Crown's Vengeance, The (26 page)

“Erika, get in here.”

“Hold on a second, I’m looking for coffee filters.”

He raced into the kitchen. “OPEC just announced that they’re doubling oil production.”

She was less than impressed. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“Don’t you get it?”

She finally seemed to hear him and looked up from the coffee pot.

“Spencer Drake and all his cronies are screwed,” Parker told her. “Completely, utterly screwed.”

He saw the gears begin to turn, and realization slowly dawned.

“You’re right. They put all their money into futures, assuming that the price of oil would go up. Is this bad?”

“It’s beyond that. For starters, Aldrich Securities may no longer exist after today. If they overextended themselves, Drake could go to jail.”

“Why would he go to jail? Investing is a risk and sometimes you lose your money.”

“Because from what Ben told us, Drake and his cohorts were using funds they shouldn’t have to fund their investing. Aldrich may go bankrupt, and if people who put all their money into Aldrich’s banking services lose everything, they’ll be swimming in lawsuits. Drake won’t have the shirt on his back when the lawyers are through with him.”

“But isn’t that money insured by the federal government? I thought the FDIC prevents people from losing their money like they did in the Great Depression.”

“They do, but it only applies to deposit accounts, up to a quarter million per. If you have money in something other than a deposit account, you’re probably out of luck. The program assumes that banks won’t take unnecessary risks with your money. ”

She took a step back, bumping into the counter.

“So you’re saying it could all happen again?”

“I don’t want to believe it, but it’s looking that way,” Parker confirmed. “And if you think about what Treasury Secretary Webster might do, the situation doesn’t get any better.”

Erika lifted a wayward strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “What are you talking about?”

“Gerard Webster opposed the bailouts from 2008. He believes that no company is too big to fail. If Aldrich Securities or any other investment firms get in over their heads, I doubt he’d throw them a lifeline.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. If you screw up, you should have to deal with the consequences,” Erika responded, arms crossed. “I know personal responsibility is becoming something of a joke these days, but making people accept the consequences for their actions is the right thing to do.”

He agreed, but there was so much more to it than that. “I think you’re correct, but remember that customers who put their money into Aldrich deposit accounts expect that money to be there when they need it. A checking or savings account isn’t an investment, it’s a deposit. Banks aren’t supposed to take risks with deposits.”

“In that case, why wouldn’t the government just refund the money and throw Drake and his buddies into jail?”

He barked a harsh laugh. “One, it’s not technically illegal yet. Why it took this long to outlaw proprietary trading is beyond me, but it has. Two, do you realize how much money these men have? They’re each worth billions. They could put together a team of lawyers and legal experts that would make O.J.’s crew look like a bunch of scrubs. And he got away with murder. Putting Spencer Drake in jail for an offense of any type would be almost impossible. Men like him are almost above the law.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but stopped short. In a small voice devoid of hope, she asked, “So what can we do?”

“I don’t know.”

He hadn’t felt this drained in a long time. Whoever they were up against had more money, men with guns, and if they were correct, hundreds of years of experience. What could two people do against a force such as that?

“We can’t do anything right now.”

He headed back to the bedroom and changed into a fresh shirt.

“I need to get out of here and clear my head. Maybe Nick will have new information for us, a lead on Drake or this Stirling guy.”

She followed him in, jumping into a tight pair of curve-hugging tan shorts, the high-cut bottoms frayed ever so slightly. “Good idea. I’m getting so bogged down in my research I can’t think straight.”

Before exiting the apartment, Parker slipped her gun into the waistband of his jeans. With his T-shirt untucked, it covered the weapon from view.

“I don’t want to take any chances even though we’ll be right back. Whoever came after us could do it again.”

Parker locked the door behind them, the hallway already growing warm courtesy of the large bay windows at each end. They took the stairs, and emerged from within the converted schoolhouse to find the sidewalk empty. It was a few moments before he remembered it was a weekday, and most people would be at work.

Across the street, two men sat in a black Lincoln Navigator, sipping coffee with the windows down. He almost missed them, with their seats tilted back and faces partially obscured by the doorframe.

As Erika started to talk, his internal alarms were blaring at full volume. Each man’s hair was close cropped, and, not to put too fine a point on it, they didn’t fit the stereotype of two lovers enjoying the day.

When the passenger briefly locked eyes with him, Parker knew.

“Listen to me,” he interrupted Erika, grabbing her elbow tightly as they walked, “and keep looking ahead. There are two guys across the street in a black Lincoln who looking at us.”

To her credit, Erika never flinched. “Are they coming?”

He glanced back over one shoulder and saw nothing. For a brief second, he wondered if he was overreacting. Then both doors swung open and the men hopped out. When they started running toward them, Parker shoved her away and reached for his gun.

Chapter 41

Inside the executive boardroom atop Aldrich Securities headquarters, Spencer Drake kneaded his temples, his eyes close. For the past twelve hours he had been dealing with the fallout from Horatio Stirling’s telegram, the discovery of which had forced his hand. Whether or not Agent Nicholas Dean had any idea of what he’d read, Nigel had been right. Now was not the time to take chances, so he and Nigel had decided to move forward with the final phase of their operation.

Slightly less than six hours ago, Spencer and Nigel had finished their call with Sheik bin Khan, who had been less than pleased to learn that this supposedly foolproof plan may have been uncovered. The sheik was not used to taking orders, but when Drake told him it was time to send the American economy into a tailspin from which it might never recover, he’d gladly agreed.

Today, the sheik had promised, oil production would double. Aldrich Securities and any other corporation, firm, or person who had overextended themselves to purchase oil futures assuming the cost of a barrel would continue to rise was in serious trouble.

Trouble of the bankruptcy variety.

“I suppose this calls for a celebration, Spencer.”

Nigel Stirling stood and moved to the bar, and moments later two drinks appeared.

“Not now. We still don’t know what happened to Mr. Chase and Dr. Carr. As long as those two are on the loose we’re not safe.”

Stirling waved one hand dismissively. “They’re good as dead. Your head of security and his men are close on their tails. They won’t survive the day.”

Drake’s fist smashed on the table, which sent whiskey shooting across polished mahogany. “Don’t be a damn fool. They’ve already escaped one attempt and killed a professional hit man. Do you really believe that they’re good as dead? I won’t be satisfied until I see their bloody corpses in a morgue.”

Stirling said nothing, sipping his drink.

Nigel’s wrist casually turned toward the ceiling, shirtsleeve sliding up to reveal his Patek Philipe watch. “I believe that the news may be out.”

The television flashed to life. An extremely stern-faced analyst confirmed Nigel’s supposition.

“It has begun.”

The sharp buzz of Drake’s cell phone emanated from his pocket. It was Tom Becker.

“Have you found them?”

“They were just spotted outside Joseph Chase’s apartment. Our backup team is after them now. I’m on my way.”

Drake’s reply was clear. “End this. Now.”

Chapter 42

Both men dove to the ground when Parker’s gun appeared. He grabbed Erika’s arm, already racing down the street. “Come on.”

Their feet pounded on the sidewalk. Parker kept his gun aimed at the men, but didn’t shoot. He still didn’t know who they were, but if they gave chase, he wouldn’t be asking first.

Erika’s face was ashen as she kept pace with him, veering down a side street. “Who are those guys?”

“No idea, but one of them was on a cell phone. They might have friends on the way.”

“Are you sure they’re not cops? Maybe they need to talk to us.”

Two sharp
cracks
resounded off the brick walls surrounding them. “Maybe not,” she decided. “Come on.”

Erika shot ahead of him with a burst of speed.

Parker turned and saw the pair of suited men, each holding a gun. A muzzle flashed twice, and the car window beside him shattered.

Who were these guys? And how did they find him?

Parker whipped off a shot, which slowed them for a moment. As he raced across a lot that was under construction, Parker struggled to connect the dots. Unless these guys had been following them since their escape yesterday, which he highly doubted, there was just no way. He and Erika had ditched their phones. The clothes they’d been wearing from yesterday were gone, tossed in the trash. He’d learned the hard way several months ago how tracking bugs worked.

Stacks of two by fours littered the lot. A Dumpster was parked in the alley, nearly filled with debris. He spotted Erika’s blonde hair disappear around the scuffed blue metal. Hidden by the Dumpster, they crouched down, eyes peering underneath the massive container for any sign of pursuit.

Behind them was an apartment building, yellow brick stretching to the sky. Parker hoped the men would race past without stopping, focused on gaining ground.

Two sets of feet slapped on the asphalt, the sounds becoming muffled when they hit the dirt lot, still moving fast. The men weren’t stopping.

Side by side, they rounded the Dumpster’s edge, passing within a foot of Parker’s upraised gun. Faced with the brick wall, the pair stopped, glanced right and left.

They never saw it coming.

From inside of twenty feet, he put a shot squarely in each man’s back with ease. The bursts of concentrated fire sent them sprawling to the ground, their guns falling uselessly aside.

Parker was on them in an instant, but they weren’t getting up. “Grab those guns, and check their pockets. I want to know who the hell these guys are.”

Erika complied, cool under pressure as always. After what they’d been through, this was a regular day at the office.

Pockets turned inside out, all Parker found was a cell phone. No wallets with any convenient identification cards. A sharp gasp from Erika grabbed his attention.

“What is it?”

She held up a photo, a color snapshot of two people.

Two people he knew very well.

“It’s us. He has a picture of us.”

This wasn’t good at all. The picture was recent, a shot of them out to dinner one night.

“Parker, this is barely a month old. Our waiter took this with my iPhone.”

“They must have hacked into your phone before you ditched it.”

Erika retied her ponytail, which had come loose during the chase. Parker saw her hands shaking as she twisted the flaxen strands.

“Did you find anything? We have to figure out who these guys are.”

“Just this cell phone. He doesn’t have—wait a second.”

The phone in Parker’s hand began to vibrate. A local number flashed across the screen.

“Don’t do it, Parker.”

She knew him too well.

“Why not? I want to know who the hell these guys are.”

Before she could protest, he connected the call. He answered in a harsh, gruff tone.

“Yeah.”

“What’s your status? Did you get them?”

“No.”

“What happened? Where are they? We’re in the car now.”

Parker said nothing.

“If Becker finds out we let Chase and his girl get away, it won’t go easy for you. We have to end this today.”

He ended the call, his mind racing.

“What did he say?”

Erika’s blue eyes were wide, fierce yet fragile.

“Some guy named Becker is their boss. The one I just talked to is on his way, and he’s not alone. We have to move.”

Without waiting for an answer, he bolted from behind the Dumpster, headed toward a busier street to find a cab. Erika was right behind, a pilfered gun in each hand.

“Put those away. The cops will be here any minute. Someone had to hear all those shots.”

Even as he spoke, the high-pitched whine of emergency sirens could be heard only blocks away. Erika tucked the guns under her shirt as Parker held one hand in the air.

Ahead, a yellow taxi screeched to a halt. “Take us to the Liberty Bell.”

The driver gunned it, tires squealing, never stopping the conversation in Arabic he was having with his Bluetooth.

“The Liberty Bell?” Erika whispered with anger. “Are you crazy? They just found us at Joe’s old apartment. It won’t be a stretch to look near Independence Hall.” She was referring to the fact that while they’d been running from his uncle’s killers several months ago, they’d caused quite a scene at the venerable bell’s complex.

“You might be right, but there are going to be tons of people there and it’s not far from Nick’s office. We need to get him involved, and I need time to think. Those guys wanted to kill us, and anywhere is better than here right now.”

She said nothing, anger blazing across her soft features.

Parker continued. “Would you be surprised if this had something to do with what we saw on the news? Maybe what’s going on with oil forced their hand in some way.”

A light clicked on. She stared into space for a moment, and then slowly nodded.

“It’s a possibility. You know more about the financial side of this whole mess than I do, but it seems plausible.”