“It sounds nice.”
“I had fun.” She shook her head and smiled, just thinking about it. “With him, it was never like ‘Let’s get a pizza, go to your place, and fuck like rabbits.’ He was sweet to me.” She reached back to touch the hair on the back of her head, then left her hand clamped around her neck. “He was always sweet to me.”
“So, you just had to throw him over for a younger stud.”
The smile faded, and whatever image she had in her mind was gone. “I was thirty-three years old. I didn’t have that many years left to attract a man.”
“You had a man.”
“A man who would stay with me.”
“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you believed Harvey would walk on you.”
“I didn’t believe it. I knew it.”
“Well, that just strikes me as so much horseshit.”
She drifted back to the photograph. I didn’t know if it held a specific fascination or if it was just something to focus on. “I wouldn’t have given him any choice. I would have made it so hard on him that he would have had to leave me.”
“What, you were possessed?”
“If I had stayed with Harvey, I would have just ended up hurting him. The nicer he was to me, the more I would hurt him.”
“Why?”
“Because I hurt people. That’s what I do. I couldn’t stand knowing how much he loved me and knowing how much I was going to hurt him. Every day it got harder. I couldn’t stand it, so I left.”
This time, when she turned to look at me, I saw something in her eyes that might have passed for pain. I never knew with her what was purposeful manipulation and what was genuine, but I did know what she was talking about. I was on to that theory of hurting someone before they had a chance to hurt you first. She had, however, let him down in the most brutal possible way.
“If you were trying to make him stop loving you, you failed.”
“Story of my life. I couldn’t even do that right. But I give myself credit. At least I was smart enough to figure it out and leave before I hurt him any worse.”
“I don’t think there is a way you could have hurt him any worse.” I started to turn back to the mirror but had another thought. “I take that back. There was one thing you could have done to hurt him worse.”
“What would that be?”
“Come back. You never should have come back.”
33
BY THE TIME I’D FINISHED DRYING MY HAIR, IT HAD BEEN half an hour, so I did my Max Kraft routine, beeping him and putting in my number and 911, just in case he needed a reminder to check his e-mail. I called Felix and told him he was on standby. Then I tried Bo again and finally got him. He was still in Philadelphia and would be until things in Boston cooled down. Timon was with him for the same reason. I felt bad for having dragged him into it. He told me not to worry, that he had done what he did for Harvey. He gave me detailed instructions on how to reach Radik if I needed help.
Harvey had spent most of the night before going through Lyle’s research. He had organized it and put it all into a nifty leather portfolio. I should have tried to sleep, but I was too wired. Besides, there was no way I wasn’t going to listen to more of what Tony Blackmon had to say. I unzipped the portfolio and pulled the contents out. Harvey would have come up with some kind of index or summary. I sifted through the stack and found it. The tapes were there, one still in the small player I’d bought from Staples. It was at the end of the B-side of the second tape, which meant Harvey must have listened all the way through. He was thorough that way.
I found the A-side of the first tape, which had been rewound, dropped it in, and started listening. After a very short time, it was clear that Cyrus had gone over to the dark side early on. What was interesting was to hear Blackmon, the nonpsychopath, struggle with the pinpoint effectiveness of vigilantism versus the slow grind of due process. He talked about Mossad and its efforts after the 1972 Olympics to hunt down and murder every terrorist involved in that bloody fiasco. He talked about Pablo Escobar and how the only reason he was ever caught was that the vigilante group Los Pepes had turned the tables on him, kidnapping his family and friends, killing members of his crew, and using all manner of violence to persuade people not to help him. He made the point that Los Pepes was very likely made up of moonlighting police and military officers who followed the rules by day and made the real progress at night. He made a persuasive argument for the ends justifying the means, at least in the case of terrorists determined to nuke us all to kingdom come.
I was at the beginning of the first tape, side A, when my phone rang. Private call. It was either Thorne or Kraft. I flipped it open and answered.
“I got your e-mail. I’m on my way there.”
It was Kraft. I checked my watch. It was just about nine in the morning. “How long?”
“It will be a few hours. When I got closer, we can decide where to meet. Keep the key with you, and we need a safe word.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I call and for any reason you need to tell me not to come in, use the word quiet, and I’ll know. I’ll call you.”
Click.
I hated how he did that—kept all the power over our communication. Still, the news was good, and I wanted to share it. I went downstairs to tell Harvey.
From the top of the stairs, I heard the unmistakable razor-blades-and-vodka voice of Tom Waits. I slipped quietly down, trying to stay under the sound of “Jersey Girl,” one of the all-time great songs about being in love when it’s easy. Its gently swooping sha-la-las and quietly strutting acoustic guitar sounded like boardwalks and striped cabanas and ice cream that drips out of the cone and down your hand, the sweet cream mixing with the taste of salt on your skin.
A set of packed bags was at the bottom of the stairs, and Harvey and Rachel were in the front room, the one with the new sound system. Neither noticed me, but the planet could have fallen into the sun and they wouldn’t have noticed, because Harvey was on his feet, and Rachel was in his arms, and they were dancing.
They weren’t moving much; it was more like swaying. But it was enough to imagine them years before on a dance floor somewhere, when Harvey had his legs under him and could do what he loved to do and move the way he wanted to move.
Harvey had been a good dancer. I could see it in the way he held Rachel, with one hand flat against the small of her back, his wrist cocked just so. His other hand, with hers in it, was high in the air, in case he was struck with the impulse to spin her. Rachel’s head was tucked under his chin, and his eyes were closed, and all that weight that he carried around in his life was just…gone. He was floating. That’s what she did for him. No matter what she was, no matter what she said or how I felt about her, some part of her loved him, and every part of him loved her beyond words. She made him dance.
Watching them together, holding each other, made it easy to understand why he would do anything for her. It also made me wonder what it would be like to be loved that way.
Nothing else matters in this whole wide world,
When you’re in love with a Jersey girl…
They were saying goodbye to each other. I sat down on the steps and waited for their music to end.
34
I DIDN’T REMEMBER RACHEL HAVING AS MANY BAGS AS I had to load into the Durango or that they were that heavy. I thought about checking for silverware, but that might have been considered inflammatory.
Rachel had wanted to take a cab to the airport, but Harvey insisted that I drive her.
“I wish you would go with us,” I said to him. Rachel was in the car waiting.
“I cannot,” was all he would say.
“You shouldn’t be here alone.”
“It is unlikely that Mr. Kraft will call before you get back. Besides, you have your phone with you and the key. If he calls, you can make arrangements to meet somewhere.”
He was right. It had been just a little over an hour since Kraft and I had spoken. He wasn’t likely
to check back in before I got back. Besides, if it made Harvey feel better to know that Rachel was safely on her way, it was worth the effort. I just didn’t want to leave him alone. I had tried to call Radik and got his voice mail.
“Give me your phone.”
He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out his cell. I programmed in Radik’s number. “Keep checking with him. If you can get him and you can communicate, ask him to come over. If the land line rings, don’t answer it.”
I checked my watch. Ninety minutes to her departure time, and she still had to get to the airport, check in, and clear security. I could get Felix or Dan to move her through, but even with that advantage, we had no time to waste. I had to go. I gave him the phone back. “Are you sure—”
“I will be fine. Please, this is hard enough. Just go.”
Rachel didn’t even look at me when I got in and buckled up. Her attention was focused on whatever she saw out her own window. I checked to see that she was strapped in and started the car, and we drove for several miles in silence. While she continued her vigil, I paid attention to the traffic. I still wasn’t accustomed to all the changes the Big Dig had wrought. If I didn’t read the signs, I always ended up somewhere I didn’t want to be.
Eventually, the heavy silence started to feel childish. “Harvey said you’re going to Hawaii.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I didn’t travel a lot when I was with Majestic, but that was one place I always found a way to get to.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Dan will probably move you up to first class, which is nice on such a long haul.”
She didn’t answer. Screw it. At least I gave it a shot. But then she turned her head, and I happened to catch just a glimpse of what was going on. She blinked the tears out of her eyes and wiped them with a swipe of her thumb.
“I don’t want to go.”
“Harvey said you always wanted to go to Hawaii.”
“Not like this.” She turned away again, slipped on a pair of shades, and didn’t say another word until we pulled up to the Majestic curb. We got out and met at the trunk, where a skycap was already pulling out her bags.
“Where to, Miss?”
“Molokai.” She tried to hand him the ticket.
“You’ll have to check in at the counter.” He nodded to a kiosk set up down the curb, then took the bags over and put them in line for her. I slammed the trunk closed and pulled out my phone to call Dan.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m getting someone to come and take care of you.”
She shook her head and gave me a smile tinged with something that looked like remorse. “I’m used to taking care of myself.”
I put the phone away and went to get back behind the wheel. I took a last look at her across the roof of the car.
“Rachel?”
In the permanent twilight of the covered curbside, she had taken off her sunglasses to dig in her bag, probably for ID, so when she looked up at me, I could see it. She knew she had left something really good behind.
“Be safe.”
I took every yellow light and time-shaving maneuver I could to get back to the house quickly. When I walked back in, something was different. I felt it. The old cliché was true, that you didn’t know how much you missed someone until they were gone. I couldn’t say I missed Rachel, but I did feel that something had shifted. I walked past that seldom-used front room, stopped, and had to come back. It wasn’t the absence of Rachel I was feeling but the presence of someone who shouldn’t have been there.
Cyrus Thorne was on the couch. He was leaning back with one foot propped on the corner of the table in front of him. He had his glasses on and was reading the top page of a stack that was in his lap. On the table in front of him were a big, black, large-caliber semiautomatic handgun and the leather portfolio that held Lyle’s notes. There was also a bag of cherry cough drops. He was sucking on one, rolling it around in his mouth.
Harvey was there, still in his wheelchair. His wrists were tied to the arms of the chair.
Cyrus pointed to the stack of Lyle’s notes and smiled. “Are you writing a book?”
“Someone gave that to me. I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet.”
“There are taped interviews, too.” Without changing position, he reached out for one of the cassettes and managed to snag it with just the tips of his fingers. “Do you know who’s on this tape? My late partner, Mr. Tony Blackmon.”
“No kidding.” I kept my eye on his weapon and tried to look around casually. I knew he wasn’t alone, but I couldn’t see anyone else. “I guess you didn’t believe me when I told you I needed more time.”
“That’s because you were lying.” He got up and came toward me. “Mr. Kraft is on his way.”
I looked at Harvey. “How would you know something like that?”
He reached around my waist, and the sweet smell of his cherry cough drop was right in my face. I could hear it clacking around his molars. He found the key in my back pocket. “He’s coming for this.” While he was back there, he took the Glock. “He’ll call you for location, and as long as you don’t say the word quiet, he will feel safe to meet you.”
He smiled, and I had a deflating feeling that only flattened me more when he took my phone from my hand, held it up next to his ear, and whispered, “We’ve been listening.”
35
I WAS CONFUSED FOR ABOUT TWO SECONDS, AND THEN I was mortified by my own stupidity. While I was on the Blackthorne plane, Thorne and Tatiana had had access to my cell phone, my computer, and everything else I’d had with me. And they were spooks. Of course they’d been listening. Probably tracking me, too. No wonder I had never seen anyone tailing me.
Here was one of the problems with being in so far over your head. You didn’t even know what you didn’t know.
Thorne’s gaze shifted to a spot over my right shoulder. “Red.”
I thought he was talking in code, but then a voice came from behind me. “Sir?”
I turned to find one of Cyrus’s soldiers. He looked very young, and he wasn’t called Red because of his hair. It was dark and cut close to his scalp.
“Did you clear the house?”
“Upstairs and down, sir.”
“Excellent. Take care of her, then make sure we stay clear in the back. I don’t want any surprises.”
“You got it, sir.” Either Thorne’s men had learned not to argue with the boss, or he really commanded their respect.
There was a tense moment when I could feel Red behind me and I didn’t know what “take care of her” meant. But all he did was pull my wrists together and secure them with plastic cuffs. He took me over toward Harvey and put me on the ottoman next to him.
“Are you all right?” I asked him.
“Yes. Are you?”
“I’m fine.”
He glanced at Thorne and lowered his voice to lip-reading volume. “Did you get her off?”
I nodded, and he slumped in his chair. It almost seemed as if his concern for Rachel had been the only thing keeping him upright.
An unfamiliar ring tone called out. Cyrus answered a phone he pulled from his gear bag and launched into a conversation in a different language. It was hard and guttural and sounded something like Bo when he spoke to Timon or Radik. Thinking about Bo reminded me that he wasn’t coming and that Thorne knew that, too. As he’d said, he’d been listening. I leaned over to talk to Harvey. “Did you ever reach Radik?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“I don’t suppose you left a message?” Harvey wasn’t big on those. He shook his head.
No one was coming.
Harvey nodded toward Thorne. “He is here to intercept Mr. Kraft and likely kill him. Once he has accomplished that, he will very likely kill us as well.”
That summed it up.
“What do you think will happen to the video of Rachel’s incident?” he asked.
“It’s not on my list of things to worry about right now.�
�
“She will not know. Drazen will come for her, and she will not know to run.”
“Rachel takes pretty good care of herself. Right now, I’m worried about our own situation.” Thorne was still on the phone. He’d left my cell sitting on the table next to the portfolio. “He’s been listening to all my calls, so he knows about the money files. He took the key, so he must plan on taking the money, too. That will make a nice and unexpected bonus.”
“Indeed.” Harvey’s chin dropped to his chest, and he looked the way he did when he’d taken too much medication. But after a minute or so, he seemed to wake up. “Yes. He will want the money. That is undoubtedly true.”
“Who wouldn’t want a billion dollars free and clear? He can plow it back into his company.”
“But he must get to it first.”
“He’s got the key. All he needs is the computer, and it’s on the way.”
“Listen to me.” Harvey turned as far as he could toward me, given that his arms were lashed to the chair. “Before she left, Rachel and I talked. I will tell you what I told her.” He took a difficult breath, but one that seemed to calm him. “I am through being afraid. I am through being manipulated. I will do what I think is right, what I think is best.”
He was remarkably composed. It always freaked me out when Harvey was less nervous and more measured than I was. I was desperate to hear more, but my cell phone rang.
Thorne finished his call and radioed for Red. Then he came over, grabbed me, and pulled me over to the couch. The ringing seemed louder than normal. He put a second cell down next to mine, and I understood why. The two of them were ringing, but not exactly together, which made for almost continuous bleating.
“It’s a clone,” he said, “and it’s been most helpful. If you don’t follow the plan, your partner will become another casualty of war.”
The Pandora Key Page 26
