Flash

by Tim Tigner

“I’m fine,” Emmy said, her voice free of duress. “Sorry to be incommunicado for so long. It’s the cook, Desiree. She’s been finding excuses to follow me wherever I go.”

  “Is it possible that she suspects something?” Troy asked. “Maybe you used to know her but don’t remember.”

  “That’s not my read. I think she’s bought into the bullshit about Luther looking for a wife and is trying to find a way to eliminate me as competition.”

  “So where are you now?”

  “In the basement. Kind of hard for a cook to justify popping down here. Wasn’t easy for me either. I had to dust the rest of the house first so as not to look suspicious.”

  Troy could tell by Emmy’s tone that she was excited about something. “You uncover anything interesting?”

  “A lot of high quality reproductions—both artwork and furniture. If I weren’t trained to spot a fake I never would have known that they weren’t genuine.”

  “That skill come from another of your entrepreneurial acquaintances?”

  “That one came from Ava herself. One of her favorite confidence games involved a switcheroo.”

  “Any conclusions?”

  “Luther is not as wealthy as he wants to appear.”

  “Who is? Did you inspect the guest house?”

  “No. I’ll do that tomorrow.”

  “How about safes or hidden rooms?”

  “I haven’t found either yet. I used the laser tape measure just like you showed me. Got every room. We can study the results later, but I’m pretty sure that all space is accounted for.”

  “Anything interesting in Luther’s study?”

  “I spent a lot of time there, dusting every crevice. It’s obviously the center of his universe. In addition to the normal desk and bookcases covered with pristine legal tomes, he’s got a huge waterfall along one wall, an enormous fireplace on the other, a big domed skylight over the center, and sandstone tiled floors—all four elements converging.”

  “All four what?” Troy asked.

  “The original elements. Water, fire, air, and earth.”

  “That tell you anything?”

  “His subconscious is screaming for stability and balance.”

  “We’ll have it screaming for something else soon enough. Did you search his desk?”

  “I did. Picked my way in. Nothing unusual.”

  “How about the basement? Anything there?”

  “I hope so. I’ve been working the lock to a closet for these last few minutes.”

  There was the source of her excitement, Troy thought. “How big a closet?”

  “I’m guessing it’s about five foot by eight.”

  “What makes you think there’s anything more special than old knickknacks inside?”

  “First of all, those are in the attic. Secondly, Luther installed a seven-tumbler lock on the door. That’s exceptional. The vast majority of locks have only five. He’s definitely hiding something here. Oh, hold on …”

  Troy waited through a long silence before Emmy said, “Got it, I’m in.”

  He refrained from asking the obvious questions. She would tell him what she saw.

  “It’s a computer room. The air is a lot warmer than in the rest of the house and it has that computer smell.”

  “Ozone,” Troy said.

  “Right. There’s a narrow table running the length of the eight-foot side, and a single wheeled armchair, a Herman Miller.”

  “So Luther spends a lot of time there.”

  “Or at least he did at one time. The room’s fairly dusty, although that could just be because the maid doesn’t come here.”

  “Except you.”

  “Except me.”

  “What do you see?”

  “There are computer monitors all along the wall above the table, two rows of them, eight long. They’re numbered one through sixteen. So are sixteen black boxes stacked at the far end.”

  “What kind of boxes?”

  “They look like small DVD recorders. There’s also a big computer with its own monitor and keyboard. All the DVD recorders are connected to it.”

  “Is there anything on the monitors?”

  “No. Wait, one of them is coming to life. Number fourteen. It’s a beautiful woman in an ornate elevator.”

  “Is DVD player fourteen doing anything?” Troy asked.

  “All the DVD players have a green diode lit up, but fourteen has a red one too. Okay, the elevator door just opened. The woman is exiting. Now I see her on monitor fifteen. She’s in a room with a waterfall like the one in Luther’s study. There’s also a granite bar in the background. She’s walking toward the camera. Now she’s on sixteen. So is Luther. He’s seated behind a big oak desk. That must be his Rodeo Drive office.”

  “So the security system is motion activated,” Troy said. “And everything that moves is recorded.”

  “Oh my god,” Emmy said. “Monitor seven just came to life. It’s Desiree. She just entered the kitchen from the pantry.”

  Troy understood the problem immediately. It was a monster. Everything Emmy had done that day, from searching Luther’s desk to picking her way into his security room, everything had been recorded.

  Chapter 72

  Farkas removed the safety cap from his injector ring and inspected the weapon. Three tiny needles glistened in the elevator light. The ring was ready; was he? He had no choice.

  The doors parted to reveal an enormous office, complete with a granite bar, slate waterfall and one Luther Kanasis. Luther’s appearance surprised Farkas—much more Hugh Jackman than Gene Hackman.

  Crossing toward Luther’s desk, Farkas tried to exude an image that would fit an iron grip. He knew that was not a stretch. He was much more Van Damme than DeVito.

  “We meet at last,” Luther said, coming around his desk and extending his hand.

  Farkas did not reply at once. He looked Luther in the eye while catching his hand such that Luther’s knuckles aligned. Then he smiled and squeezed like a vice, knowing the pain he inflicted would drown out any pin prick. “The pleasure is all mine.”

  Farkas saw a shadow flicker across Luther’s eyes, but as predicted, he continued to smile. Men hated to appear weak.

  The injection ring did its work in less than a second, so Farkas only pumped twice before releasing. He broke eye contact for a second to diffuse the tension and used his left hand for a diversionary pat on Luther’s right shoulder. “Nice place you have here. Hardly the discreet hideaway I had envisioned.”

  “Sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight. Please, have a seat. Tell me how it went in Vegas.”

  “After you,” Farkas said, not wanting to give his boss the opportunity to inspect his injured hand.

  Farkas had expected Luther to start out exactly thus, with a cordial question about Vegas. Best to be sure his affairs were in order before terminating Farkas’s services with a bullet or a flash. For his part, Farkas was more than happy to play along. He needed to buy fifteen minutes—time for the 456 to activate. Then at the first sign of trouble, he would squeeze the remote concealed in his left hand and the UV-C strobe hidden in his Kangol cap would flash.

  “Is that an espresso machine I see up there?” Farkas asked, glancing toward the bar.

  “Yes. But it’s nearly five o’clock. Perhaps you’d prefer a Scotch?”

  “Naw, you know how Vegas is. This is breakfast time.”

  Luther nodded and made the drink, gobbling up enough time that Farkas figured he was safe. “So how is Mister Rodriguez?”

  “I’m pleased to report that he has no memory of the last twelve months of his life.”

  “Excellent. Does that mean you got your groove back?”

  Farkas met his boss’s eye. “After Grand Cayman, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “I did.”

  “Good. You never did tell me exactly what happened there.”

  There it was, Farkas thought, the lead-up to the end. He had decided days ago to play it st
raight, no excuses, but with a bit of panache. “I was bested by a clever surgeon and an evil pixie.”

  “Evil pixie?” Luther asked, his tone more curious than condemning.

  “It’s from a Croatian fairytale. Emmy looks like a pixie, all petite and fiery with bright emerald eyes that can see into a man’s soul.”

  Luther nodded appreciatively. “Yes, combined with a clever surgeon they do make a formidable team. I should have taken the time to learn more about them. They were, after all, the first and only people to ever suspect my existence. Some day you’ll have to fill me in on the details. At the moment, however, we have more pressing matters.”

  Farkas raised his brows in genuine query. This was not at all what he had expected. He reminded himself that Luther’s stock-in-trade was that you never saw him coming. He would remain wary despite his boss’s cordial demeanor and collegial attitude. “So what’s next?”

  “What’s next, my friend, is your bonanza.”

  “My bonanza?” Farkas repeated, finding the remote with his thumb. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that you’re about to become rich. Fifteen days from now I’m going to pay you ten million dollars. Eight figures. Tax free.”

  Farkas knew that was four-hundred wiping’s worth, having done the calculation many a time in his head. Keeping a his tone neutral and his thumb poised, he asked, “And just what do I have to do to earn this bonanza?”

  “Actually, you’ve already done most of it,” Luther said. “By working dependably for me these past few years. I’m moving you into management.”

  “Management? Management of what?”

  “A big job. A huge job. A job that will make history.”

  Luther’s excitement appeared genuine. Farkas was actually starting to believe. “You have my undivided attention. Who is it, the President? One of the major party nominees?”

  When Luther did not contradict him right away, Farkas knew that was it. A suicide mission. That made perfect sense.

  “No,” Luther eventually said. “Just the nine justices of the United States Supreme Court.”

  Same difference. “I see. Is that all? Just nine of the most closely guarded men on the planet?”

  “Actually, they’re not guarded at all. At least not when they’re outside the courthouse.”

  “So you think that I can just walk up to them like anyone else?” Farkas said, not bothering to disguise his incredulity.

  “You’re not listening, Farkas. I told you, you’re in management now. You’re going to have help. Nine men as a matter of fact.”

  Nine men, Farkas thought. One apiece. That sounded good. Too good. “So what is it you aren’t telling me?”

  Chapter 73

  The phone slipped from Emmy’s grasp and clattered across the tabletop. As her nervous fingers fumbled to bring it back to her ear, she heard Troy asking, “Are you okay? Emmy, are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay. I’m totally screwed. As soon as Luther checks the tapes, he’s going to see that I spent the day snooping around. I’ll have to quit. Run. And I still haven’t found anything. All this has been a waste.”

  “Calm down,” Troy said. “We’ll think of something.”

  Troy’s words did not reach her, but something in his tone did. If he was confident, she could be confident too. “Do you think there’s some way to edit the tape? Take out the suspicious parts?”

  Troy took his time answering her. She pictured him lying on the floor of their rented minivan, looking toward the ceiling with that contemplative thousand-yard stare she had grown to love. “I don’t think you’re going to have time to review and edit sixteen tapes before Luther returns. Even if you could, we probably wouldn’t fool him. Security systems have a built-in time stamp.”

  Emmy glanced at an active screen. Desiree was rubbing spices into the skin of a duck. “You’re right, the time and date are in the corner of every active monitor. Maybe we should cut our losses. I’ll keep searching the house until Luther returns. Then I’ll run. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  “Hold on,” Troy said. “I’ve got another call.” He clicked off before she could ask who it was. She could not think of anyone who might be calling him. Probably a wrong number.

  Turning her attention back to pressing matters, Emmy looked around for other discs. She found a box of fresh DVD-9s on the floor beneath the table, but none that were used. Either Luther stored the recorded disks in another location, or the system was set up to reuse the same disks. Perhaps she could just copy yesterday’s video and paste it on top of today? Who really paid attention to a date stamp anyway? She discarded that idea immediately. She was not in yesterday’s tapes, and Luther would specifically be looking for her.

  “I’m back,” Troy said. “You’re not going to believe—”

  “Oh my god!” Emmy said, cutting him off.

  “What?”

  “It’s Farkas. Farkas just walked into Luther’s office.”

  “How on earth?”

  “I don’t know. But that does it. Now I have no choice but to run. Can you imagine if I hadn’t gotten into this room? If Luther had brought Farkas home while I was here? Should I bring all the DVD’s with me?”

  “No! You can’t leave.” Troy said, his voice emphatic. “That phone call. I’ve just learned something big. I don’t want to go into the details over the phone, but now it’s more important than ever that we stop Luther.”

  “But Farkas can identify me.”

  “Not necessarily. We don’t know that he didn’t lose his memory. All we know is that he found his way to Luther’s. Remember our own experience.”

  “He told us he’d never been to Luther’s. Never met the man. Obviously his whole spiel was a lie. I don’t know how he fooled me so completely, but he did.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Maybe he had the equivalent of a tattoo on his foot.” Troy trailed off. His silence seemed to last forever.

  Emmy knew he was thinking, but eventually could not take it anymore. “Troy?”

  “I got it!” Troy said. “I know what we can do. I can fix this thing, but you’re going to have to hang in there. I need an hour. Does it look like Luther and Farkas are going to be there for a while? Are they getting comfortable?”

  Emmy could not imagine what solution Troy had found, but experience had given her faith in his genius and she found herself willing to make that blind leap. “It’s hard to tell. They are sitting down, but they’re talking with a lot of passion so it might be over quick. I don’t have sound.”

  “Can you read their lips?” Troy asked.

  “Not under these conditions.”

  “Did Luther give you any idea when he planned to be home?”

  “No. Who called? What’s your plan? Don’t leave me hanging, Troy.”

  “I’ll tell you everything when I get there. We don’t have time to waste now. Just trust me. Forget about the cameras and get busy cleaning. You’ve got a whole day’s legitimate work to do.”

  Chapter 74

  Luther closed the titanium notebook with a great sense of satisfaction. Two-hundred-fifty-million dollars. A quarter Billion. He was tempted to take the money and run. True, Arlen would send an army after him—but would he send more men than the FBI and Secret Service combined? Actually, Luther decided, he might. And, unlike them, Arlen’s mercenaries would know who they were looking for.

  Then there was Arlen’s point about the ambiguity of mass amnesia.

  Deciding once and for all to move ahead, Luther began placing 456 ampoules into mailing boxes. He packed eighteen in total: nine for the Supreme Court Justices, nine for Orca’s thugs.

  Returning to his desk, he picked up his scrambled phone. Anyone tapping Orca’s line would hear gobbledygook and think Luther’s call originated in Iceland.

  “Talk to me,” the killer whale said.

  “Did you arrange those meetings for me?” Luther asked.

  “I did. All nine.”

  “You do know these guys perso
nally, right? You can guarantee me that they’re James Bonds, not Jack the Rippers?”

  “They’re on the East Coast, so I can’t say that I know them all personally. But I’m told that they’re primo. What else can I say? I did what you asked. Now get me my money.” Orca ended the call before Luther could comment.

  Luther sat there in silence, his stomach shriveling further with each breath. There was a reason he had never attempted to expand his operation before, and this was it. With the involvement of each additional person, the variables multiplied exponentially. His two-man operation had just expanded to twelve. Thank goodness this was the last hurrah, otherwise he’d be in jail within a year. And in any case, it was Farkas’s problem now. The risk, hereafter, was all his.

  Weaving his Porsche impatiently through Saturday evening traffic, Luther sought another train of thought and remembered that he had a new girl. She was a hottie. Fernando had come through once again, and just in time. With Brandy and Giselle both gone and Desiree too eager to please, he desperately needed a new source of release.

  With his departure imminent, his normal rules no longer applied. He could begin to seduce her immediately. Hell, if she had snooped around as much as most first-day girls do, he could go straight to blackmail—tonight. Wouldn’t that be grand. He just needed a little something for which she would want to make atonement.

  Naughty fantasies began running through his head as he gave his Carrera the gas. He pictured her pouty lips, her fiery eyes, and that hot little body of hers. She could not weigh more than a hundred pounds. He could bounce her around like a gymnast on a beam. She was almost … pixie-like …

  Chapter 75

  Fifty-three minutes after coming up with his plan, Troy crept into Luther’s security room. After returning from his errand, Emmy had guided him past the watchful cook and down the basement stairs. Then she had pounced and begun squeezing the stuffing out of him.

  It felt wonderful.

  So did seeing the monitor showing Luther behind his office desk. And alone. “Did Farkas leave?”