Accidents Waiting to Happen (31 page)

“Yes,” the professional said.
 

“I haven’t heard from you in the past couple of days.
 
I assume from that you haven’t succeeded in your tasks,” Tyrell said.

“Like I’ve told you before, these things take time.
 
You just have to be patient.
 
Rest assured, I have laid the foundations.”
 

Tyrell’s snide remarks failed to raise the hit man’s ire.
 
That pissed Tyrell off.
 
he wanted something out of this son of a bitch.

“My patience in running thin.
 
You’ve had more than enough time to take care of these people and you haven’t.”

“How would you know how much time it takes?”

Prima donnas, they all think they’re God’s gift
, he thought.
 
“Based on your previous assignments.
 
And don’t get pissy with me.
 
I know I haven’t got any experience in your profession but I do have realistic expectations and you’re not living up to them.
 
How long do you think it will take until you have completed your assignment?”

“Another week.”

“No,” Tyrell said matter-of-factly.
 
“I have another three targets lined up for you worth over one point five million dollars.
 
I want them all cleared up in the next two weeks.”

“I don’t think I can do that.
 
The plans are laid and they’ll have to run their course.
 
I may be able to advance them a little, but I can’t make any guarantees.”

“I don’t care about your plans.
 
Do something different.”
 
Tyrell was losing his temper with the professional.
 
“The time has come for an alternative approach.
 
I don’t care how you do it but I want them killed.
 
No more fancy plans for accidents, just straightforward assassinations.”

“Are you suggesting I just shoot them from the nearest clock tower?”

Tyrell ignored the crack.
 
“How many times have we seen tragic house fires?
 
We live in a world of muggings, hit and runs, rapes, murders, etc.
 
Pick one.
 
Impress me.
 
You have two days.”
 
He hung up without letting the professional comment further.

The conversation had gone the way Tyrell had expected.
 
The professional wasn’t the man he’d hired two years ago.
 
He was incapable of the quick turnaround Tyrell needed.
 
It was time to bring in someone else.
 
A new broom always swept better than an old one and maybe that new broom could dispose of the old broom as well.
 

“The job’s yours if you want it,” Tyrell said to the other man in the room.

The other man stood in front of the window looking out over the pleasant grounds from the fifth floor room.
 
The trees and well-manicured lawns were illuminated in the early evening darkness by the security lights positioned all around the premises.
 
He turned his back on the view and faced Tyrell.

He was a big man, tall and muscular and his suit did little to disguise it.
 
His crew cut hinted that he might be a military man or some outcast from a government agency.
 
Tyrell didn’t really care, nor did he want to know.
 
He never wanted to get that close to his out-sourced talent.
 
His colleagues were bean counters and analysts, not killers.
 
These people made him uncomfortable, but they were a necessary evil to ensure success.
 
They were resources to be used for specific functions—like a computer or a subordinate, a means to an end.
 
Because of the extreme course of action Tyrell had undertaken, these people were essential if he was to get back in favor with the Pinnacle Investments board.

“Don’t you believe your man will succeed?” he asked.

“To be honest, I don’t.
 
I think he’ll prefer to stick to his own plans,” Tyrell said.

“Wouldn’t you prefer I take care of your next targets while he finished his current assignments?”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Personally, I prefer not to take over another operative’s assignment.”

Jesus Christ, these guys are paid killers.
 
They murder for financial gain, but they have all these fucking ethics.
 
Honor amongst thieves…what a load of bullshit
.
 
Tyrell had no time for the politics of the industry.
 
He just wanted results.
 
“Do you want this job?”
 

“Yes,” his new killer answered.

“So we understand each other?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”
 
Tyrell picked up his briefcase and placed it on his lap.
 
He removed two files from it and dropped them on the bed.

The newly hired killer picked up the files.
 
He sat in another of the more than comfortable chairs by the window.
 
He opened the first file and flicked through the documents, then did the same with the second file.

“Like I told your brother in firearms, you have two days to make Joshua Michaels and Margaret Macey into obituary articles.
 
No fancy stuff, okay?”

The killer looked up from the files and nodded.
 
“What about my…colleague?
 
What do you want done with him?”

“He’s a liability.
 
I would like to have him removed from my employ, as it were.
 
If you can find him, you can kill him.
 
I’ll make it worth your while.”

“How do I find him?”

Tyrell removed another file from his briefcase and dropped it on the bed.
 
“I thought you might be interested.
 
The file contains all the information I have on him.”

The killer picked up the scant file, much thinner than the previous two.
 
He sat down again, scanned the file and nodded in agreement.

“I don’t know his name or his address.
 
All I have is a post office box that all monies and files are directed to.
 
I’ve included the cell phone number I’ve contacted him on.
 
Be warned, he regularly changes his number.
 
I thought a man of your profession could trace his location by the number,” Tyrell said.

The killer placed the files in his briefcase, stood up and went over to Tyrell with an outstretched hand.
 
Locking his briefcase, Tyrell got up and shook the hand offered.

“I don’t think there’s anything else I need to know.
 
If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see if I can’t get a flight out tonight.
 
I’ll contact you as soon as I have news.”

“What do I call you?
 
Our intermediary didn’t say.”

The killer paused for a moment then smiled.
 
“Mr. Smith.”

Tyrell smiled back.
 
“I’m sure there are a lot of men in your business with that name.”
 

“A few.”
 
At that, Smith released Tyrell’s hand and departed.

Tyrell checked to make sure he had everything he’d brought with him.
 
He was pleased with himself.
 
Things would be changing for the better and fast.
 
I can see the checks rolling in
,
he thought
.
 

“Bang, bang, who’s dead?” he joked to himself.

Chapter Twenty-two

Mark Keegan’s service was at St. Thomas’ Anglican Church.
 
Josh’s flying partner hadn’t been a religious man, but his sister was and she wanted a religious ceremony.
 
The church was half filled with relatives, coworkers, flying club members, airport officials, and friends.
 
Josh sat with his wife and daughter in a row of pews waiting for the ceremony to begin.
 

Organ music and echoing conversations drowned out the silence between Josh’s family.
 
He looked at them.
 
Kate stared into an infinite distance beyond the walls of the church.
 
Abby sat between Kate and him, studied the floor and absently clacking her shoe heels together.
 
They weren’t a happy family.
 
It was a blessing that Kate had returned to work, Abby had school and he had the house to himself.
 
Everybody had their distance.
 

Josh let his gaze wander and it fell upon the coffin.
 
The simple pine casket with brass fixings rested at the head of the church, garnished with funeral wreaths.
 
Josh struggled to believe Mark was dead.
 
It didn’t seem real.
 
He couldn’t imagine Mark’s body was inside the box.
 
It couldn’t be true.
 
Mark was his friend and his living image preoccupied Josh’s mind, but it kept being replaced with the one of him slumped over the Cessna’s control column.
 
It seemed the funeral was a hoax, a big joke played on Josh by his friends as a belated birthday prank.
 
The urge to go up to the coffin and tear off the coffin lid was becoming impossible to resist.
 
But deep down, Josh knew the truth.
 
Mark was dead, killed by the man trying to kill him.
 
An innocent man lay dead because of him.
 
He didn’t want to be here.
 
He shouldn’t be here.
 
His presence seemed sacrilegious.

Josh felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Josh,” Bob said.

Josh turned to the row behind him where Bob was taking his seat.
 
“Hey, Bob.”

Kate and Abby turned to Bob and they said hi to each other.
 
Abby managed a smile for the first time that day.
 

“Thanks for coming, man.
 
You didn’t have to,” Josh said.

Bob leaned forward.
 
“Yeah, I know, but I was talking to the guy the day before the crash.”
 
He leaned further forward and whispered, “Can I talk to you afterwards?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Bob sat back.
 
The wooden pew creaked under his weight.
 
He nodded to a group of four people and moved over to let them sit down.

The minister took his place at the lectern and the organ music died.
 
A hush came over the congregation.
 
The minister introduced a hymn and everyone stood and sang.
 
The service echoed throughout the bowels of the church and sniffs and gentle sobs punctuated the proceedings.
 
Mark’s sister, Mary, gave a tearful eulogy about Mark’s love for life.
 
The service ended with a final hymn.

Those gathered slowly filed out of the church and into the courtyard.
 
The mourners clumped into groups and made awkward conversation.
 
Josh excused himself from his family and made a beeline for Jack Murphy who was heading towards the parking lot.

“Jack.”
 
Josh placed a hand on the mechanic’s shoulder.
 
“I’m glad you came.”

“I wasn’t going to, but Mary asked me,” he said.

“Why weren’t you going to come?”

“Why do you think?”

“Don’t be stupid, nobody blames you.
 
Mary doesn’t and I don’t.”

“Well, I do.”

“I spoke to the NTSB investigator a few days ago.
 
They aren’t blaming you.
 
They have their suspicions, but no reason to take any action against you.”
 
Josh exaggerated the truth hoping to alleviate the mechanic’s depression.

“For now,” Murphy said.

Josh frowned.

“I’ve gotta go,” Murphy said.
 
Quickly, he moved away from Josh.

“Jack, it’s going to be okay.
 
Trust me.”
 
Josh spoke to the mechanic’s back.
 
He watched Murphy get into his car before returning to his family.