Once a Killer (5 page)

Michael returned to his chair and tried to control his breathing. “So what do you want from me?”

Rondell grinned. “That’s better. Now we‘re getting somewhere. There’s no reason we can’t be civil about this.”

“Civil? I’m surprised you even know what that means.”

“We’re both businessmen. Let’s see if we can handle this in a businesslike fashion, shall we?”

“Handle what?”

Rondell stood up, walked to the window, and leaned his back against it, his hands in his trouser pockets. “I hear you’re a pretty good lawyer. Even I’m impressed by how far you’ve climbed out of the cesspit we grew up in. From what I hear, you’ve made a name for yourself over there at Dudek’s. Seems you handle some of their clients’ biggest deals.”

“So you’ve checked me out.” Michael uncrossed his arms and turned both palms toward the ceiling. “Is this actually going anywhere?”

“I told you to keep things civil.”

“That’s rich coming from the man who has his hired muscle standing outside the door.”

Rondell rolled his head. “Okay. I thought a professional man like you would want to handle things in a certain way. Let’s dispense with the pleasantries.”

Michael snorted. “Is that what they were? You haven’t changed.”

“Long story short. I run a successful hedge fund here. There’s a team of twenty traders on this floor alone, and I have another six on the west coast.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“I don’t give a shit whether you’re impressed or not. The thing is, the work you do could be a real help to my operation.”

“As I told your two knuckleheads when they met me, I’m not looking to take on more clients.”

“Do I look stupid? I’m not interested in becoming a client. I have my own lawyers. I want something much more valuable from you.”

“And that is?”

Rondell returned to his seat and pulled out a stack of papers from the top drawer of his cabinet. “See these?” he said, pointing to the documents now strewn across his desk.

Michael glanced at them, but made no attempt to read them. They appeared to be a mix of newspaper cuttings and printouts from financial websites. “What are they?”

“They’re all the deals you’ve advised on, involving public companies, in the last five years. We’ve checked them out, and there are some serious transactions here. You must be making a fortune.”

Michael picked up a couple of the papers and scanned them, recognizing the transactions as ones on which he’d advised. “These are my deals.” He threw them back on the table. “So what?”

Rondell gave Michael a knowing look. “Don’t tell me you haven’t worked it out yet. I thought you were an intelligent man.”

Michael was not going to help by making this easy for Rondell. “Worked what out?”

Rondell looked at the documents on the desk. “Can you imagine what this information would have been worth to my fund if I’d known about these deals before they happened?”

Michael ignored the question and kept a straight face.

“They’d have been worth millions to us,” Rondell said. “Just a little word from you at the right time, Danny Boy, and we could have traded in these stocks before the deals were announced to the market. Bam!” He slammed the desk top with his right palm. “Just like that, we’d have made a bucket-load of money.”

“And you think I’m going to feed you information on my future deals?”

Rondell made a pistol out of the index and middle fingers of his right hand and pointed it at Michael before making a shooting sound. “You got it.”

“You must be crazy. That’s never going to happen.”

“Hey. I don’t want you to think there’s nothing in this for you.” Rondell, leaned forward onto the desk again. “I’m a reasonable man. We plan to cut you into every deal. Believe me, it’ll make the money you’re earning now look like chicken feed. And the best bit is that no one will know anything about our little scheme. There’s no way anyone would connect the two of us.”

“Why would I do anything to help you?”

“Because you owe me.”

“You really think I owe you something. Your mind must have been twisted up pretty badly when they locked you away.”

“You’ll do it.”

“Go to hell. Not only is what you’re suggesting against the law, but you’re asking me to breach the confidence of my clients. That will never happen.”

Rondell laughed. “You really haven’t changed. You were always one to do the right thing. I guess your mother knocked that into you. But you’re forgetting one important little fact, my friend: you’ve already broken the law. You’re a convicted criminal. Remember?”

“I’m no friend of yours, and what I did as a young child, under your influence, has nothing to do with the man I am today.”

Rondell gave Michael a shit look. “I’m afraid it does. People like us don’t change. Not really.”

“Don’t judge me by your standards. Some of us have climbed a long way out of the gutter.”

“What do you think your partners would say if they learned what you did back in Chicago? Do you think any of them have a clue they’ve got a convicted killer as a partner in their prestigious firm? And think how your clients would react when they learn they’ve been working with a murderer.”

Michael gripped his left thumb tight with his right hand. “I’m no killer.”

“But that’s not what the records show. We were both sent away for what we did to that man, or have you conveniently blocked that out?”

“Besides, you’d be breaking your own cover if you tried to expose my real identity.”

“The difference is I have much less to lose. I’m not the one playing happy family up at Westport. What would Caroline say if she learned the truth about her husband? I assume she knows nothing about your real past?”

Michael’s heart felt like it was about to explode in his chest. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to get out of here. This lowlife was now threatening to blow his family apart. That could never be allowed to happen.

Jesus
.

“And what would your two daughters think of their father? I’d imagine—”

Michael raised his right hand. “Enough.”

Rondell flashed his 100-watt smile. “I’m just getting started.”

Michael exhaled loudly while looking down at the floor. “Okay. I’ll do it. Tell me what you need.”

“I can’t hear you.”

“I said I’ll do what you want.” Michael raised his head. “But you bring my family into this, and I swear to you, I’ll kill you.”

Rondell laughed then threw a business card across the desk. “That’s my personal cell number. Keep it with you at all times. Now give me yours.”

Michael told him the number for his iPhone, and Rondell keyed it into his cell.

Rondell rolled his head again. “I’ll be in touch when I need you. Now get the fuck out of my office.”

Glaring at his opponent, Michael stood up and opened the door. Bull Neck blocked his path until Rondell nodded that it was okay to let him past. Once outside the building, Michael found a narrow alleyway off Cedar Street. He managed only a few steps down it before leaning his hands against the wall and throwing up.

Chapter 4

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of the Four Seasons Hotel were on the northwest corner of the building. Through the full height windows of their executive suite, thirty-nine floors up, Michael and Caroline enjoyed an uninterrupted view of Central Park.

“Come back to bed,” Caroline said, pulling back the duvet. “We don’t have to leave for another hour.”

Michael walked to the bed, slipped off the Egyptian cotton bathrobe, and snuggled up beside her. “Thanks for organizing this.” He kissed her on the lips.

“You’re welcome. It didn’t seem right staying at home. I wanted us to celebrate it properly. It’s not every day my husband makes equity partner.”

“I’d have been just as happy at home with you and the girls.”

“I know. That’s because you don’t know how to treat yourself. You’ll spend money on us, but never on you. It’s as though you feel guilty in some way.”

“Not really. I get a lot of pleasure seeing you enjoy it. That’s all I need.”

“Speaking of pleasure.” Caroline wrapped her legs around him.

A little over an hour later, they were sitting in the back of a Lincoln Town Car, crossing Brooklyn Bridge with Manhattan behind them. Caroline looked beautiful, wearing her favorite black dress and the diamond earrings Michael had bought her from Tiffany last Christmas. He wore a casual, gray wool suit, which she had chosen for him, as she had all his clothes.

The driver dropped them at the front of the River Café at the far end of the bridge. Sitting at the bar in the corner, they sipped cocktails and enjoyed the view of the Manhattan skyline as they waited for their table. Caroline had requested a table right next to the front window, and ten minutes later, one became free. The moment the waiter arrived, she ordered a bottle of Vilmart Champagne before Michael could say anything.

He smiled at her. “I wouldn’t have ordered a Miller Lite, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“You normally do.”

The waiter came with their Champagne, lit the candle in the middle of the table, and took their order. Caroline chose lightly poached sea scallops, followed by a fillet of Chilean turbot.

“I’ll have exactly the same,” said Michael, handing back the menus.

When the waiter left, Caroline reached across the table and squeezed Michael’s hand. “You’re an enigma to me, Mr. Hoffman, even now, after ten years.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You have a high-powered job, and yet, take you outside your work environment, and you don’t know what to do.”

“That’s why I married you.”

“Anyway, I love you for it.”

“Thank you. So you don’t think you married a roughneck?”

“Not at all. You should be proud of what you’ve achieved.”

“I don’t really think about it that way. I’ve always just wanted to provide the best for you and the girls. That’s what drives me.”

“I don’t know many people who lose their parents at a very young age, grow up in a children’s home, and then make it to equity partner in one of the biggest law firms in the world. That’s an immense achievement. You have a right to be proud.”

Michael looked away. The pang of guilt made it difficult to maintain eye contact with his wife. Ten years ago, when they’d first met, he’d told her he was an only child and that both his parents had been killed in a car wreck when they lived in Baltimore. He could hardly tell her now that he’d just been to his mother’s funeral, nor that he’d actually grown up in Chicago’s south side before being incarcerated at an institution outside Baltimore. Michael was desperate to end the lies and to share everything with the woman he loved. He wanted to tell her the whole truth about his childhood: how his drunken mother tormented him, and how he ended up in juvenile detention on a murder conviction. That way she would understand what made him the person he was today, why he appeared an enigma to her. But that truth would devastate her and the life they’d built for their family. He would never be able to do that to them.

It was a welcome relief when the waiter brought their appetizers.

“So what do you think of the view?” Caroline said. “I can’t believe you’ve never been here before.”

“It’s fantastic.” Michael stared out of the window toward the twinkling lights of the city across the East River.

Just a few days ago, somewhere over there in lower Manhattan, he’d met a man he’d hoped he would never have to see again, a man who had the capacity to destroy their lives because of what he knew about Michael’s past.

Chapter 5

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from Grand Central a couple of minutes before seven. Although it was crammed with commuters making their way home, Michael managed to find a window seat. He threw his briefcase in the space above his head, nodded to the man sitting opposite him, and then settled down, resting his scalp against the cold window.

Since he’d met with Rondell at his grimy little office building last week, he’d thought of little else. How the hell was he going to avoid cooperating with that criminal piece of shit? Trying to ignore the conversations going on around him, Michael closed his eyes when the train pulled out. There had to be a way out of this mess. Maybe he could go to the police or the FBI and tell them about Rondell and his illegal insider trading plans? There was a chance they already knew something about him. This couldn’t be the first time he’d leaned on someone, or paid them, to provide confidential information. But going to the authorities would mean having to tell them Rondell was blackmailing him, and that would require an explanation of what exactly the man had over him. How could he expect to answer their questions without revealing some of his past? There was no telling how that might end if they chose to look further into Michael’s background. He couldn’t take that risk.