The Lazarus Trap (13 page)

When Val returned to the hotel from breakfast, Vince was behind the counter. The lobby was empty. Vince watched him approach the counter. There was a change to the atmosphere, a charged compression that signaled business about to be done.

Val walked straight up to the goateed weightlifter and demanded, “Where's my watch?”

“The watch is being checked out.” Vince handled the question with his standard calm. “Forget the watch. Far as you're concerned, the watch is history.”

“So you've found a guy who'll do me a passport?”

Vince did a thing with his shoulders. “Maybe yes, maybe no. Things are tough in this town. You hear what I'm saying?”

“I hear the words but they're not connecting.”

“Especially since the Rico Act. I introduce you to somebody and you get caught, I go down with you.”

“So how much will the passport cost me?”

“You need to focus here. We're not talking about the passport yet. We're not even close to that point. First you got to take care of me.”

“You're telling me an eight-thousand-dollar watch isn't enough?”

“Forget the eight. Your watch is maybe gonna bring two-five on the street. So yeah, the watch makes for a nice down payment.” He studied Val. “You don't get it, do you?”

“Obviously not.”

He moved forward. It was a fractional shift, just a slight inching forward onto his toes. But the man's menace reached across the counter and gripped him hard. “Where'd you hide your stash, Jeffrey?”

“My money?” Val's voice sounded strangled to his own ears. “You know I can't tell you that.”

“Tell me, don't tell me. It makes no difference.” He did that thing with his eyes again. Opening them into a blank void. One large enough to swallow Val whole. “If I want it, it's mine.”

“I thought—”

“You're in the city now. This means you got to learn a different way of thinking.” Vince's words punched at Val with silken fists. “It cost you money to get into this town, right? It's gonna cost you a lot more to get out. You got no place to run, no place to hide. You're an easy mark.”

“What are you saying?”

“You been straight with me. An honest sucker. So I'm gonna lay it out. I look at you, I know you're sitting on serious money.”

“All I've got—”

“No, wait. Just hear me out. I'm not talking about what you're carrying in your pocket or got hidden away upstairs. Most guys in my situation, that's all they'd be interested in. How much are you carrying and how are they gonna take it from you? Gun, knife, alley, lobby, it's all the same.”

“But you're different.”

“We're standing here talking, aren't we?”

Val fought the words around the steel band constricting his chest. “So you're looking for a reason not to fleece me.”

“See, I knew you were smart.”

Val struggled to think beyond the world of trouble inside that guy's gaze. Things he had no interest in ever coming closer to than the other side of this counter. “Let's say you're right. Let's say we agree the watch is, what you said.”

“Down payment.”

“Right. And I accept what you're telling me. That I've got to pay you twice. Now I owe you for two services. Not one. First, I pay you for making the call. And second, I pay for you to keep me safe from everything bad out there I don't want to know about.”

“Now you're talking.” Vince eased back. The threat slipped a notch. “Now you're thinking street.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“You get me the passport and you keep me safe. When I get where I'm going, I promise to wire you another ten thousand dollars.”

“I'm thinking more like twenty.”

There was no arguing with that face. “Twenty it is.”

“You're asking me to take a serious risk here.”

“Is that a yes?”

“You're asking me to make an investment in your future. Do I take you now, or do I take this chance you're an honorable man? I've done this before. Guys nobody else would've given a dime, I've loaned them a ton of money. Every week, I don't have to go looking for them. I don't have to call them on the phone. They show up. They appreciate what I've done for them.”

Vince's gaze peeled away skin, bone, pulse. But Val did not look away. “I'll do what I say.” Vince must have found what he was looking for. He reached for the phone. “Don't you let me down, man. That's all I got to say to you. You better not let me down.”

THE COMPLEX OF NARROW TOWNHOUSES OVERLOOKED THE Intracoastal Waterway and one of Miami's millionaire islands. Terrance rang the doorbell and stared over the concrete balustrade at wealth on display. A twenty-five-foot Donzi powered past, the motor's rumble thudding in his chest. Across the waterway he could see gardeners working on an island palace's lawn. The island contained perhaps three dozen homes and two high-rise condos. The cheapest apartment went for two and a half mil. Terrance smiled into the sunlight and turned as he heard footsteps dance across the tiles inside. Stefanie deserved just such a place. And he was just the sort of person to give it to her. But not Miami. This town held too much baggage for them now. Bermuda, perhaps. Yes, that was just the ticket.

She opened the door, the shadow staining her face. As always. “Hello, Terrance.”

“Good morning, my dear. How nice to see you.” He kissed the proffered cheek. “Thank you so much for allowing me to stop by.”

“Come in. You look exhausted.”

“Yes, well, as I said, things are threatening to unravel at work.”

A queen. That was how she had looked the first time Terrance had seen her. And a queen she remained. Even dressed as she was in linen shorts, sneakers, and a white shirt knotted about her tanned midriff. Even bearing the shadow of another man. “Would you care for coffee?”

“That would be splendid, thank you.” He climbed the stairs behind her and entered the living room. Terrance pretended to take great interest in a sailboat beating upwind. But his gaze remained upon the island mansions. A year should be enough time for public attention to swing away from Insignia and focus upon whatever commercial disaster came up next. Then he would quietly slip in his resignation and depart. A waterfront palace in Bermuda and an elegant city estate on Eaton Square.

“Why are you smiling?”

He turned away from the future he was determined to give her. “Happy to see you. As always.”

Her gaze flitted away, resting nowhere for very long. “Melissa is still asleep, I'm afraid.”

“Ah, well, never mind.” He accepted the bone china cup and sipped. Freshly brewed, a dash of milk, half a sugar. Perfect. “Excellent coffee, my dear.”

Her eye caught sight of the Town Car parked across the street. A uniformed chauffeur leaned against the gleaming hood, staring out over the water. “Is that yours?”

“Yes. As I said on the phone, this is just a swift in-and-out.”

“You didn't drive down?”

“No time for that, I'm afraid. I came by plane. It's rather an around-the-elbow sort of journey. I'm actually on my way to New York.”

“You flew from Orlando to Miami to connect to New York?”

“I've rented a jet. Rather, the company did. Swifter, don't you know?”

“I suppose I could wake Melissa—”

“Don't be silly. I'll be quite happy to step in and have a glance.”

He followed her down the hallway toward the bedrooms. “You look lovely, Stef.”

She gave no indication she had heard him. Which was why he said it when he had, in motion, her back to him. He knew she was listening, taking in every word. He saw her steps falter slightly, then speed up. He was nothing if not observant.

And patient.

He had wanted her from the first moment he had set eyes upon her. A reception at the new art gallery. A gathering of Orlando's elite. Someone had pointed her out to him. Her father was an orthopedic surgeon who taught at the University of Miami and held a residency at the new Celebration hospital south of Orlando. Stefanie was an art historian and professional evaluator. She also consulted on rare porcelains to a dozen or so museums around the country.

But Val Haines had met her four months earlier. The night before she and Terrance had met, Val had proposed. And Stefanie had accepted.

By then, Terrance and Val were already corporate enemies. Val had beaten Terrance out of a major promotion, the first time anyone had ever managed such a victory at his expense. By the night he met Stefanie, Terrance had been smiling around bitter vows of vengeance for over a year.

Terrance had tried to break them up. Stefanie had been enormously attracted to Terrance as well. They had met several times at art events and charity functions, the sorts of affairs Val loathed. Terrance had tracked her movements and inserted himself where he knew Val would not show up. They had even met once for lunch, his mother in attendance for good measure, there to discuss an item that had been in Terrance's family for three generations. A Meissen vase. His mother had approved of this sloe-eyed beauty with the hair that was both brown and gold. Which was in itself a revelation. His mother approved of almost nothing and no one.

But Terrance had not managed to interrupt her marriage to Val Haines. So he waited. He was always there, never pressing. Just close enough to snag her attention from time to time, always there with a laugh, a friendly observation, a warm hello. Waiting.

When the fractures in her relationship with Val had started, Terrance was the first to know, because she had told him. How Val was so desperate to start a family. How he adored his parents and his growing-up years, and yearned for such a relationship with a child of his own. But Stefanie felt none of this. She felt like she had been put on a highly public and extremely traumatic treadmill, racing from doctor to doctor in a constant desperate search for what was wrong.

By then, of course, Terrance's corporate battles with Val Haines were public knowledge, at least among those who followed such goings-on. Which had actually worked in his favor. For as the fissures grew worse between Stefanie and Val, who better should she approach for comfort than her old friend, the man Val hated most in the world? It really was too sweet.

Then came their affair, followed by the very messy divorce. All according to plan. The fact that she had become pregnant was the perfect crowning element.

Only at this point, something went very badly awry.

Rather than move in with him, Stefanie had retreated to Miami and a rental property owned by her father. She needed time to sort things out, was the only explanation she had given him. They had had their only argument at this point. But thankfully Terrance had retreated before tearing everything apart. He had played the hurt but loyal friend. Who wanted to be more than friends, of course. Particularly because of Melissa. Or so he claimed.

Stefanie arrived at the end of the hall and opened the door leading to her daughter's bedroom. Together they padded across the carpeted expanse and stood staring down at the crib. Melissa had emerged from her babyhood and was growing into quite an adorable little girl. Particularly when she was asleep. Terrance had no way with children. He found them odd little things, really. Particularly when they reverted to squalling bundles who could not properly communicate their needs. This was the time when it was good to have a nanny on constant call. Someone to take care of the nasty bits and return the child when it was freshly scented and smiling. But there were moments like now, when the little thing was bundled up in her flannel nightie, the hair soft as frost across her unblemished brow, and a pink tiger tucked snugly beneath her chin, when Terrance could imagine nothing finer than taking on the role of proud father.

He slipped his hand into Stefanie's, and counted it a minor triumph when she did not pull away. He had made no insistence upon seeing her. Instead, he had merely requested visitation rights to the child. Stefanie was far too much the lady ever to refuse him that.

As usual in such moments, Terrance inspected the little face for any sign of Val. The light was too meager, however, and his experience in such things utterly nil.

One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. That was how much it had cost him to bribe the technician. It was not merely the matter of changing a name on a document. The young woman had needed to depart these reaches forever. Terrance stared down at the daughter legally declared his own, holding the hand of the woman who would soon bear the same title, and counted it the best investment he had ever made.

He sighed with contentment and turned away.

To his satisfaction, Stefanie kept hold of his hand back down the hall and into the living room. He pointed to an earthen vase occupying a place of prominence on a fairy-legged side table. “That's new.”

“Ming. I discovered it at an estate sale. Quite a find, actually. I've already been offered twice what I paid by a local curator.”