by Rickie Blair
“How did you find us?” Hari asked.
“That lying bastard Iain Oliver is working with Luca,” Zeke said.
“We know,” Hari said.
“He had us, too,” Norris added, “but we got away from him through the parking garage. I tried to call you, but when I didn’t get any answer, we figured something had happened, so I called the hotel. Your friend Ana told us to check the drain and said they’d meet us here. And that’s when we heard you screaming.”
“Did you see Luca?”
“No, thank God.” Norris pointed over his shoulder. “There’s someone else here, though. Near my old bivouac. He’s been shot.”
“Shot? That might be Sam,” Ruby said, panic rising. “We have to go back for him.”
Norris nervously gauged the rising water.
“There’s no time. We have to get out while we still can.”
Ruby pivoted to run up the tunnel.
Hari grabbed the penlight from Norris to race off after her.
“You and Zeke go ahead. We’ll catch up,” he called over his shoulder.
Ruby turned up the secondary drain with Hari close behind. The penlight picked out a body against the wall. Ruby leaned over Sam, her heart racing. Please, no.
“Sam? It’s Ruby. Can you hear me?”
He was breathing, raggedly, but breathing. A red ribbon swirled from his chest through the water. His eyelids fluttered. Sam opened his eyes and tried to say something, but his eyes rolled back and closed.
“We have to get him up,” Hari said. “There’s not much time.”
Hari stuck the penlight behind his ear, facing ahead, and reached under Sam’s arms to drag him upright. He bent over and wrapped Sam’s arm around his shoulder. “Sam, can you hear me? Can you walk? Try to walk.”
Sam nodded and took a step. His leg buckled under him and Hari sagged under the weight.
“Sam? Can you hear me? You have to walk.”
Ruby tucked her shoulder under Sam’s other arm and they slogged through the drain. The rushing water was almost knee deep and it came at them with tremendous force. They fought to keep their footing on the drain’s slippery surface while ducking the boxes and cans that bobbed and rushed along the drain. The penlight’s dim glow bounced off the walls. Ruby’s heart sank. They were nearly a hundred yards from the entrance. They weren’t going to make it.
Hands reached out and took Sam’s weight from her.
She sagged with relief as Norris and Hari hustled Sam through the drain. Zeke took her arm and they followed.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Hey, no problem. We couldn’t leave you in—”
A length of wood crashed into him, knocking him over. Zeke banged into Norris, sending him flying, and they both disappeared under the water. Sam dropped, sliding from Hari’s grip.
Ruby bent to swing her arms through the water. Her voice echoed off the walls as she screamed, “Norris! Zeke!”
Norris emerged from the torrent a few yards away, gasping and spitting, struggling to his feet with a terrified look on his face. Zeke popped up nearby, shaking the water from his hair.
They stumbled to the entrance and emerged into the open channel beyond. Hari and Norris carried Sam to the top of the incline, where they lay him on the ground. Ruby crouched next to him and put a hand on his chest.
“Sam, talk to me.” She bent over his mouth. He wasn’t breathing. Pinching his nose, she tilted his head back to start mouth to mouth, shuddering at his cold lips.
Norris leaned over to check Sam’s wound. He sat back, shaking his head.
Ruby’s heart sank. No. Please, no. She redoubled her efforts while water dripped off her neck and ran down her arms. Hari crouched beside her, rubbing her back.
On the street, a Town Car skidded to a halt. Felicity exploded from a back passenger door and raced across the field. Sinking to her knees beside Sam, she reached for his hand and gently clasped it to her chest. She closed her eyes, rocking rhythmically, murmuring.
Ruby bit down hard on her lip, fighting back sobs. She bent over Sam again.
Watson walked up with Ana, who had a cellphone in her hand.
“An ambulance is on the way,” Watson said.
Hari rose to meet him, and they walked a few paces off. After a short conversation, Watson spoke in a low voice to Ana and then followed her to the Town Car, his expression grim.
Ten minutes later, Ruby was pushed from Sam’s side. The paramedics had arrived. One dropped to his knees beside Sam, pointing at Felicity.
“We need her out of the way.”
Ruby took Felicity’s arm, pulling her to her feet, but Felicity tugged out of her grasp. Her eyes were focused, intent on Sam’s face.
“Felicity, let them help,” Ruby’s voice broke, “please.”
As Felicity rose to her feet, Sam’s hand slid from her grasp and flopped onto the ground. Ruby wrapped an arm around her and Hari stood beside them as they watched the men work.
One of the paramedics looked up.
“I’m sorry. I’m afraid he’s gone.”
Felicity buried her head in Ruby’s shoulder and wailed.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Watson sat in an armchair in the darkened hotel room, his arms crossed over his chest, and waited. The door opened and a light flicked on. Iain Oliver stepped through the entrance, closing the door behind him. He walked into the room and halted.
Watson got to his feet.
“Explain yourself.”
Oliver tossed his key card onto the bed before strolling to the closet. He pulled out a suitcase, tossed it onto the bed and opened it.
“What do you want to know?”
“I want to know why you betrayed me.”
“For the money.”
“I don’t believe you. You have money. How much more do you need?”
Oliver pulled jackets and shirts from the closet, throwing them into the case.
“You tell me. You’re the expert.”
“What does that mean?”
“No matter how much you made it was never enough, was it? There was always another deal, another penny to be earned. And the cost be damned.”
Shoes and toiletries followed the shirts.
Watson stepped over to the bed, grinding his teeth.
“What are you talking about?”
“Winnie always said that, you know. She said her dear brother knew the price of everything and the value of nothing.” He stopped, considering. “Oscar Wilde, I think.”
“You bastard.” Watson’s voice rose. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“Someplace warm. And,” Oliver shrugged, “exotic.”
“The police are on their way.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Iain—”
“You can’t afford to turn me over to the police. Not with everything I know.” His droopy eyelid twitched as he glared at Watson. “We didn’t always play by the rules, William.”
“Sam Mitchell is dead.”
With a shrug, Oliver threw another shirt into the suitcase.
“I didn’t kill him.”
Watson marched over and slammed the case shut.
“You stupid bastard. Do ye think that makes any difference?”
Oliver stiffened, then flipped open the suitcase. “Get out of my way, William.”
“No. Explain yourself.”
Oliver took a step back, curling his lip.
“Aye, you’re right. I don’t need these. I could buy an entire chain of clothing stores with the money I’ve salted away. All thanks to you, William.”
“How much did you take?”
“Plenty. I took plenty. Why don’t you get your fancy new accountant to figure it out?” Oliver pulled a pill bottle from his pocket, tapped out two tablets and swallowed them dry. The bottle twirled in his fingers as he held it up. “Vicodin. That’s my other reward for my years of service.”
“Iain, the surgeons—”
“Have done all they can. You know that.” He slipped the bottle back into his pocket. “You know what I really want? A nice thick porterhouse, oozing blood.” He jabbed a finger in the air and his voice rose. “But I can’t fucking eat one. Do you remember why?”
Watson pulled his hand back from the suitcase and ran it over his mouth.
“Iain, that was decades ago—”
“For you, maybe. But for me, it happened yesterday.” He sat on the bed and leaned over with his arms on his knees, hands clasped, swiveling his head to look up. “I always had your back, always protected you, even when we both knew there would be consequences to that shipping deal. But when they came for us on the dock that night, you ran away.”
“I didn’t run away, Iain. I went to get help.”
Oliver gave a snort of derision.
“Is that right? Because when they took me down, I looked around for you and all I saw was the back of your heels. I took that beating for you, William.”
“Iain, for God’s sake, why bring this up now?”
“Why not now? Winnie was the only reason I stayed, and she’s gone. And now you’re trying to replace me, after all these years,” Oliver massaged his jaw with one hand, muttering, “and everything’s that happened.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not trying to—”
Oliver held up a hand before rising to his feet.
“Don’t bother. Do ye think I don’t know why you’re so interested in that accountant, Hari Bhatt? Time to put old Iain out to pasture, isn’t that right?”
Watson clumsily rose to his feet. His legs had turned to stone.
“No. Never.” He took a step nearer to place his hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “You can’t think—”
Oliver shrugged off his hand and turned to the door.
“I’m walking out of here and ye’ll not stop me.”
Watson shook his head, struggling to get a breath past the steel band that circled his chest.
“I can’t let you go, Iain. Even for Winnie.”
The two men locked eyes, then Oliver opened the door and walked through it. Watson sank back into the chair and buried his head in his hands.
Two detectives stood in the hall, flanked by three police officers. Ana stood behind them.
“Come with us, please, Mr. Oliver,” one of the officers said, pulling a set of handcuffs from his waist.
Chapter Fifty
Dragos Luca swiveled in his chair to scowl at the duct-taped figure struggling in the corner of his computer room. Another problem to deal with before he left. He turned back to initiate the hard drive wipes. His computers would be empty within half an hour, scoured of everything including tonight’s frantic emails from Bucharest.
Luca hadn’t read the emails. He had been told to find Zeke Turner before Turner could lead Bhatt to the auction. He had failed, and there would be consequences. Even after all these years, and all the things he’d done for them.
But they would have to find him first.
In his bedroom, he threw a suitcase onto the bed and zipped it open. He yanked open drawers, tossing clothing into the case. He added shoes, zipped the case shut and lowered it onto the floor. As he took a last look around, his gaze fell on a black leather jewelry case on the bureau. He opened it and took out two Patek watches. The expensive timepieces jingled in his pants pocket.
Luca carried the suitcase down the stairs, out the front door and along the flagstone terrace and walkway. He put it into the black Cadillac—the Lamborghini was too conspicuous—and returned to the house.
“Roman?” He walked through the living room and into the kitchen, opening a patio door to peer out at the pool. “Roman?” he called.
There was no one in the house. No yard boy, no kitchen staff, and no bodyguards. A chill ran down his spine. Where was everyone? He hustled back through the house and onto the front terrace. As usual, the cul-de-sac was quiet, without any traffic or pedestrians. Overhead, stars winked in the cobalt blue sky. The flagstones were still damp from the rain, while smoke drifted through the air. Probably the remnants of someone’s barbecue. But there was no sign of Roman, or anyone else.
Luca shook his head in disgust. Cowards. He turned back to the house. Time to deal with that little problem upstairs. Footsteps sounded on the pavement behind him and he turned. A young man with dirty blond hair stood in the driveway. Luca eyed the muscles that strained the young man’s T-shirt and sweat pants. This guy was big. The sort Luca’s bodyguards normally dealt with.
“What do you want?”
The man walked toward him, holding something in his left hand.
Luca reached into his pocket for his Leatherman and found only watches. He had left the multitool in the computer room upstairs.
“I said, what do you want? I’m in a hurry.”
“Doesn’t matter. Wherever you’re going, you’re not gonna get there.”
Luca scowled. He should tough it out. This guy was probably a pansy.
“Who are you?” Luca said, scowling.
“Tracy’s fiancé.”
“Tracy? Who the hell is Tracy?”
The man dropped the object he was carrying at Luca’s feet. It was a purse, wrapped in plastic stamped with the words made in indonesia.
“Oh. That Tracy.” Luca looked up.
The first blow broke his nose.
He clapped a hand against his face as blood gushed onto his shirt.
“You fucker,” he screamed, “what have you done?”
The second blow exploded in his torso, causing a red flare of pain. Luca gasped, bending over, pressing a hand to his ribs. Then he staggered up the walk to the house.
Before he could turn the door handle, a kick to his kneecap sent him into the jacaranda shrubs by the door. Branches scratched his face and hands as he broke free of the bushes. Luca limped back to the door and reached for the door handle, but turned his head at footsteps on the flagstone.
The final blow caught him in the jaw.
* * *
Luca groaned. The flagstone’s sharp edges dug into his back while blood oozed across his face. He opened his bleary eyes to stare at the stars winking through the coolabah branches in the cobalt sky. How long had he been out? He tried to push himself up from the ground, but every bone and muscle screamed.
He had to leave. Now.
He managed to crouch on both hands and one knee. His other knee would not cooperate. Luca stood with his weight on one leg while struggling to breathe. He limped to the black Cadillac, resting on the car roof with one hand while bending to unlatch the door with the other. He paused, catching his breath, then wrenched the door open and got behind the wheel. As he turned the key in the ignition, he glanced back at the house. What about that problem upstairs? He reached out to pull the driver’s door closed. No time.
After only a few blocks, he realized that he wouldn’t make it to the interstate. One eye was swollen shut, his right leg was useless and his left foot trembled when he twisted it onto the gas pedal. His side burned every time he turned the wheel. He would have to stop and hole up for a while. But where?
Luca turned the car to Henderson and the storm drain. He could hide out in the passage near the end, where he and Roman had emerged. A few hours’ rest, and he would be fine. In the rearview mirror, a light flashed. At the next corner he turned, but the car behind him followed.
He clamped on the gas pedal, wincing as the Cadillac swerved around the corner. The field with the storm drain was up ahead. Halfway down the block, he swerved off the road, up over the sidewalk and across the field. The car jerked, bumping across the garbage-strewn expanse. Luca peered through the windshield with his good eye, trying to penetrate the gloom beyond the headlights.
The Cadillac came to a sudden halt with a crunch. His head jerked into the airbag and back against the headrest. He closed his good eye, waiting for the pain to subside. Then he looked in the mirror. There were no lights behind him. No one had followed him after all.
&nbs
p; With a groan, he turned off the engine and opened the door. He lifted his legs from the car and rose with his head bowed, resting one hand on the roof.
“Where are you going, Dragos?” a man asked.
Luca jerked his head up. A car had driven up behind the Cadillac with its headlights off. He closed his eyes as the speaker strolled up to him.
“I can fix it,” Luca said hoarsely. “I can get more—”
“No need.” The man inclined his head at the car idling behind him and a second man emerged. As he walked up, he pulled something from his pocket. Moonlight glinted off a steel blade.
Chapter Fifty-One
Hari, Ruby, and Felicity stood in the early dawn with blankets wrapped around their shoulders, watching the paramedics zip up Sam’s body bag and wheel it to the ambulance.
The first glimmers of daylight sparkled off the slowly ebbing stream in the field behind them. Ruby closed her eyes to let the perfume of the Mojave’s creosote shrubs, released by the rain, wash over her. The beautiful fragrance would be forever associated in her mind with tragedy.
She tightened her arm around Felicity, who sagged against Ruby with limp arms and her eyes closed. She had not spoken since leaving Sam’s side. Ruby rubbed Felicity’s back in a gesture of reassurance while looking at Hari. His face was grim. She longed to collapse into his arms and give in to the tears she was holding back.
Norris and Zeke stood a few yards away while talking to two police officers, one of whom held Zeke’s sword. The Town Car drew up and Watson got out, joining the group and talking to the police officers. Pulling out his cellphone, he made a call and handed the phone to an officer who listened and handed it back.
Ruby turned to Hari.
“Should you go over there?”
He shook his head.
“Watson can handle it. I’m not leaving you.”
Ruby sighed. But he would leave, eventually, and go back to London. What would she do then?
A female paramedic walked up to bandage the flesh wound on Hari’s arm. While she was doing that, she looked sideways at Felicity. When she was done, she leaned over and patted Felicity’s hand.
