Lethal Game

by Christine Feehan

  “So, they think swimming will strengthen the leg? It’s pretty weak?” Craig persisted. He took out his cell phone. “Do you mind if I take a picture for my friends to see? They aren’t going to believe this.”

  “Yeah, I do mind,” Malichai said. He didn’t care if anyone thought he was rude. Craig might not have any idea how to interact with real human beings, but it was time he learned. “I would prefer that we don’t talk about it again. In fact, I would prefer that you don’t mention it at the B and B.”

  “Oh, yeah. Of course not.” Craig hastily put his phone away. “I’m sorry. I just got carried away. That’s just cool. Well. I’m sorry.” He turned toward the street, still muttering apologies as he hurried away.

  You okay, bro? Mordichai asked.

  Malichai took a deep breath and let it out. Was he? He hadn’t expected to have such a visceral reaction. He should have found the entire thing humorous. He knew there were a lot of men like Craig who rarely left their homes. They lived virtual lives, playing games, having online friends, working on their computers and really living on them. They seemed to lose touch with reality. He really should give the man kudos for actually taking the step to leave his house and meet a few of the people he had talked to, probably for years, face-to-face.

  Malichai had been shot more than once. This wasn’t his first time. He’d gone on countless missions. None of them had been easy or pretty. This time the wounds had been different. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t want to look too closely at it. He was alive. His leg was intact. He’d found Amaryllis. That was all in the plus column. He wasn’t going to look at the negative side.

  He tossed his track pants on the lounge chair and made his way to the water’s edge. The water was cool, maybe mid to high sixties. It didn’t matter to him, but he wondered if it would be unusual for a man to go swimming in deeper water without a wet suit. None of the surfers wore them.

  Going in now, Mordichai.

  We’re on you. Take your time heading out, Malichai. It was Ezekiel who answered him.

  Ezekiel had been hovering ever since that first notice he got from Rubin that Malichai had been shot and was slipping away. Zeke had been fierce in his fight to save his brother. Once Malichai had been brought out of Afghanistan, Ezekiel hadn’t left his brother’s side for days. Then operation after operation, he had insisted on being in the operating room, double-checking everything, making the surgeons and anesthesiologists crazy. He pretty much could make Malichai crazy as well, but he was used to his older brother hovering when they were sick. He’d been doing it all their lives.

  Thought you were staying at the B and B looking after Amaryllis. Malichai didn’t know how to feel about having his woman with only Rubin there. Anna and Bryon Cooper were murdered, Zeke.

  I agree, Malichai. But Amaryllis has assured me that she is perfectly capable of looking after the women, and she personally asked me to look after you.

  That was a bullshit excuse if he ever heard one. Ezekiel would never leave a primary target unless he wanted to—and he wanted to. He wanted to hover some more, forever acting like the big brother. What would be the point of calling him on it?

  I can handle myself in the water, Zeke. I don’t have to depend on my leg.

  Just so you know, dipshit, I’m not fucking losing my brother to whatever bullshit is happening here.

  Three swear words in one sentence. That had to be a record. He wasn’t about to touch that. Roger that.

  Amaryllis’s cover is solid. The cops can dig away to their heart’s content and they’ll find her complete history. She’s engaged to you, by the way. Mordichai changed the subject for both of his brothers. I thought that was a particularly nice touch. You won’t even have to ask her. She already said yes.

  Malichai struck out for the waves, cutting smoothly through the water. Nice. Now I just have to find the perfect ring and get it on her finger. I already introduced her as my fiancée to Craig and she didn’t object.

  That’s the way it should be, Mordichai said. Just tell the woman how it is and no arguments. Marital bliss.

  I can’t say it’s always bliss, Ezekiel chimed in. But it’s worth it. You do actually have to put a little work into it, Mordichai.

  Mordichai gave a little snort of derision. You’re whipped. Bellisia has you totally whipped, and everyone knows it. I’m beginning to think I’m the last hope for the Fortunes brothers. I’ve seen how Malichai gives his woman those goofy-assed drowned-calf adoring looks. He’s going to be just like you, Zeke. You gave him such a poor example. Now that woman’s going to walk on him, and it will be all your fault.

  Malichai enjoyed the feeling of his body cutting through the water. He swam slowly at first, warming up his muscles, but his body needed the workout. Every muscle stretched, began to respond more quickly as he loosened up. He dove under a wave and swam even faster, cutting through the water like a rocket and then easing up as he surfaced.

  Slow it down, Ezekiel advised. You don’t want anyone watching to get suspicious that you’re more than you seem in the water. You’re supposed to be injured.

  Did you get names of those three at the magic shop? Malichai had gone to inquire after Miss Crystal at the first opportunity, afraid if he waited, the detectives, Duncan and Brady, would get there before him. They seemed to be very methodical cops, the type that didn’t miss even a small detail. That had been why he’d been apprehensive about Amaryllis not having her identity in place.

  Not yet. We’re working on it. Your girl seems very competent. Is she real competent at . . . um . . . everything?

  Mordichai, I’m not talking to you about Amaryllis. You’re such a fucking perv. The water felt amazing now, his body almost humming every time he dove beneath the surface and let himself actually work his muscles. He felt warm. Alive. Whole again.

  I have to live vicariously.

  Malichai nearly choked. I’m underwater, you moron. Don’t make me laugh.

  He surfaced some distance from the few surfers who had gone out that morning. The waves weren’t high at all. Mostly those out were the younger and inexperienced. He angled farther away from them, heading toward a long, sweeping bend. At the same time, he swam farther out to sea. Each time that he could, he dove under a wave and swam a little faster and held his breath a little longer. He often swam in Louisiana. The entire team did to stay in practice, so his lungs responded to his demands.

  His leg did begin to ache a little when he pushed himself to really hit the speeds he wanted to go in open water. He was certain if anyone was going to attack him, it would be around the same place that Dozer had been grabbed. Malichai didn’t have a surfboard, but when he returned after swimming awhile, he would swim deliberately slow right through that exact spot. Most of the surfers would be gone.

  You’re going too far, Ezekiel cautioned. You’re going to tire yourself out.

  Malichai would have protested that he was old enough to decide for himself what was too far, too fast, or too anything, but he heard the underlying worry in his older brother’s voice. He owed everything to Zeke. Malichai knew he had to give his brother this, whether the entire ordeal of being shot by machine gun had gotten to him or not. The injuries had definitely gotten to Zeke.

  Coming back in now, Malichai assured. I’ve slowed down and should be in the right spot for the attack in another five.

  I’m watching from a distance and haven’t spotted a diver in the water, Mordichai reported, all business now that Malichai might really be in danger.

  Malichai took his time, feeling his muscles contract and stretch. He concentrated now on sound underwater. He had excellent hearing thanks to the physical enhancements Whitney had given him—without his consent. Still, at times those enhancements came in handy. The fact that those enhancements made him different enough to scare people in high places didn’t matter when they saved his life.

  He and h
is team would never be like other soldiers. He would always be classified. No government wanted to admit to experiments on children, especially if those children were sometimes given cancer or other diseases in the name of science, or even terminated because they were deemed too dangerous. The GhostWalkers had learned that although they were soldiers and identified themselves that way, they couldn’t allow others to know what they really were. That meant they stuck together, formed their own families for protection. They lived close to one another and relied on each other rather than those above them who were directing their missions.

  He heard a peculiar noise as he swam toward shore, much like something scraping against rock. It was near the same place where Dozer had been attacked. A small shelf rose from the ocean floor, rock crusted with sea life. A man in a wet suit complete with scuba gear shot off the rock right toward him as he swam past.

  Malichai allowed the diver to get up on him. He came in from behind, attempting to circle Malichai’s neck in a choke hold. They wanted it to appear to be a simple drowning. Not murder. No one wanted an investigation, not after the deaths of Anna and Bryon Cooper. Malichai caught his arms and rolled, throwing the attacker off him.

  They faced each other under the water, Malichai without a breathing apparatus. The diver was confident he could keep Malichai beneath the surface and he would drown trying to get up to the air. Malichai dove at the diver, a burst of speed like an attacking shark, going straight for the belly. At the last possible moment, he rolled over the man and ripped the hose connecting the tank to the mouthpiece. Bubbles rushed to the surface.

  Hurry. You can take him now. If Mordichai didn’t get there fast, the diver would try to get away. He’s armed with a knife. There’s one strapped to his leg. I can remove it if you need me to.

  No, I’m right behind him.

  Mordichai came out of nowhere, right behind the diver, stripping the knife from him and catching his arms to drag them behind his back. He wasn’t alone. Trap dropped a loop around the man, tying him up fast. They dragged him farther away from the area where there were swimmers or surfers, all the while pressing air to his mouth, allowing him to take a breath every now and then.

  Malichai continued a leisurely swim back to shore. He rose out of the water, his gaze sweeping the sand and lounge chairs. Over by the tree Billy Leven was talking to Craig Williams. They were gesturing toward the cordoned-off area where forensics was sifting through the fine grains of sand for any evidence that might help uncover who had killed Anna and Bryon Cooper.

  As he dried himself off, still continuing his sweep, he spotted the older woman he’d spoken to earlier. She was with an older man. Both sat in chairs under a brightly colored umbrella, a small table between them. They seemed to be in a highly animated conversation.

  Have the cops done a well check on Miss Crystal? Malichai sent the query to Rubin. He was supposed to be watching Amaryllis, Marie and Jacy. The well check had been requested from Amaryllis, giving the police a reason for entering her apartment and shop, asking questions. They didn’t need to wait.

  Yes. Four people were in the apartment. One claimed to be Miss Crystal’s cousin. She is an older female, about sixty-five. Graying hair. She said Miss Crystal had asked them to stay in her apartment and run the magic shop until her return. Supposedly Miss Crystal is on a cruise to the Mediterranean. She gave the ship’s name and was confident the police could call the ship and the captain would confirm that she was on board.

  Malichai thought that over. Was it possible that Miss Crystal really was alive and Anna and Burnell had misinterpreted what they thought they overheard? He pulled on his track pants, aware several people in the lounge chairs around him had noticed the raw, shiny scars crawling up his leg like a long zipper. Nothing made sense. Especially now that a diver had actually tried to drown him. Without a doubt the magic shop was tied in to the attacks on him and Dozer and most likely even the murders of Anna and Bryon. But how? And why?

  He pulled on his T-shirt, wrapped the towel around his neck and set off in the general direction of the bed-and-breakfast. He angled across the wide expanse of sand and then, at the last moment, hesitated as if wondering if he should go right in, changed his mind and headed toward the little café where most of those staying at Marie’s got their caffeine fixes during the day.

  Once out of sight of the first beach, he picked up the pace and hurried around a second and then third corner. Twice he backtracked to make certain he wasn’t being followed. He ended up in the small garage just off a house his brother Ezekiel had found to rent. That was like Zeke. He always found the perfect place for any occasion that might come up.

  Mordichai let him into the darkened room. They had a hood over the diver’s face. Ezekiel glanced up but didn’t say anything to Malichai. Instead, he turned back to the diver.

  “I take that hood off your face, you’re a dead man. Do you understand me?”

  The head bobbed up and down. The diver’s breathing was harsh and ragged.

  “Why did you try to drown Dozer and then Malichai? I’m warning you, I’m not going to ask again. You don’t tell me what I want to know, the hood comes off, we do this the hard way and then you die. You got that?”

  The head bobbed again. “I got orders. I do what I’m told.”

  “Who gave you the orders?”

  “I don’t know. I have a business. I’m an independent contractor and I don’t meet with clients. I just get the money up front and I carry out the order. If the order isn’t carried out, then I keep going until it’s done. That surfer should have been an easy target, but he wasn’t. They hardly paid much of anything for him. When I missed, I just returned the money. They were pissed as hell.”

  “They?” Ezekiel pounced on that.

  “Well, yeah. There are at least two of them. They type out the orders and send them over the computer. It’s encrypted, but I can tell it isn’t always the same man. They use different phrasing.”

  Someone doing business the way this man did would pay attention to something like that. He hadn’t hesitated either, searching for a reason. He readily gave one. Malichai was certain he was telling the truth.

  “Why did they want the surfer and then the soldier drowned?”

  The prisoner shrugged. “I don’t ask. Usually it’s some husband or wife wanting the other killed, so they don’t have to share everything if they’re getting a divorce. I try to arrange accidents if possible. Makes it easier all the way around.”

  Malichai was a little sickened by the easy way the diver spoke of killing others. Malichai was a soldier. He was also a medic. It bothered him when he had to take a life, and he did it often. It was never done easily. He shook his head and looked at Mordichai. His brother was watching the prisoner very closely.

  Ezekiel was close to the prisoner, and that meant they all had eyes on him just in case. Trap was standing just to the left of him. Mordichai to the right. Malichai had remained near the door to block the exit as well.

  “Your name is Henry Shevfield? You live here in San Diego?” They’d gotten his name and identity from his prints.

  The man nodded.

  “You’re married with three kids?”

  The prisoner stiffened. “Leave my wife and kids out of this. They have no idea what I do for a living.”

  “I’m sure they don’t,” Ezekiel said. “Was this the first time you dealt with these people?”

  “No. They’ve used my services a few times over the last couple of years.”

  Malichai stiffened and straightened from where he’d been draped against the door. A couple of years? Big things took planning. A lot of planning.

  “When you say ‘a couple of years,’ is that two? Three? Just how many and what were those jobs?” Ezekiel persisted.

  “Maybe two and a half. Yeah. That’s about right. The first job was some hotshot that worked for the San Diego Unified Port
District. He was holding up something big and they needed him out of the way. That one was easy enough to arrange and he died in an accident. Drove a sports car way too fast. It was tragic.”

  “And the next?” Ezekiel prompted.

  “Woman worked for the board of directors at the San Diego Convention Center. She was a little more difficult. You’d think a suit would get out more often, but she worked mostly from home. I had to arrange a home accident. Those are much more dangerous because you can’t control the environment.”

  He spoke so matter-of-factly that Malichai winced. Henry Shevfield thought very little about arranging accidents or killing other human beings for his own personal gain.

  “This woman you killed, was she married? Did she have children?”

  “Well, yes, but I don’t see how that’s pertinent. It’s not my business to look at those things. I just take the contract, do the job and we’re done.”

  Ezekiel moved away from the prisoner, as if he didn’t quite trust himself. “Keep going. I’d like to know what other jobs you’ve done for these men.”

  “A couple of maintenance workers. Both jobs were recent. In the last couple of months. One was an old guy. He ‘fell’ down some stairs and broke his neck. The other was younger, and he stepped off the curb right in front of a car. Lived for a few hours.”

  “Where did the maintenance men work?”

  Henry shrugged his shoulders, a casual roll that annoyed the hell out of Malichai. This man was clearly bored with the conversation, as if the people he killed didn’t matter at all to him.

  “They were part of some big group that has contracts with the San Diego Unified Port District. Seriously, none of that can matter. It was a while ago.”

  “It matters or I wouldn’t be asking you these questions,” Ezekiel said. “I suggest you shut the hell up and just answer when I ask you to. You’ve already got me so pissed off I want to stick a knife through your fucking throat.”