice, friendly chat as opposed to what was really on the agenda.

  “I've heard of you,” he said, easing himself back into a chair that matched the one I was sitting in. “When you found Peter's boy, I heard your name. That was a great thing you did.”

  Finding Marc hadn't been overly difficult. It had just taken some persistence and talking to the right people. He'd left on his own, and those people were always easier to find than those who were taken against their will.

  “I'm just glad I was able to help,” I said.

  He ran a bony hand down the front of his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. “Lot of people went looking for Marc. You were the only one who found him. Says something. I know Peter was very grateful. God rest his soul.” He paused. “Peter and I were rivals of a sort, but I was sorry to hear of his passing. We didn't agree on many things, but he was always fair and professional.”

  I wondered what those things meant in the world they inhabited.

  He crossed his legs and set his hands on the arms of the chair. “So, I understand you have a...business proposition for me. I'm intrigued.”

  I shifted in the chair, trying to quell the unease I felt. He was like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. So calm, so nice. He reminded me of Anchor, at least the Anchor I’d known in the beginning. “I'm not sure if you'd call it a business proposition. But I'm in...a situation, and Marc believes you might be able to assist me.”

  He raised a bushy eyebrow, waiting.

  “I'm at odds with John Anchor,” I said.

  At the mention of Anchor's name, Stefano's entire countenance changed. The kindly old grandfather disappeared, replaced by a man who looked very much like someone who would be capable of killing a man, and killing on a whim.

  “John Anchor,” he said, carefully enunciating each syllable. “And might I ask why you are at odds with that man?”

  “Are you aware that Mr. Codaselli was kind enough to help me find my own daughter?” I asked.

  He shook his head slowly, indicating he was not.

  “I was originally here in Minnesota looking for her,” I explained. “That was how I became involved with the search for Marc. The details aren't important, but Mr. Codaselli graciously offered to help me after I helped him.”

  “That sounds very much like Peter,” he said, his hands patting the arms of the chair.

  “Unfortunately, it was a complicated process,” I said. “By the time I located my daughter, I ended up in his debt. Which I fully understood and accepted.”

  Stefano watched me carefully, then gave a curt nod.

  “But my dealings were solely with Anchor,” I continued. “When he came to me to...repay the debt, I won't lie to you. I wasn't thrilled with the task. And I made a mistake.”

  He raised the eyebrow again. “A mistake?”

  I nodded. “I lied to Anchor. He asked me to do something and I told him I did it, when I did not. I thought I solved the problem and that it wouldn't be an issue. I was wrong, though.”

  A thin, cold smile spread across Stefano's face. “You lied to John? Oh, I'll bet he didn't care much for that.”

  “No, he didn't,” I said. “And that's why I'm here. He realized that I lied to him. He took my wife and told me I needed to make amends.”

  The smile disappeared from Stefano's face and his eyes narrowed to small, sharp slits.

  “I made amends,” I said. “I completed the original task as was originally asked. When I notified him of this, he refused to release her.” I paused. “He has her right now.”

  He stared at me for nearly a full minute before leaning back into his chair. “He has kept her? Even after you...atoned for your mistake?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  He uncrossed and then recrossed his legs. “I wish I could say this surprises me. But it's John, so it doesn't.” He eyed me steadily. “Might I ask if Peter was aware of your debt?”

  “I honestly can't say,” I told him. “All of my dealings were with Anchor. And to be clear, Mr. Stefano, I was aware of what I was getting myself into when I asked him for more assistance, and when I lied to him. I wasn't ignorant. I knew I was taking a risk when I lied to him. I own that mistake.” I swallowed. “But our deal was for me to complete the task and then I'd get my wife back. I'm here to get my wife.”

  He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and tented his fingers together. “I fear for your wife, Mr. Tyler. John Anchor is a despicable man, and it comes as no surprise to me that he has reneged on your agreement.” He stared at his long fingers for a moment before he moved his gaze to me. “You're aware of the phrase 'Honor among thieves,' I assume?”

  I nodded.

  “Peter and I. We had no misconceptions about who we are or what we are,” Stefano said. “Or were, I suppose. We chose ours paths and we've had to live with that, each of us in different ways. I think Peter chose to be such a presence in the community and to give away so much of his money as a way to cleanse himself of all the less than savory things he had his hands in. I do the same in my own way, if I'm being honest.” He eyed me. “And we operated within the bounds of our profession. It may not seem to outsiders that we have rules, but we do. Skewed, perhaps, but there are rules. And men like Peter and myself, we don't live this long if we don't learn how to live and respect those rules.” His eyes narrowed. “John Anchor doesn't respect those rules. He never has.”

  “Then why did Mr. Codaselli keep him around?” I asked.

  “That's a great question, and not one I have the answer to,” Stefano said. “Perhaps because he was willing to do the so-called dirty work and allow Peter to stay above it. I don't know. But I can tell you that Anchor has been an embarrassment to our business for as long as I can recall.” He tapped his fingers together. “He has no honor.”

  Nothing Stefano was telling me was putting me at ease. He was confirming my worst thoughts about Anchor and my anxiety was ratcheting up even further than before I'd walked into the coffee shop.

  “It's my belief that John Anchor has taken the lives of several people in my organization,” Stefano said. He said this slowly, his eyes hardened, as if he were reliving each memory. “And I don't believe it was done with Peter's consent. I believe he took advantage of the latitude he was given when Peter took ill. Maybe I'm being a foolish old man with that belief, but that's what I believe. I have no use for that man.”

  I nodded, trying to balance my patience with his need to talk. I knew how many hours were left before my deadline, and I couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

  “So,” he said. “Perhaps we can help one another here.”

  I nodded again, maybe a little too eagerly. “Perhaps.”

  “Am I correct in thinkin
g you're here to ask me about extinguishing Anchor?” he asked, his eyes hard and icy.

  “If it comes to that, yes.”

  He chuckled. “It always comes to that with Anchor. I can guarantee it.” Stefano looked forward. “It's all or nothing with him.”

  “Alright. My first concern is Lauren. My wife.”

  He nodded and sat back. “Of course.” He worked his jaw back and forth for a moment. “I can offer you this. My organization has been looking for an opportunity to remove Anchor. This seems fortuitous. Of course, if we were to do this, you would be in the same situation you were before with John.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He seemed perplexed my confusion. “Certainly you understand the parameters, Mr. Tyler. I can't just arrange something for nothing.”

  Now I understood. “I'm not asking you to take him out for me.”

  “You're not?” His surprise was audible.

  “No. I just need you to get me to him.”

  He studied me for a moment, like I was a picture he couldn't quite make out. “Mr. Tyler. I'm sure you're quite capable, but I can assure you that my employees are far more capable in this type of work than you. That isn't arrogance. That's just a fact.”

  “I'm sure they are,” I said. “But I'm not looking to create another debt like this. I won't do it again.”

  He worked his jaw again. “I'm not sure there's another way, though. You can't ask me to take care of Anchor and then not expect me to ask for something in return. That isn't how it works.”

  “All I'm asking for is a way to get to Anchor,” I said. “That's it. Nothing more.”

  He winced, like he'd just been stung by a bee. “I don't think I can entrust an endeavor like that to someone I've just met.”

  “I'm not asking you to.” I shook my head, frustrated, the ticking louder in my head. I stood. “I'm sorry I've wasted your time here, Mr. Stefano. But I'm not asking you to go after Anchor. I'm not willing to get into that situation again. I'm not looking for that kind of favor. I'll find another way to get to him.”

  Stefano stared at me with those cold eyes. Then he said, “Sit down, Mr. Tyler. Let's work this out.”

  TWENTY NINE

  One of his handlers brought Dominic Stefano a cup of coffee and set it on the table between us, then exited without saying a word.

  Stefano picked up the mug. It shook a little as he brought it to his mouth and he blew across it before taking a sip. “It seems as if our interests are...similar.”

  I sat down on the edge of the chair. “Mr. Stefano, I greatly appreciate your time on such short notice. I truly do. But I'm working against a clock here and I'm afraid for my wife's life. If you can help me, I need to hear it now. Otherwise, I need to go and find another way.”

  Stefano sipped again and then held it delicately with both of his hands. I wondered if he needed to do this to stabilize the mug or if he just wanted to absorb its warmth. “Anchor is a difficult man to get to. I'm sure you know this.”

  “I assumed it, yeah.” Marc had told me as much, and I knew from my own dealings with Anchor that he held all the cards. Not once had we ever met anywhere but a public space and, more often than not, he’d decided on the location.

  He nodded. “You assumed correctly. He's paranoid. And for good reason. He doesn't have many friends in this community. And with Peter gone, I believe the target on his back has grown in size. As has his vulnerability. People are no longer willing to excuse his behavior because of his association with Peter. He knows this. So he's rarely without protection.”

  Vulnerable was not a word I’d associate with Anchor, but I liked the sound of it. I needed him to be vulnerable. Fallible.

  “Marc told me that Anchor's attempting to run Mr. Codaselli's business,” I said.

  Stefano stared into the coffee, a frown on his wrinkled face, as if he just realized his drink contained something sour. “That's accurate, which is an insult in numerous ways.” He glanced at me. “He's made many people unhappy at this point. Removing him from...his position...would benefit many of us right now. Of course, any direct attempt on his life from my associates could trigger a war that I don't wish to partake in. There are still loyalties to consider, and any overt attempt to remove John by my organization would be seen as hostile and thus require a response. I do not want that. Rather, I do not want to be seen as responsible for that.”

  A tiny blossom of hope bloomed inside me. I waited.

  “So I think I see a solution that might benefit both of us and mitigate either of us being in the debt of the other,” he said. With some effort, he set the coffee on the table and then folded his arms across his chest. “I can give you a way to get to Mr. Anchor. As you might suspect, we keep close tabs on him. For a variety of reasons.” His smile was chilling. “So we are privileged to information others might not have. But I have to ask you a question before we move forward.” His eyes bore into me. “Have you done this kind of work before?”

  I knew that giving him truthful answers could put me at risk. Admitting what I'd done didn't seem smart in any way. But I was also running out of time, and I needed to make certain he and I were on the same page, and that he had no doubt I was capable of seeing this through.

  “The two men who were ultimately responsible for my daughter's abduction,” I said. “Those are my references. But you'll have to take my word for it because they can no longer speak for themselves.”

  Stefano watched me, no doubt looking to see if he could read anything into my words or my body language.

  I let him look.

  “Certainly you understand that if things were to go awry, my involvement couldn't be mentioned,” he finally said. “As I've already said, I'm not looking to start a war. I have no issue with Peter's organization. It is Anchor that I take issue with. So you would be on an island, as they say.”

  “Goes without saying. But, yes. I understand that. As long as you understand that this in no way would put me in your debt.”

  He hesitated, then nodded solemnly. “Yes. That is our agreement.” He pushed himself out of the chair and his legs shook under the weight. He managed to balance himself, then smoothed down his shirt again. “Alright. I believe our goals are the same. Please remain here. I'm going to leave. Within thirty minutes, I will have something delivered to you. It should have information that will be helpful to your objective.”

  My pulse quickened. The notion of waiting thirty minutes didn't feel good, but I knew it was the only option I had. Stefano was the only avenue available to me in finding Anchor, and if he told me to wait, I didn’t have much choice. If I was going to take Stefano's offer of help, I had to trust that what he had for me would get me to Anchor, and that I would get it in time. I didn’t like trusting or relying on other people, but it was all I had.

  “Okay,” I said, standing. “I'll stay here.”

  He held out his hand. “It's been a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tyler. I'm sorry it's under these circumstances.”

  I shook his hand. “Me, too.”

  His dark eyes glittered. “But perhaps you'll be able to turn things around. In a way that benefits both of us.”

  I didn't know what to say that, so I just nodded and watched him leave the room.

  THIRTY

  The wait was brutal.

  Every voice in the café, every clink of every mug, every vibration from other cellphones was amplified as I waited on Stefano to return with whatever he had for me. I didn't understand where he had to go or what he needed to do, but I tried to focus on the fact that he was going to give me something that might help Lauren. I wasn't kidding myself. He wasn't being altruistic in his help. He wanted Anchor out of the way, and I'd given him a way to accomplish that without even being involved. He hadn't really wanted to send his own men to do the job and he'd probably been relieved when I didn't want to strike that deal. Simply giving me a way to get to him was far easier and far cleaner for him. My interest in Anchor was probably going to save him a lot of headac
hes, assuming I could actually do what I wanted to do.

  I paced the small sitting room at the back of the café. On instinct, I pulled at the curtain hiding the window, tugging it to the right so I could look outside. Cars moved quickly, and walkers and bikers navigated the same space with caution for each other. A delivery truck was parked a block up the road, its hazards flashing as the driver unloaded a dolly stacked with boxes. Life went on. People were busy heading to work, grabbing coffee, exercising in the weak morning sunshine, talking and laughing.

  And I was trying to save my wife’s life.

  I pulled out my cellphone and dialed Marc's number to let him know I'd met with Stefano and that it had gone okay. I got his voicemail, though, and hung up.

  I squeezed the phone for a moment, watching the window. More cars, more people. More normalcy.

  Then I dialed Anchor.

  I wasn't sure what I wanted to say to him. Maybe I just wanted to establish contact with him, maybe I wanted to try to extract something about how Lauren was.

  But he didn't pick up.

  I was irritated now, and the little alarm inside my head went off. Maybe everything wasn’t all right. Maybe Marc wasn’t to be trusted. Maybe Anchor had found out I’d met with him, and had intercepted him. Maybe Anchor was already plotting his revenge for this latest infraction, something even more sinister this time.

  I dialed the number I got from Carter, left the voicemail, and waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  After fifteen minutes, I tried again, this time with shaking hands.

  No call back.

  I stared at the phone for a few seconds.

  I tried to hold off the panic that was trying to invade my head. I reminded myself that Marc might have been away from his phone. I reminded myself that Anchor was probably enjoying messing with me.

  And I reminded myself that Carter and Noah were capable of taking care of Elizabeth.

  I reminded myself of all those things, even as I started to think they weren't all true.

  THIRTY ONE

  “Mr. Tyler?” a voice called from behind me.

  I turned from the window and an unassuming guy about my age smiled back at me. Short dark hair, full dark beard, and shoulders that looked like they could carry a mountain if needed.