Charles again started to protest. Ryan put his hand up. “Here’s the choice. You make it. Either it goes like I just said, or I kill you where you sit and you won’t have any more use for your phone, computer or wallet.”

  Charles put his hands up without moving his forearms off his knees. “So, you don’t really work for Brad, do you?”

  “I’m impressed, Charlie. You are quick, aren’t you?” Ryan slipped the man’s cell into his pocket, closed the lid on the laptop, and walked to the door.” With his hand on the knob, Ryan looked back. “What’s Ralph address?”

  “It’s there in my wallet.”

  Ryan perused his wallet and read him an address on a scrap of paper. “This it?” Charles nodded again.

  “How far is that from here?”

  “It ain’t far. Maybe ten minutes, fifteen tops.”

  “Does he come straight from home, or from the bar?”

  “One or the other. His favorite drinking hole’s on the corner across from his place. Ralph, he ain’t supposed to drink. Something shitty about his gut. On his way here, he usually stops and gets two fast food orders and two fries—dinner and breakfast—along with one of them big gulp drinks.”

  “Start counting. Five hundred by ones. Don’t hurry and stay put while you do it.”

  Ryan looked at his watch again. Ralph would arrive in an hour and a half. It would take the man less than half an hour to get here from home, including stopping for his fast food. If he came here from home. It was possible he might come from the bar.

  Ryan called Linda from his car. It was time for her to put her part of the plan in motion.”

  “What about my meeting Brad at eight?”

  “I figured you’d enjoy standing him up.”

  “Boy would I. But … oh, sure, I need to get to Steffi. Get her out of school.”

  “No big hurry, but don’t waste time. They won’t realize anything changed until you’re not there to meet Brad. I’ve shut down their watch on Steffi. To be safe, get her out and clear that neighborhood within the next hour, maybe hour and a half, not a minute longer. After you stand up Brad, he’ll try to contact the men watching Steffi, but he won’t reach them. I’ll have their cell phones. Then he’ll contact Mr. Big. We’ll capture that call from the bug in his apartment or the one in his car. That’ll put their team in panic. With them rattled, they’ll either retrench or do something impulsive. We’ll be ready.”

  30

  Forty minutes after speaking with Ryan, Linda walked Stephanie out the front door of the Hobart school. She was parked at the curb.

  “Why did you take me out of school?”

  “It’s Friday. Your classes are over till Monday. I told them you might miss Monday. At worst, you’ll miss one day of classes.”

  “Why, Mother? Why?”

  “We’re going to see my oldest and dearest friend. A girl I’ve known since I was younger than you.”

  “Are we flying the same airline we did last summer?”

  “No. A friend chartered a plane for us. We’re leaving from a private airport near Sun River. It’s all arranged. No security lines. No tickets. It’s all set. It’ll be fun.”

  “Let me have your phone so I can text my friends and let them know where I’m going. Where are we going?”

  “This is a secret trip, darling. Just us. We’ll be disconnected from the world. I didn’t tell any of my friends and you can’t tell your friends, either. If we told people where we were going, it wouldn’t be a secret trip. That’s why I had you leave your phone at school.”

  “But that’s not fair. You brought yours.”

  “I’m the adult here. If we need one for an emergency, I’ve got it. Look. It is what it is. An adventure. I want to show you where I grew up. Introduce you to people I’ve known all my life. You’re old enough to remember what you learn and who you meet. When my friend offered a free private jet, right now became the perfect time to go.”

  #

  Charles Darrow, a man mothers wouldn’t line up to claim, opened the door to see his own gun in the hand of Ryan Testler. The gun Ryan had taken from him less than an hour before. In Ryan’s other hand was a leather case, the kind a businessman uses to carry documents.

  Ryan kept the gun close to his body so anyone coming out of nearby bungalows wouldn’t be able to see it.

  “What the hell do you want, now? I told you everything I know.”

  Ryan pushed the business end of his Glock into Charles’s gut. “Inside.” Charles turned and led Ryan into his apartment. Ryan reached behind him to close the door. His eyes never leaving Darrow.

  Charles was wearing a muscle t-shirt he only half filled. He licked his fingers and sat on the couch behind an opened beer can and a torn paper bag with some eaten and some uneaten barbeque wings. “Why are you here?”

  Ryan stayed standing. “The address you gave me for Ralph, your fellow watcher of little girls, is no good. I need his real address. And I want it now.”

  “Whataya mean it’s no good? I’ve been there several times.”

  Ryan took out a piece of paper. He had the right address, but needed an excuse for having shown up. “Do you remember the house number?”

  “I think so.”

  “Repeat it.” Charles did. “Damn. I transposed the first two numbers.”

  “You can let yourself out.”

  Ryan turned toward the front door. When he put his hand on the knob, he turned back, the gun still in his hand. “How much did Brad Sander have to offer for you to be willing to shoot that little girl?”

  “What’re you talking about? I’d never do that.”

  “Now let’s not slide back toward lying. As long as you haven’t shot her, there’s no crime. I’m not recording this little chat.”

  The hell I’m not.

  “So don’t piss me off when you don’t need to.”

  “We never wanted any part of that, man. No way. We keep hoping it’ll get worked out, somethin’, you know.”

  “How much?”

  “Ten thousand.” His forehead dampened. He wiped it with an open palm.

  “For each of ya?”

  “We tried for that, man.” He wiped his wet palm on his pant leg. “But, no way. Brad said it goes to whichever of us is on duty when he orders it done. If we choose to split it, that’s our business.”

  When a truck went by outside, Ryan raised the thug’s gun and shot Charles in the chest.

  He opened the leather case he had carried in and took out a large plastic sheet, unfolded it and spread it on the floor next to the body of Charles Darrow. He rolled the body over face up onto the plastic. The bullet hadn’t come out Charles’s back. He opened the leather case again and removed a roll of duct tape, putting a strip over Charles’s eyes and a second length over his mouth. Last, he took out a container of topical skin adhesive and poured some in the bullet hole and over the surrounding area on his chest. This trick was one of many he learned from an old friend and CIA doctor. When the body was secure, Ryan took out his cell phone, dialed, and put it to his ear.

  “Cash and Carry,” the voice said.

  “Seventeen, speaking.”

  “You on secure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Me too. Whatdaya need seventeen?”

  “Sanitizing and disposal. The refuse is packaged and waiting. Needs immediate pickup and delivery. Handle everything so there can be no possibility of recycling.”

  “Not a problem. We’ll roll as soon as you get off the phone. Glad you’re local this time. We appreciate your business. Our guarantee, as always, pick up within the hour or your next pizza’s on us.”

  Ryan gave him the address. “Let me give you another address. I’ll need you there in around an hour or so. You may want to stay on the road, it’s not far from here. That way you make the two pickups in one trip.”

  “Let me read them back.”

  “Affirmative. There’ll be a few odd pieces there with the bigger item. No possible recycling on those either. I’ll send payment to your box number.”

  “Will you still be there?”

  “No. I’ll be moving on to that other address.”

  “Okay. Same amount as last year. Cash and carry.”

  “Agreed. After the second pickup, stay available. I’ll need you again later tonight so keep the phone near ya.”

  Ten minutes later, Ryan was back in his car. He ignored the GPS and used his paper street map to locate the address for Ralph Martin.

  31

  After Steffi fell asleep on the plane, Linda got up and took a soda from the small refrigerator built into a side cabinet of the private plane. After that, she took out her laptop and, working offline, typed an email to Dixon Wardley, a man she expected to see while in Caruthers.

  Dear Dix: I apologize for having put you off. I’m in the air on my way to Caruthers. I hope to talk with you in person, but for reasons that will become clear as you read this, you may prefer we not meet.

  Your offer of matrimony was wonderful. You’re a good man and would be a great husband to any woman. However, there are things you don’t know, that you have a right to know. Things I haven’t told you, and that’s my bad. Let me clean that up now, admitting first, I’m doing this because I can no longer put off doing so.

  I’ll only stay in Caruthers a day or two. The reason for my visit I can’t disclose. I’m sorry. It’s wrong of me not to tell you, but I can’t. It involves other people I cannot put at risk.

  I’m traveling with Stephanie. I have never mentioned her because, well, she is a large part of what I haven’t told you. Steffi is my ten-year-old daughter from my first marriage. She goes to a private boarding school. I kept her a secret because her father doesn’t know she exists, and I don’t want him to. He’s not a good man, but that’s another story. When I leave Caruthers tomorrow or the next day, Steffi may stay there another day. I’ve already set this up with Vera and Mrs. Caruthers who will be at Vera’s when I arrive. I want the two of us to have some time to talk, for me to explain, but our conversation will be much different than mine with Vera and Mrs. Caruthers. I trust you understand why I want us to meet alone.

  I’d like for you to meet Steffi, unless you’d rather not. My daughter doesn’t know about you so please, if you do decide you want to meet her, don’t complicate things by speaking to her of your relationship with me. I’ll introduce you as a lifetime friend, same as Vera and Mrs. Caruthers. Given my conduct, I completely understand if you elect to not see either of us. Let me end where I started: I’m sorry for having kept this secret from you. I shouldn’t have. You’re a good man. Still, I remain in doubt as to whether or not our lives could ever fit together. I do love you, Linda.

  #

  For Ryan, men who murder children for money, were the barrel-scrapings of society. Ralph Martin and Charles Darrow, if they were automobiles, would reside in the rusted out section of the junkyard. To continue the automobile comparison, men like Carlson Bickersley have the shiny chrome bumpers and real leather seats found in the showrooms of the finest dealerships. But, if you scraped off their highly polished paint, you’d find a rusted out relic not all that different than Ralph and Charles. Oh, sure, Bickersley was much more educated, more sophisticated in every way, but his core was nonetheless rotten.

  At times, Ryan wondered just where his own automotive alter ego would be parked. Like the rest of them he lived in a world populated by those who dealt in death and accepted the prospect of their own as an occupational hazard. Ryan tried to differentiate between citizens and those whose line of work made them eligible to die, even deserving. Linda told him on more than one occasion, it was not his right to decide who should die. Linda was right. But then, he also knew that some truly did deserve to die. He expected he would one day resolve this conflict, but that day would not be today.

  Ralph Martin lived in a small, siding-clad house with a single car detached garage, weedy gardens and unmowed grass, all surrounded by a chainlink fence. His neighborhood was one of drunks, druggies, and others society had tossed aside or who had lazily checked out for their own reasons.

  Ryan slipped on fit-over sunglasses and rang the doorbell. It didn’t work. He knocked. Ralph eventually opened the door. He had a buzz on, but was not hold-the-wall drunk. Ryan, still holding Charles Darrow’s gun, easily coerced his way in. Ralph was preparing to go out to relieve Charles in the executive suite across from the Hobart School.

  Ryan stayed to one side and looked around the room. “Take that mirror off the wall,” he pointed, “set it on the floor and turn it to face the wall. Do the same to that picture over there.” He pointed again. “Close those drapes over the window.” After surveying the room again, he ordered Ralph to put the bottle of bourbon and the glass he was drinking from, on the floor beside the couch.

  “What the hell was that all about?”

  “I’m real shy. If we take any pictures, I don’t want any reflections.”

  With that done, Ryan moved into the center of the room. “Brad sent me to let you know he’s shutting down the surveillance.”

  Ralph put his hands on his hips and looked confused, partly from the booze, partly from the message. He scratched his head and sat on a dark brown couch with a big white stain that looked like Donald Duck might after being run over by a hummer.

  Ryan walked closer. “He wants you to shoot the kid.”

  “When does he want it done? Hey, what about Charlie, he’s over there now. Why didn’t Brad have him take out the kid?”

  “I don’t know, man. Brad told me, I’m telling you. Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do or die, right, dude.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Look. It’s orders. That’s all I know. Maybe he figures the girl won’t be out on the grounds before Charlie’s shift’s over and yours starts. Who the hell knows. Look, if you don’t want the ten grand, I’ll tell Charlie.” Ryan patted his pocket. “Hell, I’ll do it and keep this ten thou.” Ralph’s eyes opened wider with the words, ‘this ten thou.’ I’ll just tell Brad you both refused. I can use the dough.”

  “Hey, man. Ain’t nobody refusing nuthin’. Sounds like you got the dough with ya. It’s my gig, not yours. You’re not cutting in on my action. I’ve been sitting on my ass watching that brat for almost a week, taking pictures of her every day. You ain’t getting my money. You got it with ya, don’t cha? The payoff? If so, I’ll get on over there and put that little brat down as soon as she shows her puss.”

  “Sure, I got the cash right here, only it’s mine now.” Ralph’s eyes got big again. His tongue was launching his next word when Ryan shot him with Charles’s gun.

  Ryan took Ralph’s picture with the camera in Charles’s cell phone, the next picture after the one he’d taken of Charles dead on his floor. Then he called Cash and Carry Cleaners. “Pick up number two is ready and waiting. Same everything. I already gave you the address.”

  “We’re just leaving from the first pickup. ETA twenty to thirty minutes.”

  Ryan slipped on a pair of latex gloves before rolling the body onto another plastic sheet. He put Ralph’s and Charles’s ID in Ralph’s pocket, and applied duct tape over Ralph’s eyes and mouth. Next, he taped the gun he used on both men, Charles’s gun, to Ralph’s chest, and slipped Ralph’s handgun behind his belt. After that he again used the skin adhesive to close the wound so no blood would be lost while the cleaners removed the body.

  Cash and Carry charged fifty thousand per. Tonight they earned a hundred grand, with the promise of more to come. That was okay with Ryan. They were pros. The job would be done right.

  Who said capitalism doesn’t work.

  32

  Brad Sander would be a different kind of man to deal with. He was tougher than the two rats Ryan had just exterminated. Brad was better trained, fitter, and smarter. He knew more about Chief of Staff Bickersley’s role and more about Billy Knight. Killing Sander would isolate the chairman of the president’s reelection committee. Sander was Bickersley’s front man so he wouldn’t have to deal directly with riffraff like Darrow and Martin. Men like Bickersley could always hire replacements to do his bidding, but that would take time. Time Bickersley didn’t have. First, Ryan needed to get Sander to talk about Bickersley. After that, he’d fine tune his plan for dealing with the president’s right-hand man.

  A glance at his watch told Ryan that the private plane taking Linda and her daughter to Kansas was on its way.

  He parked a block from the building where his team reported Sander was staying in a room arranged for him by some corporation for which no record had been found. The street had light traffic, a few cars with their headlights on. The prediction for light, steady rain had discouraged casual walkers. Ryan paused at the corner, and turned up the collar on his coat. Two blocks to the north, a church towered above three side-by-side single family homes. Despite the pale sky, the moon was on duty amongst a herd of nimbostratus clouds. When one of the gray clouds paused facing the moon, more headlights came on. People in cars rarely paid attention to pedestrians unless they did something dangerous or outrageous; Ryan did not. He walked steadily, like a local resident walking home from the nearby convenience market, his closed umbrella in hand. His other hand held a plastic grocery bag, only his contained nothing you could buy at a market.

  One of the passing cars pulled to the curb. Ryan stopped and squatted down to retie a shoelace. The driver got out, locked his door, and walked toward the nearest building.

  A block and a half from Sander’s building, when light rain started, Ryan opened his umbrella, switching the grocery bag to his other hand. The easy rain made him appear overly cautious. He was, not about the rain, but about being seen. The weather was perfect for what he had planned. The wind blew in a direction that allowed him to angle his head toward from the traffic. With his head turned under his umbrella, he could have been a mythical headless creature and no one would have known. As he crossed the side street to get to Brad’s block, a couple came out of a building ahead of his location. They glanced skyward, then at each other and joined arms. They never looked in Ryan’s direction as they hurried down the walkway. They crossed the street and approached a new Ford Mustang at the curb, the new-car paper sticker still on the side window.