Matt Hilton - Blood and Ashes

‘Hicks was planning a coup?’

‘That’s what my contact told me. Except it turned out that Hicks was more interested in attacking the banking system than the government.’

Hit them where it really hurts, I thought. ‘Which was when you supplied the information and Hicks was arrested.’

‘That’s right,’ Don said. ‘My friend was pissed at me of course; he suspected that I was the one behind Hicks’ capture. But he was a forgiving soul, so as long as I paid him a few grand he promised to go away.’

‘And you gave in to his demand.’

‘It suited me,’ Don admitted. ‘Cracking that case was the making of me, gave me everything I needed. I was grateful and paid him.’

‘When Hicks escaped from prison, this man found out that he wasn’t dead. He didn’t come back to warn you as an old friend, he was after more money?’

‘I didn’t believe him. As far as I was concerned Hicks was dead and gone; what threat was he to me or my family?’

‘Then Brook died.’

Don’s eyes grew teary. ‘Then Brook was murdered.’

The words of the email made sense now. How many more must die or who will you lose next? Something along those lines. The message was really asking, ‘How many are you prepared to lose before you pay me?’

I said, ‘You sent for me, even after you paid him. You didn’t trust this man.’

Don shook his head wearily. ‘I sent for you, I only got back in touch with him after you turned me down. Remember how you walked away from me? Well, I transferred the cash to him then — fifty thousand dollars. I wasn’t to know that you were going to change your mind, was I? Maybe if Hicks’ men hadn’t approached you at the Seven-Eleven then you’d have got in your car and headed back to Tampa.’

I couldn’t deny that Don had a point. ‘So what was this man offering in return? He obviously didn’t give a damn about you or your family. What was the money for this time?’

‘Information on Hicks’ latest plot.’

‘Did he send it to you?’

‘Yes.’

‘So where is it, your computer?’ The FBI had already trawled through Don’s computer and had come up with nothing of significance. There wasn’t even a history of the alleged emails.

Don tapped his head. ‘It’s all up here, Hunter. We used the draft email facility between our computers and deleted as we went. There’s nothing but what I’ve retained up here.’

‘This man-’

‘Jim Lloyd,’ Don interjected. ‘You know what he is now, so you may as well know his name.’

‘OK. This Lloyd, do you trust his information?’

‘I’ve no reason to doubt him. He wants Hicks stopped as much as I do. He’s frightened that Hicks has figured out who supplied the info that originally betrayed him, and that harm will come to his family as a result. He told me his daughter is part of Gant’s crew and he was terrified of what Hicks would do to her.’

Sonya Madden. I thought of what Vince had done to the girl and that Lloyd’s fears had come true, albeit in a roundabout manner.

‘Yet he was more interested in extorting money from you than getting his daughter out of harm’s way.’

‘I think he was planning on using the cash to take his daughter somewhere safe. He wanted out of Manhattan, that was for sure. That was another reason he wanted Hicks stopped. He says that Hicks forced him into bartering a deal with some old contacts of Lloyd’s out in the Far East. He said that if Hicks’ plan works out there’s no way he wants to stay in New York.’

‘Tell me Hicks’ plan.’

Don told me.

Holy shit, Walter wasn’t that far away from the truth, only it was much worse than he or Arrowsake had even anticipated.

I was running when I met Rink and Vince returning from the cafeteria. The extra shot of caffeine would have been good, but I just snatched it from Vince’s hand and slung it in a waste bin. They followed me, pounding towards the waiting helicopter, Vince asking what the hell was going on. Over my shoulder I said, ‘The deal’s still on, Vince. You bought the coffee, so I’ll tell you everything Don said. But I’ll tell you on the way to New York because we haven’t a single second to spare.’

Port Authority officials were as numerous as fleas on a junkyard dog here. They could arrive at any second to check out the men standing on the dock overlooking Newark Bay towards Staten Island. Carswell Hicks wasn’t worried, though, because many meetings were conducted here on the waterfront. This was the principal facility for container ships serving New York City and Jersey was a buzz of activity at all times of the day or night. The port was a boiling pot for races from all over the globe, so it wasn’t unusual for whites to be mixing with Asians, and their meeting would raise no more suspicion than any other mongrel grouping of men would. Looking closely a Port Authority cop might notice the tenseness between the men, but when deals were being struck, sometimes for billions of dollars, a little uneasiness could be forgiven.

Nevertheless, Hicks didn’t have time for any distractions, the worst of which would be a nosy cop. He wanted to get this done and over with but it was necessary to ensure their privacy first. He’d set some of his people at strategic points around the port, on the lookout for anyone who might disturb them. Those he was meeting doubtless had similar men keeping watch.

Keeping things low-key he had brought only his two minders with him. Both hulking men had the look of boxers gone to seed, but their conservative suits and hairstyles weren’t as obvious as the tattoos and bald skulls of the others that Hicks had at hand. They served their purpose well: they were intimidating, but didn’t look like they hated anyone for any specific reason, and wouldn’t offend their North Korean friends with a racist slip of the tongue that Samuel Gant, for example, couldn’t rein in.

‘Which of you is Kwon?’

As was agreed the Koreans had come in a similar small number. Hicks didn’t know their names beyond the codename supplied in Jim Lloyd’s introduction message, and couldn’t care less. All he was interested in was doing the deal and then getting back to Manhattan. Things were moving along and he didn’t want to stall the momentum by making small talk among the rankness of rusting containers and diesel oil.

The man who came forward had the high forehead and long chin, the epicanthic fold that turned down the outer edges of his eyes, that defined the Korean racial trait. His suit was well cut and his shoes glossed to a high sheen and judging by his easy grace he was no stranger to a martial arts studio. He was handsome enough that he’d pass for a chop-socky movie star, Hicks decided, but so what? He was still a gook whichever way you looked at him.

‘I am Kwon.’

Jesus, Hicks thought, he even sounds like a chop-socky flick. The only thing that spoiled the image was how Kwon’s lips worked in sync with his words: that never happened in the kung fu movies he’d seen. At least the Korean’s codename was fitting for an action star, Kwon being a catch-all translation of ‘hand’ or ‘fist’. In any other circumstance it would be laughable, but, other than that he was a delivery boy, Hicks decided that Kwon was inconsequential and didn’t deserve the consideration he’d already given him.

He nodded at the men behind Kwon. ‘I don’t see any sign of the product you promised.’

Kwon raised his chin, staring down his nose. He was an inch or so taller than Hicks. ‘I don’t see the money.’

Money was an intangible commodity when it only existed in cyberspace; the days of suitcases stuffed with cash transferred between couriers were a thing of the past. Who wanted the trouble when a press of a button was so much easier? Hicks held up a mobile phone. ‘I have a man poised to deposit the agreed amount into an account of your choice. Once I see the product, I give him the go-ahead. You have the facility to check that we have made good on the deal, I take it?’