Stay (19 page)

He went outside and climbed back into the Dodge.

The Army had been correct in its assessment. David had lost his edge.

And he couldn't quite feel sorry about it.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

Yousef stood in the luxurious kitchen and watched the coffeemaker drip. He found the rich aroma of the outrageously expensive Kopi Luwak coffee tantalizing and yet also slightly disappointing. At three hundred and fifty dollars a pound, Yousef had been expecting … what? An orgasm?

It occurred to him that perhaps Dante Payne had so much money that he had to constantly think of new and inventive ways to spend it.

Yousef still thought it wasteful, and considered the coffee again with vague disapproval.

Payne stood behind him, cursing and glaring into a gleaming steel refrigerator the size of a bank vault.

“I wish I'd known we were coming here,” Payne lamented. “I would have alerted the staff. I can't remember the last time I prepared my own meal.”

“A bad idea,” Yousef said. “Servants talk. The fewer who know you're here, the better.”

“Yes, of course.”

Payne had ordered men in to clean up the blood and bodies in his west side building and had retreated to a penthouse apartment on the Upper East Side. His men were in the lobby. More men in the stairwells. Still more men in the hallway by the elevator. If Sparrow tried to get at Payne here, it would get very noisy very quickly.

But first Sparrow would have to know Payne was here, a fact they weren't advertising.

Yousef watched the coffee drip.

Payne took a jar of Greek olives from the refrigerator and frowned at it. “Shouldn't you be out killing people? It's why I'm paying you.”

“I'm waiting.”

“For what?”

“For him to show himself.”

“He killed two men the last time he showed himself,” Payne said.

“I could roam the streets of Manhattan shouting his name if you prefer.”

Payne slammed the refrigerator door closed. “This is ridiculous. All of my money, my power and influence. And I can't step foot out of this penthouse because of
one man
. He should be afraid of
me
. Not the other way around. I feel like a prisoner in a cell.”

“A very
nice
cell. You should relax,” Yousef said. “I will take care of everything. Trust me. Have patience.”

“Have patience, he says. Relax.”

The coffeemaker hissed and puffed. “The coffee is finished. Do you want a cup?” Yousef asked.

“No, I do not want a fucking cup of—”

“Sorry to interrupt, boss.” One of Payne's flunkies had walked into the kitchen. “But Marco called. He heard from Gina. There's been trouble at Jerry's.”

“Who the fuck is Gina?”

“That cooze that runs the love nest over the bar,” the flunky reported. “Says some guy came in and kicked the shit out of the boys downstairs and forced her to open the safe. Got away with the book.”

“Son of a bitch! What the fuck was he doing at Jerry's?”

The flunky shrugged.

“It's your building,” Yousef said. “He was looking for you.”

“It's not common knowledge I own that building.”

“No,” Yousef said. “But it is uncommon knowledge, and it is an uncommon man who hunts you. He was with the government. Maybe still is. Someone is helping him. He knows your haunts.”

“Then he knows about this penthouse.”

“Without a doubt.”

“He could come here next.”

“A distinct possibility.”

Payne grimaced. “Well, then, that's
bad,
isn't it?”

“No,” Yousef corrected. “That's good.” He took a mug from the cupboard above the coffeemaker and filled it. “Now we can take control of the situation.”

“I'd like to hear exactly how you're going to do that,” Payne said.

“Only too happy to explain,” Yousef said. “First, I'm going to need one of your credit cards.”

*   *   *

After stopping to use the restroom and to buy an energy drink, David was back behind the wheel of the Dodge, on his way to the next place on Charlie's list, a penthouse on the Upper East Side.

“Major, you there?” Charlie buzzed in his ear.

“You don't have to call me Major, Charlie.”

“I like it,” Charlie said. “Like old times.”

Yeah. Old times
.

“I hope you're calling with good news,” David said. “Did you break through the security on the flash drive?”

“Not yet. But I got a hit on the Net. A place not on the list I gave you.”

“Let's hear it.”

“Payne owns a luxury yacht,” Charlie said. “A hundred sixty feet, all the amenities. You got a pen? I'll tell you the marina and the best way to get there.”

“Just tell me. I'll remember.”

Charlie told him.

“And we think this is a good bet?”

“Dante Payne just used his American Express card at the marina to buy an amount of diesel fuel that more or less matches the tank capacity of his yacht,” Charlie explained. “Twenty-two minutes before that, he used the same card to purchase three hundred and fifty-eight bucks worth of groceries at a market two blocks from the marina entrance.”

“Sounds like somebody is going on holiday.”

“With that much food and fuel he can make circles around Ellis Island for a week and we'd never find him,” Charlie said.

“But you
did
find him.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said. “But you better get there before they shove off.”

“On it. Back at you later.”

David turned the Dodge around and headed downtown.

Something buzzed in his pocket, and he checked his smartphone. A text from Amy.

You okay?

David felt a strong urge to apologize. She shouldn't be stuck there all alone. He shouldn't have had to send his kids away. Why hadn't he fixed everything yet? He wanted to say that he loved her and that he'd do better. He texted:

I'm good. More later.

He put the phone back in his pocket.

David passed Chinatown and Gilbert Park then made a right turn toward the water. The marina was a little north of the piers with the big commercial ships. He drove through the gates and along the dock to pier nine, which was the last one. A mix of motor yachts and sailing vessels docked here, various pleasure craft the idle rich could not only afford to buy but also to maintain and park here at the marina. David's father had been fond of repeating a saying he'd heard about boats.
A boat is a hole in the water you throw money into
.

If that were true, then Dante Payne's motor yacht
Avenger
was the biggest hole in this part of the water, although David didn't doubt Payne had enough money to fill it. The
Avenger
was docked along the left side of the pier, taking up most of the available space, her stern facing toward him. He parked across from the pier and killed the lights.

It was getting late, and the marina was mostly deserted, but the
Avenger
's lights were on and a trio of men carried boxes and bags up a short gangplank. Charlie's assessment of the situation looked solid.

David considered it from Payne's point of view. Sooner or later the police would find David. Eventually Amy would have to surface. Payne could hide out in comfort on his yacht in the middle of Hudson Bay until everything blew over. The clock was working for Payne and against David.

Payne would have men with him. How many? How good? David could only make lousy guesses based on incomplete information.

So yeah, business as usual. Just like Charlie said
.

The men who'd carried aboard the provisions came back down the gangplank and began casting off ropes. David needed to make his move, and he needed to time it just right. There was a swimming platform at the stern, one of those flat landings for zero entry into the water. That would be his best access point.

They were pulling up the gangplank now. The engines turned over, and water churned behind the yacht.

They were leaving.

David took the Airweight and Gina's little automatic out of his Windbreaker pockets and dropped them on the car floor. They weren't the sort of weapons he found particularly useful, and he didn't want them clanking around his pockets if he had to move fast.

He checked the magazines in his automatic pistols and the load in the shotgun. He scanned the dock, and when he didn't see anyone, he got out of the Dodge.

The yacht picked up speed, and David jogged down the pier after it. It would have to make a sharp left-hand turn when it reached the end of the pier, and that would be his best shot. If he didn't time the jump exactly right, the result would be very embarrassing and very wet.

The yacht started its turn, and David ran faster.

He hit the end of the pier and launched himself, just as the stern of the ship passed below him. He easily flew the distance, holding the shotgun close to his chest, and hit the swimming deck, tucked and rolled. He came up with his back against the large transom. He paused to listen, but couldn't hear anything over the engines.

He touched the Bluetooth, made sure it was still in place. “Charlie.”

“I'm here.”

“I'm aboard. I'm going to keep the channel open, so you can follow along.”

“Understood. I'm not going anywhere.”

So, you're Dante Payne on a luxury yacht. Where do you go? Up on deck to get some air? Down below to get a drink? Do you retire to your stateroom with some floozy to blow off steam?

It was a big boat, but it could get really small really fast if they all came at him at once. He stood and peered over the transom. He didn't see anyone, but he discovered that the transom lowered to allow the launch of inflatable dinghies with small outboard motors. There were also a couple of Jet Skis.

Payne would surround himself with his hired muscle. Maybe there was a way David could get rid of a few. Even the odds a bit.

“Charlie, can you pull up the specs on this yacht?”

*   *   *

Yousef stood next to the
Avenger
's captain on the bridge. “You're on course? All is well?”

“Up the East River as you directed,” the captain said. “You still want to go to North Brother Island? Nothing is there but abandoned buildings and birds.”

“Good,” Yousef said. “I want someplace secluded.”

Yousef had assured Dante Payne that David Sparrow would be captured alive and interrogated. He would be made to tell the whereabouts of the flash drive, if anyone else had seen the contents of the flash drive, and where his wife could be located. Afterward, he would be cut into many pieces and the teeth would be pulled from his head to prevent identification via dental records. His remains would be scattered, never to be found. Yousef would gleefully attend to these matters personally.

Yousef knew Sparrow wouldn't give up any information about his wife. His certainty stemmed from the fact that in this respect Sparrow was a man like Yousef. No amount of pain would make him betray the woman he loved although Yousef would still make the best effort possible to force Sparrow to talk. One still needed to go through the steps after all.

Yousef would have given anything, endured any torment, to have saved his wife and daughters. Sparrow had taken this opportunity from him, had assured him his family was safe. Lies. Through his connections, Yousef had learned the fate of his family, raped and humiliated before finally being butchered. Sparrow would suffer, and before he died, he would be made to understand that his wife would suffer the same fate as Yousef's family.

If there were time and opportunity perhaps he would also hunt down the man's children.

But …

Best not to think too far ahead.

For now it sufficed that his man back at the marina had seen Sparrow arrive, park and board the
Avenger
. Even now Sparrow crouched behind the transom, preparing to make some move, unaware that preemptive actions had already been taken. Reagan and a half-dozen of Payne's guns for hire waited hidden where they could easily capture Sparrow if he showed himself. If Sparrow resisted, they would likely suffer losses, but the men had been given explicit instructions to take their target alive.

And if some of Payne's men were killed, then so be it. That's what fodder was for after all.

A red light blazed angrily on the control panel next to the ship's wheel, accompanied by a harsh alarm buzz. The captain immediately throttled back, and Yousef felt the ship slow.

“What are you doing?”

“Somebody's lowered the transom,” the captain said. “We've got to stop, or we'll take on water.”

He knows. Somehow Sparrow knows we're setting a trap for him
.

Reagan burst onto the bridge. His pistol was drawn. “He's getting away!”

Reagan turned and ran, and Yousef followed, drawing one of his own Glocks. They ran down the portside all the way to the stern where four of Payne's gunmen looked out across the water. Yousef followed their gaze and saw one of the inflatable dinghies motoring away fast, skipping along the waves.

“Shit,” Yousef spat.

With the transom down, the water was ankle deep in the launch area at the stern of the ship. Yousef jerked the anchor straps loose from one of the Jet Skis and floated it out in front of him. He threw a leg over like he was mounting a horse and cranked the engine.

“Take charge here,” Yousef told Reagan. He pointed at one of Payne's men. “Get on the other Jet Ski. You other two launch the other dinghy and follow as fast as you can.”

Yousef didn't wait to see if they obeyed. He cranked the accelerator and shot from the stern of the
Avenger
after Sparrow. He had a good lead, but the Jet Ski was slowly gaining. Water sprayed his face. He glanced back and saw the other Jet Ski following. It was too dark to make out the second dinghy, but the
Avenger
's running lights glowed brightly across the black water.