NINE
Sari and Merrie jumped. The men got to their feet and slung their weapons. They turned as Darwin came through the door.
He stopped short at the sight of them. “What the hell are you doing in my home?” he demanded. “Get out!”
“You’re within your rights to ask us to leave, sir,” the taller one said. “But your daughters have asked us to stay.”
“Tell him that’s a lie, Isabel,” he said to his eldest, daring her to argue.
She stared back at him. “It isn’t. Merrie and I asked for protection. These gentlemen work for Eb Scott. He had them come home with us.”
Darwin seemed stymied. He was shocked that Isabel would defy him.
“This is still my home,” he began.
“And my home. And Merrie’s and Mandy’s,” Sari said, gaining strength. “I will not live in fear any longer.”
“Neither will I,” Merrie said quietly.
“The Feds are asking about you, Daddy,” Sari added. “They have a lot of questions for you to answer.”
“You’re all against me!” Darwin raged. “You want me in prison so you can spend my money! Well, you’ll never get it. Never, do you hear me? I’ll disinherit you both!”
“So what?” Sari asked. “It will beat living as a virtual prisoner for years.”
“We can make our own money,” Merrie agreed. “We don’t need yours.”
Darwin was absolutely shocked. He stared at them without a comeback. He blinked. “Then you can get out of my house!”
“Not today,” Sari replied, regaining her wits. “Mother left us half ownership of the house. You may have all the money, but we have half the house and we aren’t leaving. Neither are our bodyguards,” she added.
Darwin clenched his fists at his hips. He was red in the face, absolutely raging. “People will regret ever having charged me in this matter. It was an accident. An accident! I called an ambulance. I called the law! I tried to save her!”
“You can tell that to your very expensive defense attorney, Daddy,” Sari replied. “I’m sure he’ll move mountains to prove your innocence.”
“It will never go to trial,” Darwin said coldly. “And you will regret what you’ve done today, Isabel. You will regret it bitterly.”
He went upstairs into his bedroom and slammed the door.
Sari let out the breath she’d been holding. She was shaking. But she managed a smile. “First time,” she said, when the men gave her curious looks.
“First time for what?” the taller one prodded.
“First time in my life I ever talked back to him.” She laughed shakily. “It felt good.”
“It did, didn’t it?” Merrie seconded, smiling from a pale face. “Now all we have to do is keep him from killing us because we did it.”
“Nobody’s going to hurt you,” the broader one said. His companion nodded. “Ever again. It will be all right. We promise.”
* * *
Their father went back out that night with Morris. The girls heard them talking, muffled speech that they didn’t understand. The door slammed behind them and soon there was the sound of the limousine being started up and driven away.
Sari propped herself up on Merrie’s bed. “He’ll hurt us, if he can. He’ll find a way to intimidate everybody connected with this.”
“He’s welcome to try,” Merrie replied. “I don’t think he’ll get very far in Comanche Wells or Jacobsville. Not now. He’s on the defensive, isn’t he, for the first time. Even with the best attorney, he might not be able to beat a murder charge.”
“I’ll have to testify,” Sari said miserably. “I saw him come in, the night the woman died, all upset and sweating, and his head hurting. I heard him say he’d gotten away with murder once, the night Paul left, when Daddy beat us.”
“I heard it, too. I’ll testify with you.” Merrie hugged her. “If he disinherits us, I don’t care,” she said. “Oh, Sari, imagine being able to live without people following you all the time, without being locked up in a house and never let out to go to dances or concerts…!”
“I know.” Sari hugged her back. “It would be worth making our own way in the world. I don’t care about the money, either.” She drew back. “And we still own half the house,” she reminded her sister with a short laugh. “He can’t really throw us out.”
“If our bodyguards weren’t here, he could do that, and much worse,” Merrie reminded her. “What’s he going to do now?” she worried. “Where do you think he went?”
“I don’t know,” Sari said. She drew in a long breath. “And I’m not sure I want to know.”
* * *
In fact, Darwin Grayling was on his way to a secret meeting with two of his coconspirators, men who had helped him and Betty Leeds launder billions in revenue from gambling casinos and prostitution rackets in half a dozen states. If he went down, he was taking them all with him.
But it wouldn’t come to that, he was certain of it. His overlords would have to save him, in order to save themselves. He wouldn’t think of the other possibility, that of having his accounts suspended, held by the government while they tried to prove him guilty. If he was charged under the RICO statutes, his bail would be almost a billion dollars. Even Darwin Grayling would have had a problem coming up with that much cash. Racketeering was a federal crime of some magnitude and his arrest on suspicion of murder paled in comparison with the money laundering that could hold him accountable for what he’d sent his people out to do. He could go to prison for the rest of his life on those charges alone. If his assets were frozen, he could no longer hire men to take care of his enemies.
His blood ran cold at the thought of losing all that money, the accumulation of years of illegal enterprises. Betty Leeds had been most useful. But she’d betrayed him to the government in order to save herself. She should never have confessed it. One of the mobsters they dealt with had threatened her precious son, and she had to do it to save him. He was only misunderstood, he would never really hurt anyone, she’d exclaimed. She’d moved her private savings over to his accounts, just in time to save that part of her fortune from the Feds. Her son would be taken care of, even if the worst happened.
Darwin had showered her with an outpouring of rage. He’d touched his throbbing head and threatened fatal retribution. She tried to put him off. She claimed she wouldn’t have turned the files over to the FBI except to save her son. She was sorry for Darwin, but he was much wealthier than she was, he could get attorneys to prove him innocent. Everything would be all right, she was sure of it.
That was when his hand had gone to the tire tool one of the men at her farm had left leaning against the barn wall. Outraged, betrayed, bent on revenge, he loomed toward her with it. She raised her hands, still protesting. She screamed, but only once.
Afterward, he cleaned the tire tool with kerosene and dragged her body to the small corral where her horse trainer worked with two new breeding stallions she’d purchased with her ill-gotten gains. He opened the gates of their stalls and moved them into the corral. Then he waved his jacket to upset them. Highly strung already, upset by the violent storm that was raging, they ran crazily around the muddy ring. One of them avoided the woman’s body, but the other, younger one, was too unsettled to care that he was walking over his mistress in his fear.
At first sight, it did seem that the woman had been working with her horses and they’d gotten out of control. Hopefully, the authorities would think the storm had frightened them into attacking her. That’s what Darwin told them he was certain had happened, although he’d arrived too late to witness the start of the tragedy. Those horses were dangerous, he’d added, convinced that they should both be put down as quickly as possible.
But Dr. Copper Coltrain, the medical examiner, remembered the death of Darwin’s wife. He also remembered the barriers that had been placed in the way of his investigation of what had seemed like a suspicious death.
This time, there was no way he was going to get put off by the seeming coincidence of Grayling’s involvement. A horseman himself, he questioned the sanity of any horse owner putting two breeding stallions together in a small corral. Then, when he performed the autopsy, any remaining suspicions he’d had were crystallized into a verdict of homicide.
“This was no accident,” he told Sheriff Hayes Carson when he finished the autopsy. “There was blunt force trauma, but it wasn’t consistent with trampling by horses.”
“And no sane human being would have two breeding stallions together in a confined space,” Carson replied. He kept horses himself. He knew what would and wouldn’t be done with them. His eyes had narrowed. “It was a sloppy setup,” he added. “Stupid of a man who owned Thoroughbreds to slip up like that.”
“Probably an unexpected confrontation that ended in a crime of passion, followed by a hasty and fumbled cover-up,” Copper mused.
“Yes, and not very well done.”
“You’re not letting them put those horses down?” Copper added.
Hayes shook his head. “I had them taken to my place and guards put on them, for the time being. The woman’s son is barely coherent, but he said she loved her horses. He wasn’t agreeing to them being euthanized for a crime he doesn’t think they even committed. He said Darwin Grayling killed his mother for something she knew,” he added curtly.
“Did he say what?”
Hayes shook his head. “He’s too distraught to say much. Emotionally brittle and drinking a lot, as well. He’s hanging out in a bar over near San Antonio nightly, we’re told. Raging about Grayling and swearing bloody revenge.”
Copper sighed. “Not much he can do about it, I’m sorry to say.”
“His mother left him a bundle,” Hayes replied. “Over a million in ready cash. Money can buy retribution, if you know where to look. And one of the Feds said that bar has some unique and deadly customers.”
“I hope somebody’s watching him,” Copper replied.
“So do I.” Hayes shifted his shoulder. He was still favoring the arm that had been shot in an assassination attempt some time back. He’d regained most of the use of it, but it still pained him. “Grayling has some health issues, doesn’t he?”
“He has violent headaches, his eldest daughter told me, and he goes crazy when he gets them. I doubt he’d let a physician near him, but his behavior is consistent with some sort of mental issue. Perhaps with an organic cause.”
Carson nodded. “I’ve wondered about that myself. His daughters seem traumatized to me, and it’s not a new thing.”
Copper nodded. “I treated the eldest for a fractured arm once, when she was about eight,” he said. “I never thought it was from a fall, but she swore it was. So did her father, who came with her and stayed with her while I reduced the fracture.”
It was left unsaid that he probably did that to keep Sari from letting anything slip about the true nature of the “accident.”
“Her mother died under unusual circumstances, as well,” Carson said. He’d helped with the investigation, as had Copper.
“Interesting how so many members of his family have suffered falls over the years,” Copper replied. “Even the youngest, with sprains and pulled muscles and, once, a compound fracture of the lower leg.”
“Amazing, how clumsy they are,” Carson said coldly. “I’d love to get their father in front of a judge.”
“Stand in line and take a number,” Copper said icily. He let out an angry breath. “Well, this goes down as a homicide, and I hope you’re putting the suspect under a microscope.”
“You’d better believe I am.”
* * *
Several days later, a small group of assorted lawmen in San Antonio, Texas, were going over a printout of Darwin Grayling’s financial transactions with a large northern bank. A federal judge had agreed to issue a warrant for the information, overruling threats from both Grayling and his attorneys.
One of the lawmen had ties to the family. Paul Fiore, a special agent with the local FBI office, had once worked for Grayling.
“You know the man,” assistant FBI special agent in charge Jon Blackhawk remarked, glancing at a tall, dark man bending over the desk where the printout was placed.
“I know him,” Paul replied coldly. “I worked for him for several years.”
Jon shook his head. “This is one hell of an amount of money he’s passed through his various holdings for the mob. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much.”
“I have,” Paul mused with a hollow laugh. “I led a bust in Jersey years ago, with a dollar figure even larger than this.”
“At least we caught him in time, before he was able to process even more. His lover, Betty Leeds, helped him,” Jon added. He shook his head. “She had an excellent record with the Bureau before she allied herself with Grayling. But at the end, she turned on her shady friends. We hear it was because of her son. Poor guy. He’s got some mental issues, and he’s taking it hard. She was the only family he had. He blames Grayling for the whole thing. He said she was a good woman.”
“Probably was, in the beginning,” a Texas Ranger working the case concurred. He was Colter Banks, now heading up the cold-case unit in San Antonio. His black eyes narrowed. “Money corrupts.”
“Grayling’s involvement is less understandable to me than hers,” Jon said. “He had millions already.”
“Only about ten million, from what we know,” Paul said. He schooled his face not to show any emotion. “He kept his daughters on a short leash, never let them get jobs to earn a dime. And he never spent any money on them that he didn’t have to spend. I guess even millionaires can get greedy.”
“One of the attorneys he uses got drunk at Shea’s Roadhouse near Jacobsville one night and spilled his guts,” Jon returned. “He said that the girls were supposed to get a flat amount in their mother’s will, besides half the house and its furnishings, but Grayling had done something to prevent it. He wanted to make sure they never got a penny, so that they couldn’t leave home. He had a Middle Eastern prince lined up to marry the oldest girl—what was her name?—Isabel, I think. Imagine that, he was going to force her to marry some guy so he could get even more money into the family.”
“You’d know about money, Blackhawk,” another agent teased. “You and your brother, Kilraven, own half a county in Oklahoma.”
“That’s the government’s fault,” Jon returned, tongue in cheek. “When they moved my family out of Montana and into Oklahoma, oil was discovered on the bare little patch of land where they settled us.”
“I wish the government would move me onto some scrubland with oil on it,” another agent sighed. “I can barely meet my car payment, let alone my rent.”
“You’d have to go back over a hundred years and change your ethnicity first, Gaines.” Jon chuckled. “I’m mostly Lakota, with a hint of Cherokee.”
“I think one of my ancestors shook hands with Geronimo once,” the agent sighed wistfully. “That’s as close as I come to being Native American.”
Paul listened to the banter between the agents halfheartedly. What he heard about Isabel hurt him. A prince. Her father had found her a prince. Had it gone further than negotiations? Did she care for the man? Or was she just being forced into something she didn’t want?
He knew that her father kept her from working until she graduated from college. But he’d assumed that was because the man was paranoid about kidnapping attempts. He grimaced as he thought back to things he’d seen and dismissed. His mind had been elsewhere, on the past. Blood. So much blood…!
He shook off the memories. It was getting easier, with the passage of time, to come to terms with what had happened. In the three long years he’d been away, he’d missed Isabel badly. He wanted to see her again. Time after time, he’d wanted to call her, to apologize, to explain why he’d done what he’d done. But he got cold feet. Despite how he felt, despite everything, she stood to inherit millions and he was just a wage earner. That gulf would never be closed, no matter what he did. Not that old man Grayling would have let Paul near his daughter.
“Fiore, I said, what about the wiretap warrant?” Colter prodded him gently.
“Sorry. Lost in thought.” Paul excused himself with a grim smile. “I talked to a judge about the wiretap, but he was less than enthusiastic about it.”
“He may be in Grayling’s corner,” Jon said. “Try another judge. Try one in Jacobsville,” he added firmly.
“I’ll drive down there this afternoon,” Paul promised.
“Judge Comer is sitting today, on a drug case in circuit court. She’ll be in her offices at the Jacobs County Courthouse around five o’clock, if court recesses by then. She’s not afraid of millionaires.”
His heart jumped. Isabel worked for the Jacobs County district attorney, whose own offices were in the courthouse. He might see her on her way out of the building. It was stupid, to hunger for just the sight of her. He knew she didn’t want to see him. The district attorney he’d talked to, Blake Kemp, had made a point of saying that to him. But a glimpse of her, just one, would feed his starving soul.
“I’ll work it out,” Paul said.
“All right. Now, who’s on surveillance?” Jon asked.
“Me,” Gaines groaned. “Along with Phillips, from San Antonio PD.” He made a face. “Sir, couldn’t you possibly ask Lieutenant Marquez if he could spare anybody besides Phillips?” he asked Jon.
“What’s wrong with Phillips?” he asked.
“He’s got this stupid game on his cell phone,” he muttered. “He’s addicted to it. If I hear one more laser being shot off, one more scream from a human victim being eaten by aliens…”
“Tell him to turn his phone off,” Jon replied.
“He can’t.”
“Why not?”
“His girlfriend wouldn’t be able to get in touch with him, constantly, in between the munching aliens,” Gaines muttered.
“I’ll speak to Marquez,” Jon said in a long-suffering tone.
“Thanks, sir!”
Jon waved him away. He turned back to the charts.
* * *
The town of Jacobsville was busier than it had been when Paul was working for Darwin Grayling. He remembered the small town with pleasure. Most of the familiar landmarks were still there.
There was a summer festival just getting started, he noted. There was a band in the park, playing its heart out in the big gazebo, while people lounged nearby on blankets or quilts spread over the green grass. Despite the heat, they seemed to be having a good time.
Paul checked his watch. Quitting time. People would start pouring out of the courthouse soon. If he hoped to get to Judge Comer before she left, he needed to hurry.
He ran up the steps and walked in the front door. He almost collided with Isabel Grayling.
His heart jumped as he looked down at her. He scowled. This wasn’t the laughing, teasing Isabel he’d known three years ago. Her long reddish-gold hair was pulled into a tight bun at the back of her neck. She wore no makeup at all. Her face was thinner, and there were dark circles under her blue, blue eyes. She looked at him with blatant hostility before she turned away and started to walk out.
“Not even a hello, Isabel, after all this time?” he asked softly.
She didn’t even reply. She just kept walking.
He ground his teeth together. Well, what had he expected? He’d walked out without a word. Presumably, her father had told her about his family back home. It was a lie, but she wouldn’t know that. She’d think he’d betrayed her. She’d be right; he had.
But he’d hoped for…well, he’d hoped for more than the very cold shoulder she’d given him. He turned the corner and kept walking, toward the judge’s quarters.
* * *
Isabel was barely breathing. Paul, here in town, in the flesh. It had been a shock. Of course she knew he was back in Texas, working out of San Antonio, but she hadn’t been prepared for walking into him like that, without warning.
She knew that her heartbeat was pounding a mile a minute, and her body must be shaking. She went quickly toward the waiting limousine. Her two bodyguards were inside. It was sad that she had to be protected from her own father, who was now blatantly on the run from the authorities.
She climbed into the limousine, nodded at her companions and instructed Morris to take them home.
* * *
“I saw Paul at the courthouse today,” she told Merrie and Mandy while they were eating supper.
“How was he?” Merrie asked.
“I don’t know. I didn’t speak to him,” Sari said coldly.
“He’ll be working on the case, I don’t doubt,” Mandy said without lifting her head. “He knows so much about Mr. Darwin, he’d be the proper person to do the investigating.”
“I guess so,” Sari said.
“Where was he?” Mandy asked.
“Going into the courthouse,” Sari replied.
“Well, he’d need to talk to Mr. Kemp, certainly,” Mandy said.
“He might need to speak to the judge about a warrant,” Sari added, picking at her food. “They have to be very specific about what they ask a warrant to search for. If they don’t specify, they can’t touch anything they find, even if it’s stark evidence of malfeasance.”
“Doesn’t she sound like an officer of the court?” Merrie teased. “It’s so impressive, Sari!”
“Stop or I’ll hit you with my radish,” she threatened, forking it to hold it under her sister’s eyes.
“I’ll hit you back with my pepper,” Merrie taunted, raising it on her own fork. She studied it. “It’s a jalapeño, too,” she said.
“No food wars at the dinner table, if you please,” Mandy said firmly. “Don’t play with your food.”
They both made faces at her.
“Anyway, he’ll need all the tools he can find to try to get evidence on Daddy,” Sari replied. “I feel sorry for Betty Leeds’s son,” she added. “She might have been unpleasant to us, but I hear that she doted on her son, spoiled him rotten. He loved her very much.”
“Poor guy,” Merrie agreed.
“He has some sort of problem that he’s been in therapy for,” Sari continued. “He’s furious at Daddy. He knows it wasn’t an accident. He told someone that he was going to get even with Daddy, no matter what it took.”
“Good luck to him,” Mandy replied. “People have been trying to do that for years.”
“Without any success at all,” Sari finished for her. She put down her fork. “Has anybody seen Daddy?” she asked.
Mandy shook her head. “He’s in hiding, I understand. Everybody’s after him now, from the Feds to the local sheriff, even the big guys up north,” she added heavily.
“What about us?” Merrie asked worriedly. “We’re his daughters. If anybody wants revenge on him for what he’s done, we might be prime targets.”
“I’ve thought about that,” Sari said reluctantly. “But we have the bodyguards to protect us. They’ll know that. And they’ll know where the bodyguards came from, as well,” she added. “Eb Scott was just interviewed by one of the major news agencies for his perspective on that latest terrorist attack, too.”
“That helps,” Merrie said. She propped her elbows on the table and her chin on her hands. “Maybe we’ll be safe from Daddy as well as the dozens of potential assassins who want to get even with him.”
“Hope is all we have,” Sari said with twinkling eyes. She sat up straight. “Listen, life is a dream. I heard it in a song, once. That means none of this is real and we can stop worrying.”
“Life is not a dream,” Mandy told her firmly.
“But it was in a song,” Sari insisted.
“Lies.” Mandy finished her coffee. “If it was a dream, I wouldn’t be stuck in here with the dishwasher,” she concluded, getting to her feet.
“We can help you put the dishes into the dishwasher,” Merrie offered.
Mandy hugged her. “I’m kidding,” she said with a grin. “Maybe,” she added to Sari, “life is a dream.”
Sari pursed her lips and smiled. “Nah,” she scoffed, and walked out of the room.
* * *
Later, she sat on her bed in her nightgown and thought back to the way things had been three years ago, when she’d come into Paul’s bedroom each night and perched on his bed to chat.
Life had been easier then, sweet and full of hope and dreams. So soon, that optimism had given way to agony. Paul had a family. He’d never told her, never told anybody. Even worse, he’d walked out without a word.
After the friendship and companionship and, finally, the mutual hunger he’d shared with Sari. It had been dishonest. Why hadn’t he ever told her?
She’d believed he was such an honest, honorable man. If he was given to lies, why hadn’t they found him out in over four years of daily contact? Surely, even if he’d hidden knowledge of it from everyone else, he’d have been honest with Sari.
She sat up straighter. That thought had never been allowed into her mind before. He knew she was innocent, that she wasn’t the sort of woman to play around with a man, even lightly. So why had he given in to his hunger for her without saying anything?
Her chest rose and fell. Why not? Men were men. He’d been hungry for her, almost starving. Would he really have said something to make her turn away from him?
On the other hand, he’d been away from his family for a long time. She remembered he’d taken very infrequent vacations, which meant that his wife and daughter hadn’t seen him often. Perhaps he’d just been missing them and things had gotten out of hand.
The worst part of it was that Sari had constantly tempted him. She’d been infatuated with him from the beginning, and made it obvious. Even an honorable man could be tempted. There was no getting past that.
But she still blamed him for what had happened. No matter how she sugarcoated it, he’d sold her out to her crazy father. And here she was, three years later, just as vulnerable, just as helpless. If he came near her again, she wouldn’t be able to resist him. So they couldn’t see each other again. She had to make sure of that.
* * *
Judge Comer was more than willing to give Paul a warrant for a wiretap.
“I can’t comment on an ongoing case, but I remember Wisteria Grayling’s death very well,” the judge said as she signed the warrant for the wiretap and handed it to him. “She was my friend.”
That was the first time Paul had heard the late Mrs. Grayling’s first name. “Wisteria?” he asked.
She smiled sadly. “Her mother was as crazy about flowers as she was. She had two daughters. She named them Wisteria and Camellia. But Camellia was killed when she was very young by a drunk driver.” Her smile faded. “Wisteria was young and innocent, and Darwin Grayling was unscrupulous. She was an heiress. His family was wealthy, too, but he wanted more money.” She sighed. “Wisteria wanted children. He didn’t, but in the end he decided that sons would be useful to inherit the money. Wisteria only had girls. He hated them from the day they were born. He’d have kept her pregnant and having more babies if it had been possible, but she’d had high blood pressure and the doctor insisted that another child would kill her.”
“I thought Grayling had all the money.”
She shook her head. “He had some. But Wisteria had more. Her family dates all the way back to the Civil War here in south Texas. In fact, she was distantly related to Big John Jacobs, the founder of Jacobsville.”
“Do her daughters look like her?” he asked, because he’d never even seen a photo of the woman.
“Isabel is the spitting image of her,” the judge replied. “She’s going to make her mark in the district attorney’s office, if her health permits.”
“Her health…”
The phone rang before the judge could elaborate. “Sorry, this is a call I have to take,” she told him.
“Thank you for the warrant, Your Honor,” he said formally.
“You’re most welcome.”
Paul walked out of the courthouse worried. What health problems? Was there something wrong with Isabel? Surely not! She’d been perfectly healthy when he’d known her.
The worry about her father must have some bearing on it, he decided. No doubt it was something brought on by stress. He went back to his car, but he sat in it for several minutes lost in thought. Poor girls, to have their father arrested for a federal crime. It was already big news on all the media outlets. The tabloids would be on the scent next.
So it was Isabel and Merrie’s mother who had the most wealth. Ironic, that even with all that money, Darwin Grayling had gone outside the law to add to the family fortune. It would all be for nothing, too, because his ill-gotten gains would be confiscated. Darwin would lose every penny of it. With luck, some of the illegal money would go to law enforcement, to help them shut down similar venues.
He thought of Isabel and Merrie, so wealthy, who would now be without money. That put Isabel on equal footing with him, wouldn’t it? His heart jumped. He might actually have a chance with her now, with the money that had been such a bone of contention out of the way forever.
But he’d hurt her so badly that she wouldn’t even speak to him in public. It would take time and effort to get past that prickly exterior, to the woman inside it. He had so many regrets that he couldn’t count them all. He should have handled it differently. He should have spoken to her about it, admitted his feelings, his doubts, his concerns. If he’d been honest in the first place, he might not have had to leave town to spare himself the heartache.
Not that he’d spared her anything. He was sure that she’d been in agony about the news of his family, his defection without even a goodbye.
But at least he’d soft-pedaled his reasons for leaving with her father. He would have died to keep her from getting in trouble with Darwin. So he’d spared her that.
Now he had to investigate the extent of Grayling’s involvement with money laundering, ferret out the root of it and the persons involved. He spared a thought for the girls, who might become a target for disgruntled criminals who wanted revenge on their father.
He felt a chill go through him. No. Not again. He couldn’t go through it again in one lifetime. The mob got even in ways that decent folk couldn’t even talk about in polite conversation. He knew it all too well.
There had to be a way to save Isabel and Merrie from retribution. He could call Mikey and see how things stood. Maybe he could get him to bargain with the higher-ups, to explain what the girls had already gone through at the hands of their father. The big guys were human. If you didn’t poke them with sticks, they were remarkably merciful sometimes. He’d made mistakes that had been costly, because he’d poked them. But he was older and wiser now. He couldn’t bear the thought of Isabel in the hands of people who meant her harm.
He’d talk to the other agents and see if something could be done about protection for them, and for Mandy.
Yes. He could do that. He would do that.
* * *
“Protection?” Jon Blackhawk asked blankly.
“Yes, protection,” Paul said, his eyes intent. “You know how organized crime works. They get even with the people who cross them. If they can’t find the main guy, some of them have no qualms about going after the soft targets, the families of people who go against them.”
“I understand that.”
“So there has to be some way we can get protection for Isabel and Merrie and Mandy,” he insisted.
“I guess nobody told you,” Jon sighed.
“Told me what?” Paul asked.
“That Eb Scott loaned them a couple of his guys. Barton and Rogers. They’re experts in counterespionage. In fact, they both were with secret squads overseas in that capacity. They’re trainers, for Eb’s organization. He sends them as consultants for paramilitary organizations all over the world.”
“Thank God,” Paul said heavily.
“I guess you were close to the women. You worked for Grayling for several years,” Jon said.
Paul nodded. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want anything to happen to them.”
“Neither would we. How did it go with the wiretap?”
“I’ve got two guys in a storeroom near the Grayling properties listening to every word that comes in or goes out over their telephone line,” he said. “They hate each other. I get calls from them, complaining like hell, every two hours.”
“I know the guys. Pizza,” Jon said.
Paul’s eyebrows arched. “Pizza?”
He nodded. “It’s the only thing they both like, and when they’re not hungry, they get along.”
“Pizza.” He grinned. “What sort do they like?”