Dangerous Games (22 page)

“What did Grant say to her?”

“I don’t know, but I doubt they were talking about the weather. Well, then again, maybe they were.”

Kolb looked away. He didn’t want to see the man across the table puckering his lips as he tasted the beer’s foam. “There’s no way Grant could connect me with this,” he said.

“Except she did. And now McCallum is working it. I don’t know if she’s made any progress, but I do know there’s a good chance there’ll be eyes on you from now on.”

“What eyes? She hasn’t told anybody, you said. She’s working it alone.”

“She may have brought in the LAPD.”

Kolb knew that was bullshit. “The department’s not going to help her unless they have clearance from her superiors. It’s the way the bureaucracy works.
You
should know that. And she hasn’t told her superiors, right?”

“Maybe she’s planning to keep an eye on you herself.”

He considered this prospect. “If it’s just her, alone, I can handle it.”

The other man put down the mug with a clunk. “She’s a federal agent.”

“She’s a cunt with legs. Popping her is no harder than popping her cherry.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“If she’s watching me, she’ll follow me tonight. I can spot a tail. I can lead her someplace where I have the advantage.”

He saw apprehension on his partner’s face. The other victims had been strangers to the man, allowing him to pretend that Angela Morris and Paula Weissman weren’t real. Easy enough, when they were only names in the news. But his partner had
met
McCallum. He knew her as a person, not as a game piece on a chessboard. Talking about the murder of nonentities was one thing. The murder of a real human being was something else.

Kolb had no illusions about the man he was paired with. He was little more than a wannabe, miles out of his league—like a guy at fantasy baseball camp who was suddenly tossed into the seventh game of the World Series. He enjoyed playacting as a badass, as long as things never got too serious. But in a tight spot, he was the type to lose his nerve.

It worried Kolb, having to depend on this man. Hell, having to depend on anybody.

“Say you do that,” his partner said after a worried pause. “You…deal with her. Madeleine Grant will just tell somebody else whatever she told McCallum, and the Bureau will be all over your ass anyway. What have you gained?”

Kolb already knew the answer. He stared into the dim recesses of the bar. “Ten million dollars. That’s what.”

“Ten…?”

“Yeah. Ten.”

His partner shifted in his seat. “I thought the plan—”

“The plan is being modified. I asked one mil for Morris, didn’t get it. Asked two mil for Weissman, and the city came through. Tonight I ask ten million for whoever I put in the tunnels.”

“They won’t be expecting that large a demand.”

“They’ll cough it up.”

The man picked up the mug and took his first healthy swallow. He was scared outright now. That was fine. Kolb liked being scary.

“It doesn’t fix anything,” his partner said. “McCallum will still be after you, and even if you can take her out, the rest of them will pick up the scent.”

“That’s why I’m going for the big bucks. I’d hoped we could up the ante more gradually, but circumstances are forcing our hand. So we go for the big score all at once.”

“You mean this is it, then? This is the last time?” There was pitiful relief in the man’s voice.

“It’s the last. We leave town after tonight. I hope your bags are packed.”

“I’ll be ready. If you’ve got the papers.”

“I’ve got them.”

“Maybe I should take mine now.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s not like I’m going to run out on you.”

“Then you won’t be needing them, will you?”

No answer, just another nervous swallow of beer.

“It’s a trade, jackoff,” Kolb said. “I give you the ID, you give me the account number. And not that there’s any mistrust involved, but I’ll be using a laptop with a wireless modem to check that bank account before you go anywhere.”

“Don’t sweat it. Your half will be in there.”

“Six million—that’s my share. Not a penny less.”

“That’s if the city comes through with the ten mil tonight.”

“They’ll come through. I have those assholes by the balls.” This wasn’t bravado. Kolb knew they would pay. They had to pay.

“I really hate pressing our luck like this,” the other man said softly, his gaze fixed on his beer.

“Since when did you start having opinions? And since when did I start to give a shit?”

“I’m your partner.”

“My
silent
partner.”

“I have a say. It’s my ass on the line, too.”

“Your ass. That’s for sure. Your lily ass would last about five minutes in maximum security.”

“That’s why I don’t intend to go there. If you get caught, we’re both screwed.”

“If I get caught,” Kolb said, “there’s always plan B.”

There was a pause. “I know.”

Kolb didn’t like the uncertainty he heard. “Listen, I need to know I can count on you. If I get picked up, you have to come through for me. You don’t, and I’ll give you up in a minute. You hear me?”

“I hear you, God damn it. And I know what to do. Shit, I’m one step ahead of you. I already ran a recon mission.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I went over to her house.”

Kolb took a moment to figure this out. “Grant’s house? That might not’ve been smart, if McCallum’s been talking to her.”

“She’s still the one you want to use, though, isn’t she? I mean, for plan B?”

“Yeah,” Kolb said, tasting the words, “she’s the one.”

“Okay, then. I had to check out her security.”

“What’s the verdict?”

“It’s a good system, but I can defeat it.”

“Was this before or after you learned about McCallum?”

“After.”

“Then you must’ve known I wasn’t going to cancel tonight’s operation.”

“I didn’t know what you were going to do. But I have the feeling that Grant is unfinished business with you. Even if we didn’t go tonight, you’d still have a bug up your ass about her.”

“Can you blame me?”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Wise policy.” Kolb took the beer mug out of the other man’s grasp and downed a long gulp, then made a face. “What the fuck is this, mule piss?”

“Light beer. Low-cal, low-carb.”

“Jesus.” Kolb gave back the mug. “You know, there’s one advantage to McCallum meeting Grant. Now they’ve got a relationship. It gives us more leverage if you have to use her tonight.”

“Which I pray to God I won’t.”

Kolb smiled. “I doubt God is listening to your prayers.”

“Or yours.”

“I don’t pray. Prayer is for the weak. It’s a crutch for them to lean on—and a stick to beat them with. Religion teaches the meek and humble to be even more meek and humble. That way they can be even more easily controlled. Turn people into sacrificial lambs, and they’ll trip all over themselves marching to the abattoir.”

“Right, right.” His partner wasn’t listening. He had no head for philosophy.

Kolb switched back to more practical matters. “There’s no chance Grant saw you?”

“I was discreet.”

“Well, maybe you’re pulling your load, after all.”

“Let’s just hope we don’t have to use her.”

“Yeah. And let’s also hope you remember how bad you’d look on TV doing the perp walk.”

“You trying to scare me?”

“Just appealing to your self-interest. That’s what’ll motivate you to stick with me, not any concept of honor among thieves. I know you don’t go for that. You’re too well educated to really believe in anything.”

His partner bristled. “Like you’re so goddamn superior?”

“I
am
superior,” Kolb said complacently.

“Right, I know, Nietzsche and the superman and all that crap. Nietzsche went insane, you know. He died in a mental hospital.”

“It’s Hegel I like, not Nietzsche.”

“Same difference.”

“If they put Nietzsche in the nuthouse, it wasn’t because he was insane. It was because they have to lock up the superior man.”

“I’ve heard this speech before.”

“You haven’t
heard
shit. If you’d heard, you would understand.”

“We don’t have time for this.” His partner started to get up.

“Sure we do.” Kolb grabbed his arm and forced him back into his seat. “Take a few extra minutes on your lunch break. Relax.
Chill
.” He pronounced the last word with a keen sarcastic edge. “You ever ask yourself why I’m doing this?”

“For the money.”

“Go deeper.”

“For revenge.”

“Still not deep enough.”

“I give up. Why?”

“Because,” Kolb said, “this is how I teach the world a lesson. I show them who they’ve been dealing with. They thought they could break me? I’m fucking unbreakable. I’m more resilient than they ever guessed. I survived Chino and came back smarter and tougher than before. What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.”

“
That’s
Nietzsche.”

“Yeah. And there’s nothing crazy about it.” He grabbed the mug again and took another swig. What the hell, low-cal or not, it was still beer. “They wanted me to bow down. But I’m making
them
bow to
me
. Making this whole city bow down. They have to recognize my will. They have to obey me. I intend to make them
see
.”

“See…what?”

“Who I am. Their master. One of the elite.”

His partner leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “You
want
them to identify you, don’t you?”

Kolb didn’t deny it. Nor did he give back the beer. “The great artist always signs his work. When this is over, people will be singing my song for a thousand years. Orpheus went down into the underworld and almost brought back his bride. Failed at the end, and lost her. But I’m going down into the underworld tonight, and coming up with ten million dollars. And the world will know my name and tremble. I’ll be a fucking legend. All those asshole serial killers who got caught—they’re nothing compared to me. They never held a city hostage.”

“Mobius did.”

Kolb paused with the mug halfway to his mouth. “Briefly.”

“Is that why he’s your hero?”

“He’s not my hero. You’ve never understood about that. I don’t admire failure. And I don’t need heroes. I don’t need anybody.”

“No one’s going to write any songs about you. They don’t write songs about criminals.”

Kolb finished the beer. “
The Iliad
is a song, and Achilles was a criminal. A pillager and a warlord and a straight maniac.
The Odyssey
—that’s a song, too, and Ulysses was a thief and a pirate. You look at any great man, and you see a criminal. What was Caesar except a killer? But they put up statues to him.”

“I hope you’re not expecting any statues.”

“Fuck, with my share of the money, I can buy my own. I’m on the verge of immortality. All I have to do is take care of one small problem. Which gives me an idea. You reprogram the phone for me?”

“Yeah.” His partner extracted it from his jacket. “Here it is.”

Kolb took it—an older cell phone, the same one he’d used to place the call to the mayor’s office during the Paula Weissman job. Before each abduction, his partner programmed it with a new serial number and phone number, making it a clone of somebody’s legitimate cell phone. Any calls made on it could not be traced to Kolb.

“I want you to call me on the cell whenever McCallum is coming or going,” Kolb said.

“Coming or…?”

“Coming to the office, if she’s out in the field. Or leaving the office, if she’s already there. Give me as much of a heads-up as possible.”

“I thought you were going to wait till tonight.”

“I’m not much for procrastinating.” He pushed the empty mug across the table. “If I can take her down now, I’ll do it.”

“I don’t know, Kolb….”

“Don’t say my goddamn name.”

“Sorry.”

“And don’t tell me you don’t know. I’ve been to the Federal Building. Went there once or twice when I was a cop. Nice big parking lot, open to the public. Of course she might be using the underground garage—but I’m betting that as a visitor, she parks outside. If I see her there by herself, no one else around, I can blip her, easy.”

“She probably knows what you look like.”

“She’ll never even see me.”

His partner restlessly picked up the mug and transferred it from hand to hand. “This is not a good idea.”

“It’s the only idea. Look, either I do her this afternoon, or I do her tonight. Sooner beats later, right?” He didn’t wait for a response. “You just give me a call when she’s entering or leaving. With any luck, I can be in position to give her a little love tap.”

“Killing a federal agent—”

“Is a crime? Every goddamn thing we’ve done is a crime.”

“I was going to say, it’ll put the whole city on high alert.”

Kolb snorted. “Like they aren’t on high alert already? Take a look at the weather forecast. Rain, rain, rain commencing by ten P.M.” His voice hardened. “Just do it. No excuses.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“That sounds a little too noncommittal.” Kolb pushed himself forward, dominating the small table. “I need to know you’re with me. Not just on this. On everything. Plan B and all the rest.”

The other man was staring into the beer glass again. “Of course I’m with you.”

“Look me in the eye and say it.”

“That’s kind of dramatic.”

“Look at me—and tell me.”

Finally his partner lifted his gaze and made eye contact. “I’m with you. In for a dime, in for a dollar. Or ten million dollars.”

The statement seemed a little too humorous. “This isn’t something you want to joke about,” Kolb warned.

“It’s no joke. I’m in it.” The man raised his empty glass. “All the way.”

19

Tess was driving east toward downtown LA and an unscheduled meeting with Deputy District Attorney Snelling when her cell phone rang.

“McCallum,” she answered, and heard Josh Green’s voice.

“Hello, Tess.” He sounded curiously subdued.