One Dead Witness (10 page)

She executed a pirouette for him.

‘
Can’t see a thing,’ he admitted.

He slid the miniature encrypted radio into the pouch, then
threaded the fine wire of the press-to-talk button down his sleeve
and into the palm of his left hand. He secured it with
flesh-coloured Band Aid, adjusting it minutely so he could grip it
and comfortably press the button with his thumb. A wire-free
earpiece was already implanted in his ear and a microphone -
doubling as a tie pin - was pinned to his tie. In order to transmit
he had to talk down to his chest without falling into the trap of
mumbling his words.

He stood to attention and tugged down the hem of his jacket.
He cocked his head at Myrna.

‘
Obviously I can see the bulge when you do that,’ she said
witheringly.

Kruger let go. The jacket bounced back to its normal
shape.

‘
That’s better.’

He picked up the pistol from his desk top - a Sig Sauer P230
in .765 Browning calibre, the standard blue-black version with an
eight-round magazine capacity. It was the gun all his operatives
were issued with whenever necessary, and had been chosen by Kruger
following his Army and police experience. A lightweight weapon,
rugged and very simple to handle and a good size for concealed
carrying.

He clicked the magazine out, emptied and re-loaded it so he
was satisfied. After slotting the mag back into the butt, he placed
the gun into the holster on his belt at the small of his back.
Another piece of equipment hopefully hidden by his
jacket.

Myrna had done exactly the same.

She smiled at him.

‘
Sorry about all this,’ he said with a pathetic
shrug.

‘
We all make mistakes. Let’s just hope this puts yours behind
us all.’

There was a light knock on the door. The three other members
of that night’s team sauntered confidently into the
room.

There were the two brothers, Jimmy and Dale Armstrong - two
ex-cops with a lot of SWAT and undercover experience behind them.
Then there was Kelly Marks, former employee of Bell in the area of
Communications Engineering. All three had been fully
briefed.

They were bang on time. Kruger greeted them warmly. They had
been approached for their expertise and trustworthiness ... and, of
course, they were volunteers because Kruger would not make anyone
act against Bussola against their will.

‘
Ev’rybody a-rarin’?’ Kruger asked.

He received assent from all.

‘
Let’s go then,’ he said.

Danny stirred uncomfortably in her double bed.

She had been there six hours, had trouble getting to sleep
initially, and once there, had problems remaining. She tossed and
rolled, sweating uncomfortably into the pillow and duvet. Too hot,
then too cold. Never in quite the most comfortable of
positions.

She was feeling sore from her encounter with Sands. Physically
and mentally.

Her face smarted from the open-hander he had given her. The
blow the base of her spine received when he’d dropped her onto the
ground had jarred the whole of her body and her lumber region
throbbed. The bump on the back of her head had transformed into a
tender swelling the size of a ping-pong ball and was giving her a
roaring headache despite the Anadin.

And she was angry - deep down and all over. Why had she let
herself get taken by surprise like that! She should have known what
a sneaky, low-down bastard Sands could be - after all, hadn’t he
been having an adulterous affair for several months? And why hadn’t
she fought back? She was perfectly capable of it. And now, damnit,
she was indebted to Henry Christie. For God’s sake, she could fight
her own battles, didn’t need a man to come to her
rescue.

Danny sighed as she remembered the heavy figure of Sands
straddling her and admitted to herself that she had been well and
truly beaten. It was a good job Henry
had
come along, but (and here she
thumped her pillow with frustration), she did not want to be
beholden to anyone, let alone a man, even if he was a nice guy. The
frustration turned to a giggle as she pictured Henry dancing about,
holding his sore fist ... and then the laugh faded. A feeling of
dread seeped into the pit of her stomach when she recalled Sands’s
body out cold on the garage floor ... and she knew it wasn’t
over.

She rubbed her eyes, squinted at the digital alarm clock.
4.03, the green figures informed her. Time to get up in just over
three hours’ time.

She cursed, gingerly resettled herself in the bed, eyes wide
open, all senses switched on full blast.

‘
Sleep ... sleep ... deep sleep,’ she willed herself
rhythmically.

From outside she heard a noise which sent a shock right
through her. A kind of scraping that put her teeth on edge. Metal
on metal. Then a cracking, snapping sound, like a dry twig being
broken in two.

She listened hard. Her body tensed up.

Silence.

She relaxed, breathed out, certain she was hearing things that
were not there.

It came again, the scraping.

She flung back the duvet and shot out of bed in an instant,
crossing the room, drawing the curtain back just far enough to see
out. Her car was parked in the short driveway in front of her
house, partly obscured by a tree in the garden.

She put a hand over her eyes to eliminate the glare from the
nearby street lamp.

Nothing. No movement. Bugger all.

Just imagination. Or cats screwing.

She uttered an expletive, let the curtain fall back, trotted
to the 100, then dropped wearily back into bed.

At 4.10 she closed her eyes and was immediately
asleep.

At 4.11 a full house brick, expertly aimed, exploded through
her bedroom window, shattering glass with a sound like a shotgun
blast. It powered its way past the curtain and landed on Danny’s
pillow, only inches from her face, showering her with
glass.

A particularly nasty shard sliced into her left
cheek.

‘
This is nice, Steve, I’m really impressed,’ Myrna nodded
approvingly. She heaped another forkful of the excellent
Arroz con pollo
into her
mouth and licked her lips after she had consumed it.

‘
Yeah, and it’s also owned by Mario Bussola,’ he said, adding
begrudgingly, ‘and every damn cent we spend in here goes from our
accounts into his. We are helping to support his
lifestyle.’

‘
Aw, it don’t stop it being nice though,’ Myrna said through
another mouthful of chicken. ‘We might as well get something good
out of this before we all lose our ‘jobs,’ she concluded
wickedly.

Kruger frowned, unhappy at being unable to relax. Had the
circumstances been different he could really have enjoyed the
evening and no doubt have chanced it with Myrna, even though she
was strictly a ‘no no’ on his list as far as women were concerned -
i.e. married and employed by him. A very uncool
combination.

He tried to chill out and soak in the atmosphere. It wasn’t
easy, not least because of the radio under his left arm, gun at his
back, earpiece in his ear and transmit button stuck to his
palm.

The Club Montoya was a nightclub situated in the basement of
the Hotel Montoya. The hotel was perhaps one of Bussola’s finest
establishments, if not the finest of the seven hotels he owned. It
was also one of South Beach’s hottest locations. The hotel was Art
Deco done to death, all the rage with the young business end of
Miami, with four themed restaurants, two pools, a sports complex
and very, very superior-priced rooms.

The nightclub, open from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. every day, and
soundproofed from the hotel, had become very much the place for
everyone who was anyone to be seen in. Gays, Latinos,
cross-dressers. Even white male heterosexuals.

It had a dozen bars and two restaurants, one of which clients
had to skirt through to enter the nightclub proper. This was the
one in which Kruger and Myrna were sitting. It served expensive,
but highly palatable Cuban food.

Kruger hoped the information given by Felicity about her
wayward husband’s whereabouts ‘sometime tonight’ was good gen.
Otherwise it would be a wasted evening and Kruger wanted to spend
as little time and effort on a case which would bring his company
nothing in terms of money or kudos.

He hoped to end it tonight by jumping onto Bussola’s trail,
finding him with a piece of unofficial ass, reporting the news back
to Felicity, together with some evidence, and then -
zap!
- calling it
quits.

Kruger was enough of a realist, though, to know things were
unlikely to turn out as smoothly as that.

‘
You told hubby you’re dining out with the boss tonight?’
Kruger smiled.

‘
Of course. He’s away in Salt Lake City for a couple of days at
a seminar. We spoke on the phone earlier.’

‘
Is he very liberal?’

‘
He trusts me, Steve.’ She leaned forwards, elbow points on the
table, and rested her chin on her thumbs. ‘He knows I would never
be unfaithful with you.’ She stressed the last two words with a
light sneer.

Kruger raised his eyebrows. But before he could respond with a
feisty remark. . .

‘
He’s here!’ Their earpieces blurted into life, making them
both jump out of their skins.

It was Kelly’s voice, broadcasting from the back of the comms
van parked a little way down the street outside the hotel. She
commanded a good view of the entrance of the Hotel Montoya through
the lens of a high-powered night intensifier camera mounted in the
side of the vehicle. She was sitting in the back of the van in a
cosy little room with a bank of miniature TV screens and radio
equipment. ‘He’s getting out the back of his car ... accompanied by
another guy and two bodyguards ... they’re going into the hotel ...
they’re out of my line of sight ... now!’

‘
And coming into the foyer,’ Jimmy Armstrong said, taking over
the commentary from his position half-hidden by a huge marble
pillar near the reception desk.

‘
I hope the two assholes with him are not the two who were with
Liss yesterday, the ones who kidnapped me,’ Kruger mused, thinking
out loud. ‘If they are, we might as well call it off right now.
Damn, shoulda thought about that.’ He wasn’t too concerned about
Bussola slapping eyes on him because Kruger believed the mobster
had never seen him before.

‘
Now he’s headin’ towards the club entrance,’ Jimmy continued.
‘It’s his usual firepower,’ he added, referring to the bodyguards,
meaning they were Bussola’s regular minders.

Kruger sat upright. He reached out, gently took Myrna’s hands
and held them across the table. He looked into her bright brown
sparkling eyes.

‘
Kruger received,’ he said into his radio. He tried to give
Myrna a look of love tinged with lust.

Myrna eased herself into her role. She leaned further
forwards, making the scenario seem more intimate, but also giving
herself a good, unobstructed view over Kruger’s shoulder to the
club entrance.

Bussola, A.N. Other, and two bodyguards came into
sight.

‘
Here he is,’ she whispered to Kruger, fluttering her eyelids.
‘Got him,’ she said into the miniature mike which was positioned,
secured by tape, between her breasts. In her present lean-forwards
position, Kruger could see it there. By angling his head forwards a
few more degrees he could have spoken into it. He caught his breath
and concentrated on the task in hand.

‘
He’s coming towards us,’ Myrna warned, seeing that Bussola and
his small entourage had entered the club.

Myrna lifted an arm languidly and placed a cool hand around
Kruger’s neck. She scratched him naughtily, drew his face a little
nearer to hers, then suddenly pulled him even closer across the
small table so that her mouth was next to his ear and his mouth was
only millimetres away from her cleavage. He became very
hot.

She pretended to whisper love things into his ear.

‘
He’s only feet away now,’ she said. ‘I confirm he’s with
another guy and two goons.’

Kruger was content to receive the information from his present
position.

‘
Now walking around the perimeter of the restaurant.’ Kruger
felt Myrna’s big soft mouth brushing his ear. Her voice became very
husky. Her lips tickled him as they moved. ‘He’s right behind you,
babe,’ she murmured. ‘I didn’t realise he was such a big, fat
bastard, and the guy he’s with is enormous too. . . I could reach
out and touch them ... now he’s gone past ... approaching the
entrance to the Tropicana Bar.’

As Bussola and company went through the doors to the bar, a
roar of loud music boomed out.

‘
And now I’ve got him,’ Dale Armstrong confirmed from his
position inside the bar.

Myrna leaned back and pushed Kruger gently away.

He blew a long breath and loosened his neck-tie, sadly aware
that he had been as close as he would ever get to Myrna’s
breasts.