Killers and Keepers Read online

  "I understand what you're saying, but I don't know how I feel about the two of them."

  "You don't have to decide right now. Were you serious about dropping off the face of the earth for a while?"

  "Yes. I don't think the department will back off. They're bound to be looking for me," I said. "You okay with going on the run?"

  "Sure. But I want to check the blind drop I used with the broker before we bail out. I'm curious to see if anything's new on that hit she offered me."

  "Can't you check it from the boat? With the satellite hotspot?"

  "I don't want the hot spot's IP address associated with her blind drop. Let's swing by an internet café on our way back to the boat."

  "All right. There's one across the street from the customs office. While you do that, I'll clear with customs and immigration for an evening departure."

  "Where are we going?"

  "How about Guadeloupe? There are lots of places to hide there, with all the outlying islands. We might as well hang out where we can get French wine and pastries."

  "Sounds good to me," Mary said. "You ready?"

  "Yes. Let's get you to the internet café."

  There was no line at the customs office, so I finished clearing out in a few minutes. I got to the café as Mary was logging off one of the computers.

  "You done?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said, as she settled her bill with the attendant. "Let's walk around for a few minutes before we go back to the boat."

  "Okay," I said, as we walked out into the dazzling tropical sunlight. I blinked at the transition from the dim interior of the internet café. "Are we going anywhere in particular?"

  "No. I just want to stretch my legs; we'll be stuck aboard the boat for 30 hours on the way to Guadeloupe. My muscles still have kinks from our last overnight trip. Besides, we need to talk."

  We were outside by then. We crossed the street, and Mary turned left onto the sidewalk that followed the seawall along the edge of the harbor. We moved at a quick pace once we were clear of the people around the market stalls. She was right; it felt good to use my leg muscles.

  "What's on your mind?" I asked.

  "I had another message from the broker. The client has upped the ante. You interested in making a little pocket money while Phorcys has us on hold?"

  "I don't know, Mary. I'm not sure about agreeing to kill an unknown target. Are you feeling like you want to take the contract?"

  "I could go either way, but my curiosity's really piqued. The offer has been raised to $5 million if the hit happens in the next 30 days."

  "Are you serious? Five million dollars?"

  "Yes. Aren't you curious about the target?"

  "Yes, but my gut tells me something's wrong, here. From what you said before, most of your competition would assassinate the president for that kind of money, right?"

  "Yes. And you're right; there's an element of 'too good to be true,' here."

  "Where are you on this? You really want to do it?" I asked.

  "I want to find out more about it. There's usually a government behind an offer that big. That hit's awfully pricey to be funded by a private client. There are always exceptions, but I don't think this is one."

  "Why not?"

  "A couple of reasons. One is that a private client looking to spend that much money is more likely to use mercenaries instead of a contract killer like me. Maybe to create a market opportunity for the client, or to exploit natural resources in a third-world country. Something like that. No individual would spend that much to kill a single person, even if the person was a head of state. You could start a revolution with that much money. Maybe not carry it all the way through, but… Well, you see what I mean."

  "Yes. You said a couple of reasons."

  "Right. The other reason is they asked for the person who killed the O'Hanlons. If they know about the O'Hanlons, they're sure to know more. It wouldn't take a genius to connect the O'Hanlons' demise to some of our other kills — Senator Lee, the people we killed in the Bahamas — the others working for the Russian who took over O'Hanlon's organization. I think this may be a setup, not a hit at all."

  "A setup? Who are they after? You?" I asked.

  "Or you. Both of us, probably. If they know enough to ask for the person who killed the O'Hanlons, they're bound to know you and I have been working together."

  "You think it's Lavrov, or whatever his real name is?"

  Lavrov was the name we had for the man who took over O'Hanlon's criminal empire. After Mary and I wiped out most of his organization, we learned that Lavrov was an agent of the Russian government rather than a common criminal. He was using the money from the drug empire to fund a high-tech attack on voting systems in the U.S. Once we killed his troops and his plans became public, Lavrov disappeared.

  "He's a possibility, but I have doubts about him," Mary said. "If he wanted to assassinate somebody, he wouldn't hire me. He's got plenty of talent to draw on."

  "I was thinking he might want to set us up."

  "Maybe, but I doubt it. He wouldn't have much of a motive to go after us, except revenge. He's too much of a pro to engage in a personal vendetta. He's probably got bigger fish to fry. That's my opinion, anyway."

  "I see your point, but who else might want to trap us?"

  "I don't know, Finn. And I can't figure out why, either. What could they want from us?"

  "The guys who grabbed me in Tortola wanted to know who I was working for. And they knew you were working with me, but they were told to leave you alone."

  "That's another reason I think this might be a setup to trap us."

  "Are you saying the department is behind the contract offer?" I asked.

  "No. There are parallels, but that wouldn't make sense. They don't need to trap us. They've already come after you once. They know who we are, and they knew how to find us once. They'll at least think they can find us again."

  "Yes. I'm still wondering how they learned so much about us. But can I change the subject for a minute?"

  "Sure," Mary said.

  "Okay. Back when you first heard from the broker, you mentioned taking the offer and then raising the price once you learned who the target was. You thought if you made the price outrageous, you might be able to back out once you knew the target, right?"

  "Yes. But I also told you that would be risky, remember? Either the broker or the client might well decide to eliminate me, because I would know too much."

  "Right. Would knowing who the $5 million target is be worth that risk? Don't forget, people are already trying to kill me, and probably you, too. The risk is only incremental; it's not like we're all that safe now," I said.

  "I've thought of that. What would change if we knew the target? That's what I'm wrestling with."

  "It might help us figure out who the client is."

  "It could give us a clue, all right. But what would we do with that information?" Mary asked.

  "I don't know. Put that question on hold for a minute. I have a variation on your idea to find out who the client is. What if you accept the contract and don't try to renegotiate it? What happens then?"

  "I'll get $2.5 million deposited to one of my accounts, and I'll get the information on the target. I'll also have 30 days to execute the hit, if I want the extra $2.5 million. Otherwise, I could drag it out, within reason, but I'd forfeit the extra if I took more than 30 days. What are you thinking?"

  "That would leave us with two options," I said.

  "Us? Does that mean you're in this with me?"

  "For the sake of discussion, yes. If you still want me in, that is."

  "For the sake of discussion, I do. What are our two options?" Mary asked.

  "Option one would be to kill the target, if we're comfortable with that. For all we know, it might be somebody who deserves to die, right?"

  "Right. That one would be a no-brainer. What's option two?"

  "Option two is that we pretend to work toward the hit while we figure out the clien
t's identity. Then we kill the client instead," I said.

  "That's crazy, Finn. Besides, it's crooked."

  I laughed.

  "I'm serious," Mary said. "We'd be breaking our agreement."

  "Think about it, Mary. Is the client likely to be a fine, upstanding person who always honors agreements? You were just now speculating that the client might be setting us up."

  "This is a side of you I haven't seen before, Finn. You've always been a straight arrow."

  "Yeah, that's me. I'm a good soldier, loyal to my country. I don't see that I'm proposing anything that's at odds with my sense of right and wrong. If the target's somebody who doesn't deserve to die, that means the client is the bad guy. I'm comfortable with us making that call. One of those two parties should be killed. You and I come out in the same place on questions like that."

  Mary stopped walking and turned to face me, looking me in the eye. After several seconds of silence, she nodded.

  "Okay," she said.

  "Okay, what?"

  "I need to think about this."

  "When do you have to give the broker an answer?" I asked.

  "I told her two days. That gives us time to get to Guadeloupe."

  "While you're thinking about it, consider what happens if you refuse the contract."

  "What do you mean? Nothing will happen. I've turned down contracts before," Mary said.

  "But not like this one. You think this client will take no for an answer?"

  "What choice would he have?"

  "My bet is he'll come after you if you turn it down," I said.

  "He doesn't know who I am."

  "How sure are you about that? You're the one who said if he knew about the O'Hanlons, he probably knew about the rest of the people we've killed who were connected to them."

  "I never thought about it that way," Mary said. "I don't think of you having such a devious mind."

  "So I still have a surprise or two up my sleeve, huh? Something for you to ponder on those night watches while we sail to Guadeloupe."

  "Hey, Finn?"

  "Yes?"

  "You see that guy about 50 yards in front of us? The one with the camera on the tripod?"

  "Yes. What about him?" I asked.

  "I think he's watching Island Girl through that telephoto lens. And he's talking to somebody on what looks like a handheld VHF radio."

  "Let's get behind him so I can confirm his line of sight," I said.

  Island Girl was anchored about 100 yards out, roughly in front of the man. She had a different name on her transom now, though. While Mary and I were en route from the BVI, I changed her name to Island Dream, and we cleared in with a set of ship's papers that matched that. We were both using different identities now, as well. The French authorities in St. Martin were pretty relaxed about asking for paperwork from your last port of call. Besides, I told them we came from the USVI. Since the boat was U.S. flagged, that meant we didn't get a departure clearance when we left there.

  There were a few other boats anchored near Island Dream, but Mary could be right. She stepped off the sidewalk into the parking lot, walking in a direction that took us about 20 feet behind the man. She stopped and pulled a tourist map from her shoulder bag, pretending to study it while I sighted along the man's telephoto lens. It was lined up on our boat, all right. The way she was lying to the wind, he wouldn't be able to see the name on the transom. Either he had another means of identifying her or he just liked her looks. I didn't believe that for a minute; she was a scruffy looking boat. I kept her that way to make her less noticeable.

  "You're right. He's watching her. Let's find a spot where we can keep an eye on him."

  5

  I found a table at a sidewalk café across the street from the spot where the man stood watching Island Dream. Once I was settled with a cup of coffee, Mary left me there. Her plan was to pick up a few odds and ends at one of the nearby T-shirt shops catering to tourists. She would disguise herself and scout the waterfront, looking for the rest of the cameraman's team. Her theory was that once he determined that our boat was unoccupied, he or his accomplices might dinghy out and sneak aboard.

  Halfway through my first cup of coffee, a tanned woman wearing a skimpy white bikini with an almost transparent, colorful sarong knotted around her hips swished by my table. Her appearance was distracting enough that I didn't recognize her at first. Then she dropped a small shopping bag in the extra chair at my table. With the floppy straw sunhat covering her hair, Mary was a different woman from the one who came ashore wearing cutoff jeans and an oversized T-shirt.

  As she walked away, I gave a low whistle and was rewarded with a flash of leg as she flipped the sarong so that the breeze lifted it. I watched as she crossed the street and sashayed past the man watching our boat. Mary was a few feet beyond him when he registered her passing and turned his head to look. His jaw dropped, and he swung the camera around and bent to watch the show through his telephoto lens.

  I chuckled at his reaction. Mary was quite an eyeful; there was no doubt about what he was thinking. After a few seconds, he swung the camera back around to the boat and unclipped the handheld radio from his belt. He raised it to his lips and spoke into it, shifting it to his ear to listen for a response.

  He either recognized Mary, which was doubtful, or he didn't want his cronies to miss seeing the show. That was more likely, and it told me that the rest of his team must be stationed somewhere along the waterfront in the direction she was walking. I considered following her at a distance to see if I could spot them ogling her, but I thought better of it. Every male along her route would be admiring her; I would be wasting my time.

  I turned my attention back to the man watching our boat. After a few minutes, my cellphone rang. Glancing at the caller ID screen, I saw it was Mary.

  "Hello, hot stuff," I answered.

  "Hi, sailor. I found them. There's a rental dinghy with two guys in it. They're tied to the seawall about halfway between where you are and the ferry terminal."

  "How do you know they're the ones?"

  "I offered to let them take me for a ride, but they turned me down. Can you believe it?"

  "No. Every man who could breathe was watching you; it was comical. What did they say?"

  "They said they were waiting for somebody. I asked if they were from one of the boats in the anchorage, and they said they were. I told them I was, too, and asked the name of their boat. They both answered at the same time, but they gave me two different boat names. Besides, they look the part. Clean-cut American boys, just like the guy with the camera. Up close, all three look like they would be interchangeable with the ones we wasted in the BVI. My bet is they're waiting for us to go back to the boat. Then they'll come calling."

  "Where are you?" I asked.

  "The waiting area at the ferry terminal. I can see the two in the dinghy from here. What do you want to do?"

  "I want to get this over with. You said they were in one of those rental dinghies?"

  "Yes, with a 25-horsepower outboard and a steering wheel. It's like the ones the excursion companies use."

  "That'll be way faster than our little dinghy," I said. "I'm walking to the ferry terminal while we talk."

  "Good. Stay away from the seawall. Those two might recognize you, if they're who we think they are."

  "Right. I'm on the other side of the big parking lot, walking past all the duty-free shops. I can't see the seawall from here."

  "Okay. You're bringing my clothes, right?" she asked.

  "If they're in that shopping bag, I am."

  "They are. When you get here, I'll change back to normal."

  "Okay, I guess. But I kind of like the new you."

  "Shut up, wiseass. Do you have a plan?"

  "I'm working on it," I said. "Those two are probably waiting until the camera man tells them I'm back on the boat. I don't know how long he's been watching, but we've been ashore almost two hours. He's guessed by now that we're not aboard, since there's no di
nghy trailing off the stern. I need to get there far enough ahead of them to retrieve one of the pistols we took from the men in the BVI. With that fast dinghy they're using, they might beat me to the boat."

  "You sound like you don't expect me to go with you."

  "That's right. It's a safe bet they're from the department. I have to assume they have the same orders as the last team; they want to get me alone. If they see you with me, they won't attack."

  "We should take advantage of that," Mary said. "If I come with you, maybe we can slip away before they figure out what to do."

  "We'd just be postponing the inevitable," I said. "I might as well kill them and get it over with."

  "Are you almost here?"

  "Yes. Probably a minute or two away."

  "Let's talk after I change clothes, then. It's getting crowded here; I don't want to be overheard. You'll see me when you walk in the entrance. Just drop the shopping bag while you read the ferry schedule over the ticket counter. I'll snag it and go change. Then we can find a place to get lunch and work through this. Okay?"

  "Okay," I said.

  "G'bye, sailor."

  "G'bye, hot stuff."

  I put the phone in my pocket. As I walked the last couple of blocks, I wondered what Mary was thinking. She didn't reject my plan outright, but I could tell she didn't like it. I would find out soon enough.

  Once Mary changed back into her T-shirt and cut-offs, we walked a few blocks into town. We picked a quiet restaurant away from the tourist strip along the waterfront and ordered lunch.

  "You didn't like my idea for dealing with our tail," I said, while we were waiting for our food. "You have an alternative?"

  "Maybe, but first, how do you think they found us so fast?"

  "I've been puzzling over that. They must have a tracking device on the boat."

  "Do you think the guys in the BVI planted it?"

  "That's the only explanation I can come up with," I said. "They must have done it while we were ashore together."