Phantom Limb (30 page)

I was still struggling to take in what Sam had said.

“I can't believe Sinclair would go for it.”

“Believe it, Danny boy. They're already talking to a judge about an arrest warrant. My guy says they still need to confirm a few details in Sykes' story, but…”

I took a long swallow of the burnt, bitter coffee. Making him wait a few more seconds for my answer. Though I already knew what it was going to be.

“Okay, Sam. You've got your exclusive. Now tell me what Sykes said…”

Chapter Forty-one

Trevor, Harland Industries' taciturn driver, followed my movements with suspicious eyes as I went up the broad steps to the front door of the residence. My knock was answered by Mike Payton, whose demeanor was more relaxed than I'd ever seen.

No wonder
, I thought. Lisa Campbell had been safely returned, and Charles Harland was back at home, on his way to recovering from a stroke. Two crises averted, though he must have seen the same thing I had at the hospital. That his aged employer's days were numbered.

We shook hands at the door and he ushered me inside.

“Good to see you, Doc. They've got Mr. Harland all fitted up in his study. You wouldn't believe it. It's like a regular hospital room.”

As he led me across the foyer and toward Harland's study, I noticed that nothing had changed in the house. Except for the comings and goings of a couple maids, plus some stiff-necked guy who looked like Hollywood's version of a butler. My guess was that, soon after their wedding, Lisa had selected him.

So, now that the kidnapping had come to an end, Payton had allowed the house to return to its usual workings. Staff going about their duties. I even heard Muzak piped into the hallways. Though my knowledge of classical music is pretty limited, it sounded like Vivaldi.

When we arrived at Harland's spacious study, I found that Payton hadn't been exaggerating. Much of the oversized, ornate furnishings had been removed from the room, to be replaced by a hospital bed and a range of beeping, multi-screened monitors. There were also IV stands, small tables laden with pill bottles, syringes, and other medical supplies, and in a far corner, what appeared to be a generator. Just in case, I supposed, the power to the house went out for some reason.

It was impressive, all right. I would've expected no less from Charles Harland. Though the whole setup made the lurid movie posters from Lisa's acting days, still hanging from the walls, seem even more incongruous.

“It's Dr. Rinaldi,” Payton announced, taking a place near the wall-length glass window that opened onto the porch. “I answered the door myself.”

“Why?” James Harland was lounging on a sofa that had been shoved into a corner. Wearing jeans, another designer-label sweater, and loafers without socks. “Are we expecting another kidnapper to show up?”

Payton ignored him, as did I. Instead, I headed across the room to greet Charles Harland. And Lisa.

Looking only a shade less cadaverous than he'd looked in the hospital, Harland lay under freshly pressed white sheets on the bed. In stark contrast, Lisa, in a chair beside him, was pink-cheeked and vibrant. Hair and makeup perfectly done, she wore her own designer-label outfit and low heels. Presenting the quintessential picture of a mature though still beautiful, always fashionable, wife of a very rich, very important man.

When I approached, the old man's hollow-eyed gaze shifted from the middle-aged nurse fussing with his IV drip to me.

“That's enough…” he murmured to the nurse. A flutter of his hand. “Now…go…away.”

Embarrassed, the nurse ducked her head and scooted past me, even as Lisa rose to quickly clasp my hands in both of hers.

“Danny! Jesus, it's good to see your face. Charles and I were just talking about you.”

Another hand-flutter from the sick man. “I told you…the reward, Doctor…Remember…we talked about a reward…”

“
You
talked about it, Mr. Harland. And again, it's not necessary.”

He blinked a couple times, cracked lips slowly forming the words. “I…I decide what is necessary…and what is not…”

James laughed from across the room.

“See, Rinaldi? Same old stubborn bastard. I mean, you didn't think a little thing like a stroke would change him…?”

Lisa cut her eyes at Harland's son.

“C'mon, for once in your fucking life, play nice. Your father's still recuperating, for Christ's sake.”

James hooked his thumb in the gold chain around his neck. Idly played with it.

“Another thing I'm getting sick of, Lisa. You and your gutter mouth. Is that something you picked up in Hollywood? Along with the clap, and Chlamydia, and God knows what?”

Standing next to Lisa, I felt the anger boil up in my throat. But before I could do or say anything, Payton strode over from the picture window to confront him.

“Listen, James, you lazy, good-for-nothing…”

Face flushed, James got to his feet and glared back at the family's head of security.

“Who the hell do you think you're talking to, Payton? No goddamn employee talks to a Harland that way.”

But Payton stood his ground.

“And
you
don't get to talk to Lisa that way. If I could, I'd like to—”

“You'd like to
what
, Payton? I don't care how long you've worked here, you can be replaced. Shit, if Arthur Drake can be replaced, so can you!”

I'd heard enough from James. And had enough.

“Speaking of lawyers,
Jimmy
, you're going to be needing one of your own.”

Lisa gave me a quizzical look as I began slowly moving around the foot of the bed and toward James.

His glance shifting from Payton to me, James said, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“By now, the DA's probably gotten a warrant for your arrest. Which means the cops ought to be here any minute.”

The old man gasped, struggled to get up on his elbows. Hampered by the tangle of tubes going in and out.

“The police…? Here again…? Why?”

I answered by taking another step toward James.

“Because Ray Sykes just made a deal with the DA. I don't know all the details, but it looks like they're going to shave a lot of years off his sentence in exchange for his testimony—against you.”

“For what?” Payton's anger subsiding into curiosity.

“For the murder of Donna Swanson. According to Sykes, James told him that she was blackmailing him. That she knew—”

Charles Harland struggled for the words. “Knew…what…?”

I turned to him. “James did something terrible to Lisa. Something he knew would hurt you. But somehow Donna found out about it. And saw her chance to make a lot of money…”

James laughed. “Donna was a dried-up, greedy old cow. She didn't care about Lisa
or
my old man. All she cared about was the money. So that she could live the rest of her life in ease, as she put it.”

“That's when she threatened to tell your father what you'd done,” I said. “And what you planned to do, at the anniversary gala. Unless you paid up.”

Payton frowned. “What's this all about?”

But James looked right past him, eyes focused on me. “Donna wasn't stupid, I'll give her that. Turns out, she'd overheard me talking with Lisa in the library. Telling her about the surprise I planned for the gala. I guess that's when the light bulb went off in Donna's head.”

Lisa and I exchanged looks. So that's how Donna Swanson had learned about the video. She'd eavesdropped on James and Lisa's conversation that morning after the assault.

James still glared at me. “And like I said, Donna wasn't stupid. She knew that if my old man found out what I was about to do, he'd put a stop to it. More important, he'd cut me off. Permanently. Vacate the trusts. Leave me out of the will. I'd have nothing.
Nothing!
Do you understand?”

Harland stirred, wincing in pain. “Donna…she did that?…she…blackmailed you…?”

“Yeah, Dad. Your loving, devoted nurse put the squeeze on me. I guess she was tired of dressing you and wiping your ass and listening to you bitch all day long. She wanted out.”

I pressed him. “But there was no way you'd let her blackmail you. Be under her thumb for the rest of your life.”

James leaned against the wall, his head just below one of Lisa's movie posters. Struggling to regain his composure.

“If you say so, Rinaldi…”

“Not me, James. Ray Sykes. He's going to testify that you showed up at the printing factory the day of Donna's death. That you told him you'd arranged for her to meet you there to discuss terms. Settle on the money.”

Payton pulled reflectively on his lower lip. “So
that's
where she went that morning. When she left the residence without telling anyone where she was going.”

“Yes,” I said. “It was to meet secretly with James and seal the deal. At least, that's what
she
thought was going to happen. Right, James? You might as well tell us everything, because it looks like Sykes is going to. He'll have no trouble throwing you under the bus if it'll take a few years off his sentence.”

James didn't respond, but instead glanced knowingly at each of us in turn around the room. Then gave a brief smile.

“What's so goddamn funny?” Lisa demanded.

“I just remembered where my passport is. Sounds like I'm gonna need it. Especially if the cops are on their way.”

“Don't be a fool…” Harland croaked. “It's only…this Sykes person's word…against yours. Drake's firm…they have criminal lawyers, too…One of them can…”

“Shut up, you piece of shit!” James scowled. “Christ, why haven't you died yet? Do the world a big fucking favor…”

“How…how
dare
you?…Why, if Chuck were here…”

“Well, he isn't, is he? He OD'd, remember? Your Golden Boy shot garbage into his veins and—”

Lisa gasped. “For God's sake, James—!”

Payton whirled to face me. “Where the hell are the cops?”

“On their way. Paperwork takes time. And the DA is no fool. He knows he'd better have a damn good case if he's going to arrest a Harland for murder.”

“It wasn't murder!” James bristled with sudden rage. “It was self-preservation. Get it? Donna was unreasonable. The way she talked, I knew she'd have her hooks in me forever.”

Again, his gaze flitted from one of us to the other. But whatever he saw in our eyes only fueled his rising anger.

“Okay, you wanna know what happened? 'Cause there's not much to tell. When Donna got to the old factory, I took her into Sykes' office in the back. Griffin was there, too. Soon as we show up, Donna freaks out. Wanting to know who these guys were. I said, these are the guys who're gonna get me outta this jam. The guys that are gonna kill you.”

I smiled coolly. “But I'm guessing Sykes hadn't gotten the memo. He refused.”

“That lousy prick! After all the business I brought his way. All the high-rollers—”

“Like you and the three other Horsemen…”

“Hell,
dozens
of guys like that. The top one-percent of the one-percent. But that smug asshole Sykes wouldn't help me out. Said he didn't see the upside of him killing some old bitch he didn't even know.”

James pointed his forefinger at me. His florid indignation fed by alcohol and hate.

“I screamed at him. Told him to order Griffin to shoot her. But Sykes wouldn't budge. So then
I
ordered the big creep to do it. Griffin just laughed at me. He said not unless his boss told him to.”

I stepped closer to him. “That's when you took matters into your own hands—literally. According to Ray Sykes, you grabbed Griffin's gun out of his back pocket…”

“Yeah, I did. And I shot the bitch. One shot, back of her ugly head. Like in the movies. Now Sykes
had
to help me. Had to deal with her. She was bleeding all over his goddamn floor.”

“Fucking hell…” Lisa's voice was a choked whisper.

Charles Harland stared at his son. “I…I can't believe what I'm hearing…You…you monster…”

James stared back. “Ha! Coming from
you
, that's hilarious. Truth is, Dad, I'm more like you than your precious Chuck ever was. He'd never have had the guts to do what I did.”

“No,” Payton said, “he was too much of a man. A real one.”

“How would
you
know what a real man is, Payton?” James gave him a sardonic wink. “After letting poor Lisa get kidnapped on your watch?”

With a muttered curse, Payton suddenly lunged at him, fists coming up. But James was surprisingly quick, reaching smoothly for his side pocket. And pulling out a gun.

“Stay where you are, Payton. I mean it!”

I don't know much about guns, but it looked like a .38. Whatever it was, it was enough to stop Payton in his tracks.

I, too, froze where I stood. With his back still flush with the wall, James was too far away for me to risk some kind of move. Not any that I could see.

I vaguely remember the sound of Lisa crying out, as well as the staccato wheezing of her bedridden husband. But I was unwilling to look, to take my eyes off James Harland. Or his gun, pointed at us. Held in his smooth, manicured hand. Another incongruity in this large, incongruous room.

Recovering her poise, Lisa spoke sharply behind me. Her voice laced with bitter humor.

“I'll be damned. A trust fund kid holding a gun on his rich, rotten family. Fucking perfect. If
this
doesn't get me back in the tabloids, I don't know what will.”

Chapter Forty-two

Taking a long, slow breath, I struggled to keep calm. And keep thinking.

“Well, James,” I said evenly, “I guess once you'd shot Donna, you developed a taste for playing with guns.”

He shrugged. “A guy can't be too careful nowadays. But you're right. After what happened at Sykes' place, I figured I oughta get one of my own. For personal protection.”

I nodded. “Speaking of guns, the police have Griffin's piece from the tugboat. It'll have his prints on it, of course. Probably Agent Reese's, too. And Skip Hines'. And mine. But it wouldn't surprise me if at least a partial print of yours turns up. Nothing like forensic evidence to back up Sykes' eyewitness account.”

James shook his head. “I'm not an idiot, Rinaldi. No way they can separate out all those prints. Not enough to make a match, anyway. I've seen
Law and Order
. I know how it works.”

Again, that placid smile. “Besides, I don't plan on being around when they go to court.”

“I figured that. After you mentioned your passport…”

“Lots of places for a man like me to settle down. To enjoy my usual pursuits, my simple…pleasures. With all the sun and sand a guy could want, and no extradition treaty with the U.S.”

“Sounds like the same kind of plan Sykes had. I guess it's true, great minds think alike.”

His brow darkened. “Don't lump me in with that common criminal. I don't give a damn that his family goes back to the Mayflower, or how fancy he liked to talk. He was nothing but a lousy crook with delusions of grandeur.”

“If you say so.”

Abruptly, Mike Payton spoke up. The head of security's features once again calm, alert. Professional. As was his tone.

“But you never finished your story, James. What happened after you shot Donna?”

“Tell you the truth, Payton, I have no fucking idea. And I could care less. I just tossed Griffin's gun on a table and got the hell out of there. The last thing I heard was Sykes yelling to Max to get a big tarp or blanket to wrap up the body. Like I said, now she was Sykes' problem.”

“That's what I don't get,” Payton said. “How did Donna end up in that shack at the observatory? And why?”

“For what it's worth,” I replied, “I've been thinking about that. And I have a theory.”

James laughed, casually indicating me with the gun.

“Hear that, everybody? The Doc here has a theory. Love to hear it, Rinaldi. But make it short. I feel an urge to flee the country, and you know what that's like. When you gotta go, you gotta go.”

“Don't worry, I'll keep it simple.” I paused. “I could be wrong, but a man with Sykes' intellect usually sees a problem as a potential opportunity. Which is how I think he saw Donna's dead body. There it was, now wrapped in a canvas bag. All he had to do was tell Griffin to dispose of it. Throw it into a dumpster, or drive out to the woods somewhere and bury it. But that's not what he did.”

“Why not?” said Payton.

“Because Sykes was about to have Griffin kidnap Lisa, after which he'd call Charles Harland and warn him against notifying the police. Then, when we were all here in the study, and he picked me to deliver the ransom, he gave explicit instructions that I was to come alone. No cops, no Feds.”

“So?”

“Mike, you know as well as I do that the police usually ignore those instructions from kidnappers. They put a wire on the person delivering the ransom, or else have people watching the exchange from a safe distance. Ready to move in at a moment's notice.”

“And you figure Sykes knew that?”

“I'm sure he at least suspected it. And he wanted to be ready. Plus he probably realized that if he was right, it gave him an opportunity to get even more money out of Charles Harland. Another five million.

“So he had Griffin take Donna's body, still wrapped in the canvas bag, up to that shack at the observatory. Sykes even pre-recorded a message, expressing his anger at the fact that the police had ignored his command to stay out of it. And demanding that, as a result of their actions, he'd now need another five million dollars in exchange for Lisa's freedom.”

Payton grimaced. “A promise he never intended to honor.”

“I'm afraid not.”

I turned back to James Harland, who'd listened to me with a kind of bored bemusement.

“See, James? By killing Donna Swanson, you gave Sykes the chance to double his money. To turn Lisa's kidnapping into an even bigger score.”

“That's me, Rinaldi. Always glad to help out.”

Lisa hissed at him. “You don't have to be so goddamn cheery, you sick bastard. I mean, shit, don't let us keep you. Why don't you take your little gun and get the hell outta here?”

He smirked. “I have to tell you, Lisa, there's a lotta things I expect to miss when I'm gone. But you're not one of them. Fact is, I'm kinda looking forward to it. Though not as much as I look forward to never seeing my old man again. Never even hearing about him. 'Til I read his fucking obituary.”

Charles Harland stirred in his bed, but seemed suddenly too weak, or else too medicated, to speak. Unless it was something else. Because, to my eyes, it looked as though the old man had just given up. Or given in. He lay there, this industrial giant, this lauded billionaire, wheezing helplessly. Blinking up at the ceiling. Defeated.

Lisa must have noticed it, too. She took a plastic cup of water from a bedside table, put it to her husband's lips. But he didn't drink. Or even acknowledge her.

I watched her, wondering what she must be thinking at this moment. And feeling. Her longed-for release from Charles was imminent. Yet she'd just offered him water. A token gesture? I wasn't sure. Maybe she wasn't, either.

Finally, at a loss, she put the drink in Charles' limp hand on the bed. Gently curling his fingers around the cup. So that, if need be, he could bring it to his lips.

Lisa straightened. “I think we should call his doctor.”

“Where is he?” I said.

“At dinner in town,” Payton answered. “He said Charles was stable, but that we should call him if there was any change. I think we should at least get that nurse back in here. Now.”

He started to leave the room, but James stopped him with a look. And the gun, its nose aimed straight at Payton's gut. James' finger lightly tapping the trigger.

“No, no, Payton. You stay where you are.”

Then he peered over at Lisa, who stood stiffly at her husband's bedside. James let out an aggrieved sigh.

“Aw, hell, everything's turned to shit. I gotta get going, get on a company jet before the cops alert airport security.”

He started moving sideways, back still close to the wall, toward the opened door. Swinging his gun in a waist-high arc, keeping us all at bay.

Then, abruptly, he stopped. And headed back across the room toward Lisa. A smile slowly creasing his face.

“Guess you won't be the main attraction at the gala, after all. Though I would've loved to see the look on the old man's face when he saw that video. Along with all his rich, important friends. Jesus, I've been looking forward to that.”

“What video?” Payton looked helplessly at me. “I don't understand…”

James merely chuckled, sidling closer to Lisa. As though he couldn't stop himself. Eyes glittering with malice.

“But don't worry, Lisa. People will see it.
Everyone
will see it. What we did to you. The Four Horsemen. I mean, what the fuck else is the Internet for? Nothing'll go viral faster than a rich bitch getting gang-banged. A Hollywood has-been, naked, screaming, getting it from every direction. Begging for mercy. Being made to…”

By now, James had reached his father's bedside, directly opposite where Lisa stood. He risked a glance at the old man.

“Maybe he'll live to see it, maybe he won't. But, I swear, every other person in the goddamn world is going to. Hell, I bet more guys'll shoot their load watching you get fucked over and over than—”

That's when it happened. Though all so fast, so suddenly—

With a strangled cry of pain, Lisa threw herself across the bed at James. At the same time, I advanced on him from one side, while Payton came rushing toward him from the other.

Startled by Lisa's enraged lunge at him, James stumbled backwards.

That's when the gun went off.

Lisa screamed, grabbing her shoulder, and collapsed on top of her husband's body.

Righting himself, James raised the gun again, pointing it down at her head. His face a mask of murderous fury.

“Fucking cunt!” he shouted.

He fired again, but not before Mike Payton could jump in front of him. Taking two bullets in the stomach.

Payton hit the floor, gasping. Rolling over on his back.

I stood right above him, not more than two feet separating me from James Harland. His gun pointed now at my chest.

“Get back, Rinaldi. Or I swear to Christ—”

Lisa gave a low moan, and slowly heaved herself up from the hospital bed. Gripping the bed rails, she stood on shaking legs. Blood seeped from the wound in her shoulder.

Just then, the nurse came hurrying into the room. “I thought I heard gunshots, and—”

She froze, hands to her mouth. And screamed.

“Shut the fuck up!” James showed her his gun.

The woman took two steps, then fainted. Falling awkwardly to the floor.

Keeping the muzzle pointed at me, James leered at Lisa.

“You know, honey, I don't think I mind if your global embarrassment is posthumous. 'Cause it felt real good shooting you just now. Even better than fucking you on camera. So after I whack Rinaldi here, I'm gonna put another bullet in
you
. In your pretty head, this time.”

He turned his attention back to me. Raised his gun.

“So say good-bye to the good doctor, Lisa. Therapy's about to be terminated.”

I had no choice. If I was going to go for his gun, it'd have to be now. It'd have to be—

Suddenly, Charles Harland's hand moved on the bed. Fingers still gripping the plastic cup, he raised his arm up, flinging the water at his son. Right into his face.

Caught off guard, James looked away, blinking. Distracted, but only momentarily.

Which was all the time I needed. I crossed the distance between us in two quick strides and delivered one goddamn sweet right cross. Like when I was a kid in Golden Gloves. Only backed by more intent, more justification.

And a helluva lot more rage.

James' head snapped hard to the side, the gun flying out of his hand. And then, already unconscious, he fell backwards. His body thumping as it collapsed on the floor.

I stood there, quivering. Adrenaline surging like rushing lava through every vein.

Soon, I knew, the hand I'd hit him with would start throbbing. Without the protection of training tape and a thick glove, punching someone usually did as much damage to the guy who threw the punch as to the guy who caught it.

From the pulsing I already felt in my hand, I knew I'd probably strained it.

But, Christ, it was worth it.

“Danny…”

Lisa's breathless voice drew my eyes. Standing as before at the side of the bed, holding her bleeding shoulder.

“You all right?” I asked her.

“I'll live. Unfortunately.”

“So will I. Thanks to Charles.”

I glanced down at the old man, whose thin fingers still clasped the plastic cup. It trembled in his hand.

“Yeah.” Despite her pain, Lisa managed a wry smile. “The old bastard came through. Ain't that a kick in the pants?”

If her husband registered anything we'd said, he gave no indication. Merely closed his tired, rheumy eyes.

“But what about Mike?” she asked anxiously.

“I know. The nurse is useless. Get on a phone and call for an ambulance. For you
and
Payton. Then get a hold of Charles' doctor. Dinner break's over.”

She nodded and moved slowly but steadily toward a phone on the other side of the room. I bent to tend to Payton, fearing that the only one who'd be riding in an ambulance was Lisa. For Mike, it was probably too late.

The security man was bleeding profusely from his stomach wounds. I peeled off my jacket and pressed the fabric against the insistent ooze of blood, but to little effect.

I shifted position, gazed down at his pain-flecked eyes.

“James…” He struggled to form the word.

“He's down, Mike. We got him.”

He blinked rapidly, as though willing himself to understand the meaning of my words.

Suddenly, I heard a low groan behind me. I turned on my haunches. It was James Harland, stirring slightly. A gurgling noise in his throat.

Quickly, I went over to where he lay. Crouched down. He was still unconscious, his movements involuntary. As were his moans. Like a child sleeping fitfully. In many ways, I realized, an unfortunately apt description.

Then I noticed something else.

The loop of gold chain he invariably wore had been flung free, no longer tucked inside his sweater. The pendant whose vague outline I'd seen earlier now lay exposed on his chest.

Except that it wasn't a pendant.

Of course,
I thought. No wonder Lisa had been unable to find it, despite rummaging through James' room, his office, even his car. He'd keep something that valuable, that important to him, on his person. Always. He'd never want it out of his sight.

I scooped it up. No, it wasn't a pendant.

It was a flash-drive. Containing the one and only copy of the video made of Lisa's assault.

“Lisa…” I called over to her.

She was just hanging up the phone. Wincing from her wound, she came over and stared flatly down at James.

“Gimme some good news. Did you kill the bastard?”

“No, he's just out. But I do have some good news.”