Abducted: A Jake Badger Mystery Thriller (15 page)

Chapter 29

Saturday Morning

It was nearly ten by the time
Wilson and I got to the FBI offices. Alex was doing paperwork.

“You okay.” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“How bad was it?”

I explained what had happened
and what Henry had told me.

“So, Esposito's sending the
shooters, but we don't know if he's the one who took Monica.”

“But we will,” I said.

“How will we?”

“You may not want to know,” I
said.

He studied me for a moment
and then shook his head and said, “No. If I have to choose between what’s right
and what’s legal, I'm going with what's right. And the right thing is to do
whatever we have to do to get Monica back.”

“I'm not going to let you
risk your career over this.”

“Not for you to decide.
Besides, this isn't the kind of thing you can do all by yourself.”

“Hanson offered to loan me a
couple of his guys.”

“You know better than that. And
you taught me better than that. When you're going into battle, whether your
team is two or ten, it's got to be people you know and who know you. You've got
to be able to anticipate each other. And trust has to be complete. You don't
need Hanson's thugs. You need me ... and I need to help you with this.”

“Okay,” I said, grateful that
he felt that way.

“How do you want to handle
it?”

“Call your people,” I said. “Let's
find out where Esposito is. If we're lucky, he'll be out somewhere and we can
just go scoop him up.
If not now, maybe later.
He
can't stay behind those gates all the time.”

Alex made the call. “Where is
he now?” Alex asked the agent on the other end of the call. “When he goes out,
call me.”

After he disconnected, Alex
said, “Right now he's home. They'll call when he goes out.”

“I gathered that,” I said.

“While we wait, shall we
begin thinking about your missions in Afghanistan?”

“Might as well.”

“You have a journal or
anything about your time there that might help you remember?”

“I didn't think it was
something I'd need to remember.”

“Maybe if you think through
it,” he said, “mission by mission. I'll take notes.”

So that's what I did. I
remembered the day our unit arrived. We stowed our gear, got briefed, and the
next day were on a mission. I tried to remember each of them in order—where
I went, who my target was. I didn't always have a specific target. Sometimes my
job was long-range cover. But most of the time, I had a specific target to
eliminate. I remembered as best I could. I also remembered the three times a
civilian consultant showed up to accompany me on a mission and confirm a
specific target. Same guy each time. Said his name was Thomas
Cornford
. Alex wrote everything down. I must have talked
for two hours.

“Tell me more about Thomas
Cornford
,” Alex said when I finished.

“At the time, I didn't think much
about it. I was twenty-four and a marine. I did what I was told. My focus was
on completing my mission. But now, looking back on it, I suspect he was CIA.”

“You were taking out high
profile targets.”

I nodded.

“We need to find out who
those targets were.”

“You know anyone at the CIA
who might be willing to help out? I asked.

“I think I might.”

Alex made a call. “Ben, Alex ...
I'm good. You? ... Sorry to bother you on a Saturday, but I'm working on
something that you might be able to help with.”

Alex explained about a young
marine sniper and three high profile targets and a civilian consultant named
Thomas
Cornford
. He explained that he thought someone
related to one of those targets
may
be seeking revenge
against the sniper.

“We need to know who the
targets were,” Alex said.

He waited and listened.

“I understand ... I think we
can live with that ... Okay, I’ll wait to hear from you.”

“We just hit the jackpot,”
Alex said after he hung up. “My friend happens to know Thomas
Cornford
, not his real name by the way. He's going to call
Cornford
and ask if he’ll meet with you and tell you what
he knows. He'll get back to me, probably not today though, with a time and
place.”

“That almost seemed too easy,”
I said.

“He owed me a favor.”

“Must have been a big one.”

Alex just smiled. Then he
said, “So, what about these three targets?”

“They were just targets,” I
said. “We went to a location and found a spot to shoot from. He identified the
target. I completed my mission.”

“He
name
the target?”

“First name only,” I
explained. “Kahn, Ali, Abdul. Probably weren’t their real names.”

“Any idea why those specific
targets?”

“Ranking Taliban leaders.
Taking them out was supposed to disrupt the flow of information and planning.”

Alex's phone rang. He
answered and listened, then said, “All right, stay with him and call me back
when you’ve got an idea where he's going.” He clicked off and said, “Esposito
just left. He's alone. Headed down PCH toward Santa Monica. What say we start
in that direction?”

“I'll drive,” I said.

We were almost to Santa
Monica when Alex got another call.

“He didn't stop in Santa Monica,”
Alex said after he disconnected. “He's in Venice now, on Lincoln.

I got off the 10 at Lincoln
and headed south.

“Any speculation as to where
he might be headed?” I asked.

“He's got an office in Marina
Del Rey and a boat in the marina. Could be going to either.”

We had just crossed
Washington Boulevard when Alex's phone rang for a third time.

“The marina,”
Alex said. “He's going to his boat.”

Chapter 30

Saturday Afternoon

As we pulled into the marina,
Alex called his agent.

“We just pulled into the
marina. Where is he? ... Okay. Is he already onboard? ... What slip? ... Does
it look like he's getting ready to go out? ... All right. We'll be there in a
few minutes.”

I parked in the front lot and
let the windows down so it wouldn't get too hot in the Jeep for Wilson. There
was a nice breeze blowing off the ocean to help keep it cool, so I knew he’d be
okay. I told him we’d be back in a while and he woofed that he’d be okay. Alex
and I made our way to where Alex's agent sat in his car
surveilling
Esposito's boat. We climbed into the back seat of his plain-looking,
cream-colored government sedan—the one with enough antennas on the back
so that just about anyone could identify it as some type of law enforcement
vehicle.

Alex introduced us. “Caleb,
Jake. Jake, Caleb.”

We acknowledged each other.

Caleb handed Alex a pair of
binoculars and pointed out Esposito's boat.

Alex located it. “Nice little
yacht,” he said. “Eighty feet, maybe. Green with gold trim, called, the
Esmeralda
.”

“The Emerald,” I said to
myself.

“How long has he been below?”
Alex asked Caleb, without taking the binoculars from his eyes.

“Ten minutes,” Caleb said, “maybe
eleven.”

Alex handed the binoculars
back to Caleb and looked at me. “Alone on a boat,” he said. “We might not get a
better chance.”

“I agree.”

Alex took his phone out and
to Caleb said, “Call me.”

Caleb did.

“Keep the connection open and
keep your eye on the boat. We're going aboard. If you notice anything while
we're making our way over there, tell me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And Caleb, what you just
heard, you didn't hear. And whatever you see, you didn't see it.”

“I understand,” Caleb, said,
glancing at me as he spoke. “And if you need assistance with any aspect of
whatever it is that isn't going to happen, let me know.”

It took about a minute to
cover the distance from Caleb's car to Esposito's boat. We put on latex gloves
and boarded quietly, making our way to the main cabin door. Just as I reached
for the polished brass doorknob, the door opened about half way and hit my
foot. Esposito had been coming out and was shocked to see us. I yanked the door
open, put my hand on his chest and pushed him back into the cabin. We followed
him in and quickly closed the door.

He didn't try to fight or
lunge for a gun or anything. He knew we had him. He stood calmly and looked at
us. Finally, he said, “There can only be two possible outcomes here. Either you
kill me or eventually, I kill both of you. Which is it going to be?”

“You're not in charge here,
Benny,” I said. “Sit down and shut up.” I pointed to the sofa. “Right there.
Sit down.”

He didn't, so I threw a fast
hard jab into the middle of his face. His head snapped back and he sat down
hard on the floor, blood spurting from his nose.

He looked up at me, seething
with hatred. He wasn't afraid. Good. That would make what I was going to do
easier. I grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet.

“Handcuffs,” I said.

Alex cuffed his hands behind
him and I moved him over to the sofa and sat him down.

“Do you have Monica Nolan?”

“Is that what this is about?
You think I snatched your girlfriend.”

I studied him for a moment
and then said, “I'm going to ask you one more time. Do you have Monica Nolan?”

Whether he saw it in my eyes
or heard it in my voice I'm not sure, but he said, “No. I did not take Ms.
Nolan. I've no idea where she is.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Doesn't seem to be much I
can do about that,” he said.

I took out my knife and
flipped it open. Esposito looked at the knife and then at me.

“That supposed to scare me?”

“I don't care whether you're
scared or not. You're going to talk to me or you're going to lose an eye.”

“I already told you,” he
said, a little nervously now, I thought. “I don't have Monica.”

“Did you send three teams of
assassins after me?”

“No. Why would I send
assassins after you?”

“Because you blame me for
your father's death. Which is the same reason why you would kidnap Monica.
She's the one who actually shot your father.”

“I told you, I didn't take
Monica.”

“What about the assassins?”

“I didn't do that, either.”

“Yes, you did. Henry told me
it was you who sent him and his friend after me in the park yesterday morning.”

He just looked at me.

“See,” I said. “You just lied
to me. That's why I don't believe you when you say you didn't take Monica.”

“Okay, look, I did send the
shooters after you. I did that, oaky. But I didn’t take Monica. I don't have
her.”

“I don't believe you.”

He was sitting on the left
end of the sofa. I stepped to the end of it and grabbed a handful of his hair
with my left hand, pulled his head back and put the point of my knife at the
corner of his eye.

Chapter 31

Saturday Afternoon

“I'm going to start applying
pressure,” I said. “A little at a time. It's going to hurt.”

“Please don’t,” he said, his
voice was filled with pleading. “I told you, I didn't take Monica.”

“You also told me you didn't
send the assassins.”

I began applying light
pressure to the corner of his right eye.

“
Aaahhh
.
Please stop. Alex, for Christ's sake.” He began to tremble all over. “
Aaahhh
. Alex, you're an FBI agent. You can't let him do
this. Make him stop,” he cried urgently.

“Tell him where Monica is,”
Alex said, calmly.

“I don't have Monica. I'm
telling the truth.”

I applied more pressure. The
skin broke and a trickle of blood ran down the side of his face.

“
Aaahhh
,”
he groaned, gritting his teeth against the pain.

“Where's Monica,” I said.

“I don't have her.”

More pressure.

“
Aaahhh
.”

I moved my knife past the
corner of his eye to the eyeball itself.

“Okay,” I said, softly, “
this
is where it gets real painful.”

“Oh, please, no. Oh Christ,
no,” he begged. “Don't take my eye. Don't take my eye. I'm telling you the
truth, man. I didn't take Monica. I don't have her. Do you really think I'd let
you blind me? Jesus! If I knew where she was, I'd tell you!”

“Would you?”

“Yes, I would. I would. I
would tell you if I knew where she was. But I don't.” He was crying now, his
whole body shaking as he sobbed.

I applied enough pressure to
penetrate the cornea just a bit.

He cried out. “I don't know
where she is,” he sobbed pitifully. Please don't take my eye. Please don't,” he
begged between sobs.

I took my knife away and let
go of his hair. I looked at Alex and shook my head. “He didn't take her.”

I took a deep breath, closed
my knife, and put it back in my pocket.

Esposito sat with his head
hanging, crying.

“Benny,” I said, softly.

He didn't respond.

“Benny!”

His head snapped up.

“Okay,” I said, gently. “I
believe that you didn't take Monica. But if I find out later that you did, I'll
pop out both of your eyes before I crush your windpipe and watch you suffocate.
You understand?”

He nodded and said, “Yes,”
and began sobbing again.

“Before we go, Benny, I want
you to understand something else.”

He was looking at me, tears
streaming down his face.

“Calling the police about
this little exchange would be a waste of time. Do you agree?”

“Yes. I'm not going to call
the police.”

“Good. Do you know what I did
when I was a marine?”

“You were a sniper.”

“Very good, Benny. You’ve
done your homework. Yes, I was a sniper. I was a very good sniper.
One of the best, in fact.
One hundred twenty-eight kills. At
a thousand yards, Benny, in a wind, I can put a .308 slug through a quarter.
A thousand yards.
That
's
ten football fields, Benny
.
A thousand
yards.
Do you know what that means to you?”

He was starting to look sick.

“It means that you would not
see me or hear me or even hear the shot. It means that you would just be
standing or sitting or lying down, and all of the sudden your head would
explode.”

His chest started to heave.
His breathing was rapid and ragged.

“I know where you live,
Benny. I know where your office is and where your boat is. You can't hide from
me and you can't defend yourself from me. No matter how many thugs you hire to
protect you, you will always be vulnerable to me. I can kill you from a
thousand yards away. Your head will explode and that will be the end of little
Benny Esposito. Is that what you want, Benny?”

He shook his head vigorously.
“No. I don't want you to shoot me.”

“If any more assassins come
after me or Alex, I will blow your head off. I won't come to ask if you sent
them. I'll just assume you did, and I'll kill you. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Am I going to have to kill
you, Benny?”

“No. I won't send any more
people.
I swear, I won't send anyone.”

He hadn't been frightened
when I'd started on him, but he was frightened now. “Okay, Benny. We'll be
going now. Stand up.”

Benny stood and Alex took the
handcuffs off him.

“One more thing, Benny,” I
said, before turning to leave.

He looked at me.

“You should get out of the
drug business.”

He swallowed and nodded.

We went back to Caleb's car
where Alex told Caleb to stick with Esposito and to call in when he left the
boat and when he arrived at wherever he went next.

Once we were out of the
marina, I asked Alex, “So, what was your take on that?”

“I agree with you ... I don't
think he took her. Either that or he's so profoundly psychotic that he can lie
better than most people can tell the truth.”

“Always a possibility, isn't
it?” I said.

Alex nodded absently and then
said, “So what's next,
kemosabe
?”

“How about lunch?” I asked.

“There's an El
Pollo
Loco about half a mile straight ahead on the right.”

It was not quite two, and we
were almost finished eating our flame-broiled chicken when Alex's phone rang.

“Yeah,” Alex said, “now is good
... Okay, I'll let him know.”

Alex clicked off and said, “My
CIA buddy. He said
Cornford
will
meet with you.”

“Great. Where?”

“Vegas. Mandalay Bay Hotel.
Red Square Bar.
Tomorrow night, nine p.m.”

I smiled. “You're kidding,
right?”

He shook his head. “It's
those CIA guys. The whole thing messes with their head. They forget how to be
normal people.”

“Maybe they just watch too
many spy movies,” I said.

“Maybe,” Alex said. “Anyway,
tomorrow night. Nine o'clock.”

I dropped Alex off at his
office, and Wilson and I headed back to ours. Technically, it's my office, but
I'm pretty sure Wilson thinks of it as ours. And in a way, I do, too. Because
if I'm there and for some reason he's not, it feels lonely. Same as being at home
without Wilson being there, it just doesn't feel right without him.

I put myself a cup of tea in
the microwave and gave Wilson a cookie and sat down to go through the mail. In
the stack, there was another small white envelope.
Same kind
as before.
Same handwriting and postmark.
I
opened it. Same large block printing. There was only one word:

AFGHANISTAN

I called Alex. When he
answered, I said, “Got another note. One word. Afghanistan.”

“Afghanistan. So we were
right.”

“Looks like it.”

“So tomorrow night with
Cornford
might give us just what we need.”