Quarterback Trap (A Carlos McCrary novel Book 3)

by Dallas Gorham

  “You’re welcome, Bob. And I’m glad you’re safe, too.” I carried my phone out to the dock so I wouldn’t wake Snoop. We had moored on the end of the finger pier. The sunrise shimmered over Biscayne Bay.

  He laughed. “Sorry, Eighty-Eight. Thanks for rescuing Gracie. Where is she?”

  “Her parents met us at Convoy Point Marina at 4:30 this morning and took her home.” I yawned and looked around for any place I could score a coffee.

  “Are you and Snoop okay?”

  “We’re sleepy, but we’re okay. I can’t say the same for a half dozen of Vidali’s crewmen.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “They’re arguing with St. Peter about whether he should admit them through the Pearly Gates.”

  “You killed them?”

  “At least four of them that I know of. Snoop and I wounded at least two more on the yacht. You owe me big time for boat repairs. I’ll tell you about it later.” I stifled a yawn.

  “What about Vidali?”

  “He wasn’t on board, and that worries me.” I spied the harbormaster’s office and walked toward it. Maybe I could find coffee there.

  “Tell me about the rescue.”

  By the time I finished my harrowing tale of heroism and how Snoop and I had rescued the damsel in distress from the clutches of the evil mobster, I’d reached the harbormaster’s office. The door sign said it would open at 8:00 a.m. Could I survive another hour without coffee? What if the harbormaster didn’t have a coffee maker? Would Western Civilization come to an end?

  I finished my story. “We got to the marina at 4:30 this morning.”

  “Well, we can all breathe easier now, right?”

  “Nope, we can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Amigo, I’ll explain everything to you when I bring Gracie there. In the meantime, don’t leave your hotel room without a police escort. I’ve called the Port City cops to arrange it.”

  I glanced around the marina and spotted a cabin cruiser named My Vacation Home out of Norfolk, Virginia on the next finger pier. An elderly couple sat on deck drinking coffee and enjoying the sunrise. I waved at them; they waved back. I walked in their direction. Any port in a storm. I was not above begging.

  “What am I supposed to do until you and Gracie get here?”

  “I called some buddies at the Port City Police Department and asked them to beef up security around your hotel and around your practice facility. And a few hours ago I called two of my operatives to guard Gracie’s parents’ house.”

  “But Gracie’s safe now.”

  “No, she’s not.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Like I said, I’ll explain when I bring Gracie to your hotel.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “Don’t you have practice today?”

  “Shit, you’re right. I guess you’ll be here before I finish practice.”

  I crossed the last few yards toward the Virginia cruiser. The coffee’s smell attracted me like steel to a magnet. “Yeah. I arranged to have a rental car waiting for us here. But the car company left the keys with the harbor master. His office opens at 8:00. Why don’t you call Gracie and tell her I’ll pick her up at nine. Call her parents’ home number. She doesn’t have a phone.”

  I reached the boat with the couple from Virginia. “Can you help a poor, sleepy pilgrim who is desperate for a cup of coffee?”

  Chapter 45

  The Virginia couple summered in Norfolk and wintered on their boat. From fall to spring, they cruised the coast from Cape Hatteras to Tarpon Springs. Steve, the husband, described himself as “a recovering accountant.” His wife Shirley was a retired operating room nurse at Sentara Norfolk General Hospital. I had finished my second cup with them when my phone rang. It was Horatio Perez.

  “Good morning, Horatio. I was about to call you. I put two bodyguards in front of your house in case Vidali tries to get to Graciela again. I’ll be there in another hour to take her back to her hotel.”

  “Something’s wrong, Chuck.”

  “What is it?”

  “Gordo is missing?”

  “Gordo, Graciela’s dog?”

  “Yes, he’s missing.”

  “Could he jump the fence? Dig his way out?”

  “No, he’s too old to jump. I checked the fence. He didn’t dig out. He’s just gone. Someone has taken him. Whoever took him left the gate open.”

  “Could you or Evangelina have left the gate open?”

  “No. Someone cut the padlock on the gate. It looks like they used bolt cutters.”

  “When was the last time you saw Gordo?”

  “Last night before we went to bed. He sleeps outside unless Graciela is here. I put him in the backyard about ten o’clock.”

  “When did you learn he was gone?”

  “Just now. Graciela woke up and wanted to see Gordo.” His voice broke. “He’s gone. He’s vanished.”

  ###

  Snoop and I walked down the driveway to the back fence. The padlock lay in the grass next to the open gate.

  “This is the way I found it,” said Horatio.

  Gracie’s eyes were red. It could have been from a lack of sleep, but I knew she’d been crying. “Who would want to kidnap an old dog like Gordo? It’s not like he’s a show dog. He’s not worth any money. Why would someone do that?”

  Was it a coincidence that a dog-napper grabbed Gordo while a kidnapper had grabbed Gordo’s owner? Rule Seven: There is no such thing as a coincidence.

  Then it hit me: Teflon Vic was a gambler who wanted the winning hand. He would do anything to swing the odds in his favor. He’d grabbed Gordo to keep Gracie in line. But did he grab the dog while Gracie was still on the Double Scotch? Or did he somehow learn in the middle of the night that Gracie had escaped and then organize the dog-napping in the space of a couple of hours? Did it really matter? Either way, it was the work of a calculating, ruthless enemy.

  I looked at Gracie and Horatio. “My guess is that one of Vidali’s thugs grabbed him.”

  Gracie’s eyes teared up. “But why?”

  I knew why, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her. I hoped I was wrong.

  Chapter 46

  When we were all three in the rental car I had picked up at Convoy Point, I turned to Snoop. “Why don’t you look up the nearest cellphone store, so Gracie can buy a new phone.”

  Snoop Googled a store, and we stopped for her to buy another phone.

  I walked in with her and stood a few feet away.

  Gracie opened her red Prada purse. She fished around in it, moving things from side to side, unzipping pockets, and rezipping them. Finally, she set her bag on the counter and took the contents out, systematically lining items up on the glass. She emptied one pocket and felt around in it, held it open and peered inside. Her breath came quicker. She carefully replaced the lipsticks, tissues, and other detritus in the pocket and zipped it closed. She unzipped the next pocket and repeated the process, her movements became faster and less controlled.

  I stepped over. “Having trouble finding something, Gracie?”

  She stopped and looked at me. “I’m…I’m, uh, looking for my credit card.” She kept emptying her purse onto the counter.

  I pointed to the black Prada clutch bag she had pulled from the purse and laid on the counter. “Gracie, that looks like a pocket book. Would your credit card be in there?”

  “No, I’m looking for—” she stopped. She caught her breath and looked down at the counter. “Yes, that must be it.” She opened the clutch and swiped a gold American Express card.

  The clerk looked at his cash register screen. “I’m sorry, miss. This card’s been declined.”

  Her cheeks blazed with red. “There must be some mistake. Here, I’ll use this one.” She swiped another card and waited nervously while the clerk checked his screen. She breathed a sigh of relief when he opened the phone to activate it. Stiffly, she completed the transaction and we walked back to the re
ntal car.

  I closed the passenger door and walked around to the driver seat. “Next stop, the Port City Palace. I know you’ll be glad to see Bob again.”

  “Yes, of course I will. In fact, I’ll call him right now.” Gracie called Bob’s phone and left a message in Spanish. “It’s Bunny. I’m with Chuck and Snoop and we’re on our way to the hotel. I’m calling from my new phone. You can add the number from your call log. I love you, and I’ll be there soon.” She disconnected. “Bob didn’t answer. I hope he’s okay.”

  “I talked to him earlier. He’s at practice.”

  “Oh, that’s right. He told me when he called at Mom and Dad’s earlier.”

  I took the entrance ramp onto I-95 northbound. “Gracie, how did Vidali manage to kidnap you right out of the hotel?”

  She shook her head and didn’t answer.

  I drove on for a while. “You want to tell me what happened?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I took a quick look at her while there was a break in the traffic. Her eyes glistened and her chin quivered.

  “Gracie, did Vidali…hurt you in any way?”

  She burst into tears. “Don’t…” Her voice broke. “Don’t say anything to Bob.”

  We drove in silence the rest of the way to the Palace. I knew she was a first-class fashion model; I hadn’t realized she was also a pretty good liar.

  Snoop dropped us at the hotel entrance and went to return our Convoy Point rental car and bring the Avanti to the hotel.

  Gracie and I stopped at the hotel reception.

  The clerk looked up. “May I help you, Ms. Perez?”

  “My purse was stolen and I need a new keycard.”

  “That’s too bad,” said the clerk. “I’ll change the code on your door so whoever stole your purse can’t get in.” She punched a few keys on her computer. “Now I’ll fix you a new keycard.”

  I gave the clerk my old keycard to Bob’s and Gracie’s room. I turned to Gracie. “In case of emergency, I want one too.”

  “Of course. Please make an extra one for Mr. McCrary,” she directed the clerk.

  “You’d better text Bob that his old keycard won’t work anymore.”

  ###

  I woke from my nap on the couch when Bob opened the door to his suite. “Hey, Bob. I see you got the message about the new keycard.”

  “Yeah. Where’s Gracie?”

  I waved over my shoulder. “Asleep in the bedroom.”

  Bob walked toward the bedroom door, and I held up a hand. “Amigo, we need to talk first. Let Gracie sleep awhile. None of us got much sleep last night.”

  I waited for him to sit down. “This isn’t over. You think now that Gracie is back, you don’t need to worry. You forget that a mobster has millions of dollars bet on the Cowboys. Vidali is not the type to leave the game to chance. He’s used to having the odds in his favor. He won’t take this lying down. Remember Rule Fourteen: When you think someone is out to get you, they probably are.”

  “But Gracie is free and kickoff is tomorrow. I don’t see what he could do now.”

  “Bob, you live in a world where you figure out what your opponent is likely to do. You plan your response based on probabilities. You call the plays and try to predict outcomes. You have to recognize a linebacker blitz, read man-to-man or zone coverage, and sometimes dump the ball before you get sacked. That’s your universe.”

  “Pretty much, yeah. So what?”

  “In the Special Forces, I trained to live in a different world. I don’t worry so much about what the enemy is likely to do as what he is capable of doing. I prepare for his capabilities, not his probabilities.”

  “I don’t get it, Eighty-Eight.”

  “Let’s say that you walk into a restaurant. You’re thinking about what you might order.”

  “Okay. So?”

  “When I walk into a restaurant, I know on a conscious level that 99 percent of the time, I’m not in danger. But I always figure out how to kill everyone in the room if necessary. After I have that plan firmly in mind, then I think about what to order.”

  “My God, I never imagined such a thing.”

  I shrugged. “No reason you should; you’re a civilian. But soldiers know different. And I was Special Forces.”

  “I could never live like that.”

  “Of course not. But I had to learn to live like that to survive Iraq and Afghanistan. Now I’m used to it. I plan in terms of Vidali’s capabilities, not his probabilities. He’s an organized crime boss. He could order someone to break your throwing hand or even kill you. Boom, just like that. He wouldn’t hesitate a second or have an instant’s regret. He has no conscience. You’re now the best source of leverage he has.”

  “Holy shit, Eighty-Eight. I never considered I could be the one in danger.”

  “You weren’t in danger—until I rescued Gracie. With her free, you could be his next target. For the next…” I glanced at my watch. “For the next twenty-nine hours you gotta think that any stranger could be a hit man. You gotta stay out of sight.”

  He looked dubious.

  “One other thing, Bob. Gracie’s involved in this somehow.”

  “Involved how?”

  “Maybe she wasn’t exactly kidnapped. Maybe she went voluntarily, then changed her mind.”

  “I’ll never believe Gracie would do anything to hurt me. Never.”

  “I’m not surprised you feel that way, amigo. But keep the possibility in the back of your mind. Play your cards close to your chest around her.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Now go be with Gracie. I’m gonna finish my nap.” I checked my shoulder holster to make sure it was still within easy reach on the floor by the couch.

  ###

  The sound of Bob opening his bedroom door woke me. Bob looked like he’d see a ghost.

  “What’s the matter, amigo?” I grabbed for my Glock and sat up on the couch.

  “I’m kind of freaked out, Eighty-Eight. I got a text from Gracie’s phone—her old phone.” He handed me his phone.

  The woman is safe FOR NOW. Don’t think I cannot reach her—or you. Go look in her rental car.

  I handed the phone back. “Has Gracie seen this?”

  “I didn’t have the heart to wake her. I just laid down on the bed next to her. Then my phone buzzed.”

  “Is Gracie’s rental where I left it?”

  “I guess. I know I didn’t move it.” Bob walked to the kitchen counter where I had left the keys a couple of days before. “Let’s go check it out.”

  “You stay here, amigo. Until the Super Bowl is over, the world is a hostile place for you. Toss me the keys and I’ll check it out.” I strapped my shoulder holster on. “Don’t open this door for anyone but Snoop or me. For Gracie’s sake, don’t show her that text until we know for sure what it means.”

  “Where’s Snoop?”

  “He went to return the car we used to bring Gracie back from Convoy Point. He’ll be back soon with the Avanti. He’ll call you on the house phone before he comes up. If anybody else knocks on that door,” I pointed at it, “it’s dangerous. Don’t even let in a housekeeper. Got it?”

  He nodded. “Right. Hostile world. No one but you and Snoop. Don’t show Gracie the text.”

  I got off the elevator two floors above the one where I had parked Gracie’s red convertible. The guy who sent the text could have done it to lure either Bob or me into an ambush. I didn’t want any shooter to surprise me as I walked through a doorway. Gracie told me that was how they got to her. The difference was that they had wanted Gracie alive. Bob or me, not so much.

  I drew my Glock and pushed the steel door open to ninety degrees. I glanced through the crack by the hinges. No one was behind it.

  As I walked down the parking ramps to my destination, I passed some other hotel guests and held the pistol at my side. When I got to the last ramp, I edged around the last column to check out the parking deck.

  I waited for three men in suits to get in a sedan
and pull away. They weren’t the ones I was wary of.

  I walked toward Gracie’s convertible. As I got closer I saw the slash in the top over the driver’s door. That’s why you never lock a convertible. Anyone with a pocket knife can get in if they cut the top. And someone had.

  My gut squirmed and my throat went dry. I had a sick feeling I knew what I would find in Gracie’s car.

  ###

  I closed the door behind the two Port City detectives as they left Bob and Gracie’s hotel suite.

  Snoop looked as sad as I had seen him in a long time. “What kind of depraved nut slits a dog’s throat?”

  “Somebody who saw The Godfather,” I answered.

  Gracie came from the bathroom, eyes red from crying.

  “Once again, Gracie, I’m sorry for your loss. I had a dog when I was a boy. I know how much Gordo meant to you.”

  She nodded wordlessly and sat on the couch. Bob put his arm around her.

  Bob’s phone whistled to announce a text. “Oh, my God.”

  “Hand me the phone.”

  He did. It was another text from Graciela’s old cellphone. I can get to you anywhere. The cops cannot protect you or the girl. If the Cowboys lose by no more than four points, Graciela will live. To be clear, the Jets cannot beat the Cowboys more than four points. If they do, she’ll never live to see your wedding day.

  “I need to keep this phone for a while.”

  “Why?”

  “To see where Gracie’s phone was when he sent the text.”

  Gracie sat up straight. “Bob got a text from my old phone? Let me see it.”

  I handed the phone to her.

  As she read it, her face went white. Her left eyelid fluttered.

  I took the phone back. “Now you know how serious this is. Don’t leave this room, either of you. You’ll be safe with Snoop here. Sit tight. Don’t go out to dinner; order room service. Let Snoop check the door when it gets here.”

  Bob glanced at Gracie, then back at me. “This is like a trap play in football—you let the opposing player thinks he’s free to run right over you. He runs into the backfield, and boom, you blindside him. Except instead of trapping the linebacker, this Vidali guy has trapped the quarterback. I couldn’t do what he wants, even if I wanted to.”