The Puppeteer (30 page)

She felt a fleeting sense of relief knowing Frey was injured enough to be bleeding on the walls—he must have bumped into them as he made his way down the cave. It would slow him down, make him easier to track. It would also, in all likelihood, make him panic. Humans were fight or flight animals. When Frey's flight response was diminished, his fight response would kick into high gear.

Tucking this bit of information away, Dani continued making her way down the cave. She paused every few feet to listen for recognizable sounds and feel for any air current. The fourth time she paused, she felt a whisper of a breeze on her face. A few more feet down the cave she felt it again, and heard a hint of water making a
soft lapping sound. She slowed her pace even more but kept it steady, no longer stopping. If the cave ended at the ocean, it was possible there was another escape and Frey had slipped through their fingers.

Then she spotted the water and, though the tunnel was still dark, she could see faint light making its way through the darkness. She paused one last time, right where the cave seemed to open out to a small, inland beach. From her vantage point, she could see about ten feet of sand and ocean water but nothing else. She needed to step away from the security of the cave wall to see the whole area. She stood, silent, debating what to do when she caught the scent of fuel. It wasn't strong, a boat engine hadn't been started in the last few minutes, but the smell was distinct and clear. Dani knew that when she stepped away from the wall, she'd find the boat responsible for the scent still sitting in the water of the cave. What else she'd find she didn't know, but judging from the tracks she was beginning to make out as her eyes soaked in the filtered light, she guessed Frey would be on the other side as well.

She stood silent for a long time, waiting for him to start the boat. If she could get him on his way out, she could disable the boat and have him at an advantage. Which, given that she was alone, held great appeal.

But, after what seemed like ages, she still heard nothing but the lapping of the water, so she decided to take her chances. Stepping away from the wall, she swung her gun up and stepped into the opening.

And, for the first time in twenty years, she laid her eyes on the man who'd killed her parents.

He was leaning against the boat. Trying to stop the blood flowing from his upper arm by gripping it tight with his other hand. She couldn't make out the subtleties of his features but the lightness of his eyes burned in the darkness.

“I was wondering how long I would have to wait for you to come away from the wall,” he said, as if he'd been wondering what time of day it was.

“Move away from the boat,” Dani commanded, gun still raised.

Frey eyed her with complete and utter disregard. “I've been waiting for you so that we can get this over with. I wouldn't want to
turn my back on you now would I?” he said, acknowledging that he'd be forced to expose an Achilles' heel if he started the boat, turned his back to her, and headed out of the cave toward the sea. He raised the palm of his injured arm and started to lean back.

“You killed my parents.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them and he paused in response. She wanted the answers and she wanted them now. Not in an hour or two when he sat in some interrogation room but now, in this dark cave, when it was just the two of them.

Then his expression changed to one of pleased surprise. “Ah, yes. I remember you. The little girl at the top of the stairs. I always regretted not being able to kill you. One of the few loose ends I've ever left lying about,” he commented with an airy gesture of his hand that was incongruent with the blood seeping from his bicep. “And then you were so protected, well, I didn't feel you were worth the risk.”

His matter-of-fact admission startled Dani. She'd been expecting some sort of protest, some sort of denial. Even though she knew he had killed her parents, hearing the words from him came as a shock.

“Why?”

He sighed, as if feeling put upon, then gazed at the boat before propping himself up on the edge. Dani thought about telling him not to move but stopped herself. She could disable the boat if need be. Frey didn't appear to be armed and he wasn't going anywhere fast with his arm bleeding the way it was.

“It was all quite simple. I wanted your father to write a report saying that he found gold. He didn't want to write the report, we got into a scuffle, he lost.” The words were delivered so carelessly.

“Why did you want the report? Why did it matter to you so much?” she demanded.

“Money, my dear. It's always just money,” he repeated, almost sad. “Well, maybe there is a little fun in it,” he added.

“Your money or his?”

“Ah, yes. I thought he was another poor sap like me, slogging away in the hellhole that is central Africa. I had no idea your father had the kind of resources he did. That he wouldn't be swayed by the money we could make if he falsified the report. I don't make mistakes often, my dear, but I'll grant you, that was one of them.”

“Why would you want him to falsify a report?” she demanded, struggling to understand.

Frey shifted and his tone took on an almost professorial intonation. “I told you, my dear, money. It's almost always about money and when it's not about money, it's about power and politics. Coming from the world you come from, the world of the elite and privileged, the world of the old boys' network and junior leagues, you should know this.”

She did know this, all too well. But, unwilling to grant him anything, she pressed on, “How would a report bring you money or power?”

“Simple really, my dear,” he said. “If a country receives confirmation of something like a significant presence of gold in their borders, they can obtain a loan to begin the extraction process, sinking the money into the new industry. The problem is, the country usually doesn't have the human capital to do the work, so most of the loan goes straight into the hands of the subcontractors. Subcontractors who pay fees to whoever brokers the deals. I arrange for the report to say what needs to be said in order for the loan to go through and then broker the agreements. Like I said, a rather simple plan.”

He paused and glanced down at his arm. Now that Dani could see better in the darkness of the cave, she could see the blood seeping through his fingers.

“Do you have any idea how much money flows through to the subcontractors in the extraction industry?” he asked, looking back up. “Hundreds of millions of dollars every year. Sometimes billions. A nice tidy profit,” he added with a small satisfied smile.

“And what happens when the resource isn't there? When the country spends all that money and has nothing to show for it?”

He smiled again. “Ah, well that's the fringe benefit. I had no idea starting out that there would be so many political benefits. You see, I only wanted the money. I only wanted to crawl out from the pit I grew up in. But the political benefits, well, that's just icing on the cake.”

She still didn't understand. She didn't understand what kind of benefits could possibly come about from running a country into bankruptcy. She'd worked in a lot of countries riddled with this kind of debt, debt they couldn't possibly pay back, and it was never
pretty. Famine, violence, civil unrest, and often wars prevailed. And the politics of those countries were so unstable—any benefits were purely circumstantial. And then it hit her and her stomach dropped.

“Our political benefit, not theirs,” she said.

He all but beamed at her. “The US does like its puppet governments. It's rather like watching a waltz when we step in as the benevolent benefactor when a country can't repay a loan we helped them obtain. And then, in the name of preventing a crisis, we back certain leaders and, if only for a moment, we bring stability to a country. Our leaders look good, their leaders look good, and all is right in the world. At least until the country becomes tired of being a puppet,” he conceded with a hint of anticipation.

“And then there's war.”

“And then there's opportunity,” he corrected. “Don't ever forget the importance of financial benefits.”

“Yours?”

“Of course. All those defense contracts come with finder's fees too,” he answered. “But don't forget who is usually granted those contracts. US companies, and hence politicians receive their fair share as well.” He paused and let out a sigh that Dani would almost call dreamy. “There is so much potential, so many opportunities, and so little time,” he concluded.

“And when you can't find someone to write the report you want them to write, you kill them? Just like that? People who don't want to lie, people who don't want to be responsible for the downfall of a country? People who don't want to be responsible for all the poverty and war? All of this is for your commissions?” Dani asked, struggling to understand how this man could be so flip about the role he played in so much death—not just her parents' but the victims in the countries he'd helped devastate through bad loans.

Frey's eyes slid toward the open sea before returning to hers. “There was too much at stake for too many people, Ms. Williamson. So when your father wouldn't write the report, when he threatened to report me to US officials, I had to tie up the loose end.”

Dani was speechless. To call him a sick man was a gross understatement—even she was stunned by his callousness. And having met some of the people she'd met in her line of business, this
was saying quite a lot. It was all about money. All about power. There was no remorse, no second guesses, no regrets for the thousands of lives lost because of his actions. He was a sociopath in every sense of the word. And he'd killed her parents.

But Frey didn't seem at all bothered by her judgment. He just cast her a pitying look. And sighed. “Be that as it may, I think my time has come to go. I believe your friends are about to arrive,” he made a vague gesture toward the cave.

Against all her training, Dani turned her head toward the opening of the cave where she could hear distant voices. And just as she made out Ty's voice calling out to her, a shock wave rocked her body and turned her world to black.

Chapter 21

DANI TRIED TO FORCE
her eyes open. Her body felt like it was glued to the bed and her limbs like they were growing roots. Her eyes fluttered open, but just as quickly closed against the bright light as she absorbed what her senses were telling her. The feel of the cloth against her skin was rough and the pillow behind her head, thin. The light was artificial and the smell was antiseptic.

Realization of where she was came swiftly and she squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back a wave a grief. She was in the hospital. She had let Frey win.

She forced herself to open her eyes and, when she did, she saw her sister, Sammy, sitting on the bed facing the window. Dani's hand lay in Sammy's lap and she was reaching for something. When her sister leaned back, she picked up Dani's hand and held it. Dani would have laughed if she'd been able. Leave it to Sammy to give her a manicure when she was in the hospital. Of course, Dani wasn't fooled; her sister was just trying to occupy herself. She recognized the jerkiness of Sammy's movements, it mirrored her own when she was feeling stress or anxiety.

Dani shifted her gaze to her left and saw Ty. He looked awful in a great way. He hadn't shaved, his eyes looked red and his clothes rumpled. He looked like a man who'd been sitting by her side for a very long time. He was staring at her hand that lay between his, tracing her fingers with his fingertips.

Summoning her energy, Dani flexed her fingers and tried to curl them around Ty's. The movement must have caught him by surprise.
He stilled and stared hard, as if trying to decide if what he'd seen was real. When she did it again, his head jerked up and he looked right at her.

“God, Dani,” he said in a strangled voice as he leapt to his feet, gripping her hand.

Sammy spun at his movement and tears sprang to her eyes.

“Sam?” Ty spoke.

“I've got it,” she answered still clinging to Dani's hand with one hand as she hit the call button for the nurse with the other.

“Ella,” Ty whispered, tracing the contours of her face with his fingers. And, as if unable to stay away any longer, he bent down and buried his face against her cheek.

Dani turned toward him, offering him the only comfort she was capable of at the moment.

“God, you scared us,” he rasped, before pulling back and staring at her face.

“Dani?” Sammy said. Even in her weakened state, Dani could hear the tension in her sister's voice.

“I'm okay. I'm just,” she paused trying to find the right word. “Tired?” she said, knowing it was such an inadequate description of the bone weariness she felt.

“I'm sure you are,” came a voice at the foot of the bed. A doctor had entered the room and was watching her closely. “I need to talk to Dani, if you don't mind,” he added with a look at both Ty and Sammy. Both of whom looked like they minded a lot, but left anyway, after another quick look at Dani to reassure themselves she was truly awake.

“How are you?” he asked when they'd left the room. “Really?” he added, picking up her wrist and feeling for her pulse.

“Really, I feel okay. Stiff, but mostly really tired. I didn't get shot did I?” she asked, confused about what had happened. “And where am I?”

“You're in New York. A helicopter brought you in about thirty-six hours ago. No, you weren't shot.” He stopped talking but continued with his physical exam of her.