Blood Trust - Eric van Lustbader [136]
She opened the door and stepped out. As she brushed past Fraine, she handed off her cell. He gave her a quick look and she gave him a tentative smile back.
“Don’t worry, Nona,” he said.
Blondie smirked as he took her into custody. “Those are the last words the condemned always hears.”
* * *
“NOT TONIGHT.” Vera wrapped her raincoat around herself.
Gunn stirred on the bed. “Why is tonight different from any other night?”
“My medical leave is over.” Vera stepped into the new Louboutins he had bought her. Actually, he’d bought her two pairs. He could be generous like that. “I have to get back onto campus before midnight.”
Rolling over, Gunn checked the alarm clock on the bedside table. “There’s still an hour and a half.” He wore underpants and nothing else. That’s how he slept.
“Andy, I don’t want to get into trouble my first night back.” She picked up the shopping bag with the second pair of Louboutins. “Besides, I’m dead tired. Even you’ve got to admit it’s been a long fucking day.”
He took her hand and began kissing it, rising up her arm. “Tish,” he said with a fake Spanish accent, “you know how your words inflame me.”
“Poor Gomez,” she said with Morticia’s cool, regal voice. “You’ll just have to take care of yourself tonight.”
* * *
OUTSIDE, THE night air refreshed her and she began to walk. The stink of blood and brains remained in her nose, and she snorted like a bridling horse. At a brisk pace, she walked three blocks west, then one block south, where she paused to look around, as if getting her bearings. As she did so, a black Lincoln Town Car appeared around a corner and cruised slowly toward her. She ignored it until it began to slow, then watched as it stopped abreast of her. It had smoked windows, so it was impossible to see inside. The front passenger’s window slid down and the driver, leaning her way, said, “Would a hundred dollars do it, doll?”
She leaned down. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
The driver shrugged. “Five, then. How about that?”
“Yeah, how the fuck about it?”
She pulled on the handle of the rear door, it swung open, and she climbed in. The moment she plunked herself down on the backseat, the Lincoln took off. She noticed that the partition between the front and back was up. It, too, was opaque.
“How’d it go today?” Henry Holt Carson said from the other side of the seat.
Vera gave him a vulpine smile. “You know, Daddy, you really are a sonuvabitch.”
* * *
JACK WAS briefing Paull on the situation back in D.C.—minus Annika’s involvement—when he received the text message from Heroe. Reading it, the hairs on his forearms stirred. Middle Bay Bancorp. Could this be the nexus point that linked all the disparate elements together?
Wondering why Heroe had texted him instead of calling and explaining herself, he punched in her number. The phone rang four or five times before a man’s voice answered.
“Who’s this?” Jack said.
“I’d ask the same of you,” the voice said.
Something was very wrong. “Jack McClure. Where’s Chief Heroe?”
“This is Alan Fraine, Chief of Police. I’m Chief Heroe’s boss. Unfortunately, Nona has been taken into custody by the Feds. She’s been charged with the murder of Secret Service Agent Peter McKinsey.”
“What the hell happened?”
Fraine told him about Heroe’s trip to Roosevelt Island and the discovery of two bodies, one being that of Agent Naomi Wilde.
Jack’s heart sank. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “That second body is without doubt Arjeta Kraja, an illegal alien and part of the white slave trade business that Heroe and I and Naomi were investigating. McKinsey was involved in the ring in some way none of us yet understand. But it’s clear that he murdered Naomi Wilde because she got too close to identifying certain individuals connected with the ring.”
“Your enemies are exceptionally powerful and well connected, Mr. McClure. Nona’s in serious trouble. When it comes to the Feds these days … well, I don’t have to tell you how difficult it will be even getting to talk to her let alone finding her top-flight representation.”
“Hopefully it won