Beyond Blue (24 page)

“So, you done this before?” Gunny asked.

“Oh, sure,” Robbie said from the front. “We follow the guy just to make sure he's going where his schedule said he was. We'll find a nice quiet place to sit while he does his business, and then it goes down just like we talked about.”

“Not what I meant, Robbie,” Gunny said.

Lucania turned to face Gunny. “I knew what you meant.”

“Don't sweat it, Lorenzo,” Mike said, giving his boss' shoulder and affectionate punch. “It ain't nothing, you know. And you made the right choice, stepping up like that. If you really want to be a leader, you can't send guys to do stuff you ain't never done yourself.”

“I wasn't being negative, man,” Gunny hastened to say. “Just wanted to know that you know what you're doing.”

“That's one thing you don't have to worry about, Gunny,” Lucania said. “I know very well what I'm doing.”

“Yeah, he knows,” Mike said, leaning forward to see Gunny past Gus. “The question is, do you know what you're doing?”

“Don't sweat me, Mike,” Gunny said. “I can keep the lane clear. If everybody does their part, all the boss has to do is make the touch.”

Gunny sat back and thought the whole ugly plan through. As much as he hated to think it, Lucania had assembled a good team. They would enjoy lunch, sitting at three separate tables. Mike would target the bartender and bouncer if the place had such people, and mark their positions. Robbie would leave first, returning to the car. They would wait out the ADA's lunch with his contact, because he would be most relaxed when his business was finished. At Lucania's signal, Mike would move to intercept the most likely troublemakers.

Gunny's job was to keep the lane clear, meaning he would walk the path toward the mark in front of Lucania, blocking any obstacles. He would walk past the mark's chair. Lucania, according to the plan, would walk up, draw his little thirty-eight millimeter Smith and Wesson revolver, and push a bullet into Assistant District Attorney Preston's
brain. He would cover Preston's unknown lunch guest with the man's brains and turn toward the street. Gunny would again precede him, keeping his path clear to the car. They would drive three blocks before abandoning the car for the subway. Shock would keep anyone from recognizing the shooter and it was likely to flow very smoothly.

And Gus? If all went according to plan, Gus had no job. Gus was the backup shooter. If Lucania's weapon malfunctioned, or if for some reason he lost his nerve, it was Gus' job to make the hit from across the room. Gunny had no doubts that he would do the deed if things went that way. So even if Lucania chose the right path and Gunny were somehow able to save his soul, saving the unsuspecting ADA seemed beyond Gunny's reach.

Chastity Chiba was not surprised to find Francine Brooks' red Aerostar minivan parked less than a block from Marty's dealership. She was a little surprised to find no sign of her on the lot, although she did see Marty walking a young couple around and through the collection of cars. When Francine didn't show up at the health club Chastity figured that she might be planning to grab lunch with her boyfriend, and maybe a nooner quickie. She was certainly the type.

Marty's customers were both young and looked well off. The rock on the girl's hand was a full carat and the man wore his camel coat with the calm indifference of familiarity. Marty was walking them around a Lincoln Towne Car. Perhaps he smelled a big score and had sent Francine away so he could ink the deal before he had her for dessert. In that case, she would be pouting nearby.

Chastity slid out of her car and stowed her field glasses in her bag, which was larger than usual for her, almost portfolio size. She strolled slowly down the noisy, dirty downtown street. The sun had barged through a dense cloud cover and was busy setting off sparklers at the
edges of every stone building and around the skin of all the well-polished automobiles.

Snack bars, delis and taverns crowded onto these streets, all fronted with broad glass sheets that exchanged sunbeams in such a way that one could believe that the city's businesses generated the light flooding the streets, instead of taking it from the sun above.

Looking in every window brought a smile to Chastity's polished ivory face. She loved this city in ways and for reasons that were hard to fathom. When she thought about it at all she figured it was really because of her love for the bustling atmosphere of Tokyo. If you stood in the right place and squinted just a little, it was hard to tell Tokyo from New York.

Chastity had chosen a fawn pantsuit and moderate heels for today's anticipated meeting with Francine Brooks. It was businesslike but not intimidating. It would be a negotiation if all went well, and Chastity could defuse the situation in the Brooks household long enough to get them into therapy. Whether or not the marriage lasted, Alex Brooks could be pulled back from the brink, personally and professionally, and their daughter Amy could be spared the torture of being forced to lie on the stand.

As Chastity passed a small snack bar, a smile curled her lips on one side. Beyond the front window, Francine sat in a booth sipping coffee and biting into a danish. She faced away from the street, but exasperation showed in her posture and the aggressive way that she bit into her pastry. If she was unhappy with Marty this morning, maybe Chastity's job would be easier.

Francine must have been there a while to have secured a booth by herself. The early lunch crowd was just rolling in, and Chastity flowed in with it. The smell of frying bacon and ham made her feel greasy. The atmosphere was thick with a buzz of low conversation and the clattering of cheap china. Francine jumped in her seat when Chastity slipped into the booth facing her and rested her hands, one atop
the other, on the Formica surface.

“Good morning, Francine,” Chastity said in a soft, friendly voice. “We missed you at the club this morning.”

Francine was transparent. Her eyes darted in every direction and she spilled a bit of coffee into her saucer trying to put her coffee down. When her gaze finally came back around to Chastity her eyebrows still had not come down from her brow line.

“What are you doing here?”

“I'm here to talk to you, sweetie,” Chastity said, maintaining her smile. A waitress approached, but Chastity waved her away. “I thought we could talk about things, girlfriend. After all, I know what you're doing here.”

“You found out, didn't you? About Marty. Well, you know how unhappy my marriage is.”

“Francine, I don't care who you're shagging,” Chastity said, sliding a small folder out of her bag. “I like a lot of variety myself, to tell you the truth. It's the girl I'm concerned about. It's what you're doing to Amy.”

“Amy?” Francine had to be a bit louder as the general babble in the room increased. “What are you talking about? I'm doing this to protect Amy, to provide for her.”

Chastity stopped her with an upraised palm and the simple phrase, “I know.”

Again Francine's eyes strayed left and right. “What do you mean?”

Chastity flipped her folder open, revealing photocopies of Dr. Benson's patient records. The page in question showed him rehearsing certain statements with Amy. Chastity's smile dropped. “I know. And you disgust me.”

Across the table, Chastity could feel Francine's pulse quicken and could see her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Now, Chastity thought, now we will see what kind of predator this woman is.

Francine took three or four deep breaths with her mouth clamped shut before speaking. Now her voice was lower and harder. “You can't have those. That's confidential.”

“Ah, but I do have them.” Chastity's smile became a smirk. “And if you go to court, Alex's lawyer will have them too. He could also have these.” Chastity flipped a page, revealing a black and white glossy shot of Francine staring straight at the camera while Marty pressed into her from behind.

“Oh my God,” Francine chirped, leaping backward in her seat. A hand went over her mouth.

Chastity sat back and crossed her arms. “The purpose of this exercise has not been to hurt you, although the thought does have its attractions. The object here is to protect a child from emotional damage and shield a good policeman from unnecessary abuse that would surely crush his career. So I have a proposition for you.”

Francine looked down at the picture until Chastity closed the folder. Then Francine looked up with her eyes only, not moving her head.

“I trusted you.”

That was a surprise. “Your husband trusted you, Francine. All I'm asking you to do is to back off this crazy plan to use falsified evidence and testimony to press an unfair divorce.”

“I trusted you,” Francine repeated, showing her teeth, “and you betrayed me.”

Chastity's brows knit together in confusion. This isn't the way to behave when you've been found out. Francine should accept that she's been beaten. This is when you negotiate terms.

“You guys need some family therapy,” Chastity said. “If it doesn't work out, then you split, but you can keep it civilized.”

“You betrayed me.” Now Francine's eyes smoldered with hatred. “What kind of a woman are you?”

“What?” Chastity sat up straighter, anger beginning to surface. “Are we some kind of sisterhood of man-haters or something? What rule says every woman has to go along with your sadistic plan? Drop it, Francine. You've lost.”

Francine actually slapped her palm down on the table. “I'm not dropping anything, you hateful bitch. I have plans. It's me and Marty and that's that. You won't take that away from me.”

“I don't believe this,” Chastity said, standing and leaning toward Francine. “You mean all this really is about that fat ugly piece of crap you've been shagging on the side?”

“What do you know? I'll bet you've never been in love.”

Chastity's fists hit the table, supporting her as she leaned in toward Francine's face. “You don't know shit about me,” she growled in a low, threatening voice. “That man was worth a thousand Martys. But if this car dealer slob really is the reason behind your entire insane plot, then I'll just have to take him out of the picture.”

de La Fuente plucked a piece of chicken off the tray before Ruby had lowered it to the dining room table. She bit back a comment because of the pleading look in Rafe's eyes. As much as Ruby hated being disrespected, she hated the position Rafael was in even more.

Their roles had changed radically since de La Fuente's revelation about his true mission. Now Ruby was simply a waitress and kitchen slave. She was directed to handle all of the women's work while the men talked in low tones and played dominoes. They all came alive during mealtime, like the lunch Ruby had just served, but the rest of the time they just seemed to be waiting out the day.

It was worse for Rafael. A prisoner in his own home, he was ignored or insulted by the three followers. He exchanged nothing more than accusatory glances with his brother Hector. de La Fuente talked to him in offensive terms when he bothered to address him at all. She could see her man chafing under this treatment, but all four of his terrorist visitors kept their guns close and ready. Ruby was grudgingly impressed by their professionalism in this regard.

“Why are you just standing there?” de La Fuente asked through a mouthful of chicken.

“Not hungry,” Ruby said. “Plus which, I can't stand guys who talk with their mouths full.” She gave him the dirtiest look she had, then spun and stalked back into the kitchen.

Ruby was so frustrated that she considered striking out. Once in the kitchen she braced her hands against the island. Poised there beneath the row of saucepans hanging from their circular holder, she could throw a stamp kick at whichever terrorist chump de La Fuente sent after her. She would plant her spiked heel into the freak's navel and then see what they did. She was just tired of waiting.

But the waiting continued. No one came. This was a real surprise. She had not had a second to herself outside of the bathroom in forty-eight hours. Suddenly no one follows her into the kitchen. The longer she stood there, the worse that news seemed. These people were more confident than she wanted them to be. Just to test her thinking, she picked up the wall telephone. She heard the expected dead air. They had cut the service from outside the house. Next she would test why they were so confident that she wouldn't leave the house.

Rafe walked into the kitchen just as Ruby reached the front window. He walked up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Hey, baby, I wish you'd come out and eat something,” he said. “I don't want one of those goons coming in here threatening you.”

“They don't care anymore,” Ruby said. “They don't need to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just take a look out there, sugar,” Ruby said. “Over on the left. Leaning against that tree.”

Ruby stayed quiet until she heard Rafe gasp. He must have finally spotted the bald man in a black sweat suit. He was one of three she had spotted arrayed around the front of the house. FBI agents would be more conspicuous. These guys were real pros. She could only guess how
many might be watching the back door or the windows. The four inside the house were no longer watching her every move because they had people outside who had thrown a security net around the building. This would make escaping the house a bit more challenging.

“Rafe, do we still have some jalapeños and those nice habanero peppers left?”

“I always have lots of them,” Rafe said. “Why do you ask?”

“Just thinking ahead,” Ruby said. “Those guys like to eat early, and I want to make something really special for dinner.”

Chastity Chiba marched onto the car lot like an intercontinental missile homing in on its target. She stopped halfway across the lot and scanned the entire outdoor area. Not seeing the man she was after, she shifted her attention to an unoccupied salesman. He opened his mouth to speak, but she was faster.