A Deadly Business

by Desiree Holt

  He nodded. “Not a bad idea.” Then he grinned. “In case we have to defend ourselves against tropical bugs.”

  She laughed, which was what he’d been hoping for, but then she went to get her Baby Glock and put it on the table next to his H&K.

  “We’d better not let the room service waiter see it,” she reminded him, “or he’ll think we’re planning to attack the place.”

  “You never know what things he’s seen here.” But he took one of the towels and placed it over the guns. Then he pulled on a T-shirt that effectively disguised the S&W.

  They were lingering over coffee when the doorbell sounded. Justin checked the video screen on the security monitor, thankful their hosts installed such high-tech protection for their guests.

  “It’s Walt Morganstern,” he told Marissa.

  “Sorry to bother you.” Morganstern followed Justin out to the patio. “I just wanted to touch base.”

  “Thanks. And no bother. As I said the other night, we’re very grateful to you for the hospitality.”

  “Morning, Walt.” Marissa smiled at him. “Sit down and have a cup of coffee.”

  Justin looked around to see where she’d hidden their armory and spotted a pile of towels on the foot of a lounger. Smart girl, he thought. He was pretty sure Walt would understand the necessity of them. But he also didn’t want the man to think they were getting ready for the next world war.

  “I’ll sit, but I think I’ve had my limit of coffee for the morning. I just wanted to make sure Avery had reached you.”

  Justin nodded. “But we both agreed that it’s highly unlikely Stefan Maes will show up here. Among other things, there is no way he could know Marissa is here.”

  Morganstern nodded. “I agree. Although I’m sure we’d all breathe easier if we knew where he’d disappeared to.”

  “No doubt.”

  “I’m sure he’s been working very hard plotting revenge against the people he believes set out to destroy him. We knew from the beginning he wasn’t in this alone, but the one thing I could never find, no matter how deep I looked, were the names of who else was involved in his criminal activities.”

  “Maybe there was no one,” Justin suggested. “I’d guess Maes likes to be the kingpin and not share the glory.”

  Marissa shook her head. “There were too many indicators otherwise, but I’ll give the bastard this. He was a master at hiding the identities of others. And he can’t have been too happy at being hung out to dry by them. I know the CIA watched carefully to see who picked up his activities and funneled money back to him.” She shook her head. “Nada.”

  “Well, whoever they are, I hope they’re heavily armed and well fortified. Anyway, I wanted you to know I did alert my security guards to let me know if anything unusual happened.” He rose from his chair. “I know you’re keeping a low profile here, but you might think about having dinner at the Sunset tonight. We’ve got a five-star chef whose menu is out of this world.” He grinned. “Of course, so is his salary.”

  Justin looked at Marissa, who shook her head. “Thanks for asking, but we’ll pass.”

  “Yeah, I figured, but I thought I’d ask anyway. If you don’t want to chance the crowd at Sunset, we keep the Bistro open until eight. Just in case you want a change.”

  “We’ll think about it. Thanks.”

  “At least you won’t be bothered much today with the sound of helicopters flying in and out.”

  “How so?”

  “No one is leaving until tomorrow and we only have one arrival. Henri Joubert wasn’t well enough to arrive with his friends, but he’s coming in at dinner time tonight.”

  “Yeah?” A nasty little tingle was working its way up Justin’s spine. “He a regular?”

  Morganstern nodded. “Sort of. Last year he came with the other people in that group that arrived Wednesday. He heads an electronics empire in Europe and is one of the nicest people you ever want to meet.”

  “It’s nice that he could join his friends,” Marissa commented.

  “I thought so.” He chuckled. “Actually, his delay was your good fortune. He was booked into Orchid House, so I didn’t have to evict anyone to accommodate you two.”

  “So where is he staying now?” she asked.

  “I put them up in the large suite we keep on hold in the main building. Well, let us know if you need anything. We’re delighted to be able to do this for Avery. Without her our family would have been destroyed.”

  He shook hands with both Justin and Marissa, and Justin walked him to the door, locking up after him.

  “Would you like to try what Walt suggested?” he asked Marissa. “The Bistro, I mean? He said it’s quiet and we could eat out in the covered porch in case we got an itch to leave in a hurry.”

  Marissa frowned. “You think we’d have to? Leave in a hurry, I mean?”

  “No. But I always like to keep my options open.”

  “Well, maybe. We can think about it.” She smiled at him. God, her smile just did it for him. “We don’t have to get dressed up for it. In fact, we don’t even have to go inside the main building to get to it. There’s an entrance from the outside.”

  Justin nodded. “One of the reason I suggested it. We can eat on the porch and not be bothered by anyone. Meanwhile I’m calling Avery to make sure she has the late arrival on her radar and the agency has him vetted.”

  “Good.” Marissa nodded. “I’ll feel better, too. Trusting my instincts kept me alive until they could smuggle me out of London.”

  “Well, I could be seeing gremlins where there aren’t any. But the coincidence of a late arrival on the same day Maes disappears makes my nerves jangle.” He sat down at the table and pulled her into his lap then hit the speed dial on his cell.

  Avery answered at once.

  “Problem? There’s no update on Maes, if that’s why you’re calling.”

  “No, I figured you’d let us know if there was. I just have something I need you to check out.”

  He told her about Henri Joubert and what Walt Morganstern had said.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” he added. “I’d just feel a lot better if Vigilance pulled up his file and made sure there are no changes.”

  “Can do. I’ll get on it right away and I’ll email a copy to you.”

  “He’s due here around seven or so.”

  “On it.”

  He disconnected the call and looked at Marissa. “You heard what I told Avery, right?”

  She nodded. “Walt didn’t seem to be bothered about it. But like we both said, anything that’s the least bit hinky makes my nerves do a jive dance.”

  He leaned back and pulled her body up against his, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s see what Avery has to say before we panic too much about it. But we need to be sure all our weapons are loaded and with us every minute, just in case. Even at the beach.”

  “You’re right. Damn.” She rubbed her forehead. “Sometimes I wish I’d never heard of the CIA.”

  “You did a damn good job for them, Marissa. I’m proud of the work you did.”

  “Thanks.” She frowned. “Too bad it has to blow up in my face.”

  “For the moment, I prescribe a little more sleep followed by some sunshine and maybe a relaxing swim?”

  But even as he said the words, he didn’t think either of them would do much relaxing today. Even if Joubert turned out to be a false alarm, he’d be extra alert until someone discovered where Maes was hiding. Nothing was going to happen to Marissa. He’d make damn sure of it. “Can we take a walk on the beach later?” she asked. “Just a little change of scenery?”

  “Sure, as long as we stick to our private section.”

  Justin handed the H&K to her. “Put this in your little beach tote along with your Glock, and some extra ammo.”

  She lifted her eyebr
ows. “You think we’ll be attacked on the beach?”

  “I think the possibility exists that if Maes finds out where you are, no place is really safe. Do I think he’s waiting to nail us on the sand? No. But I told you. Whatever else happens between us, protecting you is my first priority.” He pulled her next to his body and gave her a hug, then brushed his lips over her forehead. “Now I have even more reason for that. Come on. Let’s take a walk.”

  Chapter 9

  Early afternoon, Desmet woke Maes to let him know lunch was being served.

  Maes left his seat and walked down the aisle to where Henri sat. The man had been so nervous earlier Val had finally given him a sedative and he’d slept. Now Maes woke him and insisted he eat.

  “You need your strength, Henri. After all, you’re just getting over an illness.”

  Joubert looked at him with a volatile mixture of despair, hopelessness, and rage.

  “I’ll be getting over it a lot better when I am home with my family,” he snapped.

  The words would have had more punch if Joubert didn’t look so much like he was about to expire. But Maes simply shrugged.

  “Nevertheless, be sure to eat something.”

  Maes moved toward the front. Where Raca was once again polishing his Tavor assault rifle. The others were all outfitted with Colt M4 carbines, easy to obtain, easy to use, and precise and accurate.

  “You treat that thing better than a baby,” he told the man.

  Raca looked up at him, his face devoid of expression. “There’s no baby that can do what this can.”

  Maes just nodded. “I want you and your men to eat. You must be one hundred percent when we land.”

  “We always are,” Raca assured him and gave him what Val called his dead fish stare.

  Maes returned to his seat, where Val brought him his meal, which he ate sparingly. He never went into battle on a full stomach, and he had no illusions that this was most definitely a battle they were facing. Even if all the firepower would be on one side.

  He spent the balance of the trip with his own laptop, checking and rechecking information on the businesses he was about to destroy. When he left Princessa Key he would be back in command again. No one would dare come after him then. He’d destroy anyone who tried, civilian or government.

  He had just closed his computer when the co-pilot came into the cabin to announce they were almost on the final approach to the Nassau airport. He rose and walked to where Joubert sat, dozing lightly again from the mild sedative.

  “Time to wake up, Henri.” He nudged the man’s shoulder. “We’re almost in Nassau and your role in this game is nearly at an end.”

  The look of relief that came over the man’s face almost made him sad, knowing what was ahead for him. Almost. But Stefan Maes did not feel sorry for anyone. He’d lost that ability before the age of ten, on the streets of Zagreb.

  “And my family?” the man asked, fear etched on his face?

  “They are being taken care of,” he reassured him.

  Only not the way he expected.

  Maes looked him over again and decided he’d do for what they needed.

  Raca and his men still had their weapons out, checking and rechecking. Maes knew they had probably done that the entire trip. Those weapons were like an extension of them, their tools of the trade. Like him, they’d learned before puberty the best way to kill efficiently was to make sure your artillery was ready to use. Now they repacked everything and buckled in for the landing.

  “Is Henri going to make it?” Val asked, when Maes took his seat again.

  “We’ll make sure he does. We don’t need him that much longer.”

  The landing was smooth as glass, and the plane taxied over to the private hangar area. As soon as the door was open and the stairway lowered, Maes tugged Joubert up from his seat.

  “Remember your lines,” he whispered in the man’s ear.

  Then he nudged him down the stairway and onto the tarmac. A man in dark slacks and a spotless white shirt with a dark tie walked out to greet them.

  “Welcome to Nassau,” he said in a lilting accent. “Monsieur Joubert, your helicopter is ready and waiting for you and your guests.”

  “Thank you.” Joubert worked hard to keep his voice steady. “You always take very good care of me.”

  “Our pleasure.” The man gave a slight bow.

  He nodded and led them across the tarmac to where Joubert’s helicopter waited. On paper, this man was dong the mandatory customs check of anything they loaded on the bird. In reality, the fat payment Joubert always transferred to an account for him in the same way Maes and others did had him looking the other way.

  “I see you have a different pilot this time,” the man said in a conversational tone. “Is your regular man ill?”

  “Yes, yes,” Joubert answered him in a nervous voice. “He recommended someone for me.”

  “I see.”

  They were at the chopper now, where a pilot Maes used for his own helo waited for them. Maes was holding Joubert’s arm and gave it a hard squeeze.

  “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Joubert recited the words Maes had fed him. “I appreciate it.”

  “I’m happy I was able to do it,” the man answered, careful to avoid looking directly at Maes.

  Raca and his men had disembarked from the plane carrying their black rigid cases and filed one by one into the body of the large Sikorsky S-92. The pilot greeted them with a smile.

  “Good evening, gentlemen. The preflight is complete. As soon as your party is all on board we are cleared for takeoff.”

  Again, boarding was accomplished with great efficiency. Maes urged Joubert into the chopper, seating him in the cockpit with the pilot so he would have access to the radio. Raca and the others took their seats in the cabin, with Raca himself sitting close to Maes. They all fit nicely into the helicopter, and in minutes they were airborne.

  Maes relaxed his shoulders a fraction. It had all gone well. At Maes instructions, Joubert gave the pilot the information to radio ahead to Rosewood that they were on their way and gave them their approximate ETA. Then he moved Joubert back to a seat by the cabin door. The man had served his purpose well, but it was time to get rid of him.

  “I want to speak to my wife again,” Joubert insisted.

  Maes had anticipated this, and handed the man the sat phone. He waited with controlled impatience until the call was finished. Then he took out his phone and tapped a message to one of the men at Joubert’s house. Do it now. He pushed Send, then strapped himself in and waited for the next task to be completed.

  The flight to Princessa Key was scarcely ten minutes long. When they were about five minutes from the mainland and in clear airspace, Raca slid open the cabin door. Henri Joubert’s screams echoed in their ears as Raca and another man pitched him out of the chopper. They watched him splash into the waters of the Caribbean, and then slid the door closed.

  “Nicely done,” Maes told him. “Now we get ready for the main event.”

  When the helo touched down at Princessa Key, they were ready. Raca and his men held their assault rifles plus belts of additional ammo. Additionally, each carried their handguns now locked and loaded and fitted, for the moment, with suppressors. If they had to fire any bullets, it was important no one heard the shots and gave warning. Added to all that were small packets of Semtex, a general-purpose plastic explosive.

  After double checking each of the weapons and equipment himself, Raca slid the cabin door open and jumped out, his men following him.

  A man wearing what Maes assumed was the uniform of the place stood by an extended golf cart. As soon as they hit the tarmac he walked forward, a puzzled look on his face.

  “Excuse me, I was told—”

  That was as far as he got. At Raca’s nod, one of the men stepped forward and pumped six bul
lets into the man from his suppressed Walther PPK. The man collapsed in front of the golf cart. Raca kicked the body to the side and motioned everyone forward.

  “You have your gizmo?” Maes asked Desmet.

  Val held out his hand, palm open to show him the little item that looked like a harmless flash drive. In reality, it was an electronic jammer that would disrupt the feed of the security long enough for them to reach Rosewood.

  “I wish I knew how many cameras they had,” Desmet commented. “None of the maps of the place I pulled up on the internet showed them.”

  “Probably don’t want to advertise their locations, although I don’t know why. In any event, it doesn’t matter. We’re not taking any chances.”

  They were soon on the move, Maes and Desmet riding in the seat just behind the driver. Those who did not have a seat walked behind the cart with long-legged strides.

  They had just made the first turn in the crushed shell path when two guards appeared, possibly checking on why the cameras were out. The oversized golf cart and a bunch of men with assault rifles certainly were not what they expected to find.

  “Hey,” one of the guards said, stepping in front of the cart. “What the hell is going on here? What—”

  Before he got another word out, one of the men, using a handgun with a suppressor, had stitched bullets through both of them.

  “Take their radios,” Maes ordered. “If someone calls them to check in during the next few minutes, we can fake it. Besides, you never know when they’ll come in handy.”

  After tossing the bodies into the bushes, they continued along the path. Maes swept his eyes left and right as they moved, checking for anyone else who might be outside. Apparently, everyone was at the dinner, and whatever staff wasn’t working the event was off for the night. The map of the island had pinpointed employee quarters about a quarter of a mile from the center of the resort, a fact Maes reminded Raca of now.

  “When we get to where the restaurant is,” he told the man, “send two of your people over to make sure no one leaves that building. There must be a central room to gather them all into. Tell them to shoot anyone who gives them trouble.”