Sabotage (28 page)

Gates thought it was a decoy.

Mandy had her mind elsewhere, still thinking about Grant and Naseem and what was yet to happen. At some point, she was going to have to go to someone over her head and at least give her suspicions about the possibility of a frame-up. But she wanted to give them a chance to find out what Caitlin knew and make this whole career-risk worth her time. She hadn’t eaten all day and couldn’t imagine eating now. She was scared. She had a feeling she was wasting her time here. She was sure some of the higher-ups were suspicious about her charges’ escape.

The doctor began the dictation, and everyone hushed. “My name is Dr. Charu Rahima. I am in charge of this forensic exam. As we begin, I would like to ask each person in the room to state their name and credentials.”

Nick just started giving his details when they heard the sound. It was a dull whirring coming from the table. He thought it was possibly a tool warming up until he saw the look on Mandy’s face. This was not normal.

Mandy yelled, “Get out of the way,” but it was too late. The flesh-covered bomb exploded, flashing brilliantly and sending a whole new style of medical shrapnel flying far down hallways and high above them. It didn’t matter. By the time those objects landed, they were all already dead.

R
ed got everyone in the room. She couldn’t believe her luck, and she was so surprised she nearly didn’t react well. It was clear Grant was going for a piece, but she released Tonya and made her intentions clear. Grant smartly backed off.

Oh, this was rich. She would tell Britt she owed him nothing further. She could tell him to go to hell. And for once, he would have to listen.

She motioned for them to sit on the floor.

They did without a whimper.

She grabbed her phone out of the bag and dialed Britt.

He answered after one ring.

“Britt, if I had another enemy in the room as well as your piece of ass, we’d call the deal with my dad even, right? I mean, I’ve covered my end.”

Britt was silent. Miller was there. He could still hope.

“Who?”

“Well, your golden boy. Thought dead. Grant? Miller?”

He was speechless for a long time. Red finally felt the need to speak. “They’re both here. Caitlin and Grrrrannnt. With me. That would take care of it, right?”

“Yes, indeed, but …” He was really rattled. That was a first.

“Well, I’m gonna send you a picture in a minute. You need to get here. It’s going to have your bitch and Caitlin in it. Ha! Get it? And it’s going to have a dead Mexican-looking chick in it. Because I need them to understand that I mean business.”

With that, she shut off her phone. She smiled, reached in her bag, and screwed on a silencer. She aimed the gun at Tonya’s head and perkily said, “Say cheese!”

B
ritt had a very short window of time to make his decision. He could walk away, having made a thousand men’s fortunes, and live with relative safety and security. He didn’t need to run any more of the Sabotage protocols.

He could quit while he was ahead—quit while he was alive. He had been paying off people around the world for five years. Now, he had the money to do it for five hundred more.

But he had failed on such a basic level—all of the most important people in his strategy still walked and breathed. Grant could outlive him—could he ride away knowing that his enemy and his lover would most likely be reunited?

This would not be a win. This would be torture knowing that his enemies frolicked while he was away from the action.

He asked the driver to take him to the airstrip. It was the dumbest thing he could do and the only one that could make him smart again.

J
oey now controlled the phone, the code, and the luxury of the entire texting history between Tony and Red. First off, this bitch was
fine
. She had sent Tony two pictures, but they were enough. Long legs, nice, real titties, and a real hand-spanked white-girl ass. She looked good—real good. Joey was embarrassed he was thinking of a thing like pussy at a time like this, but he was. Even with a helicopter, it was a long ride to Vegas.

Joey was corresponding with her, almost exclusively using Tony’s own words, copying things he said, changing them slightly, sending them to her. He told her he was on his way and then tried to make sure she told him where to meet in a way he could fully find without using too much shorthand.

She told him she had new hostages she could use in negotiating with “B.” “B” was obviously the mastermind or close to the top. It seemed as though “B” hadn’t cleaned up his mess. This couldn’t be better if Joey were writing the script.

Where should we meet?

Meet us at the Heritage Air Strip.

Tony would know. Joey responded with a simple,
K
. He had enough time to google that shit. Then he could meet his new friend in person.

B
eing in a near-death experience like Grant experienced in September 11 and then again today, changes you in a couple of ways. First, you appreciate and cherish life more, and, second, you feel like you’ve already cheated death once, so why not again?

Grant now stood with the woman he loved seven feet away from a cold-blooded killer who had just killed Caitlin’s savior and looked ready to kill them. He realized this was his chance … to make up for the embarrassment he caused Caitlin, to make up for the embarrassment he caused everyone. Not everyone got a second chance, but he firmly believed this was his.

He was uncuffed. He was bigger than the woman. If he lost, he cheated death by a few hours or a few years, depending on how you looked at it, and he would save his dear Caitlin, because he was taking out the other woman, no matter what.

He didn’t look at his lover or do any of the trite things that end up getting you detected. He waited until the moment she tried to take the picture of her catch, the dumbest thing she could possibly do.

Then, without giving anyone notice, he launched himself. One step and then a push off. Red realized it—too late. She tried to rearrange her focus, but he was already on top of her. His intent was to push her hard into the mirrored closet and then drive her into the floor. She got her hand onto the trigger and fired again, but the bullet went into the ceiling. She was semi-unconscious on the floor.

Grant grabbed the gun and motioned for Caitlin. She followed him, no questions needed. They ran down the hallway, needing a plan.

N
aseem had time to get to the airstrip. He texted Grant where he was heading, having no desire to have Grant follow him and somehow foul things up. He already knew his plan would work; why not let him be there?

On the way, he stopped at an apartment where he had stayed and still had a lease. He peered around the corner, making sure no one was there. It hadn’t made it into the police’s hands yet, he guessed. He found the key taped under the step, just where he left it, and went inside.

He turned on the lights and looked at the picture of his parents on the counter. They were all he really left. Then he picked up the sweet heft of the Quran. He thumbed its rice-thin pages. He wished he still believed his promises. He didn’t know anymore.

But he believed in his new mission. It was clear and easy to understand—just get close, and it would be over.

He went to the closet and stood on his tip-toes. All the way in back, he found the vest. Bulky, heavy, but accurate and perfect for his mission. It took him a second to find the detonator, but it wasn’t far away.

He took off his shirt and put on the vest. It was too tight, but he made do. He would be thinner very soon. He grabbed a jacket, which would better hide what he was wearing. Vegas nights got cool enough, and the jacket wouldn’t look or feel out of place. He put the detonator back in the jacket pocket. He would put in the batteries when he arrived at Heritage.

He had come full-circle in the last day. He was still going to be a martyr—only for a different cause: his.