by Dave Daren
“Mr. Morgan?” the kid asked when I rolled down my window.
“Yes,” I said with a smile. “Are you the one who’s going to take my car?”
“Yes, sir,” the teen said.
“Good,” I nodded and put my car in park. “It has some damage to it. And there are probably cops looking for it, so drive it out to Brooklyn or Queens, somewhere far away from here.”
“You got it,’ the beanie-wearing young man said before he whistled at the scratched paint and crunched metal. “What happened?”
“Just a little run-in,” I said with a shrug. “Be careful. And don’t go anywhere that’s not well-populated. They may not realize that you’re not me before they make a move.”
The teen gave me a nod and then slid into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life as the kid drove off, and I had to admit I was impressed by how unconcerned he was that corrupt cops might come after him. He’d clearly grown up in the family.
“Glad you made it,” Hank said and clapped me on the shoulder. “It looks like your car is going to need a little detailing.”
“It’ll buff right out,” I laughed and felt the tension from the car chase start to drain out of me. “Shall we?”
The high-rise apartment building loomed in front of us. Balconies lined the corners all the way to the top floor, and the mirrored glass reflected all of the lights of the city. The entryway had an awning and a red carpet that led into what looked like a huge lobby, but a doorman dressed in a red monkey suit stood in our way.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” the man said as he held up his white-gloved hands. “But you must be a resident or a registered guest of a resident in order to enter this building.”
“We’re guests of Andrew Stevenson,” I said.
“I apologize,” the man said without giving any hint that he recognized the name. “But unless your name is on the list of guests that are expected tonight, I cannot let you through.”
Hank sighed from behind me, and I glanced over at the muscular man to see that he’d deliberately shoved his hands in his pockets. His patience was running as thin as mine was, but I didn’t want to force my way into the building and give the man any reason to call the cops.
“I understand,” I said with a warm smile. “I appreciate your position. Would you like to call Mr. Stevenson? I don’t think he would mind seeing me.”
“I will not,” the red-suited man said with a shake of his head. “I cannot bother a resident. They know the procedure. If they wanted you to visit, then they would’ve left your name.”
“When’s the last time you checked your voicemail?” Tommaso asked from my right.
“Someone is always by the phone,” the doorman said without looking away from me. “Now, if you don’t mind. We do not appreciate having loiterers.”
“Of course,” I said with a patience that I didn’t feel. “And you are doing such a fantastic job. However, I really must insist that we see Mr. Stevenson. You see, it’s a matter of life and death.”
The man’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second and then darted over to Hank as the bodyguard stretched. The gun that he kept on his belt was just barely visible underneath his jacket, and I could hear the doorman swallow as he pulled his shoulders back.
“I will not be intimidated,” he huffed.
“And I would never dream of doing that to you,” I reassured him. “But, well, I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it. After all, you seem like a reasonable man. You haven’t had any visits from the NYPD tonight, have you?”
“No,” the man said and narrowed his eyes. “They have no need to be in this building. The residents are all upstanding members of the city.”
“Of course,” I nodded. “It’s not the residents that are problematic. I assume that you’ve seen the news lately. So many politicians and officers of the law outed as nothing more than common criminals.”
“What does that have to do with Mr. Stevenson?” the doorman asked and wiped his hands down the sides of his dark red slacks.
“Some of Mr. Stevenson’s associates are between a rock and a hard place,” I said. “It’s no fault of his, of course, but he is a wealthy man, and these are desperate men. And I’m afraid that some of them hide behind a badge. Terrible, really. To dishonor our great police force with their corruption.”
“And how do you know about all of this?” the red-clad man asked and lifted his chin like he’d caught me.
“I’m a lawyer,” I said with a shrug. “I hear things when I’m around the courthouse. And I wanted to make sure that I warned Mr. Stevenson before there were any attacks on the building.”
“The building?” the nervous man asked with a look around like he’d see crooked cops with machine guns suddenly come around the corner. “You think these people are that desperate? Won’t they be arrested?”
“By who?” I asked. “Their friends?”
The man ran a hand through his hair and shifted from side to side as he debated whether to believe me or not. It was a good story, and not entirely wrong since there were corrupt cops trying to find Stevenson. And I wouldn’t be surprised if they robbed him after they killed him.
“Fine,” the man huffed. “But don’t tell them I let you in.”
“Of course,” I said with a grin as the three of us slipped past him.
“That was brilliant,” Tommaso said as we stole across the marble tiled lobby.
“I’ve learned it’s best to always tell at least part of the truth,” I said and pressed the button to the elevator. “The apartment is on the top floor. Did you get in touch with Gabriele?”
“Yeah,” my paralegal nodded and shook his phone. “He texted me the blueprints, and he’s watching the camera feeds for any signs of trouble. The building has crazy high security, so he can’t completely take over without alerting them, but he can be a fly on the wall.”
“That’ll be perfect,” I said and then stepped onto the elevator.
The paranoid genius lived in the penthouse on the forty-fourth floor, and I watched the numbers above the doors crawl upwards as we rose into the air. The elevator stopped on the thirtieth floor, and I had to work hard to keep a straight face when one of the Serbian hitmen stepped onto the elevator.
He was the same one that Hank had said looked like he used piano wire, and I shot a look toward my bodyguard and paralegal as the elevator started to climb again. We had to stop him before he actually reached the penthouse, but the camera in the corner of the metal box was watching, so I needed to relocate us.
I reached over and pressed the button for the floor right below the penthouse and then smiled at the dark-haired man. He glowered at me and reached into his pocket, but he glanced toward the camera before he forced his shoulders to relax. I stepped out onto the forty-third floor with the three men right behind me, and then turned to swing on the man before he could make a move.
The guy was fast and ducked just in time. His hand came out of his pocket, and I almost laughed when I saw the piano wire that he unfurled. He wrapped it around his hands and then dodged behind me so that he could wrap it around my neck, but I twisted and landed a punch to his stomach before he could get into position.
I jumped back as he tried to backhand me, but he’d released one side of the string, and the sharp metal slapped me in the cheek. My vision blurred for a second as pain seared through me, and I threw a punch on instinct. I heard a grunt and then a thud, and I shook my head to clear my sight.
The hitman laid slumped on the ground in front of me with a red welt on the side of his jaw. His piano wire was still wrapped around his right hand, but his eyes were rolled back into his head, and I knew that my strike had landed well.
“Damn, Hunter,” Tommaso said with an impressed shake of his head. “You KO’d him.”
“Let’s get him into the stairwell,” I said and looked around for any cameras that may have caught our little scuffle.
Thankfully the residents of the high-rise seemed to value their privac
y more than their security, because there wasn’t one camera in the entire hallway. I leaned down to pick up the guy’s shoulders while Hank took his feet. We lifted him and shuffled him toward the nearby stairwell while my paralegal kept an eye out for any curious residents.
The echoing stone stairway was quiet except for us, and we hurried to put the man in a corner. I doubted that he’d come to any time soon, and we were high up enough that there probably wasn’t anyone who would stumble across him.
“Are we just going to leave him here?” my paralegal asked. “Shouldn’t one of us stay with him to make sure he doesn’t try to follow us?”
“Good idea,” I said with a grin. “You can do that. But be careful, we don’t know what he’s capable of.”
“I got this,” the curly-haired man said and flexed his biceps. “My uncle’s trained me since I was a kid. Besides, I grabbed his piano wire.”
“Try not to use it,” I said. “I don’t want to have to defend my paralegal in court.”
“You won’t,” the mischievous man said with a smile that made a shiver run down my spine. “Now, you guys go ahead. I’ve got this. I’ll call if there’s any more trouble.”
I hesitated for a minute before I forced myself to turn and start heading up the stairs. We were only one flight down from the penthouse floor, and I had no intention of getting back in the elevator without two of the men that I’d exited with. I doubted the hitman would take me to court, but I wasn’t going to give them video evidence that I’d returned without him after he followed me.
“What’s the plan?” Hank asked from beside me as we reached the landing.
“We convince him it’s in his best interests to let us help him,” I said. “And then as payment we find out who bought the Enzo and where we can pick it up.”
“Okay,” the beefy Italian said. “And if that doesn’t work?”
“Then we get persuasive,” I said. “But hopefully plan A works. If he’s as paranoid as the online forums say, then he probably already knows who I am. Especially if he knows anything about the Serbians.”
I reached for the door and then sighed when I realized that it required some kind of key to enter. The tech genius probably added it as an extra layer of security, though there hadn’t been one on the elevator. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed Gabriele’s number.
“Where the hell are you guys?” the purple-haired man snapped on the first ring. “I lost you when you left the elevator.”
“We’re in the stairwell,” I said. “We’re all fine. But there’s a card reader that I need you to greenlight for us.”
“Give me a minute,” the hacker said and then grumbled to himself about not having enough eyes on us when there were Serbian hitmen and corrupt cops prowling the same halls. “The fucking security on this floor is like Fort Knox.”
“Are there any cameras in the hallway?” I asked.
“Yes,” Gabriele huffed. “But they're all closed-circuit and damn near impossible to get into. I’ve got a program running now that’ll crack into it, but it might be another twenty minutes before I have a visual.”
“Great,” I said. “Well, hopefully we won’t have any more uninvited guests before that.”
“So who took out the hitman?” the purple-haired man asked over the sound of his fingers tapping on his keyboard.
“I did,” I said and then wiped at the small stream of blood that had trickled down from the cut near my eyes.
Hank produced a handkerchief and passed it to me so that I could clean myself up before we made our appearance. I dabbed gingerly at the sore spot until the rusty red color stopped spotting the now dirty white cloth.
“Damn, Hunter,” Gabriele said. “You’re a fucking legend. Alright. I think I’ve got it. You need to be ready, though, because this thing resets after three seconds.”
“Okay,” I said and stuffed the handkerchief in my pocket. “Go ahead.”
The red light on the card reader turned red, and I snatched the handle to pull the door open. I rushed through with Hank on my heels, and I heard the line disconnect right as Gabriele warned me that there might be a signal jammer. The screen on my phone went blank, and I looked over at my bodyguard as the door swung shut behind us.
We were completely on our own from here on out. I stuffed my now useless phone back into my pocket, took a deep breath, and then headed toward the only door on the entire level. Cameras watched my approach from either side of the double-door entrance, and I smiled up at them as I lifted my hand to knock.
The wooden door swung open before my knuckles could make contact with the hard wood, and a six-and-a-half-foot man loomed in front of me. He was just as muscular as he was tall, and I had just enough time to wonder if he used steroids before he reached forward to grab me and yanked me inside.
Hank pulled his Glock out of his holster and aimed it at the man, but four more men with machine guns waited in the hallway. They took my bodyguard’s gun and tossed it onto an entryway table before they searched both of us for any more weapons. The beefy Italian man next to me looked like he was ready to swing at the men, but he managed to keep his temper in check and remember that we were there to be friendly.
“What are you doing here?” the mountain of a man snarled in the deepest voice that I’d ever heard.
“We’re here to see Andrew Stevenson,” I explained.
“And you need weapons to do that?” the muscular guard huffed and motioned over to the three guns and multiple knives that had been taken off of Hank.
“Hank is my bodyguard,” I said with a shrug.
“And what do you need with a bodyguard?” the mountain asked.
“He makes sure that I don’t end up in trouble,” I said.
“Do you usually find yourself in situations like this?” the head of the security team asked as he loomed over me.
“Well,” I said. “I do work for the Febbo family.”
The name must’ve been known to them, because every man on the security team suddenly had their guns pointed straight at me.
Chapter 15
“I come in peace,” I said and held my hands up.
“The Febbos never come in peace,” a thin bodyguard behind me snapped and pointed the barrel of his machine gun at Hank.
“Excuse me?” the beefy Italian snarled as he turned to look at the smaller man.
Hank’s face was still completely placid, but every muscle in his body was tense. He looked like he might try to fight the wiry man even without any weapons, and I stepped between the two so that my bodyguard would have to go through me to get to the other man.
“I have seen the Febbos come in peace more than once,” I said with a glance over my shoulder at the instigator. “Now, are we going to have a shootout, or are we going to have a civil conversation?”
“I wouldn’t trust them,” the thin man said to the giant and then took a step forward like he was about to reach around me.
“Slim,” the mountain rumbled. “Stand down. Everyone, put your weapons away.”
The clack of metal slides filled the hallway as everyone holstered their guns or swung their machine guns around their shoulders. The men that had surrounded us took a step back, but the thin man still stood between Hank and the entryway table where our weapons laid. He glared over at my bodyguard like he was about to challenge Hank to a duel, but the head of the security team cleared his throat, and Slim sighed to himself and stood down.
“What brings the Febbo lawyer to Mr. Stevenson’s home?” the giant asked as he stuck his hands in his pockets like he was going for a more relaxed look.
“You know who I am?” I asked with a lifted eyebrow.
“Of course,” the head of the security team said. “My name is Ricky. I’m in charge of all of Mr. Stevenson’s safety concerns. And I watch the news. You’ve been showing up in a lot of places lately, Mr. Morgan.”
I’d made a point of keeping a low profile, but my image would have been easy enough to find in pictures f
rom our ex-mayor’s campaign appearance and probably a few photos from Alessia’s rallies. Still, most of the press had no real idea who I was, so Ricky was doing a little more than just watching the news.
“Did you know that I worked for the Febbos?” I asked.
“I did,” he said. “My men did not. I apologize for their dramatic reaction to your declaration. Some prejudices are hard to let go of.”
“I understand,” I said with a smile as I glanced around at the four other security guards in the hallway.
It was crowded with all of us together, especially since most of them were built like tanks, and all of them were wearing kevlar vests. I noticed thin metal shields with handles, and wondered what kind of assault they expected.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Ricky said and brought my attention back to him. “What brings you to Mr. Stevenson’s home?”
“Business,” I said with a shrug. “I understand he has a little trouble right now, and I thought that I might offer a mutually agreeable solution.”
“Of course,” the mountain of a man said with a nod. “Stay here. I’ll go see if he’s willing to meet with you.”
“Ricky should just shoot you both and be done with it,” Slim muttered from behind me.
“Do you always react with violence?” I asked and turned to look at the wiry man.
He had on the same black kevlar and cargo pants that the rest of the men did, but it only served to make him look fragile next to his muscular partners. The spotty mustache above his almost nonexistent mouth reminded me of the kind of guy that would just stand and watch a woman through her window instead of actually talking to her, and I wondered what made the man good enough to be on the security team.
The giant had seemed like he knew what he was doing, and at least he’d known my name, and that I worked for the Febbos. I had the sneaking suspicion that he already knew why I was there, but that he wanted to hear me say it out loud as confirmation. He wouldn’t have added Slim to his team if he didn’t think he would add value, but the wiry man was more like an angry chihuahua than a threat.
