Jay Giles

by Blindsided (A Thriller)

  “It’s natural for you to feel some uncertainty. However, if you are attracted to each other, the uncertainty will work itself out as your relationship deepens. This is the best kind of therapy for you, Matt.”

  “Sure feels like it. Adelle, thanks for getting me this far. I want you to know I appreciate all you’ve done, all these phone calls you’ve taken at odd hours of the day and night.”

  “Thank you, Matt. That’s very kind. Stay in touch.”

  “You know I will. Bye, Adelle.” I rang off.

  I made myself some breakfast. Cheerios, half a grapefruit, orange juice, coffee. Went over my plan for the day. Workout, walk on the beach, visit with Dan, maybe play a little golf. I’d just finished breakfast when the phone rang. I carried dishes over to the counter, picked up the receiver. “Matt Seattle.”

  “It’s Raines. I think it would be good if we went over plans one final time.”

  “Okay.”

  “Here’s what I want you to do. At eleven, be at Mote Marine Lab.” It was a marine research facility on the south end of Longboat Key that had become a tourist attraction. “A woman will be waiting for you by the windows to the Manatee exhibit.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  I looked at my watch. Eight. I punched in Dan’s number. When he picked up, I said, “Dan, Matt. I thought maybe I’d stop by if you’d like a little company.”

  “I’m going crazy, Matt.”

  “I’ll be there in half an hour, and you can tell me about it.”

  I hadn’t seen Dan since Tuesday, when I’d dropped by in the afternoon. He looked more haggard, seemed more depressed. We sat in the living room.

  “I think the police know things they aren’t telling me,” he said wearily. “I talked to Ellsworth yesterday afternoon, and he told me they’d know something Saturday. When I pressed him on why Saturday, he clammed up. What’s that mean, Matt?”

  “Sound like he’s got a lead but won’t know anything definite until then. He may not be hiding anything; he may just not want to get your hopes up.”

  Dan rubbed his face with his hands. “This waiting, not knowing anything, is eating me up.”

  We talked for another hour. I listened, tried to offer reassurance, got him talking sports. Dan was a huge Tampa Bay Bucs fan. I also watched the clock. At ten-thirty, I stood, told him I had to go. He walked to the car with me.

  “Thanks for coming by,” he said as I opened the car door.

  “Hang in there. Things are going to get better.”

  He nodded, but the look on his face said he didn’t believe me.

  I had to hustle to get to the Mote by eleven. The place was filled with vacationers, from kids to empty nesters. At the Manatee exhibit a lone woman stood off to the side, watching. I started toward her. She nodded me off. I walked on to the main window, watched the Manatees swim.

  She waited five minutes, walked over to me. “I needed to make sure no one was following you. We can go now.”

  She led me out an employee’s entrance to a van parked behind the building. We got in. She drove nervously to the parking garage of a downtown Sarasota office building, parked, led me inside.

  She took me to a large, windowless room on one of the building’s upper floors. On the walls were maps, blow-ups of floor plans. In the center of the room, a large square table held computers, telecommunications equipment. Raines and three men were huddled together around one of the computers. He looked over when we entered the room, came over, shook my hand. “This is our situation room,” he said by way of a greeting. “Everything that happens tomorrow we’re going to monitor from here.”

  This is where Tory’s going to be,” I said making the connection.

  He stroked his moustache, nodded. “She may be able to help. Her dealings with Bill Perez may come into play as the evening progresses.” He went over to one of the computers, booted it up. “I want you to know what we’ll be doing tomorrow.” He patted the top of the monitor. “We’ll be tracking D’Onifrio every step of the way. Any activity, any movement by his people will be reported here. Ten agents will be at City Hall. Thirty more will be ready to move as directed.”

  “Do you know where he has Rosemary?”

  “No. We theorize she’s being held at someone’s house. If that’s the case, there’s no way to find her now. As things develop tomorrow, they’ll have to move her. We’ll be monitoring their activity and that’ll tell us where they have her.” He keyed something into the computer. “Here’s our coverage in and around City Hall. We have agents stationed near all the exits. Nobody will be able to enter or leave without our knowing about it.”

  “Let me tell you my biggest fear.”

  Raines turned away from the computer screen, looked at me, his face expressionless.

  “They don’t bring Rosemary. The more I think about this, the more I think D’Onifrio’s too smart to be caught with her. What happens then?”

  “We have several scenarios in case that happens,” Raines said matter-of-factly. “Remember, this thing has been billed as a trade. If they don’t bring her, they’ll have to talk to you, broker arrangements. Otherwise, there’s no deal; you don’t go with them. You don’t leave City Hall. Once we know where she is, we’ll get her, get you out of there.” He turned back to the computer screen. “That’s why we have agents in all these locations.” He indicated agents spread from Bradenton to Venice. “Wherever she is, we want to be able to get to her fast.”

  Made sense. “Let me tell you my second biggest fear.”

  That got a wan smile.

  “What if this awards presentation doesn’t come off? What if D’Onifrio cancels at the last minute? If Enrico and the nephews don’t show up? What happens then?”

  “Nothing.”

  The surprise must have shown on my face.

  “You’ve got to understand, my main concern is getting the Shears woman back and not having an incident at City Hall. If—and it’s a big if—we can pit D’Onifrio against Enrico or the nephews, that’s icing. I’m not counting on it. I won’t be surprised if it doesn’t work. This whole awards presentation, missing-money thing is flimsy at best.”

  Hearing him say his main concern was Rosemary helped me. In the back of my mind was Ellsworth’s comment that all Raines cared about was getting D’Onifrio.

  When I didn’t say anything, he looked at me, half-smiled. “What? You aren’t going to tell me your third biggest fear?”

  “I just had the two,” I said quietly. “You seem to have things under control.”

  “That’s why I brought you here. To see for yourself that we’re on top of the situation. We’ve got this thing mapped out. If anything feels wrong to you—at any time—let us know; we’ll shut it down.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “My people will be in room 410 with you. All you have to say is I’m not comfortable. They’ll know to get you out of there.”

  “What if D’Onifrio has people there, too?”

  “That’s why you’ve got the vest.”

  On that happy note, the conversation ended, and Raines had the woman take me back to Mote. I drove home, changed into some trunks, and went for a walk on the beach. I walked hurriedly, fueled by tension.

  If Raines thought seeing his operation eased my concerns, he was wrong. I didn’t have a clear understanding of what he expected from me. Couldn’t imagine how I was going to broker arrangements. Nor did I understand how he was going to liberate Rosemary. How was I going to alert Raines’ people where she was being held? I should have asked more questions, pinned him down on exactly how all this was going to work. Maybe I hadn’t asked because I really didn’t want to know. If I knew the details of what was about to happen, I might not want to go through with it. The fact that Raines had given me the vest told me he thought there could be trouble.

  I walked to the pier at the Colony Beach, where Enrico and his entourage were staying, turned around, headed back. I didn’t worry on the way back. I watched for shark’s
teeth. Found one good one just as I reached the Watergate.

  About six, I got hungry, made myself something to eat. After dinner, I called Tory.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “I just want to get tomorrow over with.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  I told her about the meeting with Raines, that he seemed to have things under control.

  “That’s what I got from him when I took him the awards booklets. He seemed confident that he had all the possibilities covered.”

  “We’ll find out tomorrow,” I said a little apprehensively. “Since I won’t have a chance to see you tomorrow, I thought I’d see if you wanted to get together Saturday evening.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Pick you up at six thirty?”

  “See you then. Good luck tomorrow.”

  I hung up, aware of the real reason I’d called her. If I made plans for Saturday, that meant I couldn’t die on Friday.

  In spite of all Raines’ assurances that nothing would happen to me, I kept seeing Wilder shoot Eddie. If Wilder got his hands on me, it wouldn’t be as quick or painless.

  I puttered around the rest of the evening, went to bed at eleven, slept well. No dreams. That morning I did comfortable, familiar things. Worked out in the gym. Walked on the beach. Mostly I tried to stay positive. The closer it got to two o’clock, the more nervous I became. By lunch my stomach was in a knot.

  After lunch, I changed clothes, put on the bulletproof jacket, a bulky shirt to hide it. Before I left, I spent a long time looking at photos of Claire and the kids. At one o’clock, I put them away, went out to face whatever was waiting for me.

  Chapter 50

  The Room 410 waiting area was crowded when I arrived. I did a quick count. Twenty-four people. Some young. Some old. Virtually all couples. Made me feel odd walking in by myself. Fish and Janet, I noticed, were not among those present.

  The wooden bench where Raines wanted me to sit was full. I found a spot, leaned against the wall and tried to figure out who belonged to whom. I knew three of the people in the room worked for Raines. D’Onifrio undoubtedly had a few people there. I’d have been surprised if Ellsworth didn’t have a person or two there as well.

  The door to the ceremony room opened, and a gray-haired woman in a rose-colored suit stood in the doorway. “Farr/Zelinski wedding.”

  A young couple jumped up. “That’s us,” the man said excitedly.

  They went through the door. The woman in the rose suit closed the door behind them.

  The process was repeated every ten minutes or so. People left to be married. New people arrived. I looked at my watch. One-thirty. I scanned the room again, looked at those who had been there when I arrived. I still couldn’t quite tell who worked for the good guys or the bad guys.

  At one-forty, Fish and Janet arrived. He looked ill at ease in a tuxedo that gave him a barrel-chested, bow-legged look. Janet had on a simple white dress that was stunning. She surveyed the room with disdain. I watched to see if there was any recognition when her gaze swept past me. Didn’t see any.

  The lady in the rose suit opened the door. “Martin/Taylor wedding.”

  A couple got up from the bench. I quickly took one of the vacated seats. Raines would be pleased. I was in position. Joining me in grabbing a seat was a young Latina woman and a pimply-faced man in an AC/DC tee shirt.

  Two new couples arrived. Still no sign of Rosemary or D’Onifrio. The clock on the wall said one-fifty. I was becoming more anxious. If they were coming, they should have been there by then.

  At two-twelve, the woman in the rose suit announced. “Ford/Jesso wedding.” Fish and Janet walked into the other room, and the door shut behind them.

  I assumed that once they were married, something would happen. I waited. Tense. Alert. Apprehensive.

  At two-twenty, Peters/Halsbock were called, went in.

  The Latina woman sitting next to me got a magazine out of her bag, opened it. On the left hand page, where I could easily see it, a note had been taped: I have a gun. Go with me. Or the woman dies. I looked at her, saw her hand in her handbag holding a gun.

  Raines hadn’t told me what to do in a situation like this. I felt my heart rate increase, sweat roll down my hairline. I saw the ceremony room door start to open.

  “Get ready,” the Latina woman whispered.

  “You fucked my sister?” A blond, scantily-dressed woman across the room screamed. “You louse, how could you fuck my sister the day before our wedding?”

  She started pummeling the guy next to her with her handbag. Everybody turned to watch.

  He covered his head with arms sporting plenty of tattoos. “Baby, she came on to me,” he whined loudly. “What could I do? She was askin’ for it.”

  “Let’s go,” the Latina woman whispered and stood up. Her hand grabbed my arm, pulled me through the doorway. We pushed past the woman in the rose suit, into the ceremony room. I heard the door close behind us.

  The justice of the peace lay on the ground, a pool of blood around his head. The man of the Peters/Halsbock party came up behind the woman in the rose suit, hit her in the back of her head with his gun. She crumpled.

  I felt a sharp stick in the arm. Turned to look, caught a glimpse of a hypodermic syringe in the Peters/Halsbock woman’s hand. In seconds, my vision went bad, and the room started spinning. I fought to stay conscious, but the blackness took me.

  Chapter 51

  I woke shivering, lying on a concrete floor. Hands tied behind me. Shirt and bullet-proof vest gone. I blinked open my eyes. Tried to focus. Only darkness, fuzzy shapes.

  From behind me, muffled sounds. I wrenched my body around, looked. I saw faint light spots, stared, willing my eyes to adjust to the darkness. A wave of nausea hit me, forced me to close them. I fought to keep from being sick. Took deep breaths.

  When I opened my eyes again, my vision was better. Sharper. I made out a seated shape. A figure. The light spots, hair and skin. Rosemary.

  The muffled sounds increased. I used my elbow, propped myself into a sitting position. Tried to gather my legs.

  From behind me, I heard the sounds of a key in a lock, a knob being turned, door hinges squeaking, a smack as the door hit the wall. Light flooded the room. Brightness forced me to close my eyes.

  Sound of steps. Hands grabbed my arms, roughly hauled me to my feet. The rapid movement made me sick.

  “He puked on my shoes,” a man said angrily.

  A fist slammed into my ear. I fell hard to the concrete. Was hauled to my feet again. My hands untied. Two men, one on either side, escorted me out the door into a larger room. I had to squint. The lights in this larger area were brighter.

  The space looked like an abandoned manufacturing plant. Concrete floors. Metal support posts. Ribbed sheet metal ceiling. Hanging tungsten lighting. The floor was littered with greasy shop rags, metal scraps, torn safety posters.

  The two men pushed me forward toward a group of men standing in the center of the vast shop floor. To my right, I saw a yellow backhoe. The bucket rested next to a stack of concrete chunks and dirt.

  As the group watched us approach, they shifted, forming two halves of a thirty-foot circle. I was taken to the center, spotlighted by a tungsten lamp directly overhead.

  D’Onifrio, dressed in a tux, stood fifteen feet away to my right. Wilder next to him, in one of his gaudy three-piece suits. Minions arced out on either side of them.

  An equal distance to my left, I recognized Enrico, Little Ernie, and Eduardo. Ten to fifteen more men to the sides of them. Chairs were brought for Enrico and the nephews.

  As Enrico settled wearily into his seat, I could see the blue cover of the awards show booklet in his hand. He waved it in the air. “Dee, you may begin,” he said in surprisingly good English.

  D’Onifrio nodded, his face cold, expressionless, his voice strong. “Enrico, members of the council, we are at war. Our enemies will use any and every means to try and defeat us.
In the past, they have tried to infiltrate our organization, shut us down, send us to jail. Always, we have caught these agents, killed them before they could do any damage. These deaths do not stop our enemy’s efforts. In fact, it only makes them try harder. They send more agents, try more ingenious schemes. They know we are growing more powerful, and they are afraid.”

  Across the circle, Enrico nodded his agreement.

  “Fearful men do stupid things.” D’Onifrio pointed at the booklet resting on Enrico’s lap. “They think they drive a wedge between us with their lies. They think we will fight amongst ourselves. They are wrong. We will not fall for their tricks. We are not fearful, we will not do anything stupid. We are strong. Strong men do smart things. For two years, I have had a man planted in our enemy’s camp. That was smart. Everything they have planned—including this—we have known. Their leader, Raines, is this man’s boss. Tonight, Enrico, to honor you, I have had this man Raines eliminated.”

  From behind D’Onifrio, two men carried Raines’ dead body to the center of the circle, dumped it on the concrete next to me, returned to their group. Raines’ face had been horribly beaten. A long red gash ran across his throat. His clothes were soaked with blood.

  “This was all his plan, Enrico. A plan to make you think I was no longer loyal. It is no coincidence this is happening now; they knew you were deciding on leadership. They sought to discredit me.”

  Again, Enrico nodded as if in agreement.

  “They have wronged me and they will pay with their lives. Enrico, I know that no guns are allowed in meetings, but if you will send for a gun, I will execute this traitor here and now.”

  Enrico turned his head, said something. A man went scurrying off, returned short minutes later with a revolver, handed it to Enrico. Enrico held it out in a trembling hand for D’Onifrio.

  He strode across the circle to get it. “Down on your knees,” he said to me as he passed.

  I stood motionless, paralyzed by fear.

  D’Onifrio took the gun from the old man’s outstretched hand. Checked to see if it was loaded, turned. He walked toward me, grinning. I closed my eyes.