Chapter 25
At six-thirty it was fully dark outside. Every light in the BOLO Building was still on. The decibel level was at an all-time high as everyone tried talking over everyone else to be heard. The topic of conversation was the giant evergreen in the middle of the foyer. Sometime during the afternoon, Dennis had dragged it in, set it up, and decorated it with Rite Aid decorations. The scent was heady and wafted throughout the building.
“Nice going, kid,” Ted said as he admired the young reporter’s handiwork.
“Where’d you get it?” Harry asked.
Dennis scowled. “Where do you think I got it, Harry? I called your wife, and she had it all ready for me. She told me how to set it up and here we are. I even wrapped the presents under the tree. I have not been idle.” He looked around, the frown building on his face. “What? So, I’m the only gift giver here? Where are your presents? Tell me they’re in the trunks of your cars?” He was rewarded with sheepish looks. Dennis shrugged. “Shame on all of you. It’s Christmas, and I know we’re all wired up, but for crying out loud, the drugstore even gift wraps.”
Jack stepped up to try to avert what he thought might become a major issue if he didn’t calm things down. “Christmas is at my house, Dennis. I have a tree and the presents go under it. We didn’t know you were going to do this, right, guys?” Everyone started to babble at once, agreeing with Jack. “So, you’re going to have to lug those presents to my house Christmas Day. Nice thought, though, and you know we appreciate it, right, guys?”
“Yeah, yeah,” the guys all agreed. Maggie stood on her toes and kissed Dennis on the cheek. “This is just so sweet of you, Dennis. And we all needed this. We’re all a little tense right now.”
“Okay, okay. No problem,” Dennis said, relief washing over him.
“Listen up, guys, and gal. I brought food, and I think we should chow down now. It’s going to be a long night, as you all know. And we need to run through our plan one more time before Lionel Marks gets here. I don’t want any screwups. This has to go off like clockwork. Everyone in agreement?” Jack asked.
When everyone agreed they were, he said, “Okay, I brought Italian and Chinese. We’re drinking tea,” Jack said, looking at Harry, “and soda. Orange and grape for Dennis and cola for the rest of you. We have a little over an hour, so let’s get to it.”
The little group talked about everything but what they were about to do in the coming hours. Maggie was the most verbal as she laid out one pitfall after another only to be shot down time after time. Or as Harry put it, “We’ve got it covered.” Finally, she relaxed and started to clear off the long conference table. “Save or not?” she asked, looking at the leftovers.
“We won’t be back here till the day after Christmas so no, don’t save it,” Jack said. “Cyrus does not like leftovers, and this kind of food isn’t good for him anyway.”
Ted looked down at his watch, which did everything but his laundry. “Ten minutes, and your guest should be here. Should we relocate or what?”
“I’ll let him in and bring him back here to the conference room. I need him to get back here under his own power without suspecting anything. Once he’s here inside, it’s a whole different ball game.”
In the foyer, Jack eyed the ugly banana tree and the beautiful Christmas tree as he paced the room from one end to the other. Like a little kid, he dropped to his haunches and poked and shook the beribboned gifts. He looked for the one that had his name on it and smiled. Guessing was half the fun. He remembered that when he was little at times he’d been disappointed when he found underwear or a scarf in an exquisitely wrapped package. He shook the box, but nothing rattled. Probably something for Cyrus, but no, he’d seen a package with Cyrus’s name on it. He finally set the package back where he’d found it and got to his feet just as the doorbell rang. He sucked in his breath and undid the one-of-a-kind security lock he’d commissioned when the building was being refurbished and opened the door. “Mr. Marks, you’re on time. I like that. Time is money. Sorry to call you on such short notice, but my time here in the District is short. So, if you’ll follow me to the conference room, we can finalize our business. I have everything here with me. My lawyer, Lizzie Fox, overnighted everything. Tomorrow, the banks will be open, so you can deposit the checks. That will work for you, won’t it, Mr. Marks?”
Marks nodded. “What is this building? I’ve seen it but never knew what kind of business operated here.” Managing a building like this here in Georgetown would certainly be a feather in his cap, he thought. The commission would be robust, not that it mattered at this point in time. His eyes were everywhere, mentally cataloging the cost of the furniture and the square footage.
“I just use it when I’m in town. The owners, friends of mine, decided to close for the holidays, so it worked out perfectly for me. A great bunch of guys own it. It’s a high-dollar consulting business.”
Lionel Marks went back to calculating the high-end furnishings and the cost of the building and the rent it would garner if he had it to rent out. Too bad he didn’t have more clients at this end of town instead of in that shit hole in Southeast. He could really clean up and fatten his bank account quickly. Still, it didn’t pay to get too greedy. He had this guy snookered, and if his calculations were spot-on, he’d walk out of here with 150 grand in his pocket.
Jack stopped at the conference room door and stood aside as he opened it. “After you, Mr. Marks.” The minute the door closed behind him, Jack snapped the dead bolt. The sound was like thunder in the quiet room.
Marks whirled around and noticed Cyrus, who was growling deep in his throat. Then he let his gaze circle the long table and the people seated in the plush padded chairs who had their eyes fixed on him. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. The words set up flashed through his mind. I’ve been set up.
Marks turned to Jack. “Who are these people? Are they the tenants living in the units you want me to manage?” Wrong. Wrong. Something wasn’t right. The hairs on the back of his neck moved with the air circulating from the room’s heating vent.
“In a manner of speaking. Have a seat.”
Marks sat down but only on the edge of his chair. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was being overly paranoid. Like hell. He could smell deception a mile away because he held a master’s degree in the subject of deception. Maybe he could bluff his way through whatever this was. “Could we speed this up, Mr. Tremaine? My family is waiting for me, and as I told you, I don’t do business after closing hours. I made an exception for you since you’re only in town for a few hours. Where are the contracts?”
“Well, you see, Lionel, it’s like this: there are no contracts, and my name isn’t Tremaine. I lied to you. The reason you’re here is we want your money. All of it. Don’t be shy, now, and try to tell us you don’t have any because we know differently. We know about all the property you own, including those two getaways in Hong Kong and Dubai. We know that you bought a ticket this morning for Hong Kong. Your plane leaves at five after six in the morning of December twenty-sixth. A one-way ticket. No companion ticket.”
Sweat beaded on Marks’s forehead as his stomach crunched into a hard knot. He knew it. Goddamnit. “What the hell are you talking about?” He looked down, fear in his eyes when he saw the big German shepherd circling his chair.
“Try this on for size, Mr. Marks,” Abner said as he slid a sheaf of papers across the table. “It must take many hours a day to shuffle all that money here, there, and yonder. I guess that’s why you don’t have time to requisition the repairs the tenants requested out there in Southeast. So what if a few people don’t have heat, so what if they don’t have hot water, so what if they can’t flush, so what if the electric doesn’t work. A busy man like you needs to tend to his finances. And I’m here to tell one and all that your finances are robust. Ooops, were robust. Were is the operative word here.”
Abner slid a second sheaf of papers across the table. “Take a look at the bottom line, Mr. Marks. Zero, straight across the board.”
Lionel Marks could feel Cyrus’s hot breath on his ankles. He’d never been so cold in his life. And yet he was sweating like a pig. He needed to get himself together. When he saw the zero balances, he forgot about the monster dog and how cold he was, and bellowed his outrage. “You fucking stole my money! Who the hell are you people?” He was on his feet, his face red with rage.
Cyrus reared up and backed away a step as his lips peeled back, showing a magnificent set of teeth. His growl sounded deadly. Marks paid no attention as he continued to rant and rave. “You bastard, you lied to me! You came to my office and pretended to want my help! And now you tell me you just stole all my money. You just wait till I get out of here! I know important people in high places. Unlock that goddamn door and let me out of here right now!”
Jack sighed. “That isn’t going to happen anytime soon, Mr. Marks.”
Cyrus hated to be ignored. He looked at his master, who shrugged. It was all Cyrus needed. He lived for moments like this, when he could sink his teeth into something substantial. He lunged, his teeth clamping down six inches below Marks’s belt.
“Ooooh.” Maggie grimaced. “I bet that hurts! Oooooh.”
Marks’s eyes rolled back in his head. He had a death grip on the arms of the chair he was now sitting on. The room went quiet.
Jack looked down at Cyrus, and said, “Okay, let him go. You didn’t break the skin, did you?” Cyrus just looked at his master as much as to say, I know the rules. The next time is when I get to go full bore. If there is a next time. Jack gave him a treat.
Jack fixed his stare on Lionel Marks, and said, “The next time, he’ll chew them off. Just so you know. Now, we want to ask you some questions. Oh, by the way, you will not be going to Hong Kong. Nor will you be spending the holidays with your family. You’re going to be spending them with your favorite client and his wife. Now, to the questions.”
“I’m not telling you anything. It’s client privilege. That was part of the deal. This is kidnapping. You can go to jail for this, and I’m calling the FBI as soon as I leave here,” Marks blustered.
Jack sighed. “Obviously, you haven’t been listening. You aren’t leaving here. Well, that’s not quite true; you are leaving but not for home. You won’t be making any calls to anyone. I guess you forgot about Cyrus here. Yes, we are kidnapping you. That part is true. The other true part is we are stealing your money. Ooops, correction. We already stole your money.
“Let’s get on with it. I don’t want to hear about any client privilege bullshit either. What did Sandford tell you when he signed on with you? Ah, you thought we didn’t know. Get it through your thick skull, we know everything. We just want to confirm what we already know. What kind of deal did you have with him and his wife? I won’t ask you again. What kind of deal did you have with Sandford and his wife?”
Marks looked around at the faces staring at him. He thought they looked evil, especially the Chinese guy. “If I tell you, will you let me go?”
The one-word reply was an explosion of sound. “No.”
“Then go to hell, Mr. Whatever-the-hell-yourname-is.”
Jack didn’t respond. He just pointed to Cyrus, who was contentedly chewing on a rawhide strip. Then he pointed to Marks’s groin. He folded his arms across his chest and waited for a response. When none came he watched in slow motion as Dennis got up off his chair, walked around the table, and, before Jack knew what he was doing, pulled his arm back and then shot it forward, his fist slamming dead center on Marks’s nose.
Blood flew outward in a fine mist, then gushed down Marks’s chin. Cyrus looked up to see if his services were required, decided they weren’t, and went back to his chew bone.
“Way to go, Dennis,” Ted chortled.
“I’m sick and tired of coddling him. It’s getting late; we need to get ready to leave if you want to stick to the timetable,” Dennis said fiercely.
Jack looked at Harry and hissed, “You created a monster.” Harry actually laughed.
Maggie ripped off a length of paper towels from the sink at the bar and shoved them at Marks. She couldn’t resist adding, “Don’t worry about that designer suit you’re wearing. Where you’re going, you won’t be needing it.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Marks bellowed as he tried to staunch the flow of blood coming from his nostrils. “What gives you the right to steal my money? I’m calling the FBI right now. You’d better keep that damn dog away from me. And that crazy asshole that just punched me. I’ll see you all in jail. You’re crazy!”
“It means whatever you want it to mean, you dickweed,” Dennis snarled. To Jack he said, “Look, we already know everything, so why does this dickweed have to confirm it? We’re going to run late. I say we dump him, then head for Middleburg. We can question him in the van if you think it’s that important. Let’s take a vote.” Every hand in the room shot in the air.
“I’m not going to Middleburg. Get that idea out of your head right now,” Marks sputtered.
“You’re right, you are not going to Middleburg, we are. You are going to the Southeast Ritz Carlton. Okay,” Jack said agreeably. “Let’s load up. You need to shut up, Marks. I don’t want to hear another word out of you. If you so much as breathe heavy, I’m going to let Cyrus play with you.”
Cyrus understood the words load up and play. He grabbed his ragged duck and raced to the back door.
“Tie this jerk up and load him into the back of the van,” Ted ordered as he tossed a set of flex cuffs to Espinosa. Abner set his briefcase down in the event he was needed to help with a noncompliant Marks. In the end, cursing and yelling, Marks went limp. Ted threw him over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, and they all marched single file out to the Post van.
Thirty-five minutes later, the Post van pulled to the curb right behind Marks’s stripped-down Mercedes. Luther Jones appeared out of nowhere, three of his gang behind him. He high-fived Dennis and the others as he introduced himself and his friends.
“What do you need us to do, man?”
Dennis drew Luther to the side, clued him in, then walked back to the little group. “He understands he and his friends are to stand guard until we get back. Once we dump Marks on the second floor, there is no way he’s going to leave unless Marks can fly. There is no heat inside this condemned building, which, by the way, belongs to Sandford. The water is still running so they can flush, but the system leaves a lot to be desired. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. They rigged up some electricity earlier and there is a fifteen-watt bulb hanging from the ceiling. And, Luther tells me the temperature is a robust forty-nine degrees. There is no furniture in the apartment, the floors are rotted, the windows broken, and when they rigged up the light, they let loose a dozen or so rats that they had trapped over the past few days. Hungry rats!”
“That excites me,” Jack said as he eyed Marks, who looked like he was going to black out at any moment. Espinosa grabbed one arm and Abner took the other as Marks struggled to free himself as he screamed at the top of his lungs for help. “Stop that right now!” Jack ordered. “If you don’t stop, we’ll take the lightbulb out, and you’ll be in total darkness. If that happens, how are you going to see the rats? Now shut the hell up.”
Marks shut up.
“Okay, boys, take him up to the second floor. We need to get on the road. Luther, my man, we appreciate all your help. If he starts to squawk, give him a good belt. Are you sure you don’t want me to leave Cyrus?”
“We got it covered, man. Go on, do what you gotta do. The dude ain’t gonna go anywhere. Glad to help. By the way, my granny and some of the others want to know if you folks are coming to the church service and the party tomorrow.”
“You know it,” Dennis said, accepting for everyone. Another round of high fives were completed before the group started back toward the van. “Hey, Luther, we forgot to frisk him. Take his cell phone and give it to someone who needs one. If he has any money on him, it’s yours.”
“All rightttttt,” Luther called over his shoulder as he climbed the rickety, rotted steps to the second-floor apartment.