Kill on Command (38 page)

“Yeah.  Is this about the BMW?  I didn’t steal it,” Paul said, half stammering.

“I don’t care about the car.  I want to know about the girl you drove to UPMC.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.  This her?”  Brian held out the printout from the hospital cameras.  Paul looked at it and turned pale.

“Looks like her, but she has blonde hair,” Paul said.

“She say what her name was, or where she was going?”

“Nothing.  She was just so nice to me.  I really thought she liked me.”  The other valets laughed.

“Paul.  Let me give you a piece of advice.”

“OK.”

“If you ever see this woman, I don’t care if she’s naked carrying a pitcher of beer, you run like hell the other way.  Got it?”

Paul swallowed hard.  “Yeah.  I got it.”

“You guys know if she is staying here?”  Brian asked the group.

“Not sure,” one answered

“Thanks for your help,” Brian said and walked back into the club.  He turned and looked at Paul.

“Paul.  I will be very upset if I see you driving my car around with random women.” 

Paul nodded at him.  One of the other valets punched him in the arm.  The others started laughing.

Brian went into the club and back to the same woman behind the desk. 

“How many people have extended stays here?” he asked her.

“A couple nights?  A week?”

“No, a month or more.” he said.  She made a little face and typed something into the computer. 

“Five.  Four are corporate. The last one is an individual,” she said, looking at him and writing something on a piece of paper.

“Can I take a look at that last one?” Brian asked in his smoothest voice.  It was times like this he wished Sean were with him.  He would have gotten her phone number and the key.

The woman raised her voice and at the same time placed a key with a sticky note on it on the desk. 

“I am sorry.  You will need to talk to my manager.  I can’t authorize that,” she winked at him and turned her back.

Brian gave her a funny look.  He was a cop in uniform.  What was the big deal?  What was her problem? Too much Lifetime TV – that was the problem.

“I understand,” Brian said, playing along and taking the key and placing it in his pocket.  He walked across the lobby area to the elevators and went to the 4
th
floor and walked down the hall to room 427.  He drew his Glock and put the key into the lock.  He opened the door, pushed it open and pivoted inside.  Nothing.  Well almost nothing.  There was a metal trunk on the bed and a $6,000 Cannondale bicycle leaning up against the wall.  He checked the bathroom.  Nothing.  She had even folded her towel and placed it back on the towel bar.  He looked in the trash.  There were a couple of styrofoam containers from one of the club’s restaurants.  He dumped the trash on the bed and poked through it.  There was a broken cell phone.  He picked it up.  The battery was missing and upon further inspection, the SIM card was gone.  Dead end.  It was clear she had wiped down the room.

“Damn, she’s smart.  It is so much easier chasing dumb people,” Brian said, as he sat down on the bed.  He took the picture out of his pocket and looked at it.  He had a picture.  It was at least something to go on.  He took out his cell phone and called Cindy.  It rang three times.

“Hello?”

“Cindy?  It’s Brian.  Any news?”

“No.  I am sorry.  Nothing on the prints.  But, . . .  ”

Brian cut her off.

“Cindy, can you search for someone with just a photo?”

“I might.  Bring it to me.  There’s something else,” she said, with a bit of hesitation.

“What?”

“They found Willis’ body at Robinson Town Centre.  He was stuffed in a car.  He was shot in the head.”

“Damn it.  They find anything?”

“No.  The car was wiped clean.”

“OK.  I am coming back down there.”

Brian stood and looked around the room one more time.  He stopped and focused on the bike.  He knew he had seen it before.  He just could not place it.

oHoweHowHow

VIII

Deputy Director George Price’s Home

Georgetown

Sunday Night

Waters boarded a charter plane and arrived in D
.C. in less than two hours.  A car met him at the plane and shuttled him over to Deputy Director Price’s home in Georgetown.  The chill of early fall was in the air.

Price lived on North Street NW, one of the most prestigious streets in Georgetown, in a 6,000 square foot townhome.  The house had an old, iron fence around the front steps.  The house was a brick, ivy-covered, three-story home built in 1868. Price’s family had owned the house since 1929, when they bought it from a family that had lost everything at the onset of the Great Depression and had to sell. The previous owners didn’t get a fair price.   There were a total of nine windows facing the street, each flanked by black shutters.  A massive black door greeted guests.  All of the windows and doors had been reinforced with bulletproof materials.  The gardens surrounding the lap pool in the back of the home were impeccably manicured.  Ninety-foot trees lined the street.

Waters got out of his car on the street and was met by members of Price’s security detail.  The agents walked Waters up to the front of the house.  The door opened and he was led inside. The agents frisked, wanded him and searched his briefcase.  He was clean.  He was led down the hall to Price’s study.  The study looked more like cigar lounge than a study, and indeed it smelled like it.  The back wall featured a large maple bookcase that covered most of the wall.  Over the fireplace was a portrait of Price’s grandfather who was a congressman from Florida.  Photos of Price and various heads-of-state were displayed on the other walls. A well-used bar was in front of a window that overlooked the gardens in the rear of the house.  There was a chestnut leather couch on one side of a round Persian rug and a circular coffee table in the center of the rug.  Near the left side of the table, a large cigar was burning in a thick crystal ashtray.  Directly across from the couch were two matching club chairs.  The room was completely silent except for the cracking of the ice in Price’s drink.

Price, as usual, did not get up to greet Waters.  He remained seated, sipping an old, single-malt scotch from a glass that no doubt was cut from the same glass as the ashtray.  He had on a white untucked button-down and tan pants.  He was barefoot.

“Where’s the wife?”  Waters asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs. He knew full well she’d had been dead for three years.

“She’s dead,” Price said, taking a sip of his scotch and glaring at Waters.  Waters loved pissing him off.

“I am here because the wheels have come off our Patriot initiative.”

“Your initiative,” Price responded, instantly correcting him.

“That’s where you are wrong,” Waters said, with a nasty smile, reaching into his briefcase and pulling out a thick file.

“I think the Senate will see it differently when I hand them this,” Waters continued.

“You bastard,” Price said, leaning forward.

“Count on it.  Your fingerprints are all over this,” Waters stressed, tapping the folder with his finger.

Price did not say anything else.

“Now, George. We . . . “

“It’s Deputy Director, or Mr. Price.”

Waters ignored him.

“George.  We have two problems.  The two best men from our program are loose, and what I mean by that is, we no longer can control them.”

“Why not?”

“The triggers are broken.  The doors are shut.  Number One is in Europe.  He killed the entire team assigned to him, but not before torturing the team leader.  He basically knows everything.”

“Shit.”

“He is not an immediate threat.  His personality profile suggests that he will not come back to exact revenge.  There is a high probability that he will try to market his new skills.  Now, he will not think twice if there is a price tag on our heads.  He is a mercenary, pure and simple.”

“So, we send a team after him,” Price offered.

“He’s not the greatest threat.  Number Two, Sean Garrison, is here in the eastern United States and could end both of our lives with a level of brutality that you do not want to contemplate.”

“Wait, is this the man you people were calling the Garm?”

“Yes.  We called him that for the way he eliminated his targets.  Bloody.  Personal.   Gruesome. The Garm was the most ferocious and violent creature in Old Norse mythology and Garrison is the personification of that nasty animal.  He has threatened to kill me and everyone connected to this program,” Waters paused,  “Including you.”

“And this man is potentially outside our door?   How did he even find out who you were?”

“He is being assisted by Anastasia Molotov.  You know her as Sandy.  I believe she is involved in a relationship with Garrison,” Waters said.

“Ah yes, the girl you are blackmailing. That is working out splendidly for you.  And now she’s fucking your asset.  Great work, Robert.”

Waters could hear McFarland’s voice warning him about assigning Sandy to Garrison.  As usual, McFarland was right.

“They have killed two of my best teams.  Four men.  Garrison, like his profile predicted, is taking this personally and I do not think he will let it go.  Two of my men were gunned down in a hospital in Pittsburgh. The second . . . “

Price cut him off.

The cigar was burning down.

“Jesus!  In a hospital?  The local police have got to be all over this.”  Price said, running his hand through his thin, grey hair.

“I have it contained.  However, there is one cop still poking around,” Waters said, looking for the answer he wanted.

“Eliminate him,” Price said, without even a moment’s thought.

Waters nodded.  It was what he needed to hear.  He would contact John.

Price leaned back expecting the meeting to be concluded, eager to get back to his drink and cigar, but Waters was not finished.

“I think she has help.  It is my assumption that she has help from her father.”

“Her daddy?”  Price chuckled.

“I would not laugh.  He’s a former Spetsnaz officer.”

“JESUS! ” Price screamed, slamming his drink down. 

Waters did not react.

“You purposely kept this from me?  The daughter of a Spetsnaz officer is working for you and you neglect to tell me?  Isn’t that kind of important?”

“It was not germane.”

“I THINK IT IS!”  Price screamed.

“He’s a defector.  I held exposing him to some unsavory people in Russia over her head along with the threat of her conviction in the assault of a classmate at Yale.”

“Anything else?

“He’s Alfa.”  It was true.  He was hoping everything he was saying would kill Price.  He was getting overly worked up.  Waters would love to see him topple over and off of that $15,000 couch and die on the expensive rug covering the ninety-year old hardwood floor.

“That’s just great.”

“He has to be nearly sixty,” Waters added.

“I don’t care if he’s a hundred.  Do you understand who these people are?  Shit!  The girl’s father could kill me, you and the bodyguards in the blink of an eye.  I don’t share your lack of concern.”

“I have a solution.”  Waters said, calmly.

“It had better be a goddamn good one.  You have the father, your best agent and her manufactured, blood-thirsty, assassin boyfriend mounting an assault against us.”

“It is a solution, but it is a bit unsavory.” 

“Lay it out there.  It can’t be any worse than what you just told me,” Price said, suddenly exhausted.

It was.

“We turn Oscar Pasco loose on Sandy and Garrison.”

“Who?”

“Number One,” Waters answered.

“I thought he would not enter this fray?”

“He will if he’s paid,” Waters said smiling.  He had completely sucked Price into what he wanted.  “Stupid redneck,” Waters thought to himself. 

“We can’t risk contacting him directly.  Way too risky.”

Seamlessly, a lie rolled off Waters’ tongue.  “We won’t.  We will leak the information regarding Garrison to a man that wants to see him dead and has the means to accomplish the task.  Garrison killed plenty of powerful men.  Men with families who want retribution.”

“This idea is against every principle the program stood for.  No.  There has to be another way,” Price said, shaking his head.

“The alternative is that Garrison shows up here early one morning, kills your bodyguards and slaughters you like a spring pig.”

Price swallowed hard.

“Who do you have in mind?”

“Prince Saeed Abdullah al Saud, the son of the man Garrison killed in August.  He is more unstable than his late father.  He has the money and motivation to hire Pasco.”

Waters walked over to the bar and picked up the decanted scotch.

“I don’t believe I offered,” Price said, looking over his shoulder at Waters.

“I don’t believe I asked,” he said, pouring three fingers.  Neat.

“Your insubordination is. . .”  Price said, raising his voice.

“Cut the shit, George.  I think we are way past that now.”

Price was thinking, “How can I eliminate Robert Waters?”  Now more than ever, he wanted him six feet under. 

“George, I need your contacts to pass the information to the Prince’s people specifically Ahmed.  He was the father’s right hand and I assume he has taken the same role with the son.”

Price rose without speaking, walked over to one of the bookcases and removed several books, exposing a small safe.  He entered a code, pressed his thumb against a small scanner and the door to the safe opened.  He removed a small book, flipped through it, found what he was looking for, returned the book to the safe, locked it and replaced the books.  He sat back down on the couch and looked at Waters.

“
[email protected]
”

Waters nodded.

“You have it Robert?”

“Yes.”

“Good.  Then we are done here.”

Waters sto
od up, finished his drink and looked down at the file on the coffee table.

“Oh, George.  Please keep the files.  I have a copy.”

He turned, left the room and was escorted to his car by the security detail. 

He told his driver to take him to Ronald Reagan International.  The charter flight would not do this time. The car dropped Waters off at the Delta terminal.  He got out of the car without saying a word and walked inside.  The car pulled away, but Waters knew it would not be that easy.  He was certain there was someone else watching him.  He went up to the Delta counter and purchased a ticket for the last flight out that night to Boston.  He walked over to security, presented his identification and boarding pass to the TSA agent and moved through security. 

“Mr. Price.  He’s heading back to Boston.  He just went through security,” a woman said into a cell phone.  She watched Waters head into a newsstand inside security and pick up a newspaper.