Michael Prescott - Mortal Faults

Reynolds downed another gulp of Scotch. “You don’t get it, Kip. She blames me for pushing her over the edge. She thinks I’m the one who drove her to shoot the kids.”

“She’s a freak. We can paint her-”

“No matter how we spin it, the media will play it their way. She bore my children out of wedlock and killed them when I broke her heart.”

“I’m not saying we won’t take a hit.”

“A hit? This will fucking destroy me.”

“I think you can recover.”

“Easy for you to say. If I go down, you just find some up-and-comer to latch on to, and you’re back in the game.”

Stenzel stiffened. “I don’t appreciate your questioning my loyalty, Jack.” He waited for an apology, got none, and forged ahead. “Bottom line, we’re not in too deep yet. The incident yesterday afternoon can’t be tied to you. We’re still only talking about a love affair that went south. If you take it to the next level, there’s no going back.”

“There’s never been any going back. Andrea Lowry is a problem. The way you deal with problems is you eliminate them.”

“That may be how it’s done on the streets-”

“Yeah, that’s exactly how it’s done on the streets. What kind of war do you think we’re fighting? This isn’t the one of your fucking focus groups. This is armed combat. If you haven’t got the stomach for it, then get out of the way.”

“I have the stomach for whatever is necessary,” Stenzel said quietly.

“Then shut the hell up about cutting our losses. We’re not playing defense. We’re on offense. We’re going to have Andrea handed over to us tonight.”

“According to Sinclair. You think her proposal is on the level?”

“Yes, I do.”

“So you think she aced the biker?”

“Probably.”

“I don’t get that vibe from her. She’s not a killer.”

“Anybody is a killer, given the right circumstances. And she’s a street fighter. Vigilante type. She could have offed Garrick. Definitely.”

Stenzel thought about the woman’s hard-ass attitude. It was possible, he decided. “Did you know this guy Garrick?”

“No. But the newspaper said he croaked last night-shot in the face. If Sinclair had something to do with it, or even if it only looks like she did, then she’s not lying when she says she needs to get out of town.”

“What was the phone call about?”

“Friend of mine. His particular talents are going to come in handy tonight.”

Stenzel figured he understood the game plan. The friend, Ron, would remove Andrea after Reynolds learned her whereabouts. More outsourcing. He wasn’t happy about it, but he knew the boss was in no mood for argument.

“So I take it you’ll pay Sinclair the fifty and trust her to come up with Lowry?”

“Trust has nothing to do with it. We’re not taking action only with regard to Andrea. We’re going to snuff Sinclair, too.”

Stenzel required a moment to absorb this information. Then he saw why Reynolds’ friend would be stationed near the hotel. Sinclair was his target. She would be taken out when she tried to leave. Gunned down-or maybe snatched alive. Reynolds had said something about duct tape, handcuffs. Stenzel didn’t know. He was way outside his comfort zone.

“Jack,” he said softly, in his calmest, most reasonable tone, “I understand your desire to recover your investment, but-”

“The fifty thou? I’m not worried about that, God damn it.”

“Then I don’t see the rationale for this move.”

“The rationale, Kip, is that I don’t trust Sinclair any more than you do. She may be planning to stiff me on the payment. She may have some other game in mind. She was pretty vague about the details of this handoff she’s arranging.”

“If you think it’s a con, don’t go.”

“I don’t know if it’s a con. If it is, then I intend to get Sinclair. If she’s on the level, then I intend to get Lowry-and Sinclair, too.”

“There’s something more going on here than covering your bases, Jack.”

“Damn straight there’s more. Sinclair betrayed me. She’s not getting away with it. I don’t take betrayal well. Just ask Joe Ferris.”

The name meant nothing to Stenzel. “Who?”

“Never mind. He was before your time.”

Stenzel was trying hard to focus, but he wasn’t sure he could. It had been one thing to track down Andrea Lowry and provide her address. He hadn’t had to concern himself with the end result. And he’d never even met Lowry. She was an abstraction. This was different. This was real.

“So what you’re saying is”-he spoke slowly-“you plan to, uh, terminate both women?”

“Right, Kip. That’s what I’m saying.”

“It doubles the risk.”

“It also doubles the reward.”

Stenzel knew this was wrong. From a cost-benefit standpoint, there was no justification for this course of action. It was highly unwise.

“I don’t see any percentage in eliminating Sinclair,” he said. “Just let her go. She’ll be out of town, and no one will ever find her.”

“No one will find her,” Reynolds agreed, “but not because she’s out of town. What do I have on schedule for tonight?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“I want to make sure my night is free.” Reynolds smiled. “You didn’t think I was just going to have Sinclair blipped, did you? Uh-uh. Andrea gets a bullet in the head. No hard feelings there. Sinclair is a different story. That bitch owes me a good time.”

Stenzel felt his gut tighten. He had trouble forming words. “That’s a serious error, Jack. You’re not thinking strategically.”

“Fuck strategy.”

“You’re already pushing the envelope. You want to stay as far away from the actual… resolution of the problem as possible.”

“No, I don’t. Let me tell you how it’s going to go down.”

“No, Jack.”

“What do you mean, no?”

Stenzel turned away. “Whatever you have in mind, I don’t want to know about it.”

“You don’t want to know about it? You don’t want to know?” Reynolds flung his glass. It shattered against a wall. “You need to know. You’re going to know.”

“Okay, Jack.” Stenzel’s mouth was dry. “Okay.”

Reynolds rounded the desk and stared him down. His mouth was twisted in an indecipherable shape that could have been a grimace or a smile. His eyes were narrowed and unblinking.

“My friend grabs Sinclair and takes her to Santa Ana. He runs a motorcycle repair shop. Lots of power tools.”

With a distant part of his mind, Stenzel wondered if he had ever allowed himself to know, really know, that his employer was a sociopath. It should have been obvious. There had been more than enough hints-the mood swings from affability to rage, the inner coldness, the shameless manipulations. And on some level he had seen it. But he had never put his knowledge into words. He had never wanted to. Perhaps because he saw so much of himself in Jack Reynolds, or so much of Reynolds in him.

“Of course,” Reynolds added, “the party won’t get started till I arrive.”

“You’re saying you… want to watch?” Stenzel asked, holding his voice level.

“Not just watch. I’m a hands-on guy.”

The images this statement suggested were more than Stenzel could stand. He tried one last time to get through. “Jack, this is not a good idea. This is one task you definitely want to delegate.”

“Wrong. I want to get up close and personal. I want to look into her eyes. I want to break her. I want her to die knowing I won and she lost.”

“Why?” Stenzel asked, hearing the inane pointlessness of the question even as he uttered it.

“Because I always win. Always. She should’ve remembered that. And you, too, Kip. You should remember it, too.”