Taking in the surroundings, Jonny had the sinking feeling he should’ve found a classier place to meet, a place where they could’ve talked privately. Since Kanezaki walked in the door, the table was getting much more attention.
Kanezaki ignored the food when it arrived.
“You eating?” Jonny asked.
“Not at this shit hole.”
“My uncle said you were here to assist,” Jonny said, changing the subject. “I’ve got everything under control. I don’t need any help.”
Kanezaki laughed. “I’m here to make sure you don’t fuck up,” he said, taking a deep swig of his beer. “The family has a lot riding on this weekend.”
“Yeah, yeah I get it.”
“Do you?”
“Listen, I know the family took a chance using me. But I’m more than capable, and you’ll get what you want.”
Kanezaki finished his drink. “Come with me.” He stood up.
“Where are we going?”
“Just come with me.” He made for the door.
Jonny followed, pushing through the line at the entrance. Kanezaki pushed open the door and stepped out into the rain, disappearing around the corner and into the alleyway.
“Shit, we didn’t get the check,” Jonny said, increasing his pace. He rounded the corner and spotted Kanezaki halfway down, partially obscured in shadow. “Shit,” he said again, breaking into a jog. He caught up a few seconds later.
Out of sight of the street, Kanezaki waved Jonny closer.
“What the hell are you –” Jonny started, but never got to finish.
Two other men appeared from a sheltered doorway, tossing half-smoked cigarettes onto the wet ground. They were both tall, a little taller than Kanezaki, with obvious muscle and smart-looking rain jackets. Their eyes fixed on Jonny’s as they sidled up.
“This him?” one of the men asked.
Kanezaki nodded.
“Doesn’t look like much.”
“He isn’t.”
Jonny felt his muscles tense. He took a step backward.
“Where you going?” Kanezaki said. He turned to one of the other men. “I think we got ourselves a runner, boys.”
The two men laughed.
“Isa, Kimura, show our friend how we deal with unko like him.”
The two men marched forward, grabbing hold of Jonny’s coat. The slightly taller of the two reached into his jacket pocket, before jabbing something cold and hard into his stomach.
“Consider this fair warning,” Kanezaki said, standing back. “If tomorrow night doesn’t work out, I’ll cut you down the middle and feed you to my dogs.”
Jonny looked down and saw the knife against his gut. Isa and Kimura held him fast.
“Holy shit, yeah, yeah, I get it,” Jonny said. “Don’t kill me, Jesus, don’t kill me.” The words spilled out uncontrollably.
“You think we’d trust some shit-bag daburu like you? You’re not the only one with a part to play in this.”
Jonny nodded frantically. “I got it, I got it. Please don’t kill me. I’ll do it, I swear.”
Kanezaki smiled and waved the two men away. They let go.
“Something to remember us by,” Kanezaki said.
One of the men drew back a fist, swung hard and hit Jonny in the face. He went down hard, seeing stars, and felt himself land awkwardly in a puddle. Scrambling, he forced himself back to his feet, pain throbbing in his jaw.
“I’ll be watching,” Kanezaki said. “Keep your shit together and get back to work.”
The three of them walked back toward the main street, knocking into Jonny with their shoulders as they passed. Jonny stumbled, almost slipping over on the rain-soaked ground. He watched them stroll away, steady and calm, as though nothing had happened.
His heart thumping in his chest, Jonny waited until the three men had disappeared from view before slicking back his drenched hair, feeling cold water trickle down his neck. Anger rose up inside his stomach, flushing out the last remnants of fear. He clenched his fists, took several deep breaths.
His cell phone vibrated. He checked the caller ID.
Mariel.
Rain streaming down his face, Jonny ignored the phone and stalked back toward his car, keen to grab a fresh change of clothes and as many prescription painkillers as he could find.
He had a feeling he was going to need them.
Chapter 14
AFTER HER SEAT mate had fallen asleep during the flight, June had the chance to look closer at the pendant Amy had given her. Almost the size of a child’s marble, it was set in a white gold spiral. The shine of the pearl equaled that of the polished metal in which it was set, but it was the deep, warm, golden glow of the stone was beyond anything June had seen before. She knew Amy must’ve spent a fortune on it, even if it did come from the company she owned. June’s plan to pick up a birthday box of fudge from Seattle just wasn’t going to cut it.
Just before landing, June was able to slip on silk hose and change from flats to three-inch black pumps in the airplane bathroom. After touching up her makeup, she dabbed a bit of shine cream in her hair. To complete her transformation, she draped the pendant over her neck. With one last glance in the tiny airplane bathroom mirror, she practiced an airport-greeting smile. She was satisfied when her dimple made an appearance.
Off the plane in record time thanks to the first class ticket, she made a beeline for the baggage claim carousels. Halfway there, she was sidetracked by a man in a dark suit holding a signboard with her name on it. He introduced himself as Ricardo.
“Good afternoon. Hope you had a pleasant flight, ma’am,” Ricardo said. “Your car is waiting.”
“Is everything okay?” June asked, looking him up and down. His suit fitted him poorly, a little extra fabric around the shoulders. She figured a driver’s salary probably didn’t stretch to custom tailoring. “I wasn’t expecting to be met at the airport.”
“Yes, everything is fine,” he said with a smile. “Let me help with your bags.”
June pointed out her luggage as the carousel shunted into life, and Ricardo hoisted the heavy suitcase off the belt. June insisted on keeping hold of her purse and laptop.
Ricardo made for the exit. “The car is waiting out front.”
June followed him quickly, momentarily wishing she had stuck with flat shoes. She hadn’t met the new security team yet in person, and couldn’t figure why she needed ferrying from airport. She had been planning to take a taxi into downtown Seattle to the hotel. The route had been submitted and approved well in advance.
“Are you a part of the new security team?” she asked, settling into the back seat of the spacious limousine, a metallic black Lincoln Town Car.
“No,” Ricardo said, starting the engine. “You’ll be met in the lobby and your things will be delivered to your room. It’s all taken care of. There’s some traffic up ahead, but we should be at the hotel in a little over an hour. It’s going to be slow, I’m afraid.”
June glanced out the window as the limo pulled away from the curb and out into the sea of cars. It had been many years since she had visited Seattle, and those trips had only been for a few days at a time. Weekend modeling jobs had helped her pay her way through college and medical school, but rarely afforded any time to see the sights. Everything June saw out the window as they drove was new and different to her; shopping malls, department stores, apartment blocks, all gleaming with fresh paint and sparkling glass. It was hardly the image of Seattle she had stored in her memory all these years. She clasped her hands in her lap to prevent nervous picking and felt her stomach rumble. Despite skipping lunch on the plane, her digestive system was wreaking havoc with her nerves.
“You have any antacid?” she asked Ricardo.
He took his eyes off the road for a moment. “You’ve come to the right place,” he said, opening the glove box and handing over a roll of chalky tablets. “If nothing else, we always have antacid.”
“Thanks,” she said, swallowing one down.
Downtown loomed into view in the distance, the tall buildings reaching up into the sky, casting murky reflections over the bay. A thin layer of gray cloud obscured most of the sunlight. As a thin mist of rain began to fall, June’s thoughts turned to Jack.
Since their relationship had blossomed beyond that of doctor and patient, June had visited him in D.C, or New York where he still held private law offices. Each time, she had fostered hopes for romance, and each time she had gone home empty hearted. Now it seemed as if Amy’s prediction might be coming true; someone as high-profile as Jack Melendez, presidential hopeful and former US Ambassador, would be too busy to carry on a bicoastal relationship. June’s busy schedule as a neurosurgeon made things even more difficult. Not only had their relationship been difficult logistically, but their time spent together always felt a little awkward, especially if Jack had other things on his mind.
This weekend, however, June had different plans.
Chapter 15
AFTER A HASTY and disappointing lunch in the hotel restaurant, Leopold and Jerome had gone back upstairs to complete their sweep of the living areas. Content everything was in order, they headed next door to the Washington State Convention Center to run a check of the auditorium and public areas. The short walk across the plaza allowed Leopold the opportunity to scout for possible vantage points. He concluded there were many. Above, tall buildings overlooked the courtyard, hundreds of windows providing plenty of hiding places for a sniper, all with a direct line of sight.
Built in the late Eighties, the convention center had space for more than ten thousand people throughout its glass-and-steel-fronted halls. With dozens of entrances and exits, Leopold was sure the Secret Service had special agents in place to cover the event, but they would be focused on guarding the President, leaving Jack Melendez largely unprotected if anything went wrong.
The center was busy, many of the smaller rooms hosting public events, but the main auditorium and ballroom were closed off. Leopold headed for the reception desk, ID badge held up in front of him.
“Good afternoon, sir. How can I help?” the receptionist said. Male, early forties, clipped hair, his accent had traces of upper Midwest.
“You had a call through from First Hill Suites. We’re here for the security sweep,” Leopold said. Jerome stood behind him.
The receptionist checked both their ID cards. “Sure, I got you down. You need to speak with one of the teams on site. They should be able to let you through.” He pointed across the lobby. “You can check in with Peterson, just over there.”
Leopold nodded. Running mental checks in his head, he led the way across the hall toward the security offices. The convention center atrium was mostly glass, brightly lit, nowhere to hide. Beyond that, architectural plans suggested a more complex layout, with mazes of corridors and meeting rooms. On top of the complement of staff, there could be as many as eight to ten thousand people milling around on a busy day, making it easy to disappear into the crowds.
As with any high-profile figure, the security detail was trained to keep to the shadows. In most cases, any assassination attempt would be attempted without breaking cover; traps set, rather than an ambush. Made for an easier getaway, assuming the attackers had any intention of getting out alive. The most likely approach would be explosives, set to detonate remotely or with a timer. With the convention center posting its schedules online in advance, either would be a possibility.
After that, an attack using a long-ranged rifle was always an option, but rare for an indoor event. Any sniper would need to find refuge within the complex and stay hidden, and Leopold was sure the Secret Service had men posted in likely vantage points. Any gunman would also likely favor a suppressor to mask the sound of the shot, so accuracy would be compromised. Three hundred feet would probably be a safe enough distance for a head shot, especially without wind, but that limited the number of places to hide.
A less likely, but more terrifying, prospect was chemical attack. A toxic payload could easily be hidden within the ventilation systems and released at will. This approach would also take out most of the bystanders in the building, meaning maximum chaos during egress. Thankfully, the chances of getting hold of chemical weapons without the CIA or FBI finding out about it were slim to none, and the costs associated with buying even the cheapest neurotoxins were astronomical. Success became even less plausible if someone tried importing them, thanks to strict border controls and an international crackdown on chemical terrorism. A potential attacker wouldn’t be able to purchase so much as rat poison without the UN, MI6, or the CIA finding out.
The chances were unlikely, Leopold figured, but still worth checking. He bounced the idea off Jerome as they reached the security office.
“The hotel and convention center share the same ventilation systems,” Jerome said, pausing outside the door. “Two units, both housed in the First Hill Suites basement. That would be the most likely place for a breach. Gustafson said they’d had two inspections. The paperwork checks out.”
“You trust that guy?”
“I’ve already made arrangements to run my own sweep.”
“I guess that answers my question.” He knocked on the office door. “Let’s see how cooperative these guys can be.”
The door opened and a large man appeared. Bearded, a little overweight, dressed in a gray uniform, he looked the two visitors up and down before speaking. “You press?” he said.
“You Peterson?” Leopold said.
The guard nodded.
“We’re Jack Melendez’s security detail. He’s due to give a speech here tomorrow, we’re here to confirm the itinerary.”
Peterson grunted, still blocking the doorway. “Listen, we’ve had people tear this place apart over the last three days.”
“And I appreciate the disruption this must have caused.” Leopold kept his tone polite. “Mr. Melendez will be sure to recommend the venue once this convention is over. Assuming we can count on your assistance with the preparations. We’d hate to have to cancel. Might throw off the whole event.”
Peterson narrowed his eyes.
“And with everyone dropping in, we wouldn’t want to disappoint so many people.”
“Fine,” Peterson said. He turned his head to address someone in the room behind him. “Officer Johnson, take care of these guys.” Turning back to Leopold, “Just don’t touch anything. We’ve had Secret Service crawling up our asses. You got any problems, talk to them.”
“They still in the building?”
“Permanent detail.” He stepped aside as a young woman approached, presumably Johnson, dressed in an identical uniform. She was short, maybe five-three, trim, and wore her brown hair in a tight ponytail. No makeup that Leopold could see. She looked tired, a little stressed.
“Sir,” the woman said.
“Take these two over the layout for this weekend. They’re looking after Melendez.” He looked at Leopold. “This is Patricia Johnson. The Secret Service seems to have taken a shine to her. She’ll get you where you need to go.”
“Charmed,” Leopold said. Johnson nodded curtly.
“Enjoy yourselves.” Peterson shut the door, a little louder than necessary, leaving the three of them alone.
“So,” Johnson said, “you must be Blake.”
“Guilty.”
“I saw your name on the roster and did a little digging. What the hell are you doing here?”
“Call it a favor for a friend.”
“You can afford better friends.”
“You’d be surprised.”
Johnson smiled. “I guess the job of playboy billionaire gets a little dull after a while.” She glanced up at Jerome. “I suppose he’s the one who knows what he’s doing?”
Leopold smiled back. “He likes to think so.”
Jerome grunted. “Let’s just stick with the job at hand.”
“Okay, okay,” Johnson said. “We’ll go find Special Agent Harper, she’s running the show. We should be able to find
one of her team around here somewhere.”
Leopold looked around the hall, still a few dozen people wandering about the floor. “You’ve got two agents in here,” he said, pointing at a figure near the far wall. “One there, trying to look like he’s waiting for someone.” He pointed at another figure on the balcony. “And another up there, pretending to make a phone call.”
Johnson blinked. “Not bad. What gave them away?”
“Matching coats.”
She laughed. “Is that it?”
“I pay attention. Neither of them have moved a muscle since we got here, and most people don’t come to places like this alone. They’re also bone dry, so they’ve not been outside in a while, which makes me wonder why they haven’t ditched the jackets.”
“Maybe you missed your calling, Mr. Blake. You’d make a pretty good detective.”
“Who says I’m not?”
She smiled again. “Follow me. We’ll go find Harper. Before you blow everyone else’s cover.”
Chapter 16
TREVOR HEARD A scuffle coming from the hallway below and felt his heart rate jump. It had been nearly an hour since the two men and the housekeeper had dropped in for a sweep, and his nerves hadn’t yet fully recovered. Judging by their accents, the security detail had been American, the housekeeper sounded a little Hispanic, maybe, but he couldn’t place it. One of the men had stuck his head into the ducts. Must have been no more than a few feet away. Trevor had held his breath until his lungs burned.
Now, with a little time to recover, Trevor was trying to get his head back in the game. Marbles still stuffed into his pockets, he struggled to get comfortable. The effect was intentional, but no less irritating. He resisted the urge to comfort eat, instead focusing on his plan of attack.
Melendez would arrive later today. His security team had the whole floor locked down, but they wouldn’t be expecting any movement from within. With all eyes on the entrances, it wouldn’t take much of a distraction to buy Trevor enough time to slip down to floor level and make his way to Melendez’s room. With at least one of the bodyguards sure to be outside the door, Trevor knew he had to choose his moment wisely; he was confident of his own combat prowess, but engaging an unknown was always a risk. He would need the element of surprise to tip the scales in his favor.
Ratio: A Leopold Blake Thriller (A Private Investigator Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers) Page 7
