Headhunters (11 page)

“We?” Alaina asked. “Is Jessica there too?”

“Yes, she’s right here,” I said.

Jessica reached for the phone and waved her hand in a ‘gimme’
gesture. I handed it to her.

“Hi, Alaina? It’s Jess,” she said. I watched her, unable to
speak, to stop her, to say anything. I watched her listening.

“I’m going to take good care of him. I’ll keep him out of
trouble…” she laughed then and I wondered what private joke they were sharing
about me. “Give my love to the kids… yeah… give them a hug from me… okay… bye.”

She handed me back my phone with a smile. I was dumbfounded.
I lifted the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I said.

“She’s so sweet,” Alaina said with real enthusiasm. “The
kids want to talk to you. Have you got a second?”

“Of course.”

“’k, one sec,” Alaina said and I could picture her handing
the phone over the seat to the kids behind her in the back.

“Hi, Daddy!” they chorused. I could literally picture their
little faces together with the cell phone between them, both talking at the
same time. And I began to cry. Tears welled in my eyes and I let them fall down
my cheeks. I missed them. Missed them more than anything. Jess saw my face and
reached across the table to take my hand. I stayed there and let the kids talk
to me, prompting them with questions, letting them cascade information over me
about toys and videos and the car trip and fast food and playing ‘Punch Buggy’
in the backseat. I let them talk and didn’t bother to stop them or tell them I
had to go. Eventually they ran out of steam and I told them that I loved them
and would see them soon.

“Love you, Dad!” they said and hung up trying to hand the
phone to Alaina. If she needed me, she’d call back. I wiped my eyes and
chuckled.

“Ugh… Sorry,” I said.

“You’re a good dad.”

I smiled at Jessica and took a deep breath. I sipped the
espresso and let it work its caffeinated magic.

“I’ve got good kids,” I said at last.

“Well, they got that way somehow,” she said.

I shared a laugh with her and looked up.

“What the hell…” I said. My eyes had drifted up over her
shoulder to the television screen mounted above the coffee bar.

“What?” Jessica asked, then realized I wasn’t looking at
her, but past her.

I stood, spilling my icepack on the floor. I stood and
walked, unaware at the time that I’d lost my limp. My eyes locked on the
television screen and I walked to it, drawn to it as if by a magnet. I heard
Jess’ voice behind me but not what she said. I couldn’t look away from the TV
screen and as I approached, the tension in my gut only twisted tighter.

On the television, I saw a news report. The video feed was
coming from a news chopper circling above a house. My house. I was at the
television now, but the sound was turned low as a courtesy to the patrons. I
glanced over the counter, found the remote and aiming it at the monitor, turned
up the volume.

“Sir, if you’d like me to turn up…” but I didn’t hear the
rest, only the news report.

“…reporting live from the scene of a grisly murder. An
anonymous tip led police investigators to this home where the body of a white
male was discovered shot to death,” the reporter was narrating over the video
feed, then the camera angle shifted to a reporter on the ground outside my
house. The reporter was a woman, Asian and pretty. I used to watch her reports
from time to time because she was easy on the eyes and professional and
well-spoken. None of that mattered now.

The camera showed uniformed officers outside the house as
well as what appeared to be police detectives taking notes and talking amongst
themselves. Then two men were wheeling a body out of my front door. A body
covered in a sheet.

“Police are withholding the victim’s name until notification
of next of kin can be made…” the reporter was saying, but it wasn’t necessary.
I turned back to Jess.

“It’s Chris,” I said, my voice low. Her jaw dropped.

“In your house?” she asked. “But— how— why?”

“To make me look guilty,” I said. “The story will break soon
whose house this is and then they’ll be all over us. We need to move.”

I looked back at the TV one last time, ready to walk out the
door when something caught my eye. No, not something. Someone.

I leaned into the TV and pointed into the crowd of police
officers, searching, trying to see the face again. And there he was. Ken Gibson
from the Alexandria police department. He was here in Chicago. Ken had
investigated the break-in at my house. Now he was here, investigating me.

I dropped a bill at the cash register, grabbed Jess’ hand
and walked out the door.

“What is it?” she asked.

“A friend…” I said. “Someone I thought was a friend.”

We got in the car, this time with me sitting in the
passenger seat instead of in the trunk. I gave Jess the address where we needed
to go and she agreed to drive. I knew she didn’t understand, but right then,
she didn’t need to understand. She needed to drive. I dialed the phone.

“Gibson,” the voice on the other end said, flatly.

“Kenny,” I said. “How’s tricks?”

“Jesus wept… where are you?” Gibson asked.

“Well, I’m certainly not at home,” I replied.

“Yeah…” Gibson voice was hesitant, unsure of how much to
say.

“Don’t worry, Ken. I saw you on the news. I know you’re at
my house.”

“You know a lot.”

“I know the body you just pulled out of there was
Christopher Swenson,” I said. “I also know that if you have the forensic
examiner look at the body, you’ll find that the body was moved post-mortem. He
didn’t die in my house. Someone moved him there.”

“Someone?” Gibson asked. “Who? The boogeyman?”

“Worse.”

“Simon, what do you do for a living? How do you know so much
about homicide investigations?”

“I know that Alexandria cops are woefully out of their
jurisdiction when they come to the Windy City,” I said. “So, what brings you to
Chicago?”

“You didn’t answer my question, but since it bears on this
discussion, I’ll answer you anyway. I received a call from the Feds. This guy,
he says that they’re conducting an investigation involving government secrets.
Said that I’m close to a source. Someone who’s stealing documents. Selling them
to the Afghans or someone. I don’t have much of a choice. My Captain tells me
to catch a plane, I’m supposed to say no?”

“This guy have a name?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s Special Agent None of Your Fucking Business.”

“Classy, Kenny. Always classy,” I shot back. “Wouldn’t
happen to be Randall Kendrick, would it?”

“Now how the hell do you know that?”

“I know people, Ken. That’s what I do. He have a couple of
agents with him?”

“Yeah, two of them. Look like a couple of steamers my dog
would leave in the park…” Gibson said, aggravated.

“They claiming to be FBI?” I asked.

“They are FBI, Simon… for Pete’s sakes, man! Why don’t you
just come in here and we’ll discuss this like a couple of men?”

I shook my head.

“They’re NSA,” I told him. “Watch your six, Ken. Things are
not what they seem.”

“Spooks?” Gibson asked.

“These guys give spooks the heebie-jeebies. Just watch your
back. They’re framing me and using you to do it. I never touched Chris. It was
Vaughn… one of the agents, his name is Vaughn right?”

“Yeah…” Gibson said warily.

“He’s the doer. Shot Chris Swenson in the back of the head
with a Glock.”

“Now, how do you know that?

I checked my watch. If they were tracing the call, they’d
locate us soon.

“Gotta go, Ken. I’ll be in touch,” I said and rang off. I
could hear Gibson’s protests die as I disconnected the call.

Jessica glanced at me. Her eyes searching for answers from
me.

“You know the cop investigating Chris’ murder?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s a good thing isn’t it?” she asked.

“You would think so…”

“Can he help us?”

I thought about that.

“If he believes me, he can stall Kendrick. Slow him down. If
he doesn’t believe me... He might be able to lead them right to us,” I said.

We rode silently in the car for several minutes. At last,
Jessica pulled to the curb and parked the car. We were across the street from
the LaSalle Bank.

“Here we are,” she said, looking out the window at the
structure. “Why are we here?”

“I have to pick something up,” I said.

“Should I stay here? Are you just going to run in?”

I thought about the network of resources the NSA and Chicago
Police Department could roll out to find us once word hit the streets that we
were wanted. Patrol cars, police helicopters, satellite imaging, electronic
eavesdropping…

“Nah, why don’t you come inside,” I suggested.

We exited the van and stood, waiting to cross traffic. Our
eyes met for a moment and I took her hand. Our fingers interlaced and I smiled
at her. Even in the chaos of the moment, we had more freedom now. We were
outside of the company. We could be ourselves, be our own people without fear
of reproach or reprimand.

We crossed traffic and entered the bank. I caught the eye of
a banking official and requested entrance to their bank deposit box area. After
a moment, a woman approached us, and led us back to the proper area. She
produced a silver key and slid it into her side of the box. I had the
complementing key on my ring. We turned and the box unlocked. The woman excused
herself and we were left alone.

“What’s in there, Simon?” Jessica asked.

I did not answer her right away. I pulled the box forward
and it slid it out of its housing in the wall. I lifted the lid and looked
inside. I had a realization then. Some people put the deed to their land in
boxes like these. Some put family heirlooms. Others used them for diamonds or
other valuables. I realized that I was not so dissimilar from those people.
Because what I had hidden in that box was the most valuable thing in the world
to a man in a situation like mine.

I took the lone envelope from the bottom of the box and
slipped it into my jacket pocket. Then I closed the box, relocked it and
dropped the keys in my pocket. I turned to face Jessica.

“Get ready to run,” I said.

Chapter Eleven

I don’t believe in gambling. Not for
the ethical reasons. If you want to fly to Vegas or Atlantic City and flush
your money down the casino toilet, God bless you. You make your own decisions.
I’m no gambler. But I do believe in calculated risk.

It was a calculated risk walking into the bank that day. It
was a risk to walk into a federally monitored institution with security cameras
when government officials are looking for you, but what was in the box made it
worth it. I hoped.

Seeing the face of the bank official over Jessica’s shoulder
made me question that thought, however. Maybe the risk hadn’t been as
calculated. Maybe I’d only gambled and rolled the dice and they came up snake
eyes and now we were sunk. But in the end, I think you make your own luck.

“Get ready to run.”

Jessica stood stock still, eyes darting.

“Why?” she hissed.

“The woman,” I said. “The bank officer. She knows.”

“Knows what?”

“She knows that we are not everything we seem to be,” I
said. Then, “And I think someone told her.”

I took Jess’ hand and started walking. I’d left the guns in
the car. I didn’t want to attract attention and the metal detectors would have
certainly given us away. Now we were unarmed and exposed. I led Jess toward the
door and saw in my peripheral vision that the bank officer was talking to the
guard.

We were nearly to the door before I heard the guard speak.

“Sir, stop where you are!” he said. He was a black man.
Middle-aged and perhaps he’d been fit once. Shift after shift of standing in
the bank had robbed him of that. Jessica hesitated, but I kept walking, keeping
her next to me.

The guard came closer, walking after us now and repeated his
warning to stop. This certainly got the attention of the other bank customers,
because I heard the noise level drop to nothing. The footsteps were louder,
quicker now as he pursued us. Still I made as if I didn’t hear. The door was
only an arm-length away. I felt the guard’s hand close on my shoulder.

I spun and hit him in the throat with the web of my hand. He
made a sharp choking sound and where his hands had been on my shoulder and the
butt of his pistol a moment before, now both of his hands went to his throat.
His eyes bulged as he struggled to breathe. I had hit him hard enough to take his
breath away but not hard enough to kill him. It’s possible to hit someone in
the throat so hard that their throat swells, even after impact, and eventually
closes off their airway. I didn’t want to kill this man. I just wanted his gun
and our freedom.

I grabbed his shirt and spun him around. Off balance and out
of breath, the man gave little resistance when I pulled his Beretta auto pistol
from its holster. With the gun free, I pushed the guard and he stumbled toward
the crowd of bank customers. They let out a collective gasp. The image of
Bonnie and Clyde flashed through my head and I fought it back. This was no bank
robbery. This was an escape.

Jessica and I hit the doors and burst out upon the street.
To my right I could hear the wail of police sirens. I saw a squad car change
lanes as traffic struggled to get out of his path. They were close. I looked in
the opposite direction and two black Ford Tauruses wound their way toward us.
Kendrick… probably Brock and Vaughn.

Jess offered me her keys.

“You want to drive?” she asked.

“Yeah… let’s go.”

I ignored her keys and ran out into traffic, flagging down
the drivers as I went. Horns erupted in a blaring cacophony. I dodged through
one lane, Jessica just behind me. I stepped into the next lane and had to put
my hand on the bumper of one car that nearly hit me. Again they laid on their
horns. We were stopping traffic. I could see the squad cars, nearly on us now,
but mired down in the stalled line of cars. Kendrick’s vehicles had suffered
the same fate.

At the third lane, I found what I was looking for.

“This is it! Get in!” I called to Jess.

I ran to the door of the racing green Mini Cooper and tapped
on the window with the pistol. The driver, a young blonde with her hair up in a
ponytail looked over at me, eyes wide, frozen in fear. I opened the door for
her.

“Step out, please,” I said.

Her mouth was moving, trying to say something, an excuse, a
question, I couldn’t be sure.

“Thanks,” I said and dropped in behind the wheel. Jessica
entered the Mini from the other side.

“Well, this is a side of you I’ve never seen before,” she
said.

“I’m just full of surprises.”

I revved the engine, let out the clutch and steered around
the car in front of me. I caromed off the car to my right, then accelerated
between the two lanes of vehicles. I saw Brock in the black sedan in the
oncoming lane and appreciated his look of shocked anger as I passed him in the
Mini, inches from his window.

At the next intersection, I skidded into a right hand turn
and accelerated into the stream of cross traffic. I clutched, shifted,
accelerated and steered around cars. I checked the rearview mirror once,
changed lanes and checked it again. First one, then two squad cars had turned
the corner behind us, lights flashing angrily, the sounds of their siren
seeking us out. Jess was looking back.

“All of that for us?” she asked.

“It’s nice to be wanted,” I said. I spun the wheel and made
a sharp left hand turn into an alley, cutting off oncoming traffic. I gunned
the engine and accelerated, feeling the well-oiled power of the engine. I couldn’t
see the squads behind us.

I downshifted and slowed at the end of the alley. I turned,
going with the flow of traffic, trying to blend in with the other cars.

“Do you think we lost them?” Jessica asked.

“God…  I hope so,” I sighed.

“What happened back there?”

“I think someone knew we’d be coming to the bank,” I said.
“I think they knew and decided to call and tip them off. They tried to detain
us so that the police could come and make the arrest. The police and Kendrick’s
people.”

“Kendrick? Randall Kendrick of Blackthorn?” Jessica was
piecing it all together.

“Kendrick knew what I had in the safe deposit box…”

“Which is?” Jessica asked.

I looked at her and she stared at me expectantly.

“It’s a Presidential pardon,” I said. “Randall and I each
had one given to us when we started Blackthorn. It’s our ‘get out of jail free’
card. It’s the only thing that can protect me from this frame up.”

Jessica laughed but there was no humor in it.

“What?” I asked.

“That’s great. That’s just great for you,” she said. “Do you
have one of those for me too? Because the last time I checked, I was up to my
ears being an accomplice with you and so far today you’ve assaulted a security
guard and stolen a car… and it’s not even lunchtime yet!”

Damn it. She was right.

“You’re right,” I sighed. “I don’t have one for you, but it
gives us leverage if we need it and right now, we don’t have a lot to work
with.”

I steered around a minivan, accelerated and felt the rush of
speed as we hurtled down the road. I saw the brake lights almost too late.
Traffic was at a dead stop up ahead.

“Simon… SIMON!” Jess cried. She clutched the dash, fearing
the worst.

I gutterballed the car around the right side, nearly
scraping the tires on the curb and burst through the intersection before
traffic could cut us off. When we were past the intersection, I turned back to
her.

“That was selfish of me,” I said. “I was thinking of myself
and I apologize. Please believe me when I say that I know that I’m not the only
one in danger here. I’m trying to protect you. I’m trying to protect my family.
I know that.”

“I know… I know you do,” Jess conceded.

I checked my rearview mirror and I couldn’t see any squad
cars, no black sedans. Then my cell phone rang. I fished the phone out of my
pocket, set earpiece and connected the call.

“Simon Parks,” I said.

“Hello, Simon.” It was Max. “Busy?”

“You could say that.”

“I just wanted to call you to extend my deepest sympathies…”
Max said.

I flashed a look at Jess beside me.

“What are you talking about, Max?”

“Don’t you know? You seem to know everything that goes on at
my company. I thought that certainly you’d know exactly what I was talking
about.”

I’d had enough of the games and the lies and the bullshit.

“I don’t know. Tell me!”

“Tom Ellis is dead,” Max said.

My heart lurched into my throat. I couldn’t breathe.

“Tom—? Wha—?” I tried to speak, managed to only breathe,
“How?”

“I stabbed him in the back,” Max said. “Just like you did to
me.”

I felt like I was hyperventilating, unable to catch my
breath. Sweat was forming on my forehead and I felt flush.

“You killed him?” I asked. Jessica’s eyes were wide in
terror beside me.

“Actually, Randall killed him,” Max said. “The letter opener
didn’t finish the job, so Randall shot him in the head with his agent’s gun. He
was rather put out that you were maligning his good name.”

“You sick son of a bitch…”

“Now, now, Simon. There’s no need to be impolite,” Max was
saying. “I decided after you left my office that if Randall really was out to
get me, he’d have no reason not to tell me after you tipped your hand. When Tom
Ellis came to me crying about the files missing, I saw an opportunity. An
opportunity for Randall to prove his veracity. Was he really with me? Or was he
a Fed?”

I could see where this was going and it turned my stomach.

“You found Tom…”

“Tom wasn’t very good at hiding,” Max supplied. “He used a
credit card to rent a car only a few blocks from the office. Randall ran the
credit records and his people found the car in less than an hour with the
OnStar system. We had a talk with Tom. I want you to know, Simon, that his last
thoughts were of you…”

I cursed and steered the car through another corner. I was
angling up and back, up and back, working my way through the city, trying to
avoid any direct route where we could be noticed.

I thought about Tom. I’d left Jess’ car for the same reason
that Tom got caught. With GPS tracking, they would be able to track us wherever
we went.

“Randall finished Tom. Thus, Randall isn’t the Fed you
claim. The only threat to my organization is you, Simon. And in case you were
wondering, you’re fired.”

“You’re not funny, Max. Did you call the bank?”

“Oh, the bank… that was a pleasant little surprise from
Randall as well. He said you might be going there. I golf with the chairman of
the board at the LaSalle. I called in a favor. Shame that you should be so
disrespectful to his employees.”

Max was referring to the guard. This wasn’t a happenstance
phone call. He was tracking our moves.

“Put Kendrick on the phone,” I said.

I heard the phone being passed and the brief exchange
between the men.

“Hello, son.”

“Randall, Max doesn’t know what kind of man you are.”

“But you do,” Kendrick said.

“I do. You may have fooled him, but you haven’t fooled me,”
I said. “I’m not going to be backed into a corner by you.”

“You don’t have much choice, son. You decided you didn’t
want to play on my team, so don’t cry when I run over the top of you. And one
other thing, Simon. That pardon you worked so hard to get… It won’t mean a damn
thing if I put a bullet through it.”

I thought about that. He’d seen the surveillance feeds from
the bank. He’d seen me put the pardon in my jacket pocket. The pardon was in a
pocket over my heart. If Kendrick put a bullet through the pardon, he’d kill me
and my pardon would be of no consequence. I couldn’t argue that.

 “The DHS files will be discovered in a few hours at your
house and then news will hit the airwaves that you sold secrets to an unknown
terrorist group.”

“Which one?” I asked. “Who are you selling the files to?”

“Oh, give me a little credit here, Simon. I can’t share
everything with you. Not anymore…” Kendrick said. “You know, part of me wishes
you’ll come through this alive, but I’m afraid that’s just not going to happen.
But still, good luck, son… and good-bye.”

The line went dead and I pulled the earpiece and threw it
down beside me.

“God damn it!” I screamed. I shook the steering wheel with rage.

“He’s dead? Tom’s dead?” Jessica asked, already knowing the
answer. “Did they kill him? They killed him didn’t they? Oh my God… oh my God…”

She was crying and I saw her, no… felt her slipping over the
edge into hysteria. I had no right to overreact just then. Not with Jess there.
My therapists had said that you need to let your emotions out, but I know that
in any relationship, only one person at a time can overreact. It’s the other
person’s job to calm down the first. I knew I’d be okay. I wasn’t so sure about
Jess.

“He’s gone, Jess,” I said and took her hand. I looked at
her, back to the road, then back to her. “He’s gone. Not me. Not us. We’re
still here. We’re still okay.”

Jess tried to nod, wiping away her tears.

“We’re going to be okay,” I said.

I’d no sooner said the words and a navy blue flash roared
over our heads, followed by the wump-wump-wump sound of beating rotors. I
ducked instinctively and we saw the shape of the police helicopter lifting up
in front of us, turning, getting a visual on our location and the nose dipping
as it approached us again.

“Aw, shit…” I said.

I heard the sirens in the distance and realized that our
situation had gone from bad to worse. The police helicopter meant that there
was no way for us to get lost in the traffic. It meant that police cars would
approach from all sides, all units responding to the chase. Somehow, someway,
we needed to get the hell out of there.