Justified Means (Book One) (The Agency Files) (35 page)

“Do they train you how to drive like this?” Considering her white knuckles, Erika was amazed at how well he drove at ninety miles per hour.

“Some.”

“That means what, that you’re amazing at more than this?”

He didn’t answer. A police car entered the freeway just ahead of them and refused to let them pass. At the next on ramp, another joined them. “Looks like the cops are getting smart. We’ve got an eighth of a mile and then we’re going to be forced to stop or hit them.”

“Should you try to go around on the median?”

“I will, but I think I can get us stalled out if I do it right.”

“So, it’s almost over?”

He glanced at her as if she’d lost her mind. “No, it’s just about to begin. The chase was the appetizer. It’s time for the main course. Here comes the next guy.”

“How’d they keep people from getting on?”

“Police blockades down there. We’ve created a traffic nightmare.”

The cars ahead of them all decelerated, forcing Keith to do the same. Just as he started to jerk the wheel into the grassy median, three cars from behind and from the other direction converged, forcing him to stop. A glance at the side mirrors told Erika he wouldn’t be trying reverse. They’d done a perfect job of boxing him in with nowhere to go.

“They’re going to tell us to open the door with one hand in the air and the other hand opening it from the outside. Do it. Don’t even for a second think about arguing until you are outside the vehicle and then start screaming at me. When the officer tries to keep you from moving toward me, then kick him, hit him, resist in any way you can, but not until then. Don’t let them think, even for a second, that you could possibly have a weapon.”

“What about yours?”

“Tossed it when we got the call.”

“How did I not see that?”

Keith’s eyes met hers as his hands went into the air at the order of the bullhorn. “You aren’t trained to see it, but I’m trained to hide it. It just means that I did my job right and you were protected because of it.”

The order came to reach out of the car and open the car door. Erika gave him a thumbs-up and muttered, “Let’s roll.”

The effort Keith had to exert not to erupt into laughter was impressive. She saw his mouth twitch, his eye water, and his face went a little red. She’d finally bested him in something—small as it was. It felt good—really good.

Seeing the officer, gun trained on her, nearly sent Erika into a panic. All the times Keith had held a gun while giving her the freedom to wander around the house or yard were nothing compared to the raw fear that came with being surrounded by the men and women you’ve always trusted to protect you—with their guns drawn on you. She heard the words, “Step away from the vehicle, hands behind your head,” and bile filled her throat. This was real. She was about to violate every rule she’d ever learned about proper behavior, civility, and honor for the people who put their lives on the line every day to protect her from people like she seemed to be to them. It was a crazy mixed up nightmare, and she wanted out before some creepy guy with chainsaws for arms and knives for teeth started chasing her.

A glance at Keith assured her it was time. As she pulled her hands behind her head, ready for the officer to wrench them into handcuffs, she started screaming at Keith. “See what you’ve done now! Why couldn’t you have stopped! What did you do? This is insane!” Erika whipped her head around as the officer grabbed her wrist and said, “I am innocent! He took off and what was I supposed to do? I can’t jump out of a car going ninety, can I? I want him arrested for kidnapping!”

“You can tell your story at the station, but until—”

“That’s not fair!” She tried to wrench free, but when the man’s hands held her wrist in a vice-like grip, she kicked his shins so hard, she nearly landed on her face. “Let me go!”

“That’ll get you charged for assaulting an officer, though. Good shot.”

“Not good enough,” she muttered.

“Turn on the news. WRAN. Found her. Shall I go in?”

Helen grabbed the remote and clicked to the right channel and watched the replay of the dramatic car chase that ended in the arrest of a man she didn’t recognize and her faithful house sitter, Erika. “There you are.”

“Well, do I go?”

“No. I’ll take care of it. I can easily say I saw it on the news, post bail, she’ll let me walk her right out the front door.”

“What about the man?”

“He’s got to go too, but wait to hear from me. If she insists on taking him with us, I’ll have to. Hopefully, based upon that screaming match, we won’t have to do that.”

“Standing by.”

The phone disconnected before her man finished speaking, and Helen went into action. She changed out of her jeans and t-shirt into tasteful slacks, blouse, and added a few good pieces of jewelry. With large sunglasses and an oversized designer purse, she looked like any trophy wife out for a shopping trip—exactly the look she wanted.

It took several calls to find the correct station, but at last, her taxi pulled up in front of the building and promised to wait. Getting inside to see Erika was much more difficult. The officers at the desk would give no information, and despite her pleading, none would take a message to her “friend.”

Furious, she strode from the building and climbed back into the cab. “Where to, lady?”

“Just stay put. I need to figure out when the next hearing is.”

“Won’t be until morning, most likely. You can go ask—”

“They won’t tell me anything.”

The driver turned off the keys and opened his door. “I’ll be right back.”

“Thanks—”

“No problem. My mom had to bail me out plenty when I was young and stupid. I’d like to think there was someone there helping her back then.”

As she watched the man enter the building, Helen shook her head. “Gullible idiot.”

Despite her true thoughts, Helen gushed over his thoughtfulness between sniffles at the injustice as the man drove her back to her hotel. A morning hearing was the last thing she wanted to wait for, but she had no choice. “She’s just a kid, you know? I mean, I saw her kick the officer myself, but anyone could see she was just scared. I hate to think this’d go on her record just because she panicked.”

“Why was she in the car in the first place?”

“I don’t know! She has good friends—responsible ones. For all I know, she was kidnapped or broke down somewhere and accepted a ride. It’s just not like her.” Helen felt as if she
were giving an Oscar performance. Thankfully, her oversized sunglasses would make it impossible to identify her, and the Australian accent would resurface the second she stepped from the car. All in a day’s work.

At the hotel, she tipped the driver generously, thanked him profusely, and rushed inside, giving every appearance of being distraught. The moment she entered her room, she dialed her contact. “Can’t get to them before morning. Be ready. After spending the night in a holding cell, I think she’ll be a bit more tractable than she would be right now.”

“I could get both of them as they’re being transferred if you like.”

“No. It’d raise too many questions. There’d be a huge investigation over something like that. Just be ready to go in, bail him out, and dump him over the state line.”

“Got it. About that other matter…”

“Yes, at that one, there are enough people who want Alek dead
. Kill him on his way to arraignment. If there are others with him, get them too—particularly his lawyer—but make sure you get him.”

“Got it. I have a new account number for you.”

“Text it. I’m going to get something to eat and then turn in early. Don’t call again.”

Helen punched the end call button and selected another number. “Frank?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve given Gordon a job. I’ll need clean up tomorrow. Are you available?”

“Too bad. He’s a good guy.”

Frank said that every time. “Well then, he’ll get to go play harps and wear robes. He’ll be in heaven.”

“Ha. Ha. Hilarious.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m available.”

“I’ll email the account number. Who knows what he has in there, but it’ll be considerably larger by noon tomorrow.”

Frank’s laughter always unnerved her. “And all mine too. How nice. I might have to indulge myself with a trip to St. Martin.”

She’d put money that he meant Thailand or Bali. Frank always talked Caribbean, but his travel history showed a fondness for the more decadent portions of Asian countries. Then again, she didn’t care. Helen Franklin cared about two things—money and power. What others did only concerned her when they threatened to upset the balance of either of those things in her life.

“You’ll need to be in my house when I leave the courthouse tomorrow. Make a mess and make sure it looks like you wanted drugs. Shoot the girl with me. I’m going to faint.”

Frank’s teasing annoyed her. “Tsk, tsk. You’re in the business of keeping girls alive and useful. This one must be quite a threat to you. I’ll be sure she’s gone. I’d hate to see my income dwindle.” The line went dead.

Erika was a minor threat—nearly non-existent. However, considering she’d removed people for less, Helen wouldn’t hesitate now. She’d find a new house sitter. A text message came through her cell phone that brought a smile to her lips. ARRIVED. 172. 4. 4. Four sick and only four dead. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Her fingers flew over the keys of her laptop, entering one hundred seventy-two pallets of Vietnamese cigarettes. Four were marked destroyed in transit and four damaged. All in a day’s work. The shipment had been paid for by the Anastas syndicate and had been “appropriated” by Helen. Piracy at its finest—all the rewards with none of that unnecessary and brutish swordplay.

By tomorrow, her last loose end would be neatly tied—right around Erika Polowski’s little neck. Once Frank was done robbing them, shooting Erika in the process, it’d be over, and she’d be free to move more of the merchandise into the Rockland area. With the new shipment coming into Columbus, they could afford to give Rockland an infusion of workers for the industry. Sure, the economy was in a recession, but some things always make the budget.

“I don’t understand! Why aren’t we going in there and doing something? We can’t just leave them in jail!”

Karen shook her head at Mark and frowned. “Look, Claire. We told you. This is a trap to capture the person responsible for the danger in the first place. If we go in, she’ll know.”

“Meanwhile, you’ve got my cousin locked up and at the mercy of a killer! Erika doesn’t even know why this chick is dangerous. She could say the wrong thing at the wrong time and—”

“And you’re going to have to trust that we know what we’re doing.”

“But Keith—”

“Will be fine,” Karen assured her.

“Unless he’s the mole.” The young woman studied Mark’s face for any sign of betrayal.

“Claire, come here.” Mark’s voice was quiet—a tone that Karen knew well. She stepped outside the door, listening as Mark worked his soothing magic on a distraught young woman. It was what made Mark so good at his job. He could take an angry, panicked, terrified, or absolutely confused person and have them calm and ready to do whatever he thought best in minutes.

A peek through the crack in the door surprised her. Mark held both of Claire’s hands in one of his as he spoke to her. He rarely let himself show personal concern for a client. Perhaps the “training” she’d been given wasn’t a cover to protect her. It certainly seemed as if Mark was going to bring her into their group. He only showed that kind of brotherly concern when dealing with the other women in his employ. Either that or—

Karen chose not to let her mind go there. It was dangerous and nearly impassable territory. She knew it when she accepted the job and nothing had changed. The work they did was important. Their ability to work around the law and protect the reputation of government agencies was vital to the safety of people who were targets of
those who didn’t care about laws or protocols.

A second glance through the door nearly choked her. Mark’s arm was around Claire’s shoulder, his thumb massaging the kinks from her neck. She had to stop torturing herself. Whatever Mark did was essential to the morale of the team. Only the team mattered—not her personal heartache—if it even was that.