Джеймс Паттерсон - Ambush

“I agree. I will head back to New York in a few days. I’m still in contact with some of the Dominicans I used for the ambush.”

“Did they prove reliable enough for you to use them again?”

“They screwed up the first time, but they have a certain reputation to uphold as well. Besides, they’re expendable. That’s why I pay them so well.”

Oscar smoothed his dark hair and said, “That’s funny. That’s the same way we feel about you.”

So far, I wasn’t impressed with Juliana’s new career. It felt like my daughter was using it as an excuse to distance herself from the family. Her stage name was only part of the puzzle. She was spending a lot less time at home and barely spoke when she was there.

I took another ride into Brooklyn and strolled onto the set.

A cameraman nodded to me as I walked past. Although no one had paid me any attention the first time I visited, it was clear that everyone knew who I was. I kept my sport coat on, covering my pistol this time. There was no sense in being obnoxious.

I saw a chair with a sign that said JULES BAEZ. It made me cringe, but there was nothing I could do about it.

I heard a loud voice yell, “Quiet on the set.” Someone else made another announcement, then slammed the handle down on a board indicating what scene they were working on. It was just like I had seen in movies. Even for me, it was kind of exciting.

Then I saw my little girl turn toward a tall, handsome young man. Two cameras were close to them as they filmed what looked to be a tender scene. Now that I saw how professional the production was, despite the cheesy studio, I felt better.

I watched as Juliana and the young man did a quiet scene where he told her about his dream to be on Broadway. This was not a show I’d watch if my daughter wasn’t in it.

The scene ended.

The director yelled, “Cut. That was perfect.”

Someone else called for the set to be changed, and I watched Juliana as she walked toward me with the young man.

“Hey, Dad.” She gave me a mechanical hug.

I took a breath and said, “You looked great up there, sweetheart.”

That brought out a big smile.

Juliana said, “Dad, this is Cade.”

The young man stuck out his hand and gave me a firm handshake as he looked me in the eye and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Bennett.”

“So you know Juliana’s real name.”

“Oh, yes, sir. My real name is Carter Javits. But around here I’m Cade Jason. I’m trying to go by that all the time now.”

“Your parents must be very happy.”

Juliana cut in. “I have to get my stuff.” She looked up at Cade and said, “I’ll see you later tonight.”

I said, “What’s going on tonight?”

“Cade is taking me out to dinner.” She wandered off to gather her purse and school clothes.

I decided it was time to get to know this young man. “Is this your first acting job?”

Cade said, “No, sir. I’ve had a few bit parts here and there since I graduated three years ago.”

“What high school did you graduate from?”

“I graduated from Stony Brook University three years ago with my degree in communications.”

Like any father, I did the math in my head quickly. He had to be twenty-five or twenty-six. I played it cool. “Would you like to eat with us tonight, Carter — I mean, Cade?”

Juliana saved him. “Thanks, Dad, but we’ve already set up our plans.”

With that I was served notice that my daughter had grown up.

Alex Martinez took Avianca flight 244 directly from Bogotá to New York. It was a flight known for being watched by the DEA. Now that drugs came in by the truckload across the border, the flight had lost some of its mystique.

That night, Alex wasted no time checking into an older, funky hotel she liked, the Skyline Hotel on West 49th. There was something about the retro feel of the place that gave it charm. And the hotel had a decent indoor pool.

In the morning, Alex immediately started researching her next target.

Alicia Toussant was an attractive middle-aged Canadian woman who financed much of the violence the Canadian mob used to keep people in line. She was here in New York gauging her organization’s efforts to control the synthetic drug market.

Alex preferred not to take contracts on women, but she felt that if a woman was in some kind of nasty trade like drugs, then all bets were off.

Alex knew that no one would show her mercy if she was ever targeted because of her job.

After only a short time conducting surveillance on the woman, Alex discovered that Ms. Toussant had a security man who stayed well out of the way and out of sight. It was the mark of a true professional, not drawing any extra attention to herself.

Alex first noticed the man when she started following the Canadian from her hotel. She appreciated her choice of the Hotel Giraffe on Park Avenue South and 26th, which was under the radar but boasted a good restaurant and comfortable atmosphere.

The man was dressed in casual clothes, his loose shirt probably covering some kind of weapon. He was in his midforties and had a little extra weight on him. He wasn’t there to scare people; he’d been chosen because he was discreet and knew his business. Alex wouldn’t take any chances when the time came.

Alex knew the hotel and the area well. It would be difficult to get into the woman’s room at the Giraffe. That meant she had to find a spot in the open to do it — rarely a good idea in New York City.

She conducted the rest of her surveillance a little farther back than she normally would to keep both the bodyguard and Alicia Toussant in view.

The Canadian seemed to have hourly meetings. She was a hard worker. Alex admired that. They were all short face-to-face meetings with white or Hispanic men. Alex didn’t care what each meeting was about. Because some time after sunset tonight, any agreements struck would be null and void. That’s how things worked in the narcotics business.

Later in the day, Alex followed while Ms. Toussant strolled down Fifth Avenue. Alex had enough photographs of her to create a pretty good biography in pictures. It was the necessary preparation for any assignment.

Only once did Ms. Toussant have any contact with her bodyguard. She bought something small from a jewelry store, then turned and walked directly to him. He stuck whatever she had bought in his left front pants pocket.

Alex noticed that the sun was setting and some of the city lights were slowly coming on. Her target turned and started to stroll back toward the Hotel Giraffe.

Alex fell in behind the bodyguard. She had both her stiletto and her 9mm pistol in her Vera Wang purse, which had a strap that slipped over her shoulder comfortably. She was as ready as she would ever be.

First she had to deal with the bodyguard.

On the walk back to the hotel, Alex formed a plan in her head. It was tricky because there were two targets, though she was only getting paid for one. She would’ve preferred to kill Alicia Toussant without having to deal with the bodyguard. But killing him, too, was just a good business decision.

Then she saw an opportunity she couldn’t resist. Her target, Alicia Toussant, strolled into Madison Square Park. She stopped and sat on an ornate cement bench. She pulled out an iPhone and relaxed on the bench. It looked like she’d be there awhile.

Immediately Alex changed her plan and started to ease up behind the bodyguard, who was standing behind a chest-high wall at the edge of an intricate water fountain.

Alex glanced around and realized the park was relatively quiet. The bodyguard gazed up at the Flatiron Building in the distance. Then he returned his gaze to his employer. It almost looked as if he was spying on someone from the bushes. He was just being professional and maintaining his surveillance of the entire area.