Authors: Luke Murphy
Sanders was the last person Doug
wanted to see.
Nothing moved in the Ferrari. The
windows were blacked out
,
so he
couldn
’
t see the driver
’
s face.
It has to be Sanders
.
What
’
s he doing? Is he fucking nut
s or just arrogant beyond recall
?
The window of the Ferrari moved down. It was Sanders. Did he want a confrontation?
Doug rolled down the passenger
-
side window.
“
You need something?
”
“
I was hoping I
’
d catch you before you got home
,
”
Sanders
said
.
“
We need to talk.
”
“
About what?
”
“
Linda.
”
Doug was shocked that Sanders would bring up her name so boldly.
He watched Sanders
climb
out of his car and
walk around, moving
between the two vehicles. Sanders leaned back against the Ferrari
’
s passenger door and raised his hands in the air.
“
Truce.
”
Truce?
Sanders
’
eyes softened.
“
Look, Doug, I know we
’
ve had our differences in the past. But I think that if we leave the past where it belongs, in the past, and move on, then there is a mega opportunity for us to make some real money in this city.
”
Doug had no idea what Sanders was
talking about. What opportunity?
“
If you just hear me out,
”
Sanders went on.
“
Then what I have to show you will be very beneficial.
”
“
You said something about Linda.
”
Doug said.
“
So you
’
ll hear me out?
”
Speechless,
Doug
stared
out the front windshield, refusing to look in
the man
’
s
direction.
What could
Sanders
possibly say about Linda? Was this some last-minute attempt to try to save her in
some way, somehow persuade him
to think better of her, take her back
?
That wasn
’
t
Sanders
’
way at all.
And what was this opportunity?
M
aybe
I
’
ll
learn something
I can use to fight Sanders. S
ome slip
-
up.
He finally looked at Sanders and nodded slightly. Doug heard Sanders
’
car door open and then slam and then Sanders got into the passenger seat of the Jaguar. He set a leather bag on his lap
The tension in the car was palpable, the quiet haunting.
“
What about Linda?
”
Doug asked finally.
Sanders shook his head.
“
I don
’
t want to talk here. I don
’
t want anyone to see or know that we
’
re having this
conversation.
There
’
s a lot of competition out there.
There
’
s a place where we can talk. It
’
s only a few minutes away. I
’
ll give you directions as you drive.
”
Something in Sanders voice told Doug he didn
’
t have much of a choice.
He was more than a little hesitant to accommodate Sanders. But if there was a possibility that he could learn something new, possibly important enough to change his feelings, then he had to take the chance.
What was he thinking? Did he still have feelings for Linda? This was insane. He should flat out refuse and leave Sanders in the parking lot staring at the Jaguar
’
s taillights.
But he couldn
’
t.
Except for Sanders
’
occasional directions, the drive was quiet. He had yet to look his way and Doug was beginning to panic. He couldn
’
t sit still any longer. The silence was unnerving him.
“
So what
’
s up?
”
Sanders twitched, as though Doug
’
s question had startled him out of a trance.
He stared
at Doug as if he hadn
’
t known the man was in the car with him.
“
There
’
s something you need to see
,
”
Sanders said.
“
What
’
s in the bag?
”
“
After I show you something,
we
’
ll talk about what
’
s in my bag.
”
Five minutes later they were
driving through a
heavily forested area
.
“
It
’
s in there,
”
Sanders
said, pointing to the
woods that surrounded the region.
Doug balked. This was idiotic. What was Sanders going to show him—bleached bones from a murder?
Or was this
really
some sort of truce, Sanders thinking about a partnership with a prime piece of real estate to invest in.
Doug knew Sanders always had a motive for money.
This are
a
could work for a casino/hotel.
He didn
’
t like it, but his curiosity was overwhelming and stronger at the moment than his fear. He had to know what was so important to see or discuss about his wife that Ace would drive him out to the middle of nowhere. Ignoring his every gut instinct, he slowly got out of the car.
Ace sat in the idling car
and
watched
as
Grant
got out
and look
ed
around. He had worried
that Grant would
refuse to go along
and felt for the knife in his jacket.
Then he
joined Grant.
“
T
his way
,
”
Ace said, motioning.
They
moved past
scrub and over thick grass. It was hard to see more than a few feet ahead.
“
Why didn
’
t you bring a flashlight?
”
Grant asked
,
a tremor in his voice.
“
I know where we
’
re going.
”
After a few more steps,
he
said,
“
I
t
’
s right in there.
”
Grant
slipped past him
,
parted
the shaggy branches
and
leaned forward
.
Ace took a step closer.
Perfect.
He
yanked Grant
’
s
head against
his
shoulder, thrust the knife deep into one side of Grant
’
s throat, then sliced all the
way across with such force
he could feel the knife
’
s edge slide along Grant
’
s spinal cord. Masses of blood gushed and spurted from the wound.
When the trailing tip of the hunting knife left Grant
’
s throat, Ace let the limp body
drop
to the ground. Looking into his victim
’
s dead eyes,
he
smiled
with intoxicating pleasure and
wiped most of the blood from the blade, using Grant
’
s expensive suit as a towel.
With the calmness of a seasoned veteran,
he
walked back to Grant
’
s car
,
opened the passenger door and took out his leather bag, careful not to leave any bloodstains on or inside the car. He opened the bag, pulled out a couple of towels, a shirt and
a
pair of pants
,
and set them to the side.
Unbuttoning
his shirt,
he removed the
bloody garments
and
gloves
and
threw everything into the leather bag, including the knife and its sheath.
With the towels, h
e wiped all the blood off hi
s body
that he could see
. He put on a fresh
shirt and pants, closed the leather bag, made sure it had no blood on it anywhere
and
put it back in the passenger seat. Then he pulled on a new pair of clean gloves, eliminating any possibility of prints on the steering wheel.
He needed to go back to the mall, pick up his Ferrari
and
leave Grant
’
s vehicle
abandoned there. The only tread marks
the police would ever find at the murder site would come from the tires on Grant
’
s own car.
Ace glanced at the body in the bushes and frowned. Pitt wouldn
’
t be happy.
Pitt
had told him to
leave the body in Grant
’
s office, but that had never been Ace
’
s intention.
It would have been too risky.
It just wasn
’
t in the cards
.
Chapter
8
Calvin was jolted from
an
uneasy sleep by the phone. He reac
hed across the bed and
answered
with a hoarse voice
.
“
Yeah.
”
“
Get your ass out of bed,
”
Pitt
said.
“
What is it
?
”
“
The Grant job. Come to the office for the info.
”
Calvin glanced at the bedroom clock. Seven o
’
clock was way too
early for Pitt
and
he had not gotten over
his
improbable story about the loan, or his worry about collecting from someone so prominent in Las Vegas
. The closest Pitt had
come to a big shot was
Sanders, who Calvin thought didn
’
t count
.
What was so important that it couldn
’
t wait until the afternoon?
Calvin hung up without saying goodbye. He
’
d
been through the drill enough times that he knew what to expect. There was no need to panic or rush.
This i
s it!
He rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed, testing his knee. He looked around
the rundown apartment
and shook his head.
S
oon he
’
d be gone
,
so the state of the apartment mattered less than ever.
He climbed out of bed, noticing that Rachel
was gone already,
as
usual
. Most of the time
he
kept her
away from his
apartment
because it wasn
’
t a pleasant place and it put Rachel at risk if someone tried to collect from the collector. B
ut last night, knowing that this would be his last job, he was floating on air.
He had been careless.
Still groggy from the painkillers, he walked
to the bathroom
and stubbed his toe on a fifty-
pound
dumbbell.
“
Shit.
”
He rolled the dumbbell under the bed and proceeded to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face.
H
e took a quick shower,
then
dressed in jeans and a tight-fitting
T
-shirt that exposed the intimidating size of his chest and
well-defined
biceps.
He smiled at his reflection.
Before the morning was over
,
Calvin would
be starting his new life.
He
reached the office before eight.
It was rare that Calvin got there before the secretary, but t
he room was quiet and empty
,
except for Pitt
,
who was sitting at his desk.
In front of him sat
a half
-
empty bottle of cognac beside Pitt
’
s coffee mug.
Pitt gave a wide grin
and
shook Calvin
’
s hand.
V
ery u
n-
Pitt-like.
Unshaven and smelling
bad
, the man
had bloodshot eyes.
“
This is it, Calvin, your last one. We sure are gonna miss you around here.
”
Pitt
seemed
unusually
chipper
. Where did the belligerent man go, the one
who lectured him yesterday?
“
Well, I ain
’
t gonna miss you.
”
Unsmiling, Calvin
stuck his hand out
.
“
The info?
”
“
Don
’
t be in such a rush. There are some things I have to explain to you
first
.
”
“
Like what?
”
“
I don
’
t have to tell you that everything I say is confidential, as always.
”
“
How many times have I done this? You
’
re treating me like a rookie.
”
Pitt held his
arms up in surrender
.
“
Fine. No more chit
chat.
”
He grabbed a file on his desk.
“
I didn
’
t tell you yesterday because you didn
’
t need to know. Now you do. The $200,000 you
’
re collecting from Grant isn
’
t a gambling debt. It
’
s payment for
some jobs I did for him over the last couple of months
. He had some work he didn
’
t want anyone to know about.
”
“
Like what?
”
“
You don
’
t need to know that.
”
“
Why would he come to a scumbag like you when he can afford the best and trust them?
”
“
That
’
s the point. He researched me, found out I wasn
’
t only a bookie but could do other things too, or arrange for them to happen. And he knew that no one would ever think that we
’
d do business together. Opposite ends of the social scale
. E
ven I have to admit
that
.
”
“
What does all that have to do with my collecting this
morning?
Get to the real point.
”
Pitt sighed.
“
Maybe I won
’
t miss you so much after all
, Calvin
. The point is that this whole situation is already very embarrassing for Grant
,
even though no one knows about it.
”
“
Sounds like he
has
to keep the whole thing secret.
”
“
He doesn
’
t want to drive to a meet
ing
with
two hundred
grand in cash. That
’
s why the meet
ing
is at his private office
.
H
e doesn
’
t have a secretary
,
so it
’
ll just be the two of you.
”
Calvin
said nothing.
“
He needs you to be discreet in that building and
seem
more like a rich associate than the collector you are.
”
Pitt strode to the closet, opened the door and stepped inside.
“
Here
’
s his plan. You
’
re going to be
disguised
. H
e
’
s added you at the front desk to his appointment list, but not as Calvin Watters.
”
Great.
This was getting weirder by the minute.
“
The cover story is that you
’
re Winston Coburn III,
a
n heir who owns three casinos in Atlantic City
and
is thinking of expanding his operations to Vegas.
”
Pitt
came back out of the closet holding two shopping bags.
“
Coburn is only in town for two days to
check out
available properties—small casinos. Start small and build. He
’
s meeting with Grant to get his advice about which casinos he should take an interest in
and discuss
the possibility of a joint venture, if not with Grant himself, then with his son, Shawn.
”
“
So I just walk in?
”
“
Yes.
You
’
ll go in, flash a business card that states you
’
re the CEO of three casinos in Jersey
and the security guards will
confirm that you
’
re on the appointment list. Then
you go up to Grant
’
s
penthouse office on the
twenty-fifth
floor.
”
Calvin scowled.
“
Do I look like I own three casinos?
”
“
You
’
ll have everything you need
to complete the image. Besides,
it doesn
’
t matter what the guards think about
your appearance.
They
’
ll assume you
’
re eccentric. Y
ou wouldn
’
t be the only one from New Jersey like that.
”
He
still didn
’
t like it.
“
Why the disguise
exactly
?
”
“
People know you
, know what you do
.
You
’
d stand out anywhere
unless we
disguise you
. And Grant doesn
’
t want you identified.
”
From one of the bags, he pulled
a Panama hat with an encircling wide brim.
“
Here.
Put this on. It should fit.
”
Calvin donned the hat
and
tugged the brim down
over his brow. He
glanced
over one shoulder and caught his reflection in the mirror by the bar.
Shit…I
look like a fool.
Pitt was right
,
though. The hat distracted attention from his face and hair.
“
G
ood
,
”
Pitt said.
“
Now
put on these glasses.
”
He handed Calvin a pair of large-framed sunglasses, which
hid a
good deal of his face.
“
Last but not least…
”
Pitt reached into the second bag and pulled out a long
,
tan overc
oat.
Without a word,
Calvi
n put on the coat
. It was roomy
,
even on him
,
with a
loose neck
line
that he could t
uck his woven dreadlocks in
to
.
The cuffs reached past his wrists and cover
ed
his body tattoos. The coat
,
which
extended past hi
s knees
,
was
long and baggy
enough to
conceal his physique.
“
I look
ridiculous. Is all of this really necessary?
”
A black man with no distinguishing features.
Pitt shrugged.
“
I
’
ve seen worse
…
maybe. It
’
s an odd combination, but as a partial disguise, it
’
s great.
”
“
Well, I
’
m taking
this
off now
.
”
Calvin remov
ed
the hat, glasses and coat.
“
I
’
ll put them
back on when I get to the parking lot of Grant
’
s building.
”