Shadow Kill (Nick Teffinger Thriller) (26 page)

Dandan frowned.

“What about the two million?”

“Rail kept it,” Teffinger said.

“That was stupid.”

“He needed it to stay hidden.”

“I doubt that the buyer took too kindly to that.”

“That’s one way to put it. Rail’s been looking over his shoulder for over a year now, both shoulders in fact. When the painting came back on the market Rail traced it to San Francisco.”

“To me specifically?” Dandan said.

“To a point,” Teffinger said. “You were on a short list. It probably would have been only a matter of days before he figured it out completely. Of course, after he got my note on his boat and then saw us leaving together in the Porsche, he now knows for certain that you’re the one who has it.”

Dandan frowned.

“What are my options?”

Teffinger
walked to the window, pulled the curtain back a smudge and looked out. He saw nothing there that shouldn’t be.

“Here’s what Rail proposes,” he said. “He still has one million left out of that two. He’ll turn that over right now to you for the painting.”

“It’s worth twenty all day long,” Dandan said.

“Hear the rest of the proposal. Once he gets the painting in hand he’s going to try to get deal back on track. The sale price, ironically, is exactly what you said, namely 20 million. The buyer still owes 18. Rail will try to get it and then hand over 16 to the seller, which is the purchase price less his 20 percent cut, which comes to 4 million. That will leave 2 million in his pocket. He’ll turn that over to you when everything is complete.”

“So my total is 3?”

“Yes.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“It’s not your painting,” Teffinger said.

“It’s not his either. My broker has inquiries coming in at 21 and 22. I’d be crazy to settle for 3, especially when 2 of it is on the come. We both know I’ll never see it.”

Teffinger shrugged.

He couldn’t disagree with the last part.

Then he narrowed his eyes and said, “When Rail gets the painting he’s going to tell me who killed Kelly. He also says Susan Smith is still alive. He’s going to tell me where she is.”

“He’s lying to you. Like you said before, he’s been looking over his shoulders for over a year. He’ll say anything to get out from under it all. He’s lying right to your face. All he wants is the painting and he’ll say anything to get it.”

“I don’t think he’s lying. But either way keep in mind that if you don’t do a deal he’ll kill you sooner or later. That’s the end game. My advice is don’t let greed suck you into an early grave.”

Dandan
topped off her wine, took a long swallow and looked Teffinger in the eyes.

“I’ll call you in the morning with my decision,” she said. “It’s too much to process right now.”

“Fine. But have a final answer by nine o’clock.”

“I’ll call you at nine.”

They left.

76

Day Eight

July 15

Tuesday Night

Outside
a cold drizzle dropped down that hadn’t been dropping down before. “Dandan’s a greedy little bitch,” Teffinger said. “She’s not going to be thinking about anything tonight. She’s playing us off until morning so she can move the Van Gogh to a new location. She’s going to try to sell it herself and then disappear, even if it means she’ll have to spend the rest of her life worrying about Rail.”

“You think?”

He nodded.

“I can’t let her greed get in the way of Susan Smith.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning we need to get to the painting before she does.”

Del Rey wrinkled her brow.

“You gave her your word before she ever told you about the painting,” she said. “You wouldn’t even know about it if it wasn’t for her putting her trust in you.”

That was true.

“You can’t betray that trust,” she said.

“I don’t want to.”

“But you’re going to?”

“Pretend you’re Susan Smith for a minute,” he said. “What would want me to do?”

“Nothing because I’d be dead.”

Teffinger shook his head.

“You’d want me to help you. You wouldn’t care about an old piece of canvas.”

Del Rey held Teffinger’s hand. “You think she’s alive because that what you want to think,” she said. “I have to agree with Dandan on this one. Rail’s lying to you. If Susan was still alive, why wouldn’t she come forward?” A beat then, “This isn’t about Susan Smith. This is about Kelly Nine. You want to avenge her death.”

Teffinger went to deny it.

No words came out.

“It’s about both,” he said. “It’s also about finding the source of the person who put a contact on Kelly. That same person might have one on you. So this is about you too if you want to get right down to it.”

“I still think Rail’s lying about that too,” she said. “He’s the one with the contract on me, or you, whichever.”

“No, he’s definitely telling the true on that one,” Teffinger said. “Think about it. He was initially hired by Oscar Benderfield to kill Kelly. He didn’t follow through and a second person had to be hired. At that point Rail had burned his bridges with Benderfield. Benderfield would never hire him again, not in a million years.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Del Rey said. “Benderfield gave Rail’s name to his P.I. buddy in Denver, Fisher, remember? Obviously the bridge wasn’t totally burned.”

Teffinger chewed on it.

He hadn’t thought of that angle.

It wasn’t totally crazy.

“We’re not going to figure it out right now,” he said. “Right now what we need to do is get the Van Gogh in our hands so we can keep all the options open.”

“I still don’t think you should betray Dandan’s trust.”

“I’m not betraying her trust,” he said. “I’m saving her life. That’s what she wanted me to do, protect her.”

Del Rey wasn’t impressed.

“There’s a saying,” she said. “To betray someone else is to betray yourself.”

They took a cab
to Avis, rented a white 4Runner and pointed the front end across the Golden Gate Bridge towards Sausalito with the wipers swishing back and forth to a slow demonic beat.

Thirty minutes later they were at the marina.

“Wait here,” Teffinger said.

“Nick, I still don’t think we should do this.”

“Just wait here.”

He climbed
around the security gate and took one careful step after another down the slippery docks. No one was around, or if they were they were sealed up in their boats doing whatever they did in there.

He made his way to Dandan’s Island Packard without slipping into the water.

The vessel was dark and gently tugging at the ropes.

He stepped aboard.

The cabin door was padlocked.

He tugged on the front hatch to see if it was latched from beneath.

It wasn’t.

He muscled it open and dropped down.

Inside he hunted around until he found a flashlight and a toolbox and then jimmied the storage lock off.

He pulled out sail repair materials and shined the light in.

The aluminum case didn’t come into view.

He got down on his stomach and took a better look.

The case wasn’t there.

At the 4Runner
he told Del Rey, “It’s gone. Dandan must have moved it earlier today, probably when I was meeting with Rail.”

“So now what?”

“I’m betting she has it with her,” he said.

They headed back
to the Green Dragon Oriental Massage and pushed through the front door the same as before. The young beauty in the wrapped kimono came to greet them the same as before. Unlike before, though, the woman didn’t say, “Follow me.”

This time she said, “Dandan left.”

“When?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

“To where?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t say.”

“Is she coming back?”

“I don’t think so. She was carrying her suitcase.”

77

Day Nine

July 16

Wednesday Morning

Wednesday morning
Jori-Lee got a call from Leland Everitt who said, “You made quite the impression yesterday. I’m officially authorized to offer you a position at Overton & Frey. If you’re interested and would like to come down, we can talk about salary and benefits and the like.”

“Yes, I’m interested.”

She arrived an hour later and ended up spending most of the morning with HR signing forms and going over employment policies she cared nothing about.

Then she got pointed to her new office.

Ten minutes later Zahara Knox came in and closed the door.

“This is opposite of running,” she said.

Jori-Lee nodded.

“I appreciate the warning and want you to know you don’t have to worry about me ever mentioning it to anyone.”

The woman studied her.

“Well, good luck to you.”

“Thanks.”

She was assigned
to a mentor, senior partner Adam Black, who in turn temporarily assigned her to assist the litigation department, which in turn wasted no time in turning her into a billable-hour machine.

Mid-afternoon her phone rang.

It was Zahara.

“Adam Black is a spy for Leland Everitt,” the woman said. “Be careful what you say to him.”

The line died.

She reached into her purse and pulled out the keycard given to her by HR this morning, the one that would get her in and out of the firm after hours, plus activate the elevator.

It felt nice in her hand.

Then she made friends, played nice, and spent the rest of the afternoon trying to get as much work on her desk as she could.

The word spread.

Lawyers showed up with files, dogs they wanted to get rid of, dogs that barked because the case was a loser, or the client was a slow pay or no pay, or because the work was duller than dirt.

She didn’t care.

She smiled and took it all as if it was gold.

By the end of the day she had more than she could do in a week.

She could justify being around after hours.

78

Day Nine

July 16

Wednesday Morning

Dandan
and her stupid little painting held the key to everything. Teffinger and Del Rey spent a good chunk of Wednesday morning trying to track her down, only to find that she was nowhere—not at her apartment, not at work, not at the Green Dragon, not at the Island Packard, not on the other end of her cell phone, not in the backseat, not anywhere.

Nine o’clock came and went and she didn’t call.

She was one the run with her precious little treasure.

Her plan was obvious; sell the painting and retire to a life of luxury someplace no one would ever find her.

Screw her job.

Screw her friends.

Screw her past.

Screw everything but the insane pile of money.

Where was she, right now, this minute?

Somewhere …

Would she leave San Francisco?

It was definitely possible but Teffinger’s gut didn’t feel it. The woman knew the area. She knew the haunts. She knew the escape routes. She knew where to run. Most importantly, she still had lots of contacts to tap if her back got up against the wall. On top of that, travelling with the Van Gogh would be problematic. It was in too nice of a case. Someone would cast an eye on it and wonder what little wonder was inside that deserved such a fine shelter.

No, she’d go to lengths to keep eyes of it.

That meant staying in San Francisco.

A hotel would require a credit card. She was too smart to use her own but might borrowed one from a friend. Even then, though, she’d be too afraid to leave the painting alone.

“I think she’s somewhere in Chinatown,” Del Rey said. “That’s where her roots are. That’s where she’ll feel the safest. That’s where she’ll have the most eyes protecting her. Plus it’s easy to look down on street level and see who’s there, meaning not just you and me, but Rail and whoever it is that’s after him,
i.e.,
after the painting.”

Teffinger didn’t disagree.

“I need coffee,” he said.

Teffinger
hated Starbucks. It was too expensive and too much of an ordeal to get a cup filled. There was always a line and the top two things Teffinger hated in the world were lines and lines. One popped up though, convenient as hell, so they stopped in.