Contract to Kill (11 page)

“Easy, now,” said Nathan. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

“Can we be serious about this?” said Holly.

“Here’s the plan. If by some chance one of them is still alive, we’ll call 911 and request a bus. I’ll use my laptop to create the morphed voice, then we’ll play it back into a pay phone, assuming we can find one.”

“I guess that’ll work,” Harv said, “but use the word
ambulance
, not
bus
.”

Holly crossed her arms and made an involuntary shiver.

“We’ll make this quick. Here, I’ll give you a boost.”

A few seconds later, they were over the fence, walking toward the site of a double murder.

CHAPTER 10

Philippine Sea—fifteen days earlier

From an aft deck outside the bridge, the captain of
Yoonsuh
, a seventy-meter South Korean–registered luxury yacht with a draft of nearly 1,700 tons, watched the skiff approach the stern of his boat. In the distance, he saw the faint lights of the
Namkung Khang
as it continued its journey south to Palau. His radar indicated there were no other contacts within range. A low-pressure front was moving in from the north, but they’d easily outrun it. Everything looked good.

The skiff’s operator maneuvered the small craft up to
Yoonsuh
’s stern diving deck, and a crew member secured its lines.

A state-of-the-art vessel in every respect,
Yoonsuh
had been retrofitted with supplemental diesel tanks, extending its range to forty-five hundred nautical miles at cruising speed. All told, the yacht carried more than forty thousand gallons of fuel.

As he always did, the captain made sure the skiff’s special passenger received first-class accommodations. His stateroom suite had a home theater with access to more than two thousand movies and TV series. In addition, there were four women aboard who were highly skilled
masseuses
. And the food? World-class. The two-week journey to the California coast would be lived in extravagance.

The duffel bags were transferred into the closest of six bedroom suites, where they were stacked against the bulkhead. A little later, they’d be moved into a secret double-hull compartment used for smuggling. The modification to the yacht had cost over $1.2 million, but it was a small price to pay in the event
Yoonsuh
were ever boarded. No one but the crew knew the steel deck above the keel had been elevated by two feet, creating a sizable smuggling compartment. The only way to access it involved removing the desalination system, a painstaking operation that required a hydraulic jack to hoist the ship’s boiler. His crew practiced removing and replacing the boiler on a regular basis and had the procedure down to a science.

Everyone aboard held proper ID and passports, even the new passenger. The few times
Yoonsuh
had been boarded in US waters, the Coast Guard never found anything out of order and the ship was allowed to continue on its voyages.

The skiff’s usefulness expired, its inflatable pontoons were punctured and it was summarily sunk, outboard motor and all. Its plunge to the seabed would be a long one—several miles.

Back inside the bridge, the captain entered a course of 76.65 degrees into the nav computer and dialed their speed to sixteen knots. Their first destination was the Hawaiian Islands for a refueling stop. The voyage would take 237 hours, just under ten days. Until then, they’d just have to endure one of the most prestigious luxury yachts afloat.

CHAPTER 11

Every two minutes, Toby stopped pacing and peered through the curtains. McBride and Fontana couldn’t get back here fast enough. Mara had repeatedly asked him to relax, but after what he’d seen, he wouldn’t be relaxing anytime soon. For the twentieth time, he wished he’d never followed Hahn.

Despite the circumstances, it felt good to see McBride. They’d kept in touch, even after he’d paid off his academy debt. Toby couldn’t consider McBride a close friend, but they shared the brotherhood of the Marines, and that was enough. He wished the auto accident hadn’t ended his career as an MP—he’d really liked being a military cop. Looking back on his life, he’d have done a lot of things differently, like taking better care of his finances. When you spend more than you make, the outcome is never good.

At least the video he’d made for McBride was complete. He’d been surprised at the amount of detail he’d remembered.

Mara’s reaction at seeing McBride hadn’t surprised him. She’d told him they’d seen each other frequently when she’d worked for Karen. Toby had many faults, but hanging onto baggage from the past wasn’t one of them. They loved each other and were getting married in a few months. Since Mara had been open and honest about her past, he’d never hold it against her.

He’d finally stopped pacing and settled his nerves when a car alarm went off, and it sounded like his Sentra’s. He rushed over to the window and cracked the curtains.

“What’s going on?” Mara asked.

“Some dickhead’s breaking into my car!”

“The curtains just moved,” Chip whispered. “He’s at the window.”

Mason reared back and kicked Haynes’s door. It flew open with a loud bang.

Inside, he pivoted toward the window and caught Haynes by surprise.

Movement on his left caught his eye.

A woman stood in the living room, her hand covering her mouth.

Bad move
, Mason thought.
You should’ve screamed.

Chip was on her before she could remove her hand.

Dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, Haynes reacted quickly. He lowered his head and charged toward Chip.

Mason stepped aside and swung his suppressed handgun. The blow caught the big man squarely on the side of his head. As if short-circuited, Haynes’s legs quit working. Mason knelt close and belted him a second time, not as hard. He didn’t want Haynes unconscious, only dazed.

He spotted the car keys on the kitchen counter and ended the obnoxious shrieking. The ploy had served its purpose, moving Toby to the window overlooking the street.

Mason propped a chair against the front door to keep it closed.

“Darla, status?”

Her voice came through his ear speaker.
“A few people looked out their windows, but no one’s coming out.”

“Keep eyes on the stairwell. We’re secure in here.”

His radio clicked.

Chip had the woman on the ground, his hand firmly across her mouth. She wasn’t struggling, but that could change. Mason stepped forward, took a knee, and pressed his pistol’s suppressor against her forehead.

Her eyes widened.

“If you scream, you’ll never finish it. Now, my associate here is going to remove his hand. Give me a nod of understanding.”

When she didn’t respond, Chip maintained his hold.

“Hablas inglés?”

A nod.

“Do you know who I am?”

She shook her head.

Mason squinted and pressed the suppressor against her head hard enough to force it back.

“One more time. Do you know who I am?” Chip removed his hand so she could answer.

“Yes.”

“And . . . ?”

“You’re from BSI.”

“Did Mr. Haynes tell you what he saw tonight?”

Her eyes reflected indecision.

“The truth, please.”

She nodded.

“We know Mr. Haynes didn’t call the police; we’ve been monitoring our scanner. Did you or Mr. Haynes tell anyone else?”

“No.”

This woman’s lack of hesitation with her answer had Mason believing her. In Afghanistan, he’d conducted many interrogations and he usually knew when people were lying. “You’re wearing a ring; are you and Mr. Haynes married?”

“Engaged.”

“My associate here is going to escort you into the other room to secure your hands and feet and apply a gag. We aren’t planning to hurt you; all we want is information. If you don’t remain calm, your alternative is unconsciousness. I trust that won’t be necessary?”

She shook her head.

After Chip escorted her out of the room, he heard the telltale sound of disposable handcuffs being applied. They sounded like oversized zip ties, and basically were.

Chip reentered the living room. “She’s pretty freaked, but I don’t think she’ll make trouble.”

Hahn helped him hoist Haynes into a dining room chair. The big man groaned but offered no resistance.

After they secured his ankles and wrists, Mason said, “Wake his ass up.”

Chip activated a smelling salt pack and wafted it under Haynes’s nose. The ammonium carbonate did its job, making Haynes stir and shake his head. With anger on his face, he jerked his weight against the binds. Mason was no stranger to this sort of thing and recognized defiance—not a good sign.

“I don’t see any reason to waste time,” Mason began, “so let’s get right to it. We know you saw what happened at Hickman Field. Your fiancée already told us.”

Haynes looked around the room.

“And we know you didn’t call the police.”

“Where’s Mara?”

“In the bedroom.”

Haynes began a violent struggle against the plastic cuffs. “If you assholes hurt her, I’ll—”

“Let me guess,” Mason interrupted. “You’ll kill us.”

Haynes didn’t say anything, which Mason thought was appropriate. Any response would sound lame, and the man probably knew it.

“Chip, please fetch the young lady, so Mr. Haynes can see she’s unharmed.”

A few seconds later, Chip returned with the woman in tow. Her bound ankles forced her to shuffle her feet. A cloth gag occupied her mouth, probably a T-shirt, and her hands were secured behind her back.

“Are you okay?” Toby asked. “Did they hurt you?”

With her eyes full of tears, she shook her head.

Mason motioned with his head, and Chip escorted the woman back to the bedroom.

“It’s okay, Mara,” Toby called after her. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“That’s true for now, Mr. Haynes, but things could change. Chip doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

“Please don’t do that—”

“The truth then. Who else knows about tonight?”

Haynes licked his lips. “No one. I swear.”

Mason went into the kitchen and grabbed a plastic garbage bag from under the counter.

In a quick move, he pulled it over the top of Haynes’s head and tightened it at the neck. Haynes sucked in a breath, but all he got was plastic. A concave dimple formed at his mouth as he tried to breathe. In a quick move, Mason grabbed Haynes’s right hand and cranked his index finger ninety degrees in the wrong direction.

The dimple changed to a protrusion.

A muffled scream followed, but the bag made it more of a mewling sound.

Mason pulled the plastic free.

His eyes watering and his skin red, Haynes sucked in a labored breath.

“It’s a horrible feeling . . . being denied air like that. It produces a certain kind of panic that bores into the core of who we are. The fear of suffocation is rooted deep within us.”

“Deeply,” Toby gasped.

Mason hid his irritation at Toby’s correction. Remaining unemotional was key to a proper interrogation. “Since you’re so smart, you’ll appreciate this irony: the reason we had a tracking bug in your car is because we identified you as a potential candidate for promotion. Funny, huh?”

Still breathing heavily, Toby looked around again.

“Focus on me, Mr. Haynes. Don’t think about anything else right now. Now, let’s start over. Did you tell anyone about what you saw at the soccer fields?”

Haynes squinted and remained defiant. “I already told you no!”

Mason slapped the side of his head where he’d pistol-whipped him.

“Fuck you,” Toby said. “You just broke my fucking finger for nothing!”

“Not so fast, tough guy. I’ve still got nineteen more fingers to work with.”

Toby squinted in thought.

“That’s right, I’m including your fiancée in the count.”

“Please don’t hurt her.”

“That’s entirely up to you, Mr. Haynes. Now, I’m going to ask you again, did you tell anyone about tonight?”

“No!”

“Where are your cell phones? I’m assuming your fiancée also has one. We didn’t see them anywhere.”

Haynes said nothing

“You lost both of them.”

Again, no response.

Mason brought the plastic bag up.

“Wait! They’re hidden.”

“And you did that because?”

“I made a video of what I saw.”

“A video.”

Haynes frowned and closed his eyes for a few seconds.

“I know your finger’s throbbing. Stop and think. What video are you talking about?”

“I used the video app on my phone.”

“You used it like a dictation device?”

He nodded.

“Why did you do that?”

“I was afraid if you killed me, there wouldn’t be any evidence.”

“Where are your phones?”

“In the back of the silverware drawer.”

He pressed the transmit button. “Darla, status?”

“All quiet, no change.”

Mason clicked his radio, strode into the kitchen, and began opening drawers. It didn’t take long to find the devices. He assumed the phone with the Hello Kitty cover belonged to the woman—at least he hoped so. The home button on Haynes’s phone produced a passcode screen. Irritated, he tried the Hello Kitty phone and saw it wasn’t locked with a passcode.