Luthecker (30 page)

“Actually, we want him to think there are several of us.” Lansky added. “We feel it will keep him a bit off balance, but not overtly so. We’ve been questioning him, and he’s becoming more diffuse with his answers, providing us with little new information. What we need is for him to view the video feed. When we run images on the monitor however, he walks out of the room. He simply refuses to watch the television. When we ask him to, he doesn’t outright say no, he won’t, but instead delays. He says he’ll do it, but not until tomorrow, and no matter what we say, he won’t consider looking at them any earlier. Mr. Brown wants him to watch a set series of images, and for us to record his thoughts and reactions, and do this by the end of the day today. So we’re in a bit of a jam. We’d like you to broach the subject with him, perhaps after a bit of…conversation. See if you could get him to watch at least one video, today.”

“You want me to flirt? Are you serious?” She asked, incredulous. For all their knowledge of the human mind, they still didn’t understand some very basic concepts about human behavior itself.

They looked at her, confused about the question.

“He can’t see me, and my voice is being run through an audio scrambler.” She explained.

“Just talk to him.” Lansky replied.

“About what? I looked at the log. We know nothing about his interests, and he doesn’t do or say anything. There’s no consumer report on him whatsoever. No TV viewing records, no Internet search logs, not even a library card. Nothing. This guy is a ghost.” She spoke at Lansky, before giving Lax a “what the fuck is going on?” look.

“We have the police report. We could enquire about his friends.” Lansky added.

“The woman.” Lax said, the idea dawning on him.

The other two looked at him.

He flipped through pages on Alex’ file, and read from them.

“Nicole Ellis. Twenty-five. She was involved in the incident of contact at the nightclub, and she came to see him in the police precinct yesterday, just before he was delivered to us. Quite the looker. They must know each other. We could see what their relationship is.”

He showed both Lansky and Parker her file photo.

She glared at Lax a moment. “Quite the looker”, she repeated in her head.
What an ass
, she thought. She was beginning to wonder what she saw in the man, and whether or not it was all worth it.

Lansky picked up on the look, and turned away. He knew that Lax and the woman were involved, and he did not approve.

She slowly turned back to the control panel, and turned off the mute button.

“Alex, this is “number three”, as you like to call me. Look, I’m going to be straight with you, because I hate it when people aren’t straight with me. We need you to look at some video, and tell us what you see. And it would help us a great deal if you did it today. Can you do that for me?” She said, before hitting the mute and waiting for a response.

She looked at a somewhat shocked Lansky and Lax. “What?” She challenged.

“Nothing, it’s just- “

“Jesus, why are you guys even fucking around?” She cut Lax short. “Just ask him, for Christ’ sake.”

“Female”, Alex thought to himself. Number three is definitely female. Women were often frustrated by the indirect nature of insecure men, and the frustration in the voice was audible even through the scramble of the voice pattern. Whoever she was, either voice Number One or voice Number Two hadn’t been honest with her in the past in some way, a typical experience for her in her life, and she was making it clear to
them
and not him that she wasn’t happy about it. She was more than likely involved with one of them. Number one and two had been asking him to view some video, and he had delayed, knowing it would give them no choice but to reveal some tangible information, and this new information was something he could use.

“
Do it for me
.” She had asked, a distinctively female plea.

Alex suppressed a smile.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“I can’t tell you that
.” The haunting electronica-based voice from the walls answered.

“So make one up. I won’t know the difference.” He lied.

“I can’t do that either, Alex. I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to call you “Alice” then. And yes. I’ll look at one tape. For you.”

TOP OF MIND

“I
’m sorry Michael, but my answer is still no.” Nikki said to Kittner, her phone on speaker.

She paced back and forth in the living room of her brother’s apartment, nervous, her bare feet padding silently on the hardwood floor. “I appreciate you thinking of me, I really do. But like I told you a dozen times already, I’m going to pass.”

Her brother was coming home from the hospital today, an earlier than expected release, and she was cleaning up the disarray of laundry and dishes that had piled up during her stay.

“But why, Nikki? No one understands futures like you.” He asked, truly confused. “This is strictly business, I promise. And maybe I haven’t been clear on what the possibilities are here. We could get beyond simply “rich” with this new group of investors. We could get truly wealthy. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” Kittner pleaded.

He was trying hard not to sound desperate. He didn’t want to tell her that he needed her on board for the actual funding. Not yet.

“No. It’s what you’ve always wanted.” She replied, frustration growing in her voice.

“Have you met someone?” Kittner finally asked, completely catching Nikki off guard.

Alex Luthecker’s face immediately popped into her head.

“Jesus, how could you ask that?” She stammered, fending off the question, but more taken aback by the fact that it was Alex that came to mind when asked the question.

“Look, there’s no one…it’s not about that.” She recovered. “I have to take care of my brother. And the business, it’s just not something I want to be part of anymore. Ever. I’m sorry.”

“I’m coming back out to see you.” Kittner replied.

“Michael, no-”

“Nikki, I need you.”

“Don’t do this.”

“The financers don’t want me. They want you.”

The phone went silent a moment.

“They made it clear, that your employment was a requirement. So I’m serious when I say that this is just business, and I need you.”

She paused.

“Did you tell them it was my call that blew up Kittner-Kusch?” She asked.

“It doesn’t matter to them. They want you. They were very clear.”

“They want Phoebe.”

“Without you it’s meaningless. It’s you they want.”

“Who are “they”?”

“Look. I’m coming back to L.A. I’ll explain everything. And if you can look me in the eye, and tell me that you’re done with the business, and done with me, then I’ll leave you alone. I promise.” He said. And then he hung up before she could respond.

Kittner winced in frustration as he tossed his phone onto his desk. He had to have her on board. He hadn’t planned on telling her the truth about the circumstances of her employment, but there was simply no other choice. She would probably negotiate to be lead partner now. He cursed at himself for being impulsive. He loved Nikki, but he was not about to work for her.

He checked his watch. It was almost 3pm, the set time for his conference call with Mr. Brown. He had told his new boss that he would have her verbal agreement by the end of business today. That obviously was not going to happen. He would buy time, he thought. He had been in tougher spots before. He would tell Brown he was on his way to Los Angeles to finalize, and he wouldn’t leave the city until he had her on board.

Nikki tossed her phone in her purse and grabbed her keys. She had to pick up her brother in another hour, and she didn’t want to be late.

She didn’t look forward to having Michael back in L.A. Nothing he could say would change anything. Her mind was made up, she wanted out of the business. She tried to convince herself that Alex’s words to her in the police precinct had nothing to do with her resolute answer to Michael, but she knew that wasn’t wholly true. She wanted to know more. She knew she had to see Alex again.

The doorbell unexpectedly rang, interrupting her thoughts. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and she padded quietly to the door, and checked through the view port.

“Fuck.” She whispered to herself, as she saw Philip Miller standing at the door.

• • •

“What exactly did you say to her?” Brown asked Kittner, as he sat at his desk, his cell phone to his ear.

A tall, muscular looking man suddenly filled the doorway to his office. Brown waved him in as Kittner replied to his question.

“Just that she would be a valued member of the team, and that I needed her on board to make this work.” Kittner responded.

“Did you mention Coalition Properties involvement?” Brown asked Kittner as he eyed the man standing at ease on the other side of his desk. Dressed in tan khakis and black sport jacket, his skin was dark from the sun, the leathered texture making him appear somewhat older than his twenty-seven years. His lean muscular frame was hardened from battle, and he still sported a military grade hair cut. He still had the hawk-like stare into nowhere that showed he was ready and waiting for his next command.

“No. I feel it’s best to get her on board first.” Kittner replied. “Look, she’s still a bit shell-shocked from all that’s happened. She just needs a little time. Don’t worry, Mr. Brown, she’ll be on board, and soon.”

“Of course she will. And it’s Richard. When do you arrive?” Brown asked as he pulled a pen from a desk drawer.

“Eight twenty-five this evening.”

“And where are you staying?”

“The Four Seasons.”

Brown scribbled the information on a post-it, pulled it free.

“One other thing, just thought I’d put it out there, Richard. I love Nikki, and she’s a great talent, no question, but I think it’s only fair to mention, that I do have other people…”

“Call me when you arrive in Los Angeles.” Brown cut him off.

“Yes sir.” Kittner replied.

Brown pulled the phone from his ear, and stared at the stone-cut soldier that stood in front of him. He held out the post-it note, and the man took it without looking at it.

“Make it clean. Both of them.” Brown said.

The man gave a brief nod, wheeled about, and quietly exited the office.

Brown had listened in on Kittner’s conversation with Nicole Ellis. The first thing he did when he employed anyone’s services was tap all of their electronic communications, and Kittner was no different. Brown was disappointed to learn that she had chosen to be out of the business and off the money side completely, and he could tell by her resolute tone that there would be no changing her mind. The fact of the matter was that Nicole Ellis had been altered by her interactions with Alex Luthecker. The two-troglodytes in charge of bringing Luthecker in had allowed her to have contact, and her life had been mutated, as it were. She had been “exposed” as Brown had begun to think of it, like a virus, no different than David Lloyd, or the agent who recently detained the young man.

None of that mattered to Brown now. He had Luthecker locked down, and he would take no chances. It was his intention to isolate him completely, including the removal of any societal memory of the man. He had seen exactly how destructive prolonged exposure to Alex was, and was fearful of any possible contagion effects. Anyone who had contact with Luthecker would be eliminated, including the friends of his that he had recently let go, and perhaps even more individuals, once they exposed the extent of his entire network. In the end, no one would be spared. Outside the confinement of his cell, Alex Luthecker would no longer exist in this world. And if it was up to Brown, and it was, he would never be outside of his cell again.

His cell phone rang, a preset ring tone unique to a specific caller, United States Secretary of Defense Alan Mason.

Mason and Brown shared a history of military service, dating back to their days as classmates at West Point Academy. As each of their service jackets grew beyond direct involvement in the War theatres, Mason chose politics as Brown chose private industry, but their relationship remained close and symbiotic, as Coalition Properties was the number one contractor for the Department of Defense.

Brown stared at the phone a second. A call from Alan at this time was unexpected, and unexpected was never a good thing coming from D.O.D. He gathered his thoughts, braced himself, and finally answered.

“Alan. Good to hear from you.” He began.

“Are you watching the news, Richard?” Mason asked, politely sweeping aside the pleasantries. The man’s slow and raspy Southern Mississippi drawl sounded disarming to those who didn’t know him, but Brown knew from many years experience that when Alan Mason asked a direct question, he was dead serious.

“No sir. I was not.” Brown answered, as he quickly searched the desk drawers for a remote.

“I suggest you do. Are you at a locale where you might turn on CNN?”

“Yes sir. Give me a moment.”

Brown found the remote, fumbled with it a moment before turning the 32’ television in the corner of the office on and onto the twenty-four hour news network.

“I have it on now.”

“Good. Watch for me please.”

The CNN broadcast showed split screen montage images of oil supertankers, Saudi Royalty, the metal remains of the destroyed refinery, along with U.S. aircraft carrier groups in the Persian Gulf. A narrator added voice to the imagery:

“Saudi officials today confirmed that they would be up to full production capacity within three weeks, and the nations of OPEC agreed to increase their production to make up the difference, sending oil prices back down to one hundred dollars a barrel at the close of trading today. The stability of pricing was also no doubt enhanced by the presence of the U.S.S. Ronald Reagan Carrier Group recently dispatched to patrol the Persian Gulf.”

The screen images shifted to a new storyline, showing images of Chinese and Russian officials walking down jetliner stair ramps in overcast weather and under heavy security, all in the background as a perfectly groomed talking head spoke to the camera: