Jeff Abbott - Cut and Run

‘So we tell Kiko,’ Whit said, ‘and what if Kiko doesn’t believe us and comes after us?’

‘Then we’re screwed. But what if,’ Eve said slowly, ‘Kiko already knows the money’s gone. This kind of news, it gets out on the street fast.’

‘He’s Miami,’ Frank said. ‘He don’t have ears on the street here. But if they war, they take each other out and you’re safe.’

‘I wish,’ Eve said.

‘None of this rescues Gooch,’ Whit said. He told Frank about Bucks’ offer, keeping the story simple and not adding in all of his and Eve’s theories as to Bucks’ true loyalties.

‘Your friend, consider him dead,’ Frank said. ‘Sorry. They have three sick bastards hunting you. You have your hands full without an impossible rescue, kid. As for Bucks, he’s following Paul’s orders to the letter so far as I can see.’

Whit went to the phone. ‘All I have to do is call the police, say a man is being held against his will at that address. End of story.’ He wanted to see Frank’s reaction to his suggestion.

He got a shrug from Frank. ‘And the cops got their asses taken to the cleaners the last time they set foot on Bellini property. They’d have to have reasonable cause for a warrant,’ Frank said. ‘They’re not in a hurry to get rid of Gooch, not while he could tell them where you or the money’s at, and for sure not while Paul’s mom is around. Paul’s not gonna let his mom hear him kill a man.’

‘Then you help us get Gooch,’ Whit said. He turned to Eve. ‘His safety is nonnegotiable. We’re getting him out.’

Eve nodded. ‘I agree.’

‘Who is this Gooch guy to you? Why you running around with these younger guys, Eve?’ Frank sounded hurt. ‘Who are you?’

Whit nearly laughed. ‘It’s so not what you think.’

‘Gooch saved my life, Frank,’ Eve said. ‘He and Whit saved me, okay, and they’ve helped me out. I owe them.’ She gave Whit a glance, almost embarrassed, freighted with guilt.

‘Yeah, babe, you’ve always been so debt-conscious.’ Frank cleared his throat.

Whit said, ‘I sure don’t trust a scum-ass drug dealer any more than I trust Bucks or Paul. But Frank’s right, if we can make Kiko believe the Bellinis are trying to screw him on the deal, the heat goes up on them.’ He paused. ‘I’m going to call Kiko and set up a come-to-Jesus meeting.’

‘No. I should go,’ Eve said.

‘No. Me.’ Whit turned to Frank. ‘I’d like to know what your plans are, Frank.’

‘My plans?’ Frank asked with a blank look.

‘Are you leaving town?’

‘No. I’m not leaving Eve. Ever.’ He took her hand.

‘Your concern is touching,’ Whit said.

‘It’s the most he’s ever shown,’ Eve said, but not unkindly.

‘I’m here, at total risk of my life,’ Frank said. ‘That counts for more than roses that wilt in a day and poems nobody can remember.’

‘Go to where they have Gooch,’ Whit said, ‘and do everything you can to keep them from harming or killing him in case they change their minds. We turn Bucks’ timetable around to our advantage, use Frank’s idea. Kiko’s going to miss his cartoons tomorrow morning. We’ll tell him there’s no money, but not until he has much less time to plan or react, less than twenty-four hours before he’s supposed to get his payment. Make him escalate the pressure on the Bellinis in exactly the way we want. Eve. We’re spending tonight at a motel. Not here. You better go, Frank. It’s best you don’t know where we’re at.’

Frank gave Whit a measured look. ‘I’m trusting you to take care of the woman I love.’

Someone loved her. He watched his mother touch Frank’s shoulder, Frank’s defiant frown.

‘I’ll take good care of her,’ Whit said. ‘You take care of Gooch for me. Tomorrow morning I call Kiko, and we let the shit hit the fan.’

‘You don’t know me,’ the young man said, ‘but I have an important business proposition for you.’ He sat down next to Kiko on the cool granite of the bench, not looking at him, watching the college students amble by, drinking their Saturday-morning coffee.

‘Propose away,’ Kiko Grace said. He had been lying on the bed in his rented condo, watching a rerun of a boxing match on ESPN with the TV set to mute, listening to his pregnant wife gripe on the phone about her morning sickness. He was about to switch over to A amp;E and see who was on Biography when call waiting clicked. He thumbed the button and a voice said, ‘If you want the five million in cash that’s due to you and you want to know why Paul Bellini’s screwing you over, be at Rice University in thirty minutes. Near the statue of the man sitting in a chair in the main academic quad. Come alone. I see anyone with you, I call the police and your ass is in jail in five seconds.’

‘How did you get this number?’ Kiko had asked.

‘I’ll see you in thirty minutes,’ the voice said. ‘Dress like a student. But no backpack. No weapons. We’re giving you critical information. Do what we ask or you won’t be seeing your five million any time soon.’ The caller hung up.

Kiko clicked over to his wife and said in Spanish, ‘Baby, I’ll call you back. Go shopping, it’ll pick you up.’ Spending money seemed to cure every other ailment she had, but he couldn’t deny her a thing.

Kiko, walking toward the rendezvous point, decided whoever called him had made a brilliant move. The quad at Rice University was beautiful, a manicured expanse of lawn and walkways, the statue at the middle of the grounds, a few students milling around the front of the library. It was Saturday, so there wasn’t a heavy traffic of people going to and from classes. Not an easy place for him to bring Jose and tuck him away. He felt himself not fitting in, even though he wasn’t much older than these kids. He wore jeans and a Miami Hurricanes sweatshirt, looking too old to be in college and knowing it. He sat at the granite block under the sculpture of William Rice sitting, open book in hand.

Jose lingered in the archways near the art gallery at the quad’s corner, wearing a T-shirt and baggy khaki work pants, pretending to be maintenance even without a uniform, poking at a shrub as though it were diseased, his pistol on a calf holster under his trousers.

But Kiko couldn’t see him now. He risked a glance at the guy who had sat next to him. Blondish, thirtyish, dressed more like a grad student than a professor.

‘Paul Bellini is screwing you over,’ the man said.

‘I don’t know any Paul Bellini.’

‘You had dinner with him Wednesday night. You ate a salad with way too much blue cheese dressing, most of a ribeye, caramel cheesecake. The wine was an Australian merlot, you drank one glass. You didn’t stay to watch the strippers dance in the private room.’

‘Who are you?’

‘A friend, because we have a common enemy,’ the man said. ‘Paul Bellini is setting you up, Mr Grace, because he’s desperate. He has no intention of paying you your money. He’s going to take the candy you brought into town and then he’s going to whack you.’

‘And why should I believe you?’

‘You don’t have to,’ the man said. ‘Wait for the bullets, then make up your mind.’

‘I’ll be gone from Houston by late tomorrow night,’ Kiko said.

‘They fly caskets out late? I thought that was more of a morning operation,’ the man said.

‘You got any proof or you just moving your lips?’

‘I can’t prove that he’s ordered a hit on you. That’s entirely your gamble if you choose to believe me or not. But he doesn’t have your money. He had it ready for you, but it got stolen. You know Bucks? Bucks stole it.’

Kiko gave a smile. ‘Did he now.’