Fear No Evil (24 page)

Hope disintegrated.

TWENTY-ONE

A
S SOON AS THEY WERE AIRBORNE,
Jack offered to fly. Dillon was surprised when Kate relinquished the controls and sat in the back. She took out her laptop and booted it up.

Dillon glanced at his brother. “Thanks, Jack.”

“Thank me when we rescue Lucy. Do you have an update on Patrick?”

“Same.”

“Shit,” Kate said from the rear of the Cessna.

Dillon got out of his seat and, hunched over, carefully made his way to the seat next to Kate. “What?”

“You don’t want to see this.”

“I have to.”

She turned her laptop to face him.

Dillon stared at the screen, his heart pounding as his fists opened and closed.

He wanted to punch something. Someone. The bastard who was raping Lucy. He would kill him, so help him God. He would kill him with his bare hands.

But the rape was almost not as bad as the poll in the corner of the screen.

Vote Now!

How should Lucy “die”?

o Stabbing

o Strangulation

o Suffocation

The time stamp was 16:54:00. They had less than seventeen hours to rescue Lucy and they were still four hours out of Washington.

“Don’t watch,” Kate said, turning the laptop back to her. Her fingers typed quickly, Lucy’s screen was minimized, and five minutes later she’d shut down her laptop. “There’s been no further communication from Trask or the undercover agent, Mick Mallory.”

“He’s letting this happen.”

“If he exposed himself, he’d be dead,” Kate reminded him.

“I don’t care.” Dillon stared out the window but didn’t see the desert or the bright morning sun. “The FBI doesn’t even know where Mallory is. They don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”

“We know he was alive last night.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better. He’s done nothing to help Lucy, and now—” He didn’t state the obvious. Now Lucy was being raped again, and with each passing minute, her death drew closer.

“This might not make you feel better, Dillon, but for what it’s worth, this is the first time in five years that I think we’re going to stop Trask.”

“Before or after he kills Lucy?”

Jack became tense as they approached the landing strip. He’d kept the controls after leaving Red Rock so Kate could get some sleep, but Dillon knew she hadn’t slept a wink. She’d stared out the window the entire flight, checking her laptop every thirty minutes. Thinking? Planning? Regretting? Dillon wished he could find a way to talk to her, get her to share what was really troubling her. But he had Lucy on his mind, and he wouldn’t be able to think until his sister was safe.

“What’s wrong?” Dillon asked Jack.

Jack looked at him, surprised. “Nothing.”

“You’re worried about something.”

For a minute, he didn’t say anything. Then, low, “It’s funny. We have barely spoken in twenty years and you can already read me. Because you’re a shrink?”

Dillon shook his head. “Because I’m your brother.”

Jack glanced at Kate, who appeared to be sleeping.

“I’m just running through the op. Adam Scott wants Kate on the mountain at two p.m. A little less than two hours from now. We’re going to land in fifteen minutes. I have transport, but it’ll be cutting it close. Still, I don’t know what his game is. Why call her out to the mountain in the first place when his headquarters is eighty miles away?”

“If we can believe the second transmission.”

“Kate does, otherwise she wouldn’t go to the island. She’d come with me to Mount Baker.”

Dillon nodded, weighed the information. “He doesn’t know about the undercover agent, or that the agent contacted Kate. He doesn’t know about Lucy signing to us that she’s on an island. So he’s leading Kate away from Lucy in order to isolate her, to make sure she didn’t bring anyone. That she’s alone. Then he’ll either kill her there, or bring her to the island once he believes she’s alone.”

“And when she doesn’t show?”

“He’ll attempt to contact her to see if she was delayed.”

“He isn’t going to be on the mountain alone,” Jack said. “That would be stupid.”

Dillon shook his head. “No, he’s holding the ace: Lucy. If Adam Scott is on the mountain, Lucy will be nowhere near it. He’ll be in communication with his team. He’ll call for her death in a minute if he thinks it’ll buy him time or allow him to escape.”

“I’ll identify him, follow him. He’ll be pissed because Kate didn’t show, but he’ll also be expecting a tail.”

“Expect the unexpected,” Dillon said. “He’s not going to be alone. He has a trick, something that he will use to get to Kate. To force her to come with him. He could have another woman. Or I could be completely wrong and he will bring Lucy with him.”

“I always expect the unexpected,” Jack said.

“Lucy’s not with Trask,” Kate said.

Dillon glanced over his shoulder. She was staring at her laptop. “She’s still onscreen.”

Abigail was surprised when Vigo met her at the airport at two Eastern time.

“Surprise,” Vigo said and flashed his award-winning grin.

Abigail refrained from grinning back. The man was incorrigible. “What are you doing here?” She slid into the passenger seat, grabbing the dashboard when Vigo pulled quickly from his parking place.

“Peterson asked me to run Ullman’s finances and clients. Surprise, one client is Adam Scott. Double surprise, Ullman is the stockbroker for all the corporations on which Adam Scott sits on the board. And for a triple play, Ullman carries his proxy.”

“So he definitely knows something.”

“I’d say he knows everything. We may need to bring him in. Consider him armed and dangerous.”

“So why did you come up yourself?” Abigail asked.

“Peterson wants the best on this case and, well, that’s me.” He smiled again and Abigail laughed.

At Ullman’s Madison Avenue highrise, Vigo and Abigail flashed their badges and security cleared their weapons. “Let’s get up there before one of Ullman’s friends calls that we’re here.”

Paul Ullman had a spacious contemporary office with white carpets and black-and-silver furniture, against the backdrop of the Manhattan skyline. Abigail winced at the shine, polish, and prestige. “Phony.”

Ullman himself was a short, wiry man of thirty-seven with black, slicked-back hair and dressed in an impeccably tailored Italian suit. He walked into his office via a side door, immediately clasped the hands of Vigo, then Abigail. “So sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, then, all in one breath, “I was in a meeting, couldn’t get out, I hope you don’t mind.”

“We haven’t been here long,” Abigail said.

“Good, good, please sit down.” He motioned toward a black leather couch in the corner. “Please.” He sat on the arm of the chair across from the couch. When neither agent sat, he stood, his hands shoved in his pockets, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “What can I help you with?”

“You’re Adam Scott’s stockbroker and carry his proxy for all his boards, correct?” Abigail said, cutting immediately to the heart of the matter.

Ullman blinked rapidly several times. “Scott? Um, I’d have to check—”

“You went to school with him, I’m sure you remember him.”

“Of course, but I—”

“When was the last time you saw Mr. Scott?”

“I don’t know. Years. We do business only through e-mail and correspondence.”

“When was the last time you corresponded with him?”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“Do you know what the penalties are for laundering money?”

“Laundering?” Ullman paled even more, if that were possible against his already ghostly pallor. “No, I’m a legitimate businessman, I don’t do that. You can check my records.”

Vigo spoke up for the first time. “We will, thank you very much.”

“I, um, my company. My lawyers. I would need to see a warrant.”

Vigo frowned, started searching his pockets, pulled out an envelope. “You mean like this?”

Ullman snatched the papers, read them, his mouth working but no sound coming out. “I, I…I need to get my attorney.”

“Do you remember Trevor Conrad?”

“I’m not talking to you without my attorney.”

Vigo put his hands up. “That’s your right, of course. Just don’t leave the room while you call him. And while you’re at it, Special Agent Resnick will take a little look at your computer. It’s covered there, in the warrant. Page two.”

Trask listened to his attorney.

Not good. For five years they hadn’t been able to trace him, and now all of a sudden the feds knew about Trevor Conrad.

Worse, they knew his real name. And that fucking bastard Paul Ullman was going to talk.

He shouldn’t have used Trevor’s name with Lucy. It had been arrogant, cocky. He could see that now, but at the time it had been fun. Part of the game.

He would adapt. He always did.

“Kill him.”

“The feds are with him now.”

“I don’t care. Find a way. You always find a way.”

He slammed his phone shut.

In fifteen more minutes Kate would be here. She’d better show. He was in no mood for any bullshit.

At least Ullman knew nothing of importance. Except the truth about Trevor’s death, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to talk about that.

Trask opened his computer and hacked into Ullman’s accounts. He needed to save most of his money before the feds cut him off. He’d lost millions of dollars a few years ago when they’d uncovered one of his accounts. But they’d never made the Ullman connection before.

This was definitely going to be a problem.

He turned and faced the restrained fed in the back-seat. Mick Mallory stared at him with hatred.

Trask laughed, went back to his computer.

Hate. What a wonderfully empowering emotion.

Quinn Peterson had just landed in Seattle when his cell phone rang. “Peterson.”

“It’s Vigo. Good news, bad news, worse news.”

“Give me good news. I need some.”

“We have all Adam Scott’s finances. Paul Ullman has been laundering money for years. We’ve seized his accounts, have computers and e-mails that I’m transporting to Quantico right now.”

“Fabulous. What’s the bad news?”

“Scott transferred more than half the accounts to unknown sources before we could seize them.”

“Someone tipped him off.”

“We think the attorney, but we can’t prove it.”

“What’s the worse news?”

“Ullman is dead.”

“
What?
You were supposed to sit on him!”

“We did!” Vigo said defensively. “He went to meet with the attorney—we obviously couldn’t sit in. But we flanked the room. He came out of it, nodded to us, went over to his balcony, and jumped.”

“Jumped?”

“Thirty-six stories, right there on Madison Avenue. Splat.”

“Innocent bystanders?”

“He hit a parked car. Totaled it.”

“Anything else about Trevor Conrad’s death?”

“We’re on our way to talk to his parents.”

“Keep me informed.”

Jack circled around the meeting location. He saw a Hummer but no Adam Scott, no people at all. They could be inside the vehicle—he didn’t have a good view of the rear seat because of the shaded windows.

The coordinates Scott had sent to Kate were for a closed campground at the base of Mount Baker. An avalanche during the winter had made this area treacherous, so park rangers had closed it off until they could clear the roads. The work was nearly complete, but the road hadn’t been opened to the public yet.

Scott had told Kate there was a cabin at the site, but there was no cabin.

Though Jack had backup a few miles away, for this leg of the operation, he was on his own.

Just the way he preferred it.

Jack faded back into the trees and waited. He was good at it.

Trask glanced at his watch. Kate had five minutes.

He slapped the leg of the man next to him. “I would tell you I was sorry, but I’d be lying,” he said. “You’re nothing but a fucking, stupid cop. They’re better off without you.”

Mick Mallory didn’t respond, barely moved. He couldn’t, of course, as he was drugged and barely coherent, his mouth taped shut, and his feet and hands restrained.

“The irony of this whole situation is that April Klinger’s death was an accident. I didn’t mean to go that far. She completely consented. Not to being strangled, of course, but to being raped. I
paid
her for it. She signed a contract.” Trask looked out the window. Saw nothing but trees and bark and two unused campfire pits.

Would Kate show?

Yes. Unless something happened, she would come.

He logged onto his pocket PC and checked the cue. Kate wasn’t online, hadn’t sent him any messages.

“April was unusually beautiful. I admire beautiful women. Really, what else are they valued for except their physical appearance? Which is exactly what they want. They like having men lust after them. They love showing their bodies to the world. My actresses enjoyed every minute because in the end, women are simply whores here to service our needs.”