by Penny McCall
Cole stood back and let him talk. Whatever Harmony did—and she was going to do something, of that he was sure—he wasn’t getting in the line of fire.
“After Irina tried to capture Hackett and failed,” Richard was saying, “we lost track of you. Irina alerted her friends in the Russian mafia to keep an eye out for you, but I feared they would be unsuccessful in finding you. All I could do was wait for you to reach Los Angeles—until Victor contacted me, or rather contacted Richard Swendahl’s Russian kidnappers.
“I didn’t even have to tell him why I was looking for you,” he continued. “As soon as he discovered who’d had his agents called back to D.C., he began to monitor Kovaleski’s phone activity. When Mike reached out to Larkin, Treacher learned exactly what you were doing and where you were going.”
“And he told you where we were so you could kill me,” Harmony said with an eerie calm in her voice. “He thought he was getting a kidnapped FBI agent killed, too. But of course you were never in any danger.”
“Thanks to my friends at the Bureau. I knew they would refuse to negotiate, and I knew they would keep it quiet. Can’t let the other agents know just how disposable they are.”
“Isn’t that supposed to be part of the job description?”
“Perhaps in theory. Even while they take every possible step to prevent it, every agent knows they may give their life for their country,” he sneered. “In your case, you would be correct.”
“You’re talking about the meet in South Central. But your lapdogs weren’t there.”
“And you weren’t supposed to die there. We made arrangements with some of the local residents—”
“Gang members,” Harmony said.
Richard shrugged. “You were not to be hurt, simply taken hostage so we could get the password and the bank account number.”
“Which you couldn’t have gotten without hurting us.”
“Again, this is your choice,” Richard said, just a little puzzlement and a tinge of concern leaking into his expression. Harmony was being far too calm, and Cole could see that was rattling him. “How did you know to come here?”
“Background noise.”
He closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “That idiot next door and his gong.”
Harmony just shrugged.
“None of this has gone as it was supposed to,” Richard said with a slightly accusatory tone, as if it were all Harmony’s fault. “You were to transfer the money from Washington. You were not intended to rescue me.”
This time Harmony smiled a little. It wasn’t pleasant. “Apparently you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
“I know you’re going to die one way or another,” Richard said, lifting the gun a little to show he meant business. “It’s your choice how you go. You can give me the account information and get a nice, quick bullet to the brain, or I’ll let Irina and Leo have you. They’re pretty good at getting what they want even when there’s no personal stake for them. After this,” he gestured to the inert forms on the floor, “Irina in particular will want some retribution for the humiliation she’s suffered.”
“What’s with all the talking?” Cole burst out. It was time to end the game before Richard got his henchmen back. In her current state, Harmony probably would have loved for Irina to wake up so she had someplace to take out her aggression. Cole wasn’t so eager to have another dance with Leo. “Haven’t you ever heard of shoot first and ask questions later?” he snapped at Harmony. “It’s a saying for a reason.”
Harmony only glared at him. “So is out of sight, out of mind. If you’re so worried about your safety, feel free to leave.”
“He’s holding a gun on us.”
“That didn’t stop you before.”
“Before it was you holding the gun, and you needed me.”
“So does he. He’s not going to shoot you.”
“He can’t kill me,” Cole reminded her, “but he can still shoot me.”
Richard laughed. “You two really are very entertaining.”
“Glad to be of service,” Cole grumbled, meeting Harmony glare for glare until she turned her back to him again.
“You were talking about your master plan,” she prompted Richard.
“Ah, yes. But of course you can deduce the rest for yourself.”
“You are Russian, then.” And her last hope to salvage anything from this situation died. “You were a double agent in the beginning, with your allegiance to Russia.”
“During the Cold War, yes. When the Iron Curtain fell, I stayed in the United States rather than go back to the hellhole Russia became in the chaos that followed the advent of so-called democracy. But I had never prepared . . . Had things remained as they were I would have gone back to my country a hero. A very well-compensated hero.”
“But you had no retirement savings here, so you set me up.”
“No, but I did use you.” And he almost looked sorry for it. “If you’d done as asked and transferred the money from the safety of Washington D.C.—”
“I’d be on the hook for the money, which means I’d be going to jail.”
“But you’d be alive.”
“Somehow I don’t think I’d have been grateful.”
“You weren’t supposed to discover the truth,” Richard reminded her. “I was to be taken for dead, and the kidnappers would have gotten away with millions of dollars.”
Harmony might have been able to see the genius of his plan, under other circumstances and after the passage of time. At the moment it felt like she’d had her heart ripped out. But there was still one more question. The answer was sure to hurt her more deeply, but she needed to know just how big a fool she’d been. “Have you been planning this since I was eight years old?”
“Let’s say the seeds were planted then, but they would not have taken root had my circumstances not been irrevocably changed.”
She shook her head, some of her anger giving way to sadness. “I would have given you the money.”
“I don’t want charity,” Richard spat, “and you don’t have the kind of money I deserve.”
“Deserve?”
“I put my life on the line every day. For two countries. I was being pulled from the field, did you know that? The next step would have been retirement. On a government pension, and I wasn’t about to live in quiet poverty, or take some desk job in the private sector. Not while the criminals are living like kings—in both countries. So I called some contacts from the old days. Most of the KGB officers I knew have found other uses for their talents. Before long, Irina and Leo showed up.”
“The Russian mafia sent them,” Harmony said, not feeling quite so naïve anymore, compared to Richard’s willful ignorance. “They’re not the kind of people who would let you walk off into the sunset with millions of dollars. You’d have gotten your cut, but you’d have proven yourself useful, and there’s no retiring from that kind of employment.”
“My affiliation is now to myself.”
“Oh, I think the FBI would want to talk to you about that.”
“The FBI will never find out.”
When his gaze shifted, ever so slightly, Harmony took his words as more than just arrogance. She glanced around in time to see Irina stirring. She walked over and kicked the other woman in the ribs, then smashed her fist into Irina’s temple. It hurt like hell, and Irina got to her feet anyway, but Harmony was spoiling for more violence.
Richard put a hand out before Irina could try to retaliate.
“I’m impressed,” Harmony said to Irina. “Do you know ‘sit’ and ‘roll over,’ too? You did a pretty good job on ‘play dead.’ ”
“Are you done?” Richard asked her.
“Not even close. I won’t be done until you’re in jail.”
“Big talk from someone on the wrong end of the gun.” Richard held out his free hand. “And you can hand over your clutch piece.”
“No.”
“Don’t think I won’t shoot you. I’m prepare
d to do what it takes to get the information I want.”
“Then shoot me.”
Richard cocked the gun and brought it to bear on Cole.
Before Harmony could even begin to decide how to handle the threat, the doorbell rang, and then she knew just what to do. She smiled. “That’ll be the police.”
“Get rid of them,” Richard said to Irina.
Irina sent Harmony one last look filled with hatred and promise, and took herself upstairs.
That level of the basement was built into the hillside and fronted by windows that overlooked the valley beyond. There were French doors at Richard’s end, with a small brick patio, terracing down to the pool. Harmony looked past Richard, out the glass doorway, and smiled.
Irina came back, bumping Harmony on the way by. “It was some stupid American looking for a movie star.”
“Ashton Kutcher?” Harmony asked, grinning.
Irina nodded, meeting Richard’s eyes.
“What don’t I know?”
“On the way here I stopped and called the police.”
That just made Richard chuckle. “This is Hollywood. The police spend most of their time doing traffic control for some movie or premiere or award show. They’ll never arrive in time to help you.”
“No, but the paparazzi will.”
And right on cue the photographers she’d seen peeking through the glass doors began to snap pictures, one after another, flashbulbs going off like lightning. The half-dozen or so paparazzi on her terrace couldn’t possibly know who they were photographing, but film was cheap, and you never knew when you’d get that big-money shot.
“Smile for the cameras, Uncle Richard.”
He automatically lowered the gun and brought it in tight so his body hid it from the cameras. Harmony dropped to one knee, pulled her clutch piece and pointed it at Richard, all in that split-second before he turned back to face her.
“You won’t shoot me,” he said.
“That’s what I thought,” Cole told him.
“And she didn’t shoot you.”
“Because I needed him.” Harmony adjusted her aim and pulled the trigger.
Richard dropped his gun to clutch at his thigh.
Harmony had already turned her gun on Irina, who had crouched to retrieve the pistol that had fallen near her feet. She froze, but she was clearly thinking over her choices.
“Go for it,” Harmony said to her. “Please.”
chapter 29
“SAVED BY THE PAPARAZZI,” MIKE SAID.
Harmony could see his smirk all the way from Washington. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“Only in California.”
He had a point. After she left the restaurant in Beverly Hills, it seemed the hostess had called the police back and told them Harmony’s fugitive sighting had been a prank. Then she’d called the paparazzi—who’d called the police when Harmony shot Richard.
The police were followed closely by a foursome of FBI agents in black suits and black sunglasses. They’d been sent by Mike, of course, who’d been keeping tabs on police activity in the Los Angeles area. The FBI agents took over the crime scene, much to the disgust of the LAPD, and Harmony’s relief since it meant she wouldn’t be arrested. Cole’s fate wasn’t as clear.
Richard had been rolled out on a gurney, moaning like he was at death’s door, which nobody bought, including his FBI escort. Irina and Leo had been cuffed and taken directly to jail to await transfer to federal custody. And all of it had taken place before the voracious cameras of the paparazzi.
“So tell me the rest of the story,” Mike said.
“I only injured Richard slightly,” she said, because Mike already knew everything that had led up to the actual shooting. “The paramedics said the bullet went through the muscle on the side of his leg, and it was a small caliber, so he’ll be up and around in no time. I had no choice. There were innocent bystanders all over the place, and he had a gun, too. And he didn’t believe I’d do it,” she added grudgingly, since that was at least half the reason she’d pulled the trigger. She was getting tired of everyone taking her for a creampuff.
“He underestimated you,” Mike said.
“He’s not the only one.”
“You gonna shoot me, too?”
“If you don’t stop laughing.”
“I think I can manage that by the time you get your butt back to Washington.”
“You mean our butts.”
“I mean your butt, and if there’s any chance of saving that butt, you need to get as much mileage as you can out of bringing down a double a—”
“What about Cole?”
Mike sighed heavily. “You know what has to happen.”
“No, I don’t. Why can’t we take him into federal custody, and hold him someplace in D.C.? Some nice, comfortable hotel, maybe.”
“It’ll be hard enough to convince the warden, not to mention all the suits around here, that we had to break him out like we did,” Mike said. “We can’t go around procedure again if we hope to come out of this without having our asses handed to us.”
“He was just as instrumental in catching Swendahl as I was,” Harmony reminded Mike, “along with a couple of Russian mafia members, all of whom can provide invaluable information about the rest of their little conspiracy. I couldn’t have done this without him, Mike. You know that.”
“Yeah, but it’s nice to hear you say it.”
“So I learned a few lessons. You don’t screw over your friends, that’s one thing I knew going into this.”
“You made promises you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep.”
“But Treacher—”
“Is going down. Soon. In the meanwhile Hackett has to go back to jail.”
“I’ll post bond.”
“You know it doesn’t work like that. He’s already been convicted. We have to reopen his case, investigate, and get all the facts in front of a judge. And if the conviction is overturned, then he’ll get out.”
Harmony searched desperately for an argument that would change Mike’s mind. She came up empty. Because Mike was right.
“Look, I’ll go to bat for him, and I know an ace lawyer who’ll take the case as a favor to me.”
“Daniel Pierce,” Harmony said, her eyes on the door.
“He’s already in Los Angeles, working on a case, so I called him.”
“He just walked in.” Tall, handsome, and commanding, Pierce’s slight limp was just another facet of what made people immediately trust and respect him.
The two FBI agents bracketing Cole came instantly to attention, and not just because of the way Daniel Pierce’s presence filled a room. He had the reputation to back it up. Daniel was a former FBI agent, wounded in the line of duty, who’d become a federal prosecutor. He’d prevented the Irish mob in Boston from consolidating, which would have resulted in a turf war between the Irish and Italian crime factions.
Along the way he’d been marked for death, and he’d survived several murder attempts with the help of Vivienne Foster. Vivi considered herself a psychic. So did Daniel. Now. As far as the Bureau was concerned, her vocation was just a rumor.
Harmony had never met the woman, but she’d spent one long night trying to help Daniel locate Vivi after she’d been kidnapped by the bad guys. Harmony could still remember the way Daniel had channeled his anger and frustration, the intensity of his focus. Of course, it turned out he was in love with Vivi.
Daniel had since left the U.S. Attorney’s office to start his own investigation firm, but if she had to go in front of a jury, Harmony couldn’t think of anyone she’d sooner trust her fate to. Daniel Pierce was serious legal muscle. It said something about the gravity of Cole’s situation.
Daniel raised a hand in greeting to Vivi, but he headed directly for Cole.
“Put Hackett on the phone,” Mike said, mistaking the reason for her silence. “He’s a smart guy; he’ll understand.”
“He already knows,” she said, seeing Cole’s eyes shift t
o her about three seconds after Daniel introduced himself as a lawyer.
She disconnected and crossed to the group of four men. The two FBI agents nodded politely. Daniel stepped forward and gave her a hug. Cole wasn’t looking at her anymore.
“I’d like a moment with my client,” Daniel said to the agents.
They exchanged a glance, but they moved to the other end of the room, out of earshot. Harmony stayed where she was.
“I’m going back to jail,” Cole said, his gaze skipping over Daniel to land on Harmony.
She nodded, all the words disappearing from her brain when she saw the bleakness in his eyes.
“I’m not blaming you, Harm. We both knew it would probably come down to this.”
“It won’t be permanent,” Daniel put in. “Just until we can get your case reopened and prove Treacher is the real villain here.”
“There isn’t any more proof than there was the last time,” Cole said.
“There’s his wimp of a son. I looked over the trial record after Mike called me,” he added by way of explanation.
“My lawyer tried to get Scott Treacher to admit he stole my system and all the documentation, and wiped my computer, but he lied through his teeth.”
“He’s never been questioned by me.”
“No offense, Mr. Pierce—”
“Daniel.”
“Daniel. Scotty isn’t going to admit he committed a crime.”
Daniel didn’t reply, unless Harmony counted the slight smirk on his face. Her money was on Daniel. Ten minutes alone in a room with him, and Treacher’s son would probably confess to being Jack the Ripper.
“I can probably make a case for holding you in Washington,” Daniel said. “Under the circumstances, considering what you know about all this”—he gestured around him—“I imagine they’d agree.”
“I’d rather go back to Lewisburg,” Cole said. “I know what to expect there.”
“No,” Harmony said to Daniel. “I’m not letting you put him back in that place.”
Daniel stepped forward, but Cole blocked him. “Let me,” he said, taking Harmony by the shoulders while Daniel slipped away to give them some privacy, keeping the two agents with him. “This is how it had to happen, Harm.”
