Stacked Deck

by Tracy Watkins

He decided that it was okay that JD was keeping the lady happy. She wasn’t going to let a seventy-eight-year-old man do it. Even if he could. But it would help keep her close and if that’s the best he could do, so be it. You can’t have everything.

  But he couldn’t hold reality off forever. Not even for ten minutes. And with it came the anger.

  It got his blood hot in a hurry. They can’t get me, he thought. They can steal this place, but they won’t stop me. I’ll have casinos up and running in Eastern Europe within months. And I’ll have a racing team in less time than that. They can’t stop me, damn them to hell.

  His “friends” in the police department would give him warning if and when a raid was imminent. Time to move his things. That was part of the deal. He had enough on people in the power structure to ensure a certain discretion. They could get him out, but they couldn’t make a public fool out of him.

  Age is a damn number, he reminded himself when he finally got up and staggered into the bathroom.

  And, of course, as he stood naked in front of his bathroom mirror, he knew age was also a deterioration. An insult to body and mind.

  Giambi flexed his muscles. Not too bad. But not great, either. You could work out all you wanted, take DHEA and testosterone and a million vitamins, but they could only hold time back for so long.

  He wondered if Jack LaLanne was still alive. He was the beginning of it all as far as staying in shape and staying alive was concerned. What was the guy now, ninety-four, ninety-five?

  Morning was rough on old men. It was nice to have another day, he would never turn that down, but he’d give a lot to get one day of being a young man again. Same mind, better body. The day was coming when you would be able to do that. Maybe fifty years. Maybe less. He would miss it.

  Jason had his coffee, juice, protein bar and vitamins on the bathroom counter when he came out of the shower. Being old and rich was doable. He didn’t see how the poor could stand it. If you end up poor you’re really screwed. ’Course, most of the poor didn’t live all that long to start with.

  I’m gonna be poor one of these days if I don’t get that blackmailing, murdering bitch, he thought.

  Now that was who could really get him going. Goddamn her to hell. For so long he’d tried to track down that bitch so he could personally kill her.

  He stared at his bloodshot eyes and wondered how she could have survived this long.

  Had to be the damn CIA protecting her. No other explanation. She must have them by the short hairs. She’s got something so nasty they won’t let anybody touch her.

  Probably knows who set up Oswald on Kennedy or something like that.

  I’m not gonna die before she does, he thought with a sense of deep frustration.

  Then he tried to calm down. Morning is when you’re gonna have your heart attack and die, the little carping doctor had told him about a hundred times. You get worked up, get that blood surging through those tight, hard veins, see you later, alligator.

  In his experience doctors with great bedside manners were usually incompetent. They covered up their incompetence with pleasantries. All good doctors—actually, all people really good at what they do—were a bit prickly. You had to be, all the fools and bloodsuckers you had to deal with.

  And right away, just the term bloodsuckers got Giambi’s thoughts back to all the years he’d been paying, and raging.

  He was supposed to take out his blood pressure monitor when he got enraged just to see what he was doing to himself.

  To hell with that, he thought.

  Why is it other men grow calmer and less stressed with age and I just get angrier?

  He shaved, put on the face lotions, the Retin-A cream, the hair tonic and got himself together. Today he was taking his future wife—what the hell, he could think of her that way for the fun of it—to meet the Greek. Had to watch that guy as well, cockhound that he was.

  The man joked that when he started on Viagra, his wife immediately divorced him. Didn’t mind spending his money, but sure as hell wasn’t gonna be fucking him every day and night. That always brought down the house. He was a funny guy, the Greek. And richer than God.

  Giambi had to get out to the yacht by one. He finished dressing, then went up to the heliport. JD and Anne were to meet him there at fifteen to the hour.

  The Greek had a great appreciation for fine, intelligent women. Giambi figured she’d be a real asset in the negotiations.

  Chapter 23

  A bad dream shocked Beth awake. She lay there, heart pounding. It took a moment for her to realize what had awakened her wasn’t just the dream, somebody was knocking on her door.

  JD stuck his head in. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

  She’d been dreaming she was running through downtown Vegas, the lights and music in a crazy kaleidoscope splashing all over the street, the “Fremont Street Experience” gone crazy, exploding all around and she was trying to catch up with the man she thought was her father. It turned out to be Curtis and he was bleeding from his wounds.

  “Bad dream?”

  “Closer to a nightmare.”

  JD came in with a tray. “A little caffeine and a croissant might help.”

  “Lifeblood. Thank you. Put them on the table. You’re too good to be true. What time is it?”

  “It’s flying time. You only have forty-five minutes. If you need any help taking a shower—”

  She checked his wicked grin with a, “No way, Jose. Get out of here.”

  He chuckled and retreated.

  She crawled out of bed, body parts still reflecting the effects of the car rollover, and stumbled to the bathroom and then into the shower. The water removed the cobwebs from her brain, awakened her blood and brought her back to life.

  This is half over, she thought. I’ve got leverage on Giambi now. He’s going to have to cooperate with me.

  She felt good about everything. Getting into his files with JD’s help had been much easier than she’d anticipated.

  Once Giambi realized his entire secret world had been opened up and delivered into the hands of Delphi, he would have little choice but to accept whatever terms were presented to him. That would give her the upper hand.

  She dressed in shorts and a halter top for the trip out to the Greek’s yacht. He was, in the world of the rich, very rich. She’d played poker with several Greeks and they were a lot of fun. The Greeks she’d met carried their deep and long history well.

  She stretched to see how her body was working. Her legs were feeling much better. The right foot was solid in spite of the dancing.

  She was almost out the door when a call came through from Delphi. Beth hesitated, considered letting it go to message, but then relented.

  The digitally transformed voice that hid Delphi’s identity said, “Beth, we have discovered a problem with the information you’ve forwarded. It appears, in the process of hacking into the computers, you’ve been compromised.”

  “What?” Beth felt an icy stab in her gut. Everything had been going so well.

  “Spyware embedded in the codes is active. Whoever monitors it is aware that you’ve hacked into Giambi’s files. We’re sending your computer a special program that you need to monitor. It will assess the damage and origin of the compromise. Everything sent to you will have a special encryption. I will text the codes to you so that you can run the programs. Whoever was in Giambi’s system left a back door open for their regular return. It is almost certain they are aware of your presence.”

  “I’ll do it now.”

  Beth swore under her breath. If somebody knew she’d hacked into Giambi’s system it would turn the situation critical for Giambi. His files, if known by the wrong people to have been compromised—people who didn’t want his connections to money laundering and blackmail payoffs leaked to the authorities or anyone else—would put him in a very precarious situation.

  Who was it? Probably the one blackmailing him. If that was the case, then Arachne knew he’d been compromised.

&nbs
p; That was bad for everyone, including Giambi.

  Then again, it could be mob people keeping an eye on what he was up to. But then they’d know about his blackmail payments. Maybe they were behind them. Maybe they were somehow connected to this Arachne.

  Maybe it was Prince Albert’s people.

  Whoever it was, she had to track it down.

  She found JD waiting for her in his living room.

  “I have a big problem. I can’t go.”

  “What happened?”

  She went back into her room, JD trailing. As she entered the code to access the program, she quickly told him about the situation. “This is critical and can’t wait.”

  “He’s going to be pissed.”

  “Can’t be helped.”

  “When he says one, he means one. Man is never late.”

  “He can go. I’m not going. Actually, if you stay as well, we can talk about an exit strategy.”

  “Now?”

  “JD, this is going to reach critical real quick.”

  “Anne, you don’t know him. He doesn’t take no for an answer. He’s already promised the Greek he’s bringing us along. He’s gonna do the whole Monaco tour thing, then wine and dine the guy. Later we’ll all go back to the yacht for a party.”

  “Sorry. Tell him I’m really sick. Throwing up. That you’re going to babysit me. Get me better for later. I can’t be riding around in a chopper. Go tell him. Then come back down. I don’t want anyone coming in here.”

  JD’s cell went off. “That’s him.”

  “Hurry up. I don’t want him running down here all worked up. I’ll go up just about the time he’s supposed to take off.”

  “He’s not going to like this at all. When it comes to dealing with the rich and powerful, he’s careful. Like he says, you step on a big man’s toes, you’re liable to find them in your butt. I think that also includes Giambi. Are you sure—”

  “I’m sure, JD. Get up there. Don’t tell him on the cell. He’s liable to come down to argue.”

  “If he decides to do that?”

  “Give me a heads-up. I’ll jump in bed.”

  When Giambi saw JD walk out on the roof without Anne, he snapped his phone shut and cursed under his breath. “Where the hell is she?”

  He hated to be late. Especially now. He glanced at his watch. Behind him his pilot had the bird warmed up, the warm air blowing Giambi’s carefully coiffed hair.

  “What the hell, JD, it’s damn near one. Where is she? Why do all women have to be late? You said she was up.”

  “She’s up, but she’s down again.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “She can’t go.”

  Giambi swore angrily. Then he said, “Look, dammit, I told Feodras we’d be there at one. It’s two minutes to one right now.”

  “She’s sick.”

  “How sick?”

  “Throwing-up sick. She’s got some kind of allergy to something and I have to get her some prescription medicine. Look, go on out and take care of this guy. I’ll get her better. We’ll do the tour a little later. If you want her to meet him today, let me get her back on her feet.”

  “I’ll call my doctor—”

  “I already suggested that and she said it wasn’t necessary. She says this happens a lot and that once she takes her pills, which she left back at her villa, she’ll be fine. She wants me to stick around because sometimes she gets it bad and might need some help.”

  Giambi sighed, heavily conflicted. He was more than a little fond of her and he didn’t want to see her sick or leave her behind, either. But right now the Greek was waiting.

  On the other hand, shit, JD could deal with it. “Okay, damn. Go take care of her. Get her well. I’ll go meet the Greek. He can meet her later.”

  JD nodded and left.

  Giambi watched him disappear through the roof door, then turned to board the chopper.

  He stopped. He thought for a moment. What if she really has a serious problem? Last night she was down. That damn accident. She could have internal injuries she doesn’t even know about. The woman needs to go to a hospital and get some X rays or something.

  Giambi realized how much he cared for this woman. Those dances had stayed with him all night. She was great fun and made him feel like a young man again. JD wouldn’t know what to do. She needed to be looked at.

  He considered calling the Greek, but decided against it. He went over and told his pilot to go pick up the Greek and bring him right back. “Tell him I have a problem with my lady. She’s ill and may have to go to the hospital. I’ll meet him when he gets here. Just get out there and bring him back.”

  Giambi was amazed at how much impact Anne Hurley had on him. I’m worse than a damn teenager, he thought.

  As he was thinking that he watched his chopper head out toward the fifty-million-dollar yacht that resembled a floating hotel.

  Then he scrolled to his doctor’s number and hit the speed dial.

  The truth was, he liked having a beautiful, sophisticated young woman around him. Liked it a lot. There was something about her that he connected to. She had a toughness underneath all that class and refinement that told him she was a real player.

  He didn’t know what kind of relationship he’d ultimately end up with. That hardly mattered at this stage of his life. He could deal with a close friendship if that’s all it became. What mattered was that he wanted a relationship of some kind.

  Giambi was staring at the chopper as it crossed open water, heading out past the flocks of sailboats that swarmed the shoreline on this perfect day, when he suddenly felt a wave of unusual happiness. He felt a lot like some kid in puppy love. Things he didn’t pay that much attention to, the deep blue of the sky, the greenish blue of the water, the gulls and sailboats, he was aware of these things.

  For a moment, thinking about Anne Hurley, he forgot about his troubles. About the people he wanted dead. People who had done things to him that had yet to be avenged. The goddamn prince and his purification shit. They would be taken care of. All the usual litany of negative thoughts slipped away from him on this pristine day as he waited for the doctor to answer his cell. Giambi had fallen in love for the first time in many years. The dancing had done it. She’d ignored whatever lingering pains she’d had from the accident and had flowed with him across that floor.

  That was his mood, maybe the best one he’d been in in a very long time, when the chopper turned into a ball of fire, followed by a loud boom that was like a clap of thunder from summer lightning.

  Giambi didn’t react right away.

  He couldn’t react, or believe, what he was seeing. What the hell?

  The bits and pieces of the chopper flew out in a vast umbrella. They seemed to hang for a few seconds before finally falling like the detritus of a spectacular piece of fireworks, the pieces dropping into the water.

  Giambi was supposed to be on that chopper, was supposed to be part of that falling debris.

  And in that moment thoughts came into his mind like small explosions of their own. Bad, dark thoughts wiping out the nice bright ones he’d had a moment ago: Bullet holes in the car…the shoes…JD and Anne Hurley staying behind…her getting ill when she did last night…Vincenzio’s suspicions…lies and more lies…

  “Son of a bitch,” Giambi said softly, a stabbing realization cutting through him—he’d been set up to be blown up.

  And just that quickly, joyful reflection became bitter realization. Love fermented into hate.

  He was shaking as he called his security chief. “Get up to JD’s apartment. Now! Take some men with you.”

  “What happened?”

  “Somebody just blew my chopper to smithereens, that’s what happened.”

  Giambi headed for the roof door.

  I’m a damn fool, he thought. She pulled me into something. She and JD are working for somebody.

  He pulled out his small, j-framed snub .38 with it’s concealed hammer. All the glory and happiness of his day had
been replaced by that bleak landscape of rage that was always lingering, waiting to emerge.

  Somebody’s going to die besides my pilot, he thought, but first I want answers.

  His blood was racing, his breathing getting shallow as the idea sunk in that he could have been in a million pieces right now, fish food.

  He opened the door and headed into his suite ready to hurt people, ready to do some serious damage.

  Betrayal was the one single sin that Giambi could not abide. It was the only reason he’d ever killed because of emotion and not just in the cold calculations of business.

  That JD looked to be part of this betrayal stung him deeply.

  I saved him, he does this? I treat him like a son, he tries to murder me? Blow me to pieces?

  As for Anne Hurley, the concept of her betrayal brought with it deep pain as well as rage. No betrayal could ever equal that of a woman one loves.

  Chapter 24

  B eth had her laptop on the coffee table in JD’s living room, elevated by three heavy books, when JD walked in.

  She said, without looking up from the screen, “He okay with it?”

  “Wasn’t happy.”

  “But he bought it?”

  “Yeah. He’s going to give the Greek a quick tour, then bring him back here.”

  “I need time. They come back, you have to keep him out of here.”

  He leaned over her shoulder. “How long will this take?”

  “Depends on what sort of nasty little Bot spider I might be up against. And what it’s programmed to do when located. These things can be problems.”

  “Who did it?”

  “Well, that’s the million-dollar question. Giambi’s mob associates or his blackmailer. Someone’s hitched a ride into a search engine, jumped on the information highway and snuck over Giambi’s firewall into his system. It’s feeding information back to the source. It now knows I was also doing a little spying and, worse, copying the entire contents of his computer.”

  “What’s your program doing?”

  “It’s a seek mission. I’m trying to latch on to the intruder to ride it back down its trail.”