Lethal People: A Donovan Creed Crime Novel (26 page)

“So that’s a yes?”

Janet wasn’t the most classically beautiful woman I’d ever known, but she was certainly the prettiest who ever professed to love me. While some might not care for her thin, cruel lips or sharp facial features, everything about her appearance used to tantalize me.

“I’ve obviously caught you at a bad time,” I said.

“Are you for real? Any time spent talking to you is a bad time, you son of a bitch!” She screamed, “I’d rather spend ten days strapped to a machine that sucks the life out of me than spend ten seconds talking to you!” Then she hung up on me.

I thought about what she said. The part about the life-sucking machine. I wondered if such a device could be built. If so, how would it work? How large would it be? What would it cost? Would it have much value as a torture device? I couldn’t imagine anything better than the ADS weapon. It was relatively portable now, but the army was already working on a handheld version that could be functional in a matter of months. Also, with ADS, the pain is instant and so is the recovery. Now that I’d compared the two in my head, I’d have to put the ADS weapon way above Janet’s lifesucking machine idea. Then again, Janet probably hadn’t heard about the ADS weapon.

I was pretty sure she’d choose talking to me over being exposed to the ADS beam.

I thought some more about Janet and the good times we shared. Then I pressed another number on my speed dial to shake away the image of her tight body and firm, slender legs.

Sal Bonadello answered as he always did: “What.”

It was more a statement than a question.

“Tell me about Victor,” I said.

“Who?”

“It’s me, goddamn it.”

“The friggin’ attic dweller?”

“The same.”

“Where are you?” he asked. I imagined him looking at the ceiling over his head, wondering if I were up there right now. I heard he woke up from a bad dream a few months ago and pumped six rounds into the ceiling above his bedroom while screaming my name.

“Relax,” I said. “I’m in the air, somewhere over Colorado.” I noticed Quinn was beginning to stir. Maybe he’d been awake the whole time and was giving me privacy with Janet and Kimberly. You never knew for certain about Augustus Quinn or what he might be thinking at any given moment.

“I heard what happened in Jersey.”

“You sound almost disappointed.”

“Nah, not really. But hey, it’s hard to find good shooters, you know?”

“Which is why you put up with all my shit,” I said.

“Tell me about it.”

“Listen up,” I said to Sal. “You said you met Victor. Where?”

“You know I can’t—whatcha call—divulge my sources.”

“Cut the crap, will ya?”

“He needed some heavy shit. I gave him a name.”

“What kind of heavy shit?”

“Guns, drugs, explosives—shit like that.”

“And your contact required you to be there?”

“Right. Look, what about that blond of yours, the one on TV driving the van—the real one, not the bullshit picture the FBI showed. You talk to her about me yet?”

“Don’t even,” I said.

“What, I can’t dream? What, I’m not good enough for her? How about you put in a good word for me, ah? I’ll consider it a favor.”

“Do you guys go to school somewhere to learn how to talk like that?”

“Yeah, wise ass. It’s called the friggin’ school of bustin’ heads, and I’m the—whatcha call—headmaster. So, you want my help or what?”

I sighed again and realized I’d been doing a lot of sighing lately. “I’ll mention your interest to the little lady.”

“All I’m askin’.”

“Next chance I get.”

“Ask her nicely.”

“Fine.”

“’Cause you never know.”

“Right.”

“Tell her I’m a man of mystery.”

“For the love of God!” I shouted. A few feet away from me, in the cabin, Quinn did that thing where he sort of smiled. I decided to come at Sal from a di
ff
erent angle.

“Did you happen to catch the hotel bombing in LA?”

“What am I, blind? Everywhere I look that’s all I see on the friggin’ tube. Was that you?”

I sighed again. I should be blowing balloons for a living.

“Sal,” I said, “the hotel bombing, it was DeMeo.”

“What? Joe DeMeo? That’s nuts!”

“I had a meeting with DeMeo this morning. Afterward, I met a hooker. That bomb you saw on TV? She planted it in my room. I found out later she was one of DeMeo’s girls.”

“You sayin’ they blew up that whole goddamn hotel just to kill
you
? And
missed
? I’d a used a friggin’ ice pick.”

“That’s a happy thought,” I said.

“Hey, nothin’ personal.”

“Right,” I said. I got us back on track. “Do you think Victor and DeMeo are working together some way?”

“Why?”

“Victor gave me the hit on Monica Childers. Suddenly the pictures are all over the TV. Turns out Victor hijacked a spy satellite and downloaded the photos. Then Monica’s body goes missing. The government pins it on Russians, supposedly working with terrorists. Next thing you know, DeMeo tries to kill me and makes it look like a terrorist attack on a hotel. That sound like a coincidence to you?”

“What do I look like, Perry Mason? Whaddya think, I got a friggin’ crystal ball in my pocket? What, I’m gonna check the horoscope for—whatcha call—worlds colliding?”

I took that as a no. “Can you give me anything at all on Victor?”

“You tryin’ to find Childers’ wife? Make sure she’s gonna stay dead this time?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Might cause a—whatcha call—rift between you and the midget.”

“I’ll try to solve the one without losing the other.”

“Well, nuthin’ from nuthin’, but things go bad between you, I don’t give refunds. Anyway I already donated my share to charity.”

“Spare me.”

“The Mothers of Sicily. You should look into it. They do great work here in the neighborhood.”

I said nothing.

Sal’s voice changed to something resembling sincerity. “Truth is, I got squat,” he said. “But I’ll shake the trees, see what falls out. I hate that friggin’ DeMeo. He’s bad for business.”

“You want to help me take him down?”

He paused. “That’s the sort of question gets people killed if someone’s taping.”

“I’m not taping anything. I want to rob him.”

“You better be planning to kill him, then.”

“I won’t rule it out,” I said. “You want half?”

“How much we talking about?”

“Twenty million.”

He was quiet a moment. “Twenty for me, or all together?”

“All together. Let’s get together soon, work it out.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, then added, “But stay outta my house. I don’t want to come home one night, find you in my friggin’ living room in the dark.”

“I’ll come to your social club.”

“Bring the blond with you.”

“Sal, about the blond. She’s dead inside.”

“You ever do her?”

“She’s like a spider. If she does you, she kills you.”

He thought about that awhile. “Might be worth it,” he said.

I thought about it, too. “Might be,” I said.

We hung up. My shoulder throbbed from hitting the sidewalk a few hours earlier. The engines continued their monotonous whine. I reclined my seat and closed my eyes. I think I might have heard Quinn say, “How can you sleep at a time like this?”

CHAPTER 33

A
shrill sound jolted me awake. It repeated, and I pulled the air phone from its cradle. I checked my watch. Two hours had passed.

“What have you got for me?” I asked.

“We’re guessing Semtex,” Lou said.

Semtex is the explosive of choice for international terrorist groups. It’s cheap, odorless, readily available, has an indefinite shelf life, and slides through airport security scanners like a pair of silk panties.

Lou said, “You were right; the hotel blast originated in the area of your bedroom.”

“How’d they verify that?”

“Lack of a crater. Ground floor detonation would have left one a meter deep. A charge placed above the second floor would have taken out the roof.”

“What are the Feds working on?”

“Hotel cameras, cross-referencing faces with suspected terrorists and sympathizer lists, checking for connections by address, criminal records, religious and political a
ffi
liations. Darwin said to give them Jenine, so they’re working up a profile on her as well.”

I looked across the aisle at Quinn. He appeared to be asleep again, in the exact same position as before. From what I could see he hadn’t moved a muscle since finishing his second drink. I envy any monster that can crash like that.

“I wish he hadn’t given them Jenine,” I said. “They’re going to want to talk to me about it, and we’re liable to cross wires in the field. Better to solve the case for them and let them take the credit afterward.”

“The Feebs have you on the lobby camera checking in. They’ve got your name and credit card on the registration. They’ve got Jenine twice on the lobby cameras. They know about your clearance to fly out of Edwards. Darwin said if we didn’t give them Jenine, the Feds would detain you and Quinn as material witnesses when you land.”

That made sense. Still, I hated having everyone in law enforcement know about my dalliance with a twenty-year-old escort. Every Feeb I deal with from now on will find a way to work that into the conversation.

CHAPTER 34

B
y surviving Joe DeMeo’s attack, I’d put my family in danger, so I asked Callie to keep an eye on Janet and Kimberly until further notice. I’d also tipped my hand by demanding money for Addie, so I put Quinn in the burn center to protect her.

“Victor’s story is a sad one,” Lou said.

It was Sunday afternoon. My shoulder was freshly bandaged, and I’d gotten caught up on my sleep. Lou had gathered a ton of information for me on Victor, but all I wanted to know was the source of his funds and his connection to Monica Childers.