Christopher Smith - Running of the bulls

Just inside the door was a rush of incense that smelled of something toasted and earthy. Candles burned low on the gnarled wooden tables. Marty swept the space and saw that only a few of those tables were occupied. Moroccan music played in the background. He caught Roberta’s eye and immediately saw the concern on her face.

“Twice in two days?” she said. “Let me get tea. Sit in the rear booth, not the front. The energy is better back here.”

They went to the back of the cafe and slid into the booth. Marty chose the seat facing the door. Maggie sat opposite him and looked around the room. “I’ve never been here before,” she said.

He had zero patience for small talk. He removed his cell and looked it over. Physically, it seemed fine. He smacked it hard against the palm of his hand and tried it. Nothing. He smacked it harder, this time against the side of the table, and it worked like a charm. He gave her back her phone. “Let’s get to it,” he said. “If my kids weren’t involved in this now, I’d be out.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“For which thing?”

“For everything. For the first day we met. For tonight. For lying to you. For all of it. I’ve been watching my back for years. I don’t know who I can trust. I saw them enter the building tonight. I called the ambulance for a distraction so I could go inside without being heard. Did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine. But we’re finishing this together and you’re going to tell me what you know. Who were those two people tonight?”

“I don’t know. Assassins?”

“Wolfhagen hire them?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Why aren’t you sure?”

“Because one thing still doesn’t make sense to me. Wolfhagen wouldn’t have sent himself Wood’s head. I know him. He wouldn’t have pointed the finger at himself.”

“Not even for an alibi?”

She paused. It was obvious by her expression that she hadn’t considered that angle. As her expression changed, he saw now how much sense it made to her.

“Would he do it for the alibi?”

“He might. Forcing the attention on himself would actually work in his favor if he did hire this out. That’s how he thinks.”

“What about Lasker?”

“He’s a possibility.”

“Where does he live?”

“On Fifth.”

“You’re not writing a book, are you?”

“I’m not.”

“Then, what are you doing?”

“Trying to expose Wolfhagen. Trying to make him pay for what he did.”

“He’s already been to prison, Maggie.”

She leveled him with a look. “That’s right. For securities fraud.”

“What else did he do?”

At that moment, Roberta arrived with two cups of tea, each smelling of cinnamon. When she handed Maggie hers, Marty noted that she intentionally brushed the side of her thumb along the curve of Maggie’s left hand. Her eyes darted to his, but she kept her voice light. “So, who’s this?”

“Roberta, meet Maggie.”

Roberta held out a hand, which Maggie shook. “You seem familiar to me,” Roberta said, still holding Maggie’s hand. “Have we met before?”

Maggie looked down at her hand. “I don’t believe so.”

Roberta gave it a slight squeeze before releasing it. “I’ve seen you somewhere,” she said. “It’ll come to me.”

Maggie smiled, which emphasized the scar on her face.

Roberta’s eyes lingered on that scar before she turned to Marty and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. “I’m glad you’re here, because this has been killing me. Do you remember that joke I told you the other day about the three women?”

He looked at her for a moment and then remembered. It wasn’t a joke-it was a warning. This was her way of reaching him covertly. Her words came back to him. “Three women,” Roberta said. “One of them loves you, one of them resents you, the other is keeping secrets from you. They’re in danger, too, but only one of them knows it and she doesn’t care. She’s got murder in her heart. She wants someone dead. I don’t know if it’s you, but you’re involved. She might kill you.”

“I remember,” Marty said, and in his mind’s eye, he saw Maggie rolling into Schwartz’s room, her gun held out in front of her and firing. No amateur moved like that, so where had Maggie Cain learned to? It took everything he had not to look at her. “But as usual, you forgot the punch line.”

“That’s because I’m old. And the worst part is that it’s not even as funny as I remembered. Still, I remembered it. Want to hear it?”

“Why not? I could use a joke right now.”

She kept her gaze squarely on Marty and though she tried to mask her emotions, she couldn’t. In her eyes, he saw fear and sorrow. “The third woman killed him.”

9:27 p.m.

With his children involved, the only way out of this was to see it through. To do that, he needed Maggie. There was no other option. She’d lied to him before, but Marty now sensed it wasn’t with malice, but because she felt threatened by what was happening now.

She was scared and trying to protect herself. He felt she was finally being honest with him. Still, if she thought for one second that her fear would ever get in the way of him protecting his daughters, she was a fool. His family was in danger. To end this, he would do whatever it took.

He watched Roberta go back into the kitchen. “Alright,” he said. “Go on.”

“I need you to understand one thing,” she said. “If my name is connected to any of this, I’ll be dead in a week.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that.”

“Then we’ll keep your name out of it. Why were you at Wood’s?”

“How did you know I was at Wood’s?”

“It’s what I do.”

“She had a videotape I wanted. She had files on Mark. With him dead, there was no one else who could protect his memory from that tape and those files if someone didn’t intervene and destroy them. So, I called and threatened her. I got from her what she never should have had.”

“What was her condition when you got there?”

“She was high, but at least she had the box ready. I was there for about ten minutes. I left with what I came for.”

“Why does the FBI have a file on you?”

“We’ve already discussed that. They think I have Mark’s stolen money, but I don’t. That’s their only interest in me.”

Marty knew the answer-he just wanted to see if she delivered the same response. She did. “Who would want to kill you?”

“Who do you think? You’ve seen the DVDs.”

“I’ve seen one DVD.”

“Fine, you’ve seen one. That’s enough.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Did you recognize anyone on that tape, Marty?”

“Senator Diamond from Arkansas.”

“No one else?”

“Everyone else was wearing a leather mask.”

“Then you chose the wrong DVD.”

“Who else should I have seen?”

“Diamond was enough,” Maggie said. “Take off those leather masks and you would have seen more senators. More players with power. People who could buy and sell your ass a hundred times over.”

“Wolfhagen started this club?”

“He started it.”

“Was it a sex club?”

“It was whatever they wanted it to be. A sex club. A place to relax. A kink palace. A place to drink and have your drugs served a la carte. You could participate or just watch. It was whatever you wanted it to be because that’s what that crowd demanded. Anything they wanted. Admission wasn’t free. Each paid millions to join.”

“Who belonged?”

“Every bull who mattered on Wall Street, and then it grew to include others.”

“Give me names.”

“Lasker,” she said. “Schwartz. Wood. The Coles. Gerald Hayes. Everyone who testified against him in court, and many others.”