Trick Turn

by Tom Barber

  In D.C., the grenade went off. Stefani was out of the ride already, but Vargas had reacted almost as fast and leapt out of the car, slamming her door behind her. She was already running, which saved her life.

  The car contained the full force of the blast but as it went up, all the windows blew out as the fuel tank ignited. Stefani had been sprinting away from the vehicle but she was still close enough for the blast to knock her to the ground; dazed, she slowly lifted her head, her ears ringing. She looked around, and caught a glimpse of the cop bitch getting to her feet then taking off in the opposite direction, disappearing down a side street.

  Stefani shook her head, trying to clear it as the car burned, and pulled out her cell as more vehicles started to back up behind the flaming wreck, people watching from the sidewalk and filming what was happening on their phones. ‘I’m on Tingey and New Jersey Avenue SE,’ she told Marco, their driver Vargas had just forced out of the car, as she turned away from the bystanders filming. ‘Get your asses here, now!’

  Less than two minutes later, she saw him, Roberto and her injured man pull up in a cab. Marco was driving and there was no sign of the cab driver. ‘She took off that way,’ Stefani told them, pointing as they helped her into the cab. ‘Find her!’

  They left her parked up in the taxi along with the injured man and started searching the immediate area, assuming the cop couldn’t have gone far after escaping the explosion, while the car continued to burn in the street, blocking all the traffic. However, they reappeared a minute or so later, shaking their heads.

  ‘She’s gone, boss,’ Marco said. ‘And you got a call.’

  ‘We gotta split before Metro show up,’ she snapped angrily. She snatched Marco’s phone as he got behind the wheel and drove them off down the street. ‘What?’ she barked into the cell.

  ‘I think the Lombardi kid is coming back to the US,’ McGuinness said quietly.

  ‘I saw the shitshow you created in Oxford. You still haven’t got this done?’

  ‘She’s had good protection. She’ll have more when she gets back. To draw the little bitch out, we’re gonna need leverage.’

  ‘We just had some,’ Stefani replied.

  ‘Y’all don’t understand,’ McGuinness told her. ‘The situation has changed.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Stefani said, as she looked back over her shoulder. No sign of the female detective who seemed to have disappeared into thin air, the burning wreckage of the SUV with the Maryland plates blocking the road.

  Standing in front of a departures board at Heathrow, speaking low into his cell, McGuinness was checking for the next quickest flight to the US, knowing he had to get out of the UK immediately before they connected him to the events in Oxford.

  ‘Here’s what y’all need to do,’ he told her. ‘And it’s gotta happen soon as possible, or we start right back from the beginning. We have to get some counter-weight before this kid lands in the U.S.’

  ‘I told you, idiot, we just had some!’

  ‘Yeah? But you don’t now. So go get some more.’

  FORTY FOUR

  ‘Styrofoam soaked in petrol was in that ice-cream carton,’ the lead analyst back at the ARU, Nikki, said, relaying the information from a crime-scene specialist in Oxford almost two hours later. Fox and Porter were listening over their car’s system; the two men had been back on the road for forty five minutes, speeding down the motorway returning to London. Chalky had already been blue-lighted in an ambulance ahead of them. He’d undergone emergency surgery at the John Radcliffe hospital in Oxford, but doctors had agreed shortly afterwards he was well enough to transport to the capital, Cobb wanting him under protection in a hospital close by. ‘Home-made and lethal. It makes napalm. How close was it?’

  ‘Set the whole apartment on fire,’ Porter said. ‘We found a sawn-off shotgun too. Any farmers or someone in the rural community around Oxfordshire reporting break-ins?’

  ‘An old boy from outside Cowley reported someone broke into his house and his gun cabinet last night. A prized double-barrelled with a box of shells was missing.’

  ‘We alerted the airports?’ Porter asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, as Fox raced along the M40 towards London. ‘We got some info out of Chalky, before they put him under. She’s travelling under an assumed name, Olivia Garraty. Related to that, there’s someone at Heathrow who wants to speak to us. Cobb wants you two there now.’

  As the two men acknowledged the order, across the Atlantic Ocean various people from both sides of the hunt to either kill or protect Isabel Vargas were heading towards what was starting to feel like a final showdown.

  Although one individual was totally unaware she was about to become involved.

  In Washington D.C., Archer’s sister Sarah had been at work since 7am, but despite the fact it was approaching lunchtime, she hadn’t achieved much.

  Thoughts of her brother, Vargas and the little girl hadn’t strayed far from her mind since she’d met Alice in the hotel in Boston two nights ago. She hadn’t seen Sam for a year and a half, not since he’d last visited D.C. He’d told them at the time he was in town for his niece’s birthday, when in fact he was in the nation’s capital for a totally different reason. The events that followed had almost got Sarah, her husband and her two children killed; she and Sam hadn’t been in touch much since, Sarah still finding it hard to forgive him. They’d always had a combustible relationship and his actions that day hadn’t helped.

  All those emotions were swirling around inside her, making it hard to concentrate just when she needed to focus; she usually had the ability to lock onto something and tune everything else out, useful in her profession, so she was focused on doing exactly that while staring down at her feet in her wheelchair when the buzzer from reception rang.

  She glanced at the time then pushed the button, quickly banishing a brief pulse of annoyance.

  ‘Who is it, Kell?’ she asked.

  Her assistant didn’t answer. Sarah frowned, then heard a knock knock on the door.

  ‘Come in.’

  It was pushed back and two men walked into the room, leaving the door open. ‘Where’s my assistant?’ Sarah asked, puzzled.

  ‘Must be taking a leak,’ the older one of the two said, looking around the room, and at Sarah in the wheelchair. ‘Didn’t see anyone.’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘We’re looking for representation,’ the younger man replied. ‘You came highly recommended.’

  Before she could reply, behind the men, Sarah’s eyes were drawn to something on the floor, behind Kelly’s desk.

  A blonde head of hair.

  In Louisiana, neither Archer or Bellefonte had managed to get much sleep before the sun rose. They’d got back from Six Flags around dawn, and Archer had crashed for a couple of hours at a hotel just outside the French Quarter where they’d planned to meet this morning.

  As he left the hotel elevator and headed into the lobby, weighed down with concern for Issy’s safety and with no idea of her current whereabouts, Archer was rapidly scrolling through the messages that had come in while he was asleep, from his NYPD team and the ARU, and was about to start replying when he saw his sister’s name flash up on the phone’s screen.

  He looked at it in surprise. They didn’t speak much, and right now her timing couldn’t be worse. He contemplated ignoring it and calling her back later, but knowing they hadn’t communicated in some time, changed his mind.

  He answered. ‘Hi sis. What’s going on?’

  ‘You tell any of your friends in New York or London about what I’m about to say, I’ll slit this bitch’s throat,’ a male voice replied.

  Ten miles from where she’d escaped out of Stefani’s SUV, having got a ride in a passing cab, Vargas had just bought a pay-as-you-go cell phone and charger before plugging it in at a coffee shop in Fort Lincoln, a neighborhood in the northeast of Washington D.C. She’d wanted to call her NYPD guys immediately, but the phone needed at least thirty minutes of juice, so
she’d ducked into the coffee shop, keeping a sharp eye out for Stefani or any of her men while waiting for it to get enough power for her to make the call.

  She was aware her slightly dishevelled appearance was attracting the occasional glance from people sitting near her, all of them looking far more rested and put-together than she did. But going back to the hotel wasn’t an option, not without back-up, and with the phone’s power now up to 9% she decided to call Archer first. His was one of the few numbers she knew by memory and as she dialled his cell, her heart lifted slightly. She had a lot to tell him.

  ‘Sam, Stefani and her boys found me,’ she said straight away once he answered. ‘They know who we are.’

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asked, sounding strained.

  ‘Yeah, I got away. But I’m gonna call Shep-’

  ‘Don’t do that. You can’t call him, Lisa, Josh or anyone else. Not even police in D.C. Or take any of their calls.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘They must’ve have got Sarah at her office,’ Archer said, after telling Vargas about the call he’d just received from the capital. How Stefani’s group were now holding his sister hostage and that the only reason he’d answered Alice’s call was because he hadn’t recognised the number and thought it could have been the kidnappers.

  ‘Sounds like the same people from Baltimore, from what you’re telling me. When I escaped, I guess they went for her instead. Means they know who we both are. They must’ve checked us out before they made any attempt on Issy.’

  ‘Like we said earlier, you need to get down here to New Orleans. Can you leave soon?’

  ‘What about Sarah? We need to get help for her, Sam. I’m close. I can start on it right now.’

  She heard him swear, realising what a terrible situation he was in now and clearly trying to make the right decision. ‘There’s nothing we can do about that until we get Issy back. If she made that BA flight, she’ll be here before the sun goes down. I haven’t heard from her, which I’m hoping means she’s in the air. I’ve got some help, but I need you here as well. She’s gonna need you too. At some point, these people will turn up. We need to be with her when they do, and ready for whatever they throw at us.’

  ‘They took my gun and my badge. I’m unarmed.’

  ‘I’ll cover that here. Can you leave from Reagan?’

  ‘They might be expecting that. Wait there.’ She checked with her phone, the battery now at 6%. ‘There’s one from Baltimore in under two hours,’ she said, already pulling her charger out of the wall and running outside, hailing an approaching taxi.

  ‘You got money?’

  ‘No cash, but I’ve got my cards, they didn’t take those.’

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll tell you what happened when I see you. But we just joined the hit list. Stefani didn’t realise how much Issy meant to us.’

  ‘Just get here and you can help us protect her. I’ll be waiting for her at the airport, but we can’t say a word to Shep and the others. Same with the FBI, D.C. Metro or anyone in London if they call. Or they’ll kill Sarah.’

  ‘I’ll be with you as soon as possible.’ She shut the door and told the man she’d give him a hefty tip if he took her to Baltimore’s airport fifty minutes away. He deliberated for a few moments, but then to her relief he nodded and the cab pulled away. ‘Do you think McGuinness knows where she went?’ she asked Archer, just before her phone was about to die.

  ‘If he doesn’t, it’s probably only a matter of time before he finds out.’

  FORTY FIVE

  The only person Bianca Stefani had ever loved was herself. She’d tolerated her husband throughout their fourteen year marriage; although she’d never admit it to anyone but herself, Rossi Fusella was a downgrade from Gino Lombardi, but he was a Made guy in a city where she didn’t have a history, so not dealing from a position of strength, she took what she could get. She also knew she was lucky to have any man with power want to marry her, the way she looked after what Carla Lombardi had done to her.

  When Carla had carved up her face and Stefani had gotten out of hospital, her scars still healing, she’d fled south to Maryland from New York after being warned by one of her few remaining friends still loyal to her, that there was talk she was selling Gino’s men out to the FBI. It was all lies, and she knew exactly who was behind them, but it meant she’d been forced to run, knowing Gino would kill her rather than let his organisation be at risk.

  Full of anger, hate and determined to wreak vengeance on the woman who’d stolen everything from her, she’d ended up in Baltimore, having a cousin there who she knew would take her in. During her recovery, her face healing as much as it was ever going to from Carla’s attack, she spent her time learning who the players were in her new city. Once she felt ready to face the world again, she’d immediately targeted Rossi when he was a young capo, a member of an Italian family with ties to Europe, one of the only organised crime groups in the city.

  She did to him what Carla had done to Gino, but with a hell of a lot more make-up, never letting him see her without it and deploying all her old tricks to charm him. Fortunately for her, he was attracted to tough, confident women, not bimbo model types, and although her face wasn’t once what it was, she still had a great body.

  That, combined with her skills of manipulation, soon got a ring on her finger, which was all she’d wanted.

  Once they were married, it wasn’t long before she had the power, influence and security she’d yearned for, ever since she’d been supplanted by Carla. Stefani had chosen well; her man was more faithful than Gino, and had progressed rapidly until he’d ended up running the whole show on the Baltimore docks as well as in other parts of the city. But for her, their marriage was purely an arrangement, which had worked well for her until the afternoon four years ago when they’d had to leave town immediately or face prison. Or death.

  That day, Stefani watched unconcerned as her husband lost his temper, inside the office of a bar/club the group had owned at the time. ‘I almost lost two men from this bullshit!’ Rossi raged at her. ‘You don’t use my guys to go pick fights with people from New York, Bianca!’

  ‘Did I marry a pussy?’

  ‘No, you married a guy who ain’t in this position by accident!’ He threw money into a bag from a safe. ‘I like a low profile. The last thing we need is the Lombardi New Yorkers on our asses. You gotta forget about that bitch over there, otherwise it’s gonna get us all killed.’

  ‘You know what she did to me,’ she said, pointing at her face. ‘You telling me you don’t understand why I want to get her back?’

  ‘They’re not just gonna stand there and let you take pot-shots at them. Let it go, Stef. That’s an order.’

  There was a sharp knock on the office door, then without waiting for Rossi to answer, it opened and Marco walked in with Vincent. ‘What?’ Rossi snapped.

  ‘Problem. When we were getting Sonny outta Manhattan, we pulled open his shirt to check the gunshot wounds. He was wearing some kind of wire, boss.’

  Rossi paused packing money into the bag.

  ‘Sonny?’ he said. ‘He has access everywhere.’

  ‘Before we finished him off, we got outta him that PD here are trying to build a case with the Feds. They’re making progress. Forget leaving for a week or something until New York cools off. We gotta get you two outta here, right now.’

  The husband and wife both looked at each other. ‘Still pissed that I ordered those moves?’ Stefani said. ‘You’d have no idea Sonny was a rat if it wasn’t for me.’

  He ignored her and finished packing money into the bag while issuing instructions to his two men.

  They’d left the city later that night, going through the docks and taking a ship to Port Canaveral, Orlando. Both Stefani and her husband had counterfeit driving licences and Italian passports, which gave them unhindered access out of Florida. They’d flown to Europe on the false documentation, the scars on Bianca’s face well disguise
d. She’d had so much practice, she could look like a different person if she had the right make-up to hand.

  It was a useful skill to have.

  ‘Think you could stay here?’ Rossi asked Stefani two months later, the pair of them walking down a street in Limone, Italy, sunshine dappling the ripples on Lake Garda in front of them. It was quiet and a long way from Baltimore, but an ideal place to keep a low profile for the time being.

  ‘No. We’re nobodies in this town.’

  ‘That’s the appeal, Bianca.’

  ‘I’m not a nobody. That’s why I married you. Power and money protect you. They keep you alive.’

  ‘I’m still calling the shots from here. And we’re still breathing. That’s what matters to me.’

  They stopped at a café they came to for breakfast occasionally; speaking in Italian, Rossi gave the waitress their order. Stefani, meanwhile, was watching the street around them. They’d left to escape both the FBI and the Lombardi family’s retribution, but Stefani knew Gino’s crew still had connections in this country, and word would have spread around the East Coast back in the US that the head of the prominent Italian Baltimore family had disappeared overnight. The fact that no leadership had replaced him meant they were hiding out somewhere.

  And it was common knowledge that like Gino, Rossi had associates in Italy both through family and his criminal organisation. She didn’t know who to trust.

  And it made her uneasy.

  Stefani waited until the waitress brought their drinks and a couple sitting near them had left before asking more questions. ‘What’s the latest from home?’

  ‘Feds showed their hand and brought the boys in for questioning when they realised we skipped town. Couple of them are facing time, but Marco and Vin gave me their word no-one’s let on where we are. I’m only talking to Vinnie on the phone. He’s the smartest out of all of ‘em, and knows how to avoid a trace.’ He drank his coffee. ‘I still can’t believe Sonny sold us out. Knew that son of a bitch since he was fifteen.’