Once a Killer

by Martin Bodenham

  After the meeting, Michael waited for a cab outside Corton Zander’s building and thought about the K-Mines deal. He wasn’t worried about the work. Most of that would be bread and butter to him and his team. But the thought of another betrayal and the millions about to be made by Rondell kept gnawing away at him. Maybe he could find something in the contracts to frighten off Etling’s client from bidding; anything to delay passing on another deal to Rondell.

  Two cabs passed, but they were occupied. He scanned the street for others. On the other side of the road was a gray, unmarked van with two men sitting in it. They appeared to be watching him. Were they Rondell’s people? They had to be. While he hadn’t seen them before, Rondell had to be watching somewhere, desperate to make sure he wasn’t holding back on any of his deals.

  Another cab came by, and this time, Michael flagged it down. As it pulled away, he swung around to look out of the rear window. As he expected, the van began to follow. They had to be working for Rondell. Who else could it be? If they knew he’d just been to visit Etling, then they’d know it was likely to be about another transaction. That was bound to bring Rondell chasing for details. This was never going to end.

  He closed his eyes and sighed. Rondell had threatened his family the last time they’d spoken. Michael couldn’t risk any harm coming to them. He had to share the information sooner or later, so what was the point of delaying? Why not bite the bullet now? He reached inside his jacket, pulled out his iPhone, and hit the speed dial for Rondell.

  “Danny Boy, I’ve been waiting to hear from you,” said Rondell, answering the call. “What do you have for me? Another one from our friends on Liberty Street, perhaps?”

  The man was as subtle as a brick. That was no guess. It had to be his people following in the van. From now on, Michael would have to assume Rondell knew everything that was going on.

  “Yes, I have some more information for you.”

  “Okay. Let’s meet here on Monday.”

  “I can’t make that.”

  “Then make it Tuesday. I’m a reasonable man. I can be flexible.”

  “I’m going to be out of town on a deal until Thursday next week. Nothing will happen before then, so it can wait.”

  “You’re not trying to be difficult, are you?”

  “No. I’m going away for the deal I want to discuss with you.”

  “You sure about that? It really is no trouble to shoot over to Westport again. Maybe catch up with Caroline at the same time.”

  “You stay away from my family. I’ve told you I have something, but it won’t be ready until the end of next week. What more do you want from me?”

  “Okay. Like I say, I’m a reasonable man. Come over here at noon on the following Tuesday.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Michael terminated the call. For the time being, at least, Rondell would be off his back and his girls would be safe. He’d have no reason to harm them now he knew he was going to get another deal. All the same, he’d ask Caroline to stay at her sister’s while he was away, just in case. She’d done that before. Hopefully, she wouldn’t ask too many questions when he suggested it this time.

  Pulling up at the Dudek’s building, he looked out of the rear window again, and the van had disappeared.

  Subtle as a brick.

  Chapter 28

  ARRANGING RETURN FLIGHTS FROM ALMATY was a nightmare. All of them involved setting out at some ridiculously early hour to connect with scheduled flights from Frankfurt. Etling was having none of it, so while they were over there, she had her PA arrange a private jet. The client would have to pay for it if they wanted the big brains of the mighty Corton Zander working on their transaction.

  They returned home Thursday. After killing an hour on the ground at Frankfurt, they boarded United flight 8839 just before one in the afternoon. The four days in Kazakhstan had been hectic, lost in a fog of meetings and piles of translated legal contracts. Without the assistance of Towers, Michael could never have completed the mountain of diligence work. He’d tried to tell Towers how much he appreciated his help last night in the hotel bar, but Towers had seemed a little distant, almost cold.

  Michael sat next to Etling for the transatlantic leg so they could talk some more about the logistics of completing the K-Mines deal. Towers sat with one of Etling’s assistant directors three rows back.

  “That was an experience,” Michael said not long after they took off. “Another country checked off my bucket list.”

  “Nice people, too,” said Etling. “If we get another trip, I’d like to see some of the country.”

  “When are you seeing the client to update them?”

  “Tomorrow, but I’ve already e-mailed to give them a steer on where we got to. I told them you were comfortable with what you’d seen so far. I hope that’s okay.”

  As much as Michael had tried to find a major issue, something he could use to crater the deal, he’d been unsuccessful. The mining contracts he’d inspected were all in good shape. Like it or not, this transaction was going ahead, and there would be little he could do to stop it.

  “That’s fair. I’ll produce a brief report for them when we get back.”

  “Thanks.” Etling took a glass of water from the flight attendant when she passed. “How do you propose to handle the London aspects with the target being listed there?”

  Michael reached for an orange juice. “We’ve got a strong London office, so I’ll get them involved on the local stock exchange rules.” He sipped his drink. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “But you’ll still have overall control of the process?”

  “Of course. I can’t let down my favorite client, can I?”

  Etling smiled. “Good.” She paused, as though she was searching for the right words. “I think we work well together, Michael. With you, I don’t have to second guess the legals. I know you’ll handle everything the way I want.”

  Michael’s cheeks warmed. He wasn’t blushing because Etling had paid him a rare compliment. He felt ashamed. Here was his best client, telling him how pleased she was with his work and, behind her back, he was planning to betray her for the second time.

  He finished his drink. “I think we make a very good team.”

  “Glen is impressive, too. I’d like you to keep him on this deal and the others we work on. He has a good work ethic.”

  “I’m glad you said that. I recruited him. I think he’s one of our best associates. I know he enjoyed working with your team on the Spar deal, so he’ll be delighted to learn you want him on future transactions.”

  When Etling put on her Bose headphones and settled back to watch a movie, Michael closed his eyes and reclined his seat. Something Etling had just said was troubling him: the London listing. He had no idea how vigilant the Brits were in monitoring stock trades in the run up to a deal announcement. Like the SEC, he’d read that the UK’s financial regulator was taking a tougher stand against insider dealing. What did that mean, though? What if Rondell screwed up how he acquired the stock and drew the attention of the British authorities? Did he even have any experience of buying stock in public companies outside of the US? God knows what kind of mess there would be if he didn’t. There was no backing out of this one since Michael had already arranged to meet Rondell next week. Other than the K-Mines deal, he didn’t have any others ready to share with him right now, so he was stuck with this one.

  They landed at Newark just after four p.m., and a car picked them up to take them back to their offices. There was a stack of paperwork waiting for Michael. He pushed it to one side when he and Towers sat at Michael’s desk to talk through what they needed to do next on K-Mines. They had a lot of work to do now that it was almost certain the bid was going ahead.

  Half an hour into their meeting, Michael stood up to go to the restroom. “I’ll only be a moment.”

  Towers remained seated facing the window with his back to the door.

  Michael’s cell phone vibrated on top of the desk; he�
��d left it on silent. Towers ignored it. Moments later, it buzzed again. This time, Towers sat forward and raised his back to see who was calling. The screen lit up and read: Grannis cell. He picked up the phone to make sure he was reading it right. His mouth gaped and, when he heard Michael returning, he released the phone and shot backward in his seat. By the time Michael reached the desk, the iPhone had stopped vibrating.

  “Are you okay, Glen?” Michael asked, taking his seat. “You look very pale.”

  “Uh. I’m not sure. I may have eaten something funny on the plane. Do you feel okay?”

  “I’m fine. Look, we’re about finished here. Go home and get some rest. These past few days have been tough.”

  Towers avoided eye contact. “If you don’t mind, I think I will.”

  “No problem. We can finish this off tomorrow. Go home.”

  Towers rose to his feet and slipped his jacket back on. “I’ll be in first thing.”

  “By the way, Glen.”

  Towers stopped and turned.

  “I meant to tell you I was impressed with your work this week. Etling mentioned how pleased she was, too. Says she wants you on all her future deals. You know, that’s quite some compliment coming from her.”

  Towers didn’t smile. In fact, his reaction seemed strangely muted.

  He must be unwell.

  “Thanks. I—”

  “You won’t have anything to worry about when we get to the end of year reviews. Your position with the firm is safe. Now go home.”

  After Towers left, Michael closed his office door and started wading through the pile of messages and e-mails Rachel had saved for him. Thankfully, most of them could be ignored for now, but some demanded his immediate attention. He’d have to clear them today if he was going to free up time to focus on K-Mines tomorrow. It was going to be another late one. Just what he needed after the week he’d just had, when all he wanted was to go home and see Caroline and the girls. He missed them. But at least they’d been safe at Caroline’s sister’s while he was away.

  His phone vibrated. It was Rondell, so he answered it.

  “You’re a difficult man to get hold of,” Rondell said.

  “I told you I was out of town.”

  “You said you were back today. This is the third time I’ve called.”

  Michael wanted to tell him to go to hell, but he bit his tongue. “I’m here now. What do you want?”

  “About next week.”

  “I know we’re meeting on Tuesday at noon. I haven’t forgotten.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t want to meet here.”

  “Why not?”

  “Let’s just say I’m being cautious, Danny Boy.”

  “Has something happened to make you cautious?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that now we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other, I think we’re better off not meeting here. That’s all.”

  Michael didn’t like it. Had something spooked Rondell into changing the venue? But there was nothing he could do about it. He could hardly say he wasn’t going.

  “Where are we meeting then?”

  “Do you know the Red Hook container terminal over in Brooklyn?”

  “No, but I’m sure I’ll be able to find it.”

  “It’s near the cruise terminal, just after you exit the Brooklyn Battery tunnel.”

  “What’s the address?”

  “We own a warehouse on Sullivan Street. Number 220. Meet me there.”

  Michael ended the call. What was Rondell really up to? There had been nothing in his tone to indicate he was worried. What was wrong with keeping things at Cedar Street? Why choose to move the meeting to such a remote location? That was the last place Michael would want to be stuck. He’d have to bring his car in to be certain of a quick escape once he’d finished with Rondell.

  Chapter 29

  THE LEXUS GS 350 SPORT was a luxurious indulgence Michael had bought brand new almost a year ago, mainly to please Caroline. For years, she’d been telling him he was a partner at one of the country’s leading law firms and that it wasn’t right to keep driving round in his old Honda. He’d had the Accord since the day he met her, and it ran perfectly well. As it became increasingly clear he was about to be made an equity partner, she’d stepped up the pressure until, eventually, last year, he’d caved in. In truth, he’d still be just as happy in his old car. After all, he only used it to go back and forth to the station. Why did he need a fancy vehicle for that? It wasn’t as though clients would ever see what he was driving.

  But Tuesday was one of those rare occasions when he actually needed to have the car with him at work. The meeting with Rondell in Brooklyn was scheduled for noon. He’d looked on Google Maps, and Sullivan Street was not an easy address to get to. Sure, he could have taken a cab, but there would be no certainty he could get one coming back, and the last thing he wanted was to be stuck in that area, killing time with Rondell.

  The partners’ car park was underneath the Dudek’s building. Michael reversed into one of the reserved spots at ten to nine, only just in time to make the monthly partners’ meeting. The traffic coming in had been horrendous, reminding him why he’d been taking the train for years. Who, in their right minds, would drive into Manhattan if it could be avoided?

  “Here’s our man of the moment,” said Jenks, sitting at the head of the huge conference table when Michael entered the boardroom just before nine.

  Michael felt the stares, smiled, and took one of the few remaining empty chairs.

  “Michael’s too modest to say anything,” Jenks continued in a loud voice, “but he’s just had the highest billing quarter on record for any partner in this firm.”

  “Way to go,” said one of the partners from across the table.

  “It gets better,” Jenks said. “Mr. Hoffman, our rainmaker here, has just picked up another enormous piece of work from Corton Zander. He may be about to blow his own record this quarter.”

  Michael collected the compliments and applause. As his cheeks grew warmer, he desperately wanted Jenks to move on with the meeting. Here he was, being lauded by his colleagues, and yet, behind their backs, he was colluding in criminal activity with Rondell, and not just any unlawful activity. No, this was something that had the capacity to bring down the entire firm if discovered. That would destroy the livelihoods of all of his partners. How much would he be regarded as their hero then?

  Kaminski was in the driving seat of the stationary gray van while Crouten, whose side was closest to the car park’s exit ramp, kept watch on the vehicles as they left. Crouten was polishing off a family bag of M&Ms, and the van reeked of sweet peanuts. They’d been sitting there since eight thirty that morning, debating why Michael Hoffman had brought his car into town. That was unusual; it had to mean something, didn’t it? In the time they’d been waiting, they’d exhausted all possible explanations, only to conclude they had no idea what it meant.

  “That’s him now,” Crouten said, nodding toward the Dudek’s building just before eleven thirty. He thrust the almost empty bag of M&Ms in the door compartment, brushed the debris off the front of his white shirt, and buckled up.

  Kaminski started the van, and they both stared as the Lexus left the exit ramp and headed west on W 47th. They followed the car when it took a left to go south on 7th Avenue. When they hit the lights at W 23rd, Michael made it across the intersection, but the van was held by the red light.

  “Shit. We could have made it,” Kaminski said.

  “It’s not worth it,” said Crouten. “All it would do is draw attention to us. In this traffic, Hoffman’s not going far. Just keep him in sight, and we’ll be fine.”

  When they caught up with the Lexus at the lights at West Houston, they were three vehicles behind. As the traffic signal turned green, Michael turned right.

  “Here’s where you jump the light if you have to.”

  Kaminski threw Crouten a confused look.

  “We can’t afford to lose him here.
It was okay while he remained on 7th.”

  As it happened, they didn’t have to jump the lights. They followed until Michael hit West Street and turned south again.

  Crouten picked at a piece of nut stuck in one of his teeth. “He’s not heading to Jersey.”

  A mile and a half later, they entered the Battery tunnel, keeping one car between them and the Lexus. Shortly after they exited the tunnel in Brooklyn, the Lexus left the freeway and merged onto Hamilton Avenue, traveling parallel with the freeway overhead. Moments later, it turned right into W 9th, where the area changed for the worse.

  “Where the fuck is he taking us?”

  “Do you think he knows we’re following him?” asked Kaminski. “Maybe he’s trying to lose us.”

  “I doubt it, but ease back a little just in case.”

  The Lexus slowed down to pass a beat-up Chevrolet pickup truck that was double parked in the middle of the road. The van slowed to a stop as they watched Michael maneuver around the truck. Crouten looked out of his side window. Next to them was a tall, red brick wall covered in graffiti. At the end of it was a motor repair shop with a weathered wooden sign hanging above the entrance. It looked as though it would drop off at the slightest breeze.

  The farther along the street they went, the more the shiny new Lexus looked out of place.

  “He’s not here to see a client,” Crouten said as they caught up with Michael again. “That’s for sure.”

  Half a mile on, the Lexus turned onto Conover Street and slowed down. While there were cars parked along the side of the road, the sidewalks were completely empty. The buildings were mainly tired-looking warehouses made out of corrugated steel.

  “He seems to be looking for something,” Kaminski said.

  Crouten pointed to a parking space outside one of the buildings. “Pull over here.” The sign on the front read: The Body Perfect—Auto Collision Repairs. The metal shutter door was rolled up, and inside were two men working on a rusting Chrysler PT Cruiser raised on a ramp. “If he looks in his mirror now, he’ll see us.”