“Sure. Let’s.” Simon dragged his eyes away. “We don’t have time for this shit. Spill it, Wilkes. What’s the plan?”
Wilkes leaned back against the wall. “How much do you know about the situation and why you’re here?”
“Not a lot. We were told you’d fill us in.”
Wilkes nodded. “Our target is a man who goes by the name of Fritz. He owns a little campground out by Pine Lake, sometimes referred to as Mosquito Bay. This man is in possession of certain information that could be rather inconvenient to certain people were it to become public knowledge.”
Simon cleared his throat. “Who are the certain people?”
“My father for one.”
“And who is that?”
Wilkes hesitated. “Some of this is privileged information.”
“Then count me the hell out,” Simon said. “If you aren’t going to trust us with the full story, I want no part of it.”
He was bluffing, of course. Simply walking away from the job wasn’t an option, but Wilkes either didn’t know or didn’t care.
“Very well. The party in question is my father, Senator Charles Graveno.”
Frank’s ears perked up. “Hey, I’ve heard that name somewhere.”
“As well you should. He’s favored to win his party’s nomination for president. You can imagine this would be an inopportune time for any scandals to erupt.”
Simon considered this. “And this Fritz character has dirt on your dad.”
“Crudely put, but yes. My father has his fingers in a lot of pies and, as happens when men have varied interests, conflicts arose and certain sacrifices had to be made. One of those sacrifices happened to be strict adherence to law.”
“Ah, so he’s a criminal.”
“Again, not a fan of the language, but you are correct in spirit. Fritz, or as he was called before he moved to Serenity, James Ballard, was involved in my father’s organization in Detroit after he was forced from California by an inter-organizational conflict that threatened his life. Ballard testified on behalf of two of my father’s men stationed in L.A., a testimony that saw one man released and another get minimum sentencing. Because of the testimony, Ballard’s life was in jeopardy. My father helped him establish a new identity and relocated him to Michigan.”
“And now he’s the target?”
“If the story had ended there, he’d be clear. Unfortunately, the men seeking Ballard tracked him to Detroit. Instead of contacting my father for help, Ballard disappeared with two million dollars of organization money and enough information to sink a presidential campaign.”
“And this has been your game all along?”
Wilkes laughed ruefully. “Why else do you think I’d be in this shitty little town? My father could have seen me posted in much larger, more advantageous areas. But this had to be taken care of first; otherwise, nothing else mattered. We tracked him north, and Scott was dispatched to finish him. But it didn’t work out. Now it’s up to me and, with politics at a fever pitch, it should be done preferably in a way that doesn’t raise a lot of eyebrows.”
“Why now and why us? Everything we do raises eyebrows.”
“You’re my backup. And it must happen now because my father is set to formally announce his candidacy in a few days. If Ballard was planning to release the information, that would be the time to do it.”
“Why would Ballard turn on your father?”
“We have reason to think he believes my father let the Detroit location leak in an attempt to get rid of Ballard while keeping his own hands clean. If he suspects my father was behind this previous attempt, he’d be even more likely to seek revenge.”
“One other question,” Simon said. “Why don’t you and your father share a name?”
“Hardly the point. My parents went through a bitter divorce and my mother remarried. I got my stepfather’s last name. My brother kept my father’s. Now, what do you know about my brother’s attempt on Ballard’s life?”
“He was sent up here to take him out but never reported back. He checked in the day he was planning to finish the job. Said he’d made contact and a positive identification. Then nothing. The guy must have seen it coming and got the best of him, which tells me he’s not one to take lightly. That’s why we brought Trainwreck along. It’s the hitman’s equivalent of stacking the deck.”
Wilkes nodded. “Sounds right. And since Ballard killed my brother, then he had a body to dispose of. If we can find the body, it will be an easy matter to pull Ballard into a shooting situation. My report will say I tried to question him about the body and he became violent, attacked me, and I defended myself.”
“What if we can’t find the body?”
“We’ll find it.”
Simon shook his head. “I don’t love the plan. Too much could go wrong. Ballard might get spooked and run.”
“This is the way it’s going to be.” Wilkes’ voice grew steely. “I don’t want an unsolvable murder case hanging over my head for the next year. It must be done properly or I walk.”
Frank flopped backward on the bed. “I don’t see why we can’t kill him and be done with it. Isn’t that what this is all about? Keeping him quiet?”
“That may be all that matters to you,” Wilkes said. “But there’s more going on here than that. I want to know where my brother’s body is. Also, there’s a small matter of two million dollars and existing evidence that could prove rather…inconvenient to certain powerful people. It must be recovered.”
Simon shrugged. “I can see you’re not going to budge. How soon can you start searching?”
“As soon as I get a warrant. While it’s pending, I’ll drive out and see if I can find anything obvious. With any luck, we’ll find the body quickly.”
“And then?”
“And then it’s curtains for Ballard.”
6
Shelby stopped his Jeep in the campground parking lot and found Fritz waiting in front of his office, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was rigid, but Shelby noticed a pensive tightness around his eyes. The news of Ward’s inquiry had clearly shaken him more than he was willing to show.
Shelby got out of the Jeep and approached his friend.
“And here you thought this was going to be a quiet day,” he said.
The joke elicited no snide retort.
“You want a beer?” Fritz asked.
“Bring it on.”
They entered the office and Fritz grabbed two beers from the mini-fridge in the corner. He tossed one to Shelby, who popped it open and took a drink.
Fritz took some time opening his beer, turning it over and over in his hand before finally pulling the tab. He drank it straight down and crushed the empty in his fist. He chewed on his moustache for minute and then said, “I gotta warn you, Shel. You can’t, what you say, unhear what I’m about to tell you. My advice would be to get up and walk out now.”
“With a disclaimer like that, I have to hear it.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Fritz got another beer and settled into the rickety office chair behind his desk. He moved a few papers around to make room for the beer can.
Shelby didn’t think he’d ever seen his friend this edgy. He was like a teenage boy waiting for his first date.
“Truth is, Shel—this isn’t the first time someone’s come looking for me.”
“It’s the first time someone’s asked me about it.”
“And that part’s the good news.”
Shelby finished his beer. “You have a strange way of celebrating good news. You look like someone listening to their own gallows being built.”
“The last person who came looking didn’t make it known they were looking. Can you guess why?”
Shelby considered. “Because they didn’t want it to get back to you.”
“Exactly. That tells me the woman who came to your place wasn’t worried about you tipping me off. She’s either more interested in finding me quickly than being discreet, or she’
s incompetent.”
“I can tell you she’s not incompetent.”
“What makes you say so?”
“Just a sense I got. She’s a tough one. I wouldn’t look forward to tangling with her.”
“Hopefully, we won’t have to if she’s here with, what you say, friendly intentions.”
“You’re being terribly liberal with that word ‘we,’” Shelby said. “And if she is here with the best of intentions, then I don’t see you have a problem.”
“Except for one thing. If she doesn’t intend to kill me, I can only assume she’s here to warn me about someone who does.”
“Well, this escalated quickly. That calls for another drink, as horrible as your taste in beer may be.” Shelby helped himself from the mini fridge. “Who the hell would want to kill you?”
Fritz grimaced. “More people than you might think. This is your last chance to back out. Once I begin, I’m telling you everything. There’s no sense knowing only part of it, as that would only make things more dangerous.”
Shelby sat down with his beer. “I’m waiting.”
Fritz took a deep breath and shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this. I haven’t told this to anyone.”
Shelby remained silent. This wasn’t the first time someone had said that to him. Something about Shelby inspired in people trust and a desire to confide, often things he didn’t wish to know—the state of someone’s home life, underwater finances, or crushed dreams. But sometimes they were deadly serious, as Fritz was now. At these times, Shelby knew the best thing to do was sit and listen.
“I didn’t always own a campground. At one point in my life, I had money. I wasn’t, what you say, private jet wealthy, but comfortable. As tends to happen when you have spending money, I began to accumulate quite a lot of ‘friends.’” Fritz indicated his sarcasm by making air quotes. “I knew most of them were there for the free stuff, as I tended to be generous with money in those days, but I didn’t think much of it. When you have money, it’s hard to imagine not having it. I assumed there was always more where that came from. And there was—for a while.
“One day, one of my new acquaintances let me in on a hot business deal. Only a few select investors were being invited, he said, and guaranteed to double my money, maybe even more. This acquaintance had been less of a freeloader than the others, so he had more clout with me. And the sum wasn’t enormous, so I figured the risk was minimal.
“As it turned out, the entire thing was a criminal enterprise involving drugs and sex trafficking, and before I knew it, I was being questioned by the feds about my connection. I escaped prosecution, mostly because they couldn’t prove I had direct knowledge of anything illegal and partly because I agreed to testify at trial. Then the death threats started coming in. I sought protective custody from the U.S. Marshals but was turned down. I was preparing to go into hiding on my own, when someone high up in the organization, someone with a lot of power and influence, offered me a fresh start. New name, new identification, the whole ball of shit.” Fritz stopped talking and sat for a moment, drinking his beer.
Shelby leaned forward. “And your guardian angel?”
“You’ve probably heard the name. Graveno.”
“The senator from Michigan?”
Fritz nodded.
“And do you know who tried to kill you?”
“No. I’m not sure anyway. It could be the people I ratted on in California. Or it could be coming from Graveno’s organization, which runs wide and deep.”
“Why would Graveno want you out of the way?”
“I know too much. From what little news I pick up, he’s the odds-on favorite to win his party’s nomination for president.”
“But it sounds like he helped you. Why would he assume you’d turn on him?”
“Two reasons. First, he’s a suspicious son of a bitch. Second, because I might. Someone had a go at me in Detroit too. It’s why I left and moved up here. And I suspect Graveno of tipping off the would-be killer to get me out of the way without incriminating himself or his own organization. Besides, he’d be a horrible president and the voters need to know what a scumbag he is.”
“And the woman…who is she? Not an FBI agent, that’s certain.”
“Can you describe her?”
Shelby obliged.
Fritz fell quiet again and sat unmoving for a full minute. Then he said, “No…it couldn’t be.”
Shelby leaned forward. “Who, Fritz? It couldn’t be who?”
Fritz shook his head, his face a study in disbelief. “Sarah. It sounds like Sarah Ward.”
“And who is Sarah?”
Uttering the name Sarah seemed to touch Fritz deeply. His voice was husky when he next spoke.
“Someone who meant a lot to me. More than anything—except my life, as it turned out.”
“You left her behind.”
“I had no choice. There was nothing connecting her directly to me. I certainly couldn’t ask her to sign up for a life of lies, which is what changing your identity requires. You lie to everyone, all the time. After a while, you start believing you are the new person. But it’s all still a lie. Some people assimilate and flourish in such a system; others never do.”
“And if it is this Sarah, why would she be looking for you now? An even better question would be how she found you.”
“She wouldn’t be the first one.”
“What happened the last time?”
Fritz took a deep breath. “It happened about a month ago. I rented a room to a guy, a tourist, I thought. All through the process of checking him in, I kept thinking he looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. It took me until one in the morning to figure out where I’d seen him before. And when I did, I got out my knife and headed for his cabin.”
“You were going to kill him.”
“Damn straight. The problem was, he had the same idea. We met about halfway between the office and his cabin. There wasn’t any, what you say, moon that night and we both got pretty worked over. But I finally got my blade up between his ribs.” Fritz paused and took a deep breath. “I gutted the son of a bitch like a fish.”
“Who was he?”
Fritz looked away. “Graveno’s son. Scott.”
Shelby breathed a long, low profanity. “No wonder you’re a marked man. I guess that explains how he found you.”
“And there’s no telling how many other people know about me. Like I said, the senator’s organization runs wide and deep.”
“Then it was only a matter of time. Why’d you stick around?”
“I’m tired, Shel. Tired of running. I’d almost rather take a bullet or get garroted in my sleep than hit the road again.”
“And what about Sarah?”
Fritz shrugged. “You’re full of good questions, aren’t you?”
Shelby opened his mouth to offer a witty riposte but stopped at the sound of a car pulling onto the gravel lot outside. He looked at Fritz.
“Expecting campers?”
“No reservations. Could be a drop-in.” Fritz stood up. He went to the door and looked out. “Or it could the cops.”
Shelby grimaced. “Well, shit. Wilkes?”
“Looks that way. Now what the hell could he want?”
7
Shelby moved over to share the window. Two sheriff’s cars had pulled into the campground. As he watched, the door of the lead vehicle opened and Wilkes stepped out. The sheriff adjusted his shades and ran a hand through thick black hair that gleamed greasily in the sunlight. Shelby groaned. The day had become a lot more obnoxious.
Shelby and Fritz stepped out of the office. From the expression on the sheriff’s face when he saw Shelby, the sense of irritation was mutual. Wilkes put on his hat, straightened it using his reflection in the window of his patrol car, and then turned toward Shelby.
“I should have known you’d be here,” he said. “Anytime something seems simple, you can bet Shelby Alexander will be there to complicate it.”
“It’s good to see you too, Wilkes.”
“Cut the shit. I’m here to see your friend, not you.”
“Well, that’s a relief. I’ve become accustomed to being routinely accused of crimes I didn’t commit.”
“Don’t get cocky, Alexander. You’re not pure as the wind-driven snow by any stretch. And one of these days, I’m going to prove it.”
Shelby grinned. “I do have my vices. One of which is having too much patience with eager beavers whose feet are too small for the shoes they’re trying to fill.”
Wilkes’ face darkened. “If I weren’t wearing a badge, you might regret saying that.”
“Take it off, then. I promise not to tell.”
A deputy Shelby hadn’t seen before moved forward, a grin splitting his broad, flat face. “Aw, come on, guys. This isn’t why we’re here. Kiss and make up, how about?”
Shelby looked the deputy over, guessing him to be somewhere in his late twenties. The man was big, at least six foot two and two hundred and fifty pounds. Though physically intimidating, he seemed affable enough as he took up a position slightly behind and to the right of Wilkes. Although the deputy was acting jovial and good-natured, it was clear whose side he’d be on if the proverbial shit hit the equally proverbial fan.
“You’re right, Truman,” Wilkes said. “We don’t have time to waste on the likes of Mr. Alexander.” He turned to Fritz. “I’d like to look around your campground.”
Shelby watched Fritz carefully. His friend’s face twitched slightly, but otherwise remained implacable.
“Some special reason why?”
“An anonymous tip. I’m sure it’s nothing, but we have to check it out. You know how it is.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Go ahead. I already have a search warrant in the works.”
“A warrant? Because of an anonymous tip? Isn’t there something about, what you say, due process or something?”
Wilkes let out a loud, drawn-out sigh. “Are you seriously trying to invoke your rights? You should be applauding this. I’m giving you the opportunity to be helpful. Cooperating with the police always puts one in a better light.” He paused and raised an eyebrow at Fritz. “Unless, of course, there’s some other reason you don’t want us poking around.”
[Shelby Alexander 04.0] Serenity Submerged Page 3
