Judge & Jury - James Patterson [74]
He turned to Pavel. “Go and look at the board, son. I moved.”
The boy hesitated.
“Go and look at the board, I said.” His voice was much harsher.
Pavel swallowed. “Yes, Father.”
The boy left, and Nordeshenko turned back to the man at the door, feeling his every nerve grow tight. “Are you insane? Come in, quickly,” he said. He looked past Reichardt and up the street. “Are you certain there was no tail?”
“Relax, Remi,” the South African said. “I’ve come through three countries. I’ve been doing this as long as you. You’ve got a nice-looking boy.”
“It’s not Remi here.” Nordeshenko looked at him sharply. “It’s Richard.”
Reichardt stepped in and whistled admiringly at the broad, spectacular view. “Business must be good, Richard.”
“Business is over,” Nordeshenko said. “And you better understand one thing clearly—my wife and son . . .”
“Don’t worry,” Reichardt said, “I won’t be a burden. You said this was the quietest place in the world. It’ll only be for a few days. Until the world cools down.”
Nordeshenko didn’t like this. It violated all the rules of the arrangements. But what choice did he have? There was no way to tie them to the States. No way to tie them together at all.
“All right,” he said. “Just a few days.”
“Thanks,” the South African said. “But, Remi, you are mistaken on one thing.”
“And what’s that?” Nordeshenko asked, picking up one of Reichardt’s bags.
“Our business.” The blond killer sighed. “It is never over.”
Chapter 92
THE LOUDSPEAKER CRACKLED. “Delta Flight 8976 to Tel Aviv is ready for boarding.”
I stood there waiting at gate 77, gazing down the terminal. My heart was racing pretty fast. I glanced at my watch. The plane was boarding. I had to get on it, with or without her.
Where was she?
Maybe she had second thoughts. That would be okay, I told myself. She’d be smart to stay out of this. She’d be smart to let me do what had to be done.
“All rows, Delta Flight 8976 to Tel Aviv.”
I didn’t have a precise plan. I had no idea how I was going to handle it when I got there. How could I? All I knew was that I was going to find Kolya Remlikov and somehow make him tell me where Cavello was. No professional courtesy here—no Geneva convention. I’d put the muzzle of my gun down his throat and cock the hammer. I’d blow off a kneecap if I had to. He would talk. The question was, then what?
A Hasidic family in black rushed past me onto the boarding platform, with loud shouts of relief. They looked to be the last ones on. I scanned the terminal. No sign. I put my travel case over my shoulder and went to board.
It was better this way, right?
Then I saw her. Hurrying toward me. Still a good ways down the corridor.
I felt a warm, glycerin wave of relief surge through me. Who are you kidding, Nick? You wanted her here very much.
Andie was wearing a red leather jacket, her hair tucked under a Knicks cap, Jarrod’s cap, a travel bag slung loosely over her shoulder. She looked incredibly beautiful to me. And brave. I knew then I probably couldn’t have done this thing alone. I wanted her with me. Andie made me believe it was right.
She stopped about two feet away.
“Let’s get something straight.” I tried to make a joke of it. “If this was the altar, we’d be looking for a refund on the reception right now.”
“I’m sorry, Nick. I had to say good-bye. To Jarrod.”
That certainly shut me up.
She shook her head contritely. “Actually, I’ve been sitting in the terminal next to the Burger King for the last hour.”
“Second thoughts?”
“I don’t know, maybe. Probably. But not about this. I love you, Nick.”
I stood there looking at her, her eyes glistening. I nodded, gently placing my hand against her cheek. “That’s what I was thinking here. That I love you, too. That I might not be able to board that plane without you.”
“I knew that’s what you were bumbling around trying to say the other night.”
The PA interrupted us—the final boarding call. We stood there another second. The ticket agents were getting ready to close the doors.
“So what are we doing?” I shrugged, shifting, unsure