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Authors: Leslie Langtry

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BOOK: 'Scuse Me While I Kill This Guy

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What would it take to betray the family? Money was out. We were all filthy rich. And it wasn’t like the government could tempt us with more than we already had. Maybe the mole got caught? Perhaps it was some kind of blackmail?

In spite of the hot weather, I shivered. The entire Bombay family could be put in prison for the things we’d done. And right or wrong, what we’d been doing for millennia (although I was pretty sure the statute of limitations had run out on historical assassinations) really boiled down to murder, plain and simple. Shit.

If it was blackmail, then we were all in danger. Hell, if the Scotland Yard was involved, the European branch was in trouble too. I felt my frown lines deepen. Wouldn’t that be ironic? The government imprisoning assassins they hired regularly? Of course, I wasn’t supposed to know about that, but I’m not an idiot.

Okay, blackmail was bad. It meant the mole could be anyone. Not good. How about revenge? No, that wouldn’t be it. Anyone implicating the family would turn up implicated as well. That left stupidity.

Stupidity as a motive was highly underrated in this family. Look at Richie. I shook my head, looking a little insane to those around me. I couldn’t count on it being Richie. But who else could it be?

I spent the rest of the day like this, excusing myself as hungover. At four-thirty I showered and dressed, and at five, I knocked on Dela’s door.

“Come in, Gin!” I heard the door locks pop and went into the penthouse. I’d never been in Dela’s rooms before. Oooh. She was a wicker chick. Every piece of furniture was wicker or rattan. Large ceiling fans hung in each room, lazily spinning the humid air about. Tropical potted plants and a tiled floor made me feel like I was in Mexico. And in a bizarre twist, every wall was covered with paintings of matadors on black velvet.

“Sit down,” Dela said, directing me to a table laid out with dinner for two. “We’re eating in here tonight.”

The enchiladas and fried plantains made my mouth water. I joined her at the table and began to eat, waiting for her to speak first.

She waited until we were done with our first glass of wine. A Chilean shiraz, I think.

“So what do you think of our little problem?”

Little problem? “Um, well, I don’t know yet,” I responded brilliantly.

Dela nodded. “Of course you don’t. And I’ll bet you were hoping I would have a complete dossier, right?”

I swallowed my wine before answering. “That’s right. But I’m guessing that’s not the case.”

“No. I don’t have much to give you, in fact.”

“So how do you know about the FBI and the Yard?” I asked.

Dela sighed. “For years we’ve had connections in certain government departments. Our contacts tipped us off just recently.”

“I suppose Interpol and the CIA are next?” All right, I probably didn’t have to be such a smartass about it.

“No, they aren’t involved. But the agencies that are could jeopardize our family.”

That part, I’d guessed. “What have our contacts told us?”

Dela poured me another glass of wine. “Please understand, Gin, our contacts are just as upset as we are.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh sure. But they won’t go to prison, now, will they? Or have their entire family put away? No, that risk is exclusively ours.”

Dela frowned. “I understand that you’re upset and am pleased you are concerned about the family’s interests....”

“I don’t give a damn about the family’s interests but I do care a lot about the family members.”

“Okay. Fine, “Dela said.” I agree with that. But let me tell you that the risk is minor right now. The mole has only promised information, but hasn’t yet delivered it yet.”

“What are they asking for? What’s the motivation?”

Dela leaned back. “I don’t know. The only thing we can rule out is blackmail. Apparently the mole is not under suspicion.”

“Do we know if it’s male or female? Do we have anything to go on whatsoever?” My voice got louder.

“I know you’re upset, Gin. But don’t take it out on me. I volunteered to be your handler. Just think how Lou, Troy or your own grandmother would take your attitude.”

She had me there. I was behaving badly. “Sorry. I’m just a little freaked out.”

“I know. We are too. This isn’t an easy or pleasant assignment. But that’s why we picked you.”

“Because I’m difficult? Or unpleasant?” I smiled.

Dela laughed. “Both. But also because you’re one of our sharpest employees.”

I winced at her words. I never thought of myself as anything more than bungling. And calling me an employee instead of a member of the family was weird too.

“So where do we start?” I asked, polishing off another glass of wine.

“Well, we know it’s someone in your generation. Both contacts describe the individual as male. They refused to give us more information, perhaps because it’s too sensitive, or maybe they don’t know anything else.”

“A young male? Well, that does narrow it down somewhat.” I ticked them off on my fingers: “Coney, Richie, Lon and Phil.”

“And Dak and Paris,” Dela added.

I shook my head. “No way. Dak and Paris wouldn’t do anything that stupid.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think, Gin. Dak and Paris are to be investigated just as vigorously as the others.”

“Yeah,” I said, “but I know neither of them are the mole.”

“Do you?” Dela’s blue eyes went cold and I realized that even though I felt confident of Dak’s and Paris’s innocence, the Council did not.

“Fine. Just to make you happy, I’ll look into them too.”

“This is very serious, Gin. You have to treat all six men as equal suspects, or this won’t work.”

“Sorry. I will.” But I knew Dak and Paris weren’t involved. Meaning I really had only four suspects. “What else can you tell me?”

“Only that you have two weeks to find and take care of him.”

“That’s it? Two weeks? Fourteen days? That’s all I have?” I protested.

“In two weeks, the snitch is meeting with his contacts from both agencies at the same time. We need to neutralize the problem before that meeting happens.”

“Wait, you know that much, but you don’t know who it is or why he’s doing it?”

She nodded. “We even know the meeting will take place at a Starbucks in Washington, D.C., at five p.m. But we don’t know who it is.”

I loved Starbucks. I really did. I even took offense when comedians make fun of them. For one of my cousins to besmirch the company’s name for a Bombay family takedown was over the top, in my humble opinion.

“Since I know it’s a male, does that mean I can enlist help from my female cousins?” Liv was smarter than I was. I’d bet she could have the info to the Council in one week.

“Absolutely not. If you’re talking about Liv, her brother is a suspect, don’t forget. Even your mother isn’t to know because of Dak.”

“So why didn’t you use one of the female cousins who don’t have brothers for this job?”

Dela narrowed her eyes at me. “Because we wanted you. Remember, under no circumstances are you to involve anyone else. Especially Liv.”

“Is this a joke?” Liv’s big brown eyes pleaded with me two hours later when I, of course, told her everything. Hey, I wasn’t smart enough to do this alone. Sue me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“I’ve decided what I want to do with my life. I wanna be a cleaner.”

—Mathilda,
The Professional

I waited a moment for the information to sink in. I mean, it took me about twenty hours. Of course my timing isn’t perfect. We were just getting ready to take the girls down to the conference center for their ritual. The way I saw it, Liv could think about it for a while, and then when we got to the bungalows we could discuss it intelligently.

“I don’t believe it!” Liv looked pretty upset. Maybe I had figured it wrong.

“Well, I don’t believe it either. That is, that Dak or Paris could be involved. I mean, I definitely believe it about the mole,” I fumbled.

“We’ll discuss this later!” she hissed and I got the distinct impression she was pissed off. Not good. Not now, at least.

An hour later, after the older kids went through their ceremonies, I felt my insides bunch up into my throat as Grandma (wearing a goat skull for some ungodly reason—I never did get that part of the ritual; frankly, I think she just liked wearing it.) called Romi and Alta to the front of the candlelit room.

“Now, we open our arms to the youngest members of the family,” Grandma intoned dramatically. I couldn’t help doing the old eye roll in Liv’s direction. She shot me a fierce look that pierced my spleen. Okay, she was still pissed.

Romi and Alta looked doubtfully at Grandma, but nodded when she asked them if they were ready. Ready for what? To start killing people? To hunt down errant family members if necessary?

Romi looked back at me with a cocked eyebrow. My darling little cynic. She thought we’d all lost our minds. That was so cute! And they looked darling in their little white dresses.

Uncle Lou stepped forward, droning on and on about loyalty to family, blah, blah, blah. Then he asked them to hold out their arms.

Shit! I forgot to tell them about this part! Romi freaks out when she gets a shot. Liv grabbed my hand, and I realized she was thinking the same thing. I started thinking that it would be cool if we really had telepathic abilities. I bet we could really kick some ass....

An angry shout brought my attention back where it belonged. Uncle Lou had drawn the ceremonial dagger (which, personally I think should have been replaced two millennia ago—I mean, seriously, we could get tetanus from that old thing!) across Romi’s palm, drawing blood. And my daughter responded by clocking him in the nose with a pretty impressive right cross. I couldn’t help smiling.

I was about to go up there when Grandma pulled her aside, whispering something into her ear. Alta stood there stoically (or maybe she was in shock) as Lou did the same to her. Romi still looked angry as they were led to a table and signed their names to the family book in their own blood. Nice. Too bad Hallmark doesn’t make a card to mark that sort of occasion.

“Mommy!” I heard Romi yell. “I do not like this!” My older relatives gasped in shock while I saw Dak smothering a grin. He flashed me the thumbs-up sign.

It was even worse when Grandma tried to get them to wipe their bloodstained hands on their snow white gowns. It was part of the thing. Innocence lost—crap like that. Unfortunately for her, the girls fought hard. Ruining a “princess dress.” as they had called it earlier that evening, was out of the question. Romi kicked Grandma in the shins while Alta ran in evasive zig-zag maneuvers. It was pretty funny. Even Liv joined me in laughing, which was inappropriate, I guess.

Grandma and Lou gave up, finally, and our daughters, in their pristine gowns and completely disheveled hair, marched like queens back to us. Liv and I carefully bandaged their hands, but they only glared at us. Okay, so not preparing them for it was a bad idea. It was clearly going to be a very long night in the bungalow.

“I’m
never
going to forget this, Mommy!” Romi said for the fifteenth (or was it fiftieth?) time. She shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth and chewed angrily (if that’s possible).

“Yeah!” Alta added, looking mournfully at her bandaged hand.

“I told you, I’m sorry!” I said again, hoping it would sink in this time.

Alta glanced sideways at her mother. “Did you really do that when you were a kid?” Liv had tried empathy, pleading that the same thing had happened to her, Woody, even Grandpa Pete, but Alta didn’t seem to believe it.

Okay, we blew it. All I could see was failure. Hell, I’d probably blow the sex talk in a few years too.

“Look,” Liv pleaded, “it’s getting late and we’ve had a long day.”

I nodded. “Yes! Good idea! We can talk about it more tomorrow.” Something in Romi’s glare told me that it would be an unpleasant discussion. “At the beach,” I added as a bribe.

The girls glared at us one more time, then curled up in their beds and closed their eyes. Liv and I waited until we were sure they were asleep, and we had a couple of beers. Then she asked me to tell her the whole mole story again. I tried to throw in a few dramatic flairs to make it seem more interesting, but my heart just wasn’t in it.

“Well,” she sniffed, “I think it’s safe to assume that Dak and Paris are clear.”

“I tried to tell Dela that. But she insists we investigate them just as thoroughly.”

“And we only have two weeks?” Liv asked again.

I brightened. She said “we”! I nodded like a bobblehead doll.

“Well then, let’s start with Dak and Paris so we can write them off immediately.”

BOOK: 'Scuse Me While I Kill This Guy

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