Headhunters (15 page)

“Pick me up,” she said. “In the back. I’ve got someone with
me to see Max.”

With that, she hung up.

“Let’s go,” Isabelle said. She reached down then to
Christine’s side and I feared that she was reaching for the handbag. But a
moment later I saw, she was holding Christine’s hand. They exited the restroom
together.

My cell phone rang a moment later and it was Jessica.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“Just outside the ladies room,” she said. “They just came
out.”

“Where are they going?” I asked. “Front or back?”

“Back exit…” Jess was still talking, but I was up and out of
my seat and threw open the back door of the van. My feet hit the pavement and I
took off running.

“What the—“ Billy began, but I never heard him finish.

I ran down the sidewalk, took the corner at a full run and
slid to a stop beside a dumpster in the alley behind the club. I edged back,
trying to find cover as best as I could, when a pair of powerful headlights
came around the corner and washed across the dumpster. For a split second,
while the lights held on me, I expected the vehicle to stop. But it didn’t,
instead traveled on, rounding the corner and rolling to a stop at the back
entrance of the club.

The vehicle was a black Cadillac Escalade. I made out the
license plate to read “MAX 1”. It was Max Donovan’s car. I recognized it from
the parking structure at work. My old office. A moment later, the doors opened
and two men stepped out.

Agent Brock.

Agent Vaughn.

Brock held the door for Isabelle while Vaughn stood guard,
eyes scanning the alley, the rooftops, the club entrance. Isabelle slinked up
into the Escalade then beckoned Christine to follow her. I’d left my earpiece
behind but could imagine how the conversation went… Isabelle soothingly
convincing. How it would be alright, they’d just go for a ride. Max would be
expecting them.

Christine looked up the alley in my direction whether she
knew it or not. Perhaps she sensed me there. Perhaps she was hoping for rescue.
Perhaps she was just staring into the night. And then she got in the Escalade
as well and the door closed behind her.

I prayed to God that it wouldn’t be the last time I saw
Christine Frost alive.

Chapter Fourteen

There was nothing I could do to stop
Kendrick’s people from driving away with Christine Frost. I wasn’t armed just
then. And even if I had been, what would that have accomplished?

I could chase after them. Run them down. Shoot it out with
Brock and Vaughn and in all likelihood get killed. And in the end, it would
serve no purpose. I’d be dead and Christine would be caught in the crossfire.
It was a no win situation.

Jessica had warned me about using Christine. That she wasn’t
involved the way that we were. That she was out of her element. I couldn’t
disagree. But because I didn’t disagree, now I’d led another person into the
fray. We were in a war now. One that would never see the light of day on the
news, but still it was a war. And in any war there would be casualties. But I
didn’t want Christine to die because of me.

I saw the black Cadillac Escalade power forward out of the
alley and turn down a side street and then they were gone. I had no choice now.
I had to get back. I ran back the way I’d come and found the van again. I
ducked inside and Jessica had returned. She and Billy were watching me, waiting
to hear what I had to say, what news I had to share. Jess’ face was flush and
sweat was beading at her temples. She dabbed at it, trying to cool down.

“It was Kendrick’s people. Brock and Vaughn,” I replied.
“Athabasca knew them. She called them for the pickup. They were in Max’s
Escalade.”

“What do we do?” Jessica asked. She was eager to act, full
of barely contained energy. I looked in Billy’s direction.

“I also sewed a tracking device into Christine’s handbag,”
Billy said. He hit a button on another monitor and it glowed to life revealing
a map, then a single green dot following a line of traffic along the city
streets. “There they are.”

“Let’s go,” I growled.

Billy drove and I talked to Jessica.

“You did a great job in there,” I said. Jess scoffed.

“I didn’t do anything,” she huffed. I shook my head.

“You were there for your friend,” I replied. “Christine
never would have gone through with it if it wasn’t for knowing that you were
there to help her. She did exactly what I asked her to. If it wasn’t for you,
she might have cracked or panicked and then it would all be over.”

Jess nodded. I didn’t voice my doubts about sending
Christine. It would serve no positive purpose now. I kept my mouth shut. I
squeezed Jessica’s hand and kissed her forehead before I moved into the chair
in front of the monitors. I helped Billy navigate as he drove.

“Shit!” Billy said suddenly.

“What?” I shot back.

“Shit-shit-shit… they’re stopping,” he replied.

I looked through the front windshield. The Escalade had
stopped, pulling to the curb without warning.

“Pass them. Go!” I directed Billy.

Billy leaned on the gas and the van accelerated, leaving the
Escalade behind us. He drove us to the next corner and signaled for a right
turn. I looked out the back window and could see people exiting the Escalade. I
returned to the map.

“What is it?” Jess asked.

“We need a spot to park,” I said.

Jess looked at the map and pointed almost immediately.

“There,” she said. “Billy, take another right. Then pull in
the alley.”

Jess had an eye for maps and a way for giving directions.
She wasn’t one to lay back and let others do the work. She was in it to do her
part too.

“Do it,” I said and Billy did.

The alley brought us out right across the street from the
building the Escalade was parked across from. I pointed at the letters on the
front of the building.

“What’s that say?” I asked.

“Jacobson… Jacobson Tower,” Billy squinted.

The building was glass, stone and steel and we could see
Christine in the middle of Kendrick’s people. They were entering an elevator. I
pulled my phone from my pocket and speed dialed.

“Simon says?” answered Nan.

“Simon says get me all the records you can find on Jacobson
Tower,” I said. I was watching the elevator rise through the building’s glass
atrium. I was counting floors as it ascended. I lost count after the tenth
floor. Finally it stopped and the crowd exited. “I need whatever information
you can get on a company renting or owning space above the tenth or eleventh
floor.”

“On it,” she replied and rang off.

Billy returned to his monitors and I gave him room. He had
Christine’s handbag-cam online as well as her microphone. We followed the
camera shot, off the elevator, along the corridor, in front of a door and then
things went dark where the light died and eventually Christine emerged and
there was Max Donovan.

Max was holding a drink, scotch I presumed, in a heavy
glass. The base of the glass was so thick that it could have been used as a
lethal weapon, I suspected. I hoped that wasn’t the case today.

“Christine, my dear, how are you?” Max purred. Max was
wearing a double-breasted navy suit which made his short, thick frame seem
shorter and thicker. He walked toward her and I could hear his Italian dress
shoes click on the floor. He reached for her, off camera and I imagined him
touching her… shoulder or cheek… I couldn’t imagine the revulsion she felt
having to stand in front of him.

“I’m fine, Max,” she replied. “I haven’t seen you in the
office lately.”

Max smiled at that. His lips drew back into a wolfish grin.
And in some weird way, I saw the ugliness of the man. Ugly in his heart. Ugly
in his soul. As if a blackness so deep and dark had invaded him, that it had
begun to seep out of him, oozing through his pores and culminating in a
chilling smile.

“I’ve been busy,” he said simply.

I thought of Tom Ellis. He’d been busy killing Tom. Busy
covering up Chris’ murder. Busy stealing files from the government.

My phone rang, making us all jump. I answered it quickly.

“Parks.”

“The 13th floor of Jacobson Tower is owned by a company
called ‘Fifth Column Consulting’,” Nan said.

Fifth Column… son of a bitch.

“Get me everything you can, Nan. I want financial records,
banking records, assets, floor plans… I want everything.”

“You want me to wake up those people on that list?” Nan
asked, hesitant for the first time.

“I want it all, Nan.” I said. “If it looks like it’s
connected, I want to know.”

I rang off and returned to the monitor.

“What about Simon Parks?” a voice said over the microphone.

I couldn’t see who said it on the monitor and then Max
turned and I could see a shape silhouetted against the window behind him. Tall
and thin, he walked forward and I knew it was Kendrick before he spoke again.

“Where is Simon?” Kendrick asked. His voice had taken on a
grandfatherly lilt.

It was sink or swim time. Christine had done fine in the
club, but she was in the deep end of the pool now.

“I talked to Simon,” Christine said.

I leaned closer to the monitor, watching, waiting to see
what she would say.

“How delightful,” Kendrick replied. “And what did he say?”

Christine paused,  no one moved and I wondered if we’d lost
our video feed, but in truth, everyone was hanging on her next words.

“Are you Randall Kendrick?” Christine asked. “Simon asked me
to give a message to a Randall Kendrick… Is that you, sir?”

Kendrick stepped into the light. His graying hair was combed
back over his skull and I could see him clearly. He looked thinner now somehow,
more gaunt. If the camera truly added ten pounds, Kendrick was frighteningly
emaciated.

“I am Randall Kendrick, young lady,” he said. His voice
kindly gruff. Patient, but not overly so. “What’s the message?”

“Simon Parks wanted me to tell you…” Christine said, “that
he wants to return to Blackthorn. He offers his apologies and would like very
much to talk to you.”

Kendrick tilted his head at the news, considering it. His
eyes widened a bit at first, then narrowed, examining Christine. When he saw
that there was no punchline, he nodded a bit.

“What the hell does that mean?” Max said. His voice carried
more than he might have intended. It had the jarring sound of someone who had
stayed at the party too long and had become borderline belligerent.

“It means that my prodigal son has returned,” Kendrick said
and chuckled. His laugh turned into a wheeze and then a full throaty cough into
his fist. He looked at Max. “All is well, Maxwell.”

Kendrick locked Christine in his sights.

“Ask Simon to meet us here tomorrow,” Kendrick said to her.
He looked down at her handbag and I saw the corner of his mouth turn up, curl
around into a half-grin and I wondered if he knew about the bag. Then I
realized, if he did know, which he might have, he was proud. Proud of me, God
help him. For that matter, God help me, too.

***

“What’s Fifth Column?” Jessica asked
me on the drive back from the airport.

We’d picked up Christine as she left Jacobson Towers and
drove her straight to the airport. Billy had a plane ticket ready for her as
well as some credit cards. He’d booked a hotel in Paris for her. She had left,
thankful to go, but unsure of what would happen next for Jessica and myself. For
that matter, I wasn’t sure either. But I needed to know that Christine was
safely out of the country. She went, promising to visit a friend from college
and we wished her well.

“Fifth column is a historical term,” I replied. “It’s from a
Spanish general in the 1930’s during the Spanish Civil War. He had four columns
of soldiers marching on Madrid, but said that his fifth column were his
supporters inside the city. It’s a term used for people inside a country trying
to overthrow their own government.”

“Why would Max name his company that?” Jessica asked.

“Because he thinks he’s smarter than everyone else,” I
replied. “He thinks he’s going to get away with it.  That he has protection
from Kendrick. That no one is watching. But someone… somewhere, is always watching.”

We returned to the brownstone and Billy parked the van a
couple blocks over. Best not to keep it right outside where we were staying. We
walked in and found Nan curled up on the couch, still on her laptop, music from
her iPod pounding out so loud that we could hear it plainly from across the
room despite her headphones.

“Nan!” I said loudly. “NAN!”

Jessica walked up beside me and stomped her foot on the
floor three times. I felt the vibrations of her stomping through my feet and up
my legs. Nan looked up and then turned off her iPod.

“Sorry,” she said meekly.

I looked at Jess, then down at her foot and back at her,
questioningly.

“Mom was deaf,” she said.

“CODA, hunh?” I asked, meaning a Child of a Deaf Adult.

“Yeah… how did you…?” Jess began.

I shrugged.

“I know things,” I said and plopped down on the couch. “So,
what do you have for me, Nan?”

Nan was excited to share.

“The Jacobson Building… very interesting,” she began. “Max
Donovan owns the entire building, but it’s held through a number of shell
companies. The only company in the entire place is ‘Fifth Column’.”

I looked at Jess and nodded.

“He’s using those offices to run the illegal side of his
business,” I said. “Donovan & Associates is the legal side and shows well
for tax purposes. Fifth Column is a shadow company.”

“It may be a shadow company,” Nan said, “but the financials
are very real. I went over the list you gave me and I was blown away by how
much data everyone gave me.”

“What list?” Jess asked.

“I have a list,” I said sneakily, and waggled my eyebrows.

“And you’re checking it twice?” she asked.

“You’d be surprised how many offshore bankers have been
naughty,” I said. “The U.S. government has tried for years to put official
pressure on offshore banks to reveal their banking records. It practically
never works. But at Blackthorn, we had to find a way around that hurdle.”

“Do I dare to ask what you did?” Jess asked, cringing.

“We were very persuasive,” I replied. “Usually behind the
scenes… we could help the bankers, or we could hurt them. A little blackmail
goes a long way.”

“Simon!” Jess made a disgusted noise in her throat and got
up and walked to the doorway.

“Jess, come on,” I said. “We did things to fight terrorists
that the public doesn’t want to know about. I accept that. It works. We took
their money. And it financed anti-terror operations that may have saved
thousands of lives. No one could trace it back to us. In the end, we have a
list of bankers sympathetic to Blackthorn operations. Did you get anything from
the list I gave you, Nan?”

“Donovan has an account through Fifth Column in the Cayman
Islands and according to the banking officer, he’s alerted the bank to expect a
sizable deposit,” Nan said.

“Excellent,” I replied. “Monitor that banking line. Let me
know if there are any changes. Also, did you have any luck with the floor
plans?”

“I did. I burned them on a disc,” Nan replied and pointed at
the end table. She had copied the information onto a compact disc that sat in a
jeweled case. I picked it up and pocketed it.

“You’re the best, Nan,” I told her. “Thanks!”

I got up and walked out with Jess. I could hear the music
from Nan’s iPod start up before we were even out of the room.

“I thought I was the best,” Jess said in mock
disappointment. I chuckled and turned to her, catching her alone in the
hallway. I kissed her then. Simply and tenderly. I pulled back and saw her
watching me.

“What?” I whispered.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“I know I’m not perfect,” I said. “Thank you for caring for
me anyway.”

Jess kissed me back then. This time it wasn’t simple. And it
certainly wasn’t tender. When she pulled back, she smiled, then slugged me in
the arm.