Deadly Justice (14 page)

“I gathered as much after reading your files.”

She stiffened at his words, moving away from her relaxed pose against the French doors.  “I forgot you checked me out.”

“It wasn't personal, Andrea.  You were a link to Webster.”

She snorted inelegantly.  “Trust me, if I'd had a clue that Richard Webster and Jacob Simmons were one and the same, we wouldn't be having this conversation, because he'd already be out of the equation.” 

“What are you saying?”  He knew, could read it in her eyes, but needed to hear her say it.  Body tense, hands fisted at his sides, he waited for her answer.

“When I find Richard Webster or Jacob Simmons or whatever the hell he's calling himself now, he won't be your problem any longer, because I plan to repay him in kind for what he did to John and all the rest of the officers he assassinated.”

She met his eyes, no flinching or evasion, and he read the conviction behind her words, her determination to avenge her fallen lover.

“The next time I see Richard Webster, I'm going to put a bullet in his skull.  He's going down if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

W
ebster stared at the screen of his laptop, a smirk curving his lips.  Sammy's snooping had uncovered the one lapse in judgment he'd made in the three years since he'd left him behind, shot so full of heroin it would have killed a lesser man.  Guess he had a stronger constitution than he'd given him credit for.  Still, why didn't the little bastard give up already?  He wasn't up to the challenge of catching him.  Webster could run circles around the man without breaking a sweat.

Mitchell had been stupid enough to give his admin access to his Jacob Simmons persona. 
Idiot
.  He regretted bringing him into his organization from the beginning, but he'd needed somebody with contacts in Asia, and the man had those in abundance.  Shipping computer parts or weapons, what difference did it make if you had the right business connections and the savvy wit to keep the feds off your ass? 

Sammy had assembled a good team, he'd give him credit.   He'd considered trying to steal Carlisle from under his nose, but the guy was too squeaky clean.  He'd have gone straight to Sammy and he'd be that much closer to catching him.  They'd meet up eventually, but it would be on his terms, when he was good and ready. 

Now, the lovely Ms. Kirkland?  Webster couldn't figure out exactly how she fit into the whole scenario.  He'd been fascinated with her, followed her movements since the funeral of her fiancé.  While he hadn't been the one to put a bullet in the cop's brain personally, it had been done on his orders, and he always followed through, making sure there were no loose ends.  So he'd attended the funeral and seen the grieving girlfriend. 

Imagine his surprise when she'd ended up working for the very man he'd handpicked and set up as his import liaison.  Coincidence?  Perhaps.  Or maybe she had an agenda all her own.  Add in her hooking up with Carpenter after Mitchell's slip up?  That added up to one coincidence too many. 

He'd tried sending a message to Mitchell, but his man reported that the jackass hadn't been in the office.  Instead he'd gone out of town with his
slut de jour
, so he'd torn the place apart, and left some blood stains behind, to make sure his message was received. 

Good help was so hard to come by these days, even with the exorbitant sums he paid.  That little stunt had done nothing but arouse Carpenter's suspicions of Mitchell, and had tossed pretty little Andrea right into his path and probably into his bed.  Oh well, Sammy deserved a little fun now, because he had so little time left to live.

Webster leaned back and folded his hands across his stomach.  There was one big score left and he'd leave everything behind and retire to the islands, just like he'd told Sammy three years before.  This time next week he'd be soaking up rays and drinking rum in the South Pacific, in a non-extradition country where the women were plentiful and the living was smooth and easy. 

Maybe it was time to drop a couple of hints, a trail of breadcrumbs for Sammy to follow, leading him right into a trap designed to get the man off his tail once and for all.  Samuel Carpenter was the final loose end he had to tie up.  Then he'd be living in the lap of luxury, running his kingdom with enough money to keep him in style for the rest of his life. 

He laughed aloud at the sense of satisfaction he felt at the culmination of years of hard work and sacrifice coming to fruition.  Taking Carpenter down was the icing on the cake. 

Picking up the phone, he started dialing, setting into motion events that would change everything. 

S
he studied the picture her brother had sent of Richard Webster, A.K.A. Jacob Simmons, memorizing every single detail.  Scrutinized the angles, the colors, looking for any clue of when or where it had been shot.  After two hours of study, everything was turning into a blur. 

“You need a break, dear.  Why don't you come with me and I'll make you a nice cup of tea.”  Ms. Willie stood in the doorway to the dining room, where Andrea had set up her laptop.  “I made fresh chocolate chip cookies.” 

Andrea laughed and closed the lid, shutting out the face of the monster.  “How can I refuse?”

Within a minute, she was seated at the enormous center island of the kitchen with a steaming hot cup of Earl Gray and a delicate white china plate holding three huge chocolate chip cookies.  Picking up one, she bit into it and groaned aloud as the sweet sensations burst across her tongue. 

“Oh, wow.  These are amazing.” 

“Thank you, dear.”  A huge grin spread across Ms. Willie's face and she bustled around the other side of the island, wiping it down with a damp cloth. 

“You've been staring at your computer for hours.  Did you find what you're looking for?” 

Andrea shook her head.  “No.  I've been looking at a photo until I think my eyeballs are going to explode and I'm not seeing anything.” 

“A picture?”

“A photo of a man.  I've looked at it, studied it to see if I can figure out where it was taken.”  She took a sip of the hot tea and felt the warmth spread through her.  Oh, yes, she'd needed the break.

“Mind if I take a look?  I've been lots of places, maybe I can help.” 

Andrea started to rise, but Ms. Willie motioned her back into the chair and toddled out of the kitchen and was back in seconds with her laptop.  Setting it down on the island, she opened the lid and swished her finger across the touchpad and the photo popped up.

“This the one you're looking at?” 

Andrea nodded, her eyes glued once again to the photo of Webster/Simmons.  It was an unguarded picture, obviously taken from a distance, but Webster was definitely the focus of the shot.  It was a black and white photo taken outside, on what looked like a busy street.  People milled around him, though he was alone, talking on his cell phone. 

“He looks like a right nasty bugger.”  Ms. Willie remarked, studying the photo.  “Not somebody I'd want to meet in a dark alley.” 

“No, he's not somebody I'd call trustworthy.” 

The distinct churn of the motorized garage door could be heard in the kitchen and Andrea stared down into her tea cup.  Looked like Carpenter had returned from meeting with his team.  The louse had refused to let her go with him, instead leaving her cooped up in his home.  While it was a well-appointed cage, it was nevertheless still a cage. 

“Ah, sounds like Mr. Samuel's home.” 

“Yippee,” she murmured under her breath.  Ms. Willie fluttered about, getting another cup and filling it with coffee.  A second plate with three more chocolate chip cookies appeared beside the mug, and she eyed the cookies, tempted to sneak another one off the plate, since she'd finished hers. 

“Welcome home, Mr. Samuel.”  Ms. Willie's voice was filled with affection and Andrea watched as the woman fussed around Carpenter, surprised that he allowed the familiarity.  He treated her like a member of the family.  She probably was, Andrea realized, since she'd been working there most of his life. 

Carpenter immediately zeroed in on the cookies and grabbed one, biting into the rich chewy goodness and Andrea saw her chances at sneaking another one dwindling away.  The man had a sweet tooth almost as raging as hers. 

“What's your laptop doing in the kitchen, Andrea?”  His voice was muffled with the mouthful of cookie. 

“Oh, that's my fault.  I asked Ms. Andrea if I might look at the picture she's been studying, see if I can spot something she might have missed.” 

Carpenter looked at Andrea, and she felt the heat scorching her cheeks before she sat up straighter on her stool.  Hey, she didn't have anything to be embarrassed about.  He was the one practically holding her hostage.  If he didn't want her in his kitchen, then she'd be more than happy to go back to her apartment and work on finding Webster on her own. 

“And did you see anything?”  He smiled at Ms. Willie before taking a big drink of his coffee.  “Ah, thanks.  I really needed that.”

“Sit down, boyo.  I haven't had a chance to really look at it yet.  Let's see.”  She turned the laptop to face her new position on the far side of the island and stared at it, her index finger tapping against her lips.

“Hmm.  He doesn't look familiar.  I don't think I've ever seen him before.  But this street, now that I have seen.”

Carpenter had been lounging against the granite countertop of the island, but straightened at her words.  “What?  Where is it?” 

“Well, Mr. Samuel, I'm not one hundred percent positive, though I'm pretty sure.  Now remember, a lot of things have changed since Hurricane Katrina, but I'm pretty sure this is downtown New Orleans.  Maybe Canal Street.”

“Lemme see that.”  He spun the laptop around, glaring at the screen, a deep furrow on his forehead.  “Son of a…” he cut off.  “I think you're right.  There are some changes, but I know exactly where it is.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, punching in an obvious speed dial number.   “Jean-Luc, have Carlisle pull up the current picture of Webster I sent him.  Take a look at it and tell me what you see.” 

He waited, looking at the laptop, before picking up another cookie.  “Ms. Willie, you are getting a raise.” 

“I see exactly what you're seeing, my friend.”  Jean-Luc's voice sounded through the phone.  “That is definitely New Orleans.  Downtown, looks like Canal Street.”

“Exactly.”  The predatory smile that curved across Carpenter's face sent chills down Andrea's spine.  She was glad it wasn't aimed at her.  If Webster was smart, he'd head for the hills, because the man before her meant to track him down. 

“Jean-Luc, I'll be heading out tonight.  Get the rest of the team prepped and feet on the ground in New Orleans in the next twenty-four hours.”  He looked over at Ms. Willie, who nodded with the sweetest smile Andrea had seen from the older woman.  She thought she saw a sheen of tears in her eyes, but couldn't be sure it wasn't a trick of the light.

“No, I'll call the pilot.  He'll fly me down and come back for everybody.  Coordinate with Gunner.  I'll text you the address where we'll meet up.”

“You think he's still there?  Seems risky.”

Carpenter rubbed at the spot between his eyes.  Andrea felt the tension in his posture, the way he held his body.  There was obviously much more going on than just catching a drug dealer.  From the guarded look on his face, the haunted look in his eyes, this hit closer to home. 

“He's making it personal.  He's gone to my home town.  It's like he's flipping me off, taunting me that I can't touch him.  Bastard's made his first mistake.  He doesn't know it, but now that he's on my turf, that's what's going to bring him down.  I've still got connections in New Orleans, people he doesn't know about.  Between our team and my friends, Webster doesn't stand a chance.” 

 “Just don't do anything until we're all there.  I know you want him, but you can't afford to make any mistakes.”  Jean-Luc's words had him nodding. 

“No worries.  I've got some calls to make.  I'll see everybody tomorrow.” 

Ms. Willie picked up his coffee mug and now empty plate and put them in the sink.  “Do you have time to eat before you leave?  I can throw something together quick.”

Andrea watched him pull the older woman into his arms and hug her, bending forward to whisper something in her ear.  Whatever he said definitely had Ms. Willie's eyes filling with tears and she reached up to cup his cheeks in her hands.

“You're a good boy, Mr. Samuel.  I'll go pack your bag.”  She bustled out of the room like a miniature tornado. 

“I'll drop you off at your apartment on my way to the airport.” 

Andrea stared at him, trying to decide if he'd lost his mind or was just that clueless.  “You're not leaving me behind.  I've got my own score to settle with Webster.”

“No, you have a personal vendetta which will end in the man's death.  I'll be more than happy to let you have your shot at him, if there's anything left when I'm finished, but Webster is mine.”

Andrea hopped off the bar stool and stepped up to Carpenter, getting right in his face.  “You are not going to leave me here.  Try it, and I'll be on the next plane out of DFW International.  This is the first solid lead I've had on him in ages.  So you can either take me with you, or expect me on your tail.  You may be rich, but you don't own the airlines.”

Carpenter burst out laughing.  “Sweetheart, you have no idea.  I can have guards sitting on you twenty-four/seven if need be to keep you out of this with nobody the wiser.  Hell, I've already kept you here for two days, who's to say I can't go for another two days—or two weeks?” 

She inhaled sharply at his words, saw the resolve in his face.  He'd do it too. 

“I have as much right to confront Webster as you.”

“That's where you're wrong.  You're going after him because he killed someone you cared about.  For me, it's personal.  The man tried to destroy my life.  My reputation.  He didn't shoot you full of heroin and murder your entire team, then leave you bleeding out on the pavement.”