Payback (13 page)

“I can’t believe you just said that. You wrote her goddamn name on the goddam list. She’s lying, just the way you lie. Excuse me, lied. I have the list in my purse. She was number three on that list if you recall. It’s going to snowball, Mitch.”

“You did it to get even with me. I know you did and you stand there looking like some sick saint. What the hell’s wrong with you anyway? You look like shit. You have bags and dark circles under your eyes and your hair is like straw. I hope to hell you have some good makeup and a decent dress that won’t make you look like a scarecrow for tomorrow night. The cameras are going to be on you all night long.”

Julia bit down on her tongue.
Wait and see how you look when this devil illness hits you, you bastard.
She turned to walk away, her shoulders slumped. Then her feet left the floor and Mitch had her under the armpits holding her in the air. “I want an answer, Julia. Why did you turn on me like this? For Christ’s sake, they were just affairs, they didn’t mean anything. Just about every man in this fucking town is having an affair and if it isn’t with a woman it’s with another man.”

“Take your hands off me. If you don’t, I’ll call the police and file a domestic abuse report. You wouldn’t want that now, would you? You disgust me. I’m not going to tell you again, put me down,” Julia screamed.

“You want down, you bitch! I’ll show you
down
!’ Mitch released his vise-like grip on her, and Julia fell to the floor with such force she literally saw stars. Too stunned to do anything, she started to cry.

“That’s it, cry. Bawl your head off. You ruined me. You damn well ruined me!”

“You ruined yourself, you ass. If you had kept your pants zipped, you wouldn’t be in this position and I wouldn’t be…I wouldn’t…” Julia bit down on her lip. She’d almost blurted out her medical condition. She inched away when she saw Mitch’s foot swing out but she wasn’t quick enough. She screamed with pain when Mitch’s wing tip got her smack in the rib cage.

Outside in the bushes by the kitchen window, Mark Lane took in the situation. He skirted a forsythia bush in bloom and leaped up onto the small stoop that led to the back door where he started to pound at the door. “FBI,” he shouted to be heard over the driving rain.

Mitch whirled around, his eyes wild. “What in the damn hell is the FBI doing here?” Julia didn’t answer, she just cowered in fear and pain against the sink. “You called in the fucking FBI?”

“No!” Julia whispered. “No, I didn’t.”

Outside in the pouring rain, Mark kicked at the door. “Open on the count of three or I’ll knock this door down!”

Mitch walked over and opened the door. Agent Lane stepped into the kitchen and went immediately to where Julia was crouched in the corner, her face full of pain.

“Let’s see some goddamn ID,” Mitch blustered.

Mark dug in his shirt pocket and pulled out his credentials. He flashed them as he leaned over to Julia. He was stunned speechless when she said. “Charles sent you in the nick of time. Thank God. Get me out of here before he kills me. Please, take me back to Myra’s. I think he cracked my rib cage. Just get me out of here.”

Charles. That had to mean this woman wanted him to take her back to Myra Rutledge’s estate. She thought Charles Martin sent him. Shit, now he was into something right up to his neck. She was whispering again. “I didn’t tell him. I almost did but I knew Charles would have a fit. Oh, God, Oh, God!”

What the hell?
“Can you walk, Dr. Webster?”

“I think so. I’ll crawl if I have to. Just get me back to Myra and Charles.”

Mitch finally found his voice as Agent Lane half carried his wife toward the kitchen door. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? I don’t give a good rat’s ass if you’re FBI or not. What was your name again?”

Mark ignored him as he struggled to open the door. “You’re going to get wet, Dr. Webster.”

“I don’t care.” Julia shot a look at her husband. “Just take me to the hospital. I’ll say I fell off a ladder.”

Outside in the pouring rain, Mark found his voice. “I thought you said you wanted me to take you to Myra and Charles. Do you want to go to the hospital instead?”

“No, I just said that so he wouldn’t call the FBI. I know you’re not a real agent, you’re one of Charles’s operatives. I don’t know how he does it. You arrived at just the right moment. If you told me your name, I can’t remember it. I’m sorry. Can you get my medical bag out of the car and the satchel next to it? I need to take some Advil. I should have killed him but he took me by surprise.”

Shit! Shit! Shit! She wanted his name. Oh, Emery, I am going to fucking kill you when I get my hands on you.
“Tom. Tom Warwick,” Mark said as he helped Julia into the Pathfinder. He set the medical bag on her lap and her other bag on the floor.

“I didn’t want him to call the FBI because I know…Oh, God, I almost blew it and told him I was HIV and he was the one who gave it to me. But then you know all that already. I didn’t tell, though, even when he kicked me. He still thinks he can save his career. Listen, I’m sorry you had to witness that scene back in my kitchen. Mitch was so angry, I thought he was going to kill me. Thank God for Charles and his…for you and for everyone helping me with this mission,” Julia gasped.

Mission? Oh, shit, oh, shit! What the hell is she talking about? First I’m going to torture you, then I’m going to kill you, Emery.
Mark made a noise in his throat that he hoped sounded sympathetic as his mind raced. On the other hand, Jack might kill him if he
didn’t
ask questions. What the hell should he ask? He grappled with something to say. He finally came up with something brilliant. “So, how is all of the rest of it going?”

“We’re on target. You know Charles. He is so brilliant he boggles my mind. Did you work with him when he was MI6? No one ever told us his real name. It probably has something to do with his work as a spy. I guess you know all that, too. I’m just talking to hear myself so I won’t think about the pain I’m in.”

We’re on target
. Well, hot damn? He wondered how he could find out what
the target
was. Maybe Jack would know. “No, sorry, he was before my time. But the man is a legend in his own time.” Well, that was brilliant. There was so much saliva in his mouth, Mark thought he was going to drown in his own drool.

“You can say that again. God, this hurts. I should have taken some painkillers. It’s OK, I have to be careful what kind of meds I take these days. We’d all be dead in the water without Charles. He pulls it all together.”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s that kind of guy. He knows how to…to…pull things together. A master.” Another brilliant statement but the doctor was buying it.

Mark drove in silence as he racked his brain. How much to say? How much not to say? He wished he could call Jack for instructions.

“Dr. Webster, how long has your husband been…abusing you?”

“He’s never abused me. Tonight was…was the first time. He blames me for leaking his affair with that young woman. His career is ruined. I don’t know why he’s going to go through with the announcement tomorrow night. We really didn’t talk much before you arrived.”

“Uh-huh,” was all Mark could think of to say. He cautioned himself to say as little as possible so as not to arouse her suspicions. Damn, he could hardly wait to tell all this to Jack. “Are you still planning on going to the armory tomorrow evening? Will you be up to it?”

Julia shifted in her seat. She undid her seat belt and then re-buckled it. “I have to attend. I can’t let the others down. We work as a team and they depend on me. Once my ribs are taped up, I’ll be OK. No one will think twice about me going by myself. I’m a doctor. Doctors are always late. I always show up at these functions, not necessarily on my husband’s arm. Most times I show up when the affair is almost over. That’s because I hate all that political nonsense. Tomorrow night, though, the press will read whatever they want to read into my arrival. Charles will have it under control. Besides, Mitch is just part of the mission.”

Mark’s mouth filled with saliva again.
Holy shit! Part of the mission.
This time he didn’t trust himself to even grunt. Finally, he managed to say, “We’re almost there, Dr. Webster.” This is where I get my ass handed to me on a platter. As soon as miracle worker Charles Martin got him in his crosshairs, he was dead in the water. He’d probably call the local authorities and charge him with impersonating an FBI agent. Hell, he was an FBI agent. If he wasn’t so nervous, he would have laughed.

“Thank you, God,” Julia said quietly. “Listen, Tom, you’ll have to drop me at the gate. I’ll walk through. If the dogs don’t know you, they’ll rip you to pieces. We have a twelve foot high fence to…to keep people out. The dogs patrol the fence. We…we had an intruder the other night but he was outside the fence. I’ll be fine once I get inside. I don’t know how to thank you. You saved my life tonight. I never thought…I didn’t expect…”

Saved. He was saved. They weren’t going to string him up by his thumbs.
I’m still going to kill you, Jack.
He hoped the exquisite relief he felt didn’t show in his voice when he said, “Well, I certainly don’t want to…you know, screw things up. If you’re sure you’ll be OK, I’ll simply turn around and head for home.”

“I’m sure. Thank you again, Tom.”

Mark hopped out of the car and ran around to the side and opened the car door for Julia to climb out. When she couldn’t do it, he reached in and lifted her out and set her on the ground. She felt so thin, so fragile. “Look, I can’t leave you here like this. What about your bags?”

“Take a look at those dogs by the fence and say that again. Just toss the bags inside when I open the gate. Someone will come out and get them. I’m fine. I hope I can do something for you some day.”

Mark watched as Julia keyed in a code and then walked through the gates when they opened. The Dobermans didn’t bark but they didn’t move either as Julia moved among them. The instant the gates closed, Mark was back in the Pathfinder. He backed up and then spun around and headed away from Pinewood, rain cascading all around him.

Ten miles down the road, Mark was finally able to take a deep breath. What in the hell had he just stepped into? It was a myth that FBI agents had nerves of steel. He was twanging from head to toe. He wanted to call Jack so badly he could taste the feeling but he’d left his cell phone back in his apartment which meant he had to drive to Jack’s apartment and wake him up. An evil grin stretched across his face at the pleasure that was going to give him. “Mix me up in your shit and you deserve whatever you get, old buddy,” he mumbled.

Twenty minutes later Mark was banging on Jack’s door. He kicked at it a few times in between knocks. When the door finally opened he looked at his friend who was dressed in white boxers sprinkled with red hearts. “Wow! Do you always look like this when you wake up?” Mark asked, referring to Jack’s overlong hair that was standing on end, his unshaven face, hairy chest and skinny legs. “No wonder Nikki dumped you. You’d scare the devil in the morning.”

“I should kill you right now but I don’t know where my gun is. Do you know what time it is? Did the J Edgar Hoover building blow up or something? What? Speak.” Jack growled menacingly as he eyeballed his friend.

Mark shoved Jack backward and headed for the kitchen where he opened the refrigerator and uncapped a Michelob. He took a long swig before he spoke. “The building is still standing, thank you very much. This is better. Sit down, Jack, because if you don’t, I’m going to deck you. What the hell is this shit you got me mixed up in? I don’t think you covered the half of it.”

“I told you all I know and everything I suspect. What happened? Don’t make me beat it out of you, Mark.”

Mark repeated the night’s events right up to the point where his tires spun on the gravel outside the gates of Pinewood. “I just left her there. I felt like shit doing that but I wasn’t about to take on a pack of Dobermans and besides, she insisted.”

“No one dies of broken ribs. I never liked Senator Webster. All he does is talk so he can show off his pricey porcelain. Never would have figured him for a wife beater. Are you sure Dr. Webster…”

“Jack, I’m sure. She thought Charles Martin sent me. Hey, I announced myself when I banged on their back door. The senator wanted to see ID and I flashed it. In case you haven’t noticed, I am wearing my FBI windbreaker. You’d have to be blind to miss those big yellow letters but I was smart enough to give a phony name. Just call me Tom Warwick.”

Jack hitched up his boxers and then scratched the stubble on his chin. “She actually used the word mission?”

“Several times as a matter of fact. She assumed I knew what was going on. I did my best to act like I knew. I never felt so clueless in my life. The woman is sick, Jack. I picked her up and she weighs nothing. I wanted to do something, say something, but I didn’t know what to do. I thought about going back there before I came here to deck that bastard but common sense brought me here instead. She got infected from her husband who she has kept in the dark for some reason. From what she said and didn’t say, the senator doesn’t know he’s HIV. Tell me this isn’t some heavy duty stuff. How does all this fit together with what you’ve been saying and thinking, Jack?”

“It’s the word, mission, that’s boggling my mind. Maybe they’re setting the senator up for something. They leak his infidelities to the press and boom, his nomination goes down the tubes. He’s ruined. Then there’s good old Charles. MI6, huh? See, now, that puts a whole other spin on things.

“Mission. MI6. Myra Rutledge’s wealth. Seven women. All strangers to one another until they hired Nikki. Nikki is the catalyst. I guess you didn’t hear from your friend at Interpol, huh?”

“I was kind of busy, Jack. I was going to work the computer but I couldn’t get the doctor’s face out of my mind, so I went back there. I’m going home now and going to bed. All right, all right, I’ll send off an E-mail before I sack out. I can’t go on adrenaline like you do. Thanks for the beer,” Mark said, tossing the empty bottle to his friend who caught it by the long neck.