13

  The rage in Cameron’s eyes was frightening. Lonny Magruder physically backed away from the man as he moved in. Cameron’s lips were pulled in a tight line—he was restraining himself with great difficulty. When he spoke, his words were delivered in a deliberate whisper that was much more intimidating than a wild rant.

  “I pay you to keep things low key, Lonny. To watch and listen, not go around playing the fucking hardman.”

  “I was checking this Cooper guy out, Mr. Cameron.”

  “For what? You said yourself he wasn’t breaking any laws. Just driving. So why roust him? Let’s say he is some kind of lawman. All you did was make him wonder what the hell is going on around McQueen. Maybe enough to up his interest.”

  “I thought—”

  “That’s the problem, Lonny. You were thinking. Not a smart thing to do where you’re concerned.” Cameron walked back to his desk and sat down. “Don’t I have enough to deal with—the mess back in Chicago and Newark. People dead. Merchandise destroyed. The fucking Russians acting up.” He pointed a finger at Magruder. “Get your flabby ass back to town. Stay there until you get told what to do. If you see this guy again, walk away. I don’t care if he’s taking a piss on main street. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Cameron.”

  When the door closed behind the ashen-faced deputy, Cameron snatched up his phone, speed dialed a number and waited. He was calling Sheriff Walter Torrance, and the moment the man came on the line Cameron told him in no uncertain terms what might happen if he didn’t keep his deputy in check, relating what Magruder had done.

  Torrance groaned audibly over the phone. “What can I say, Lou? The guy is a walking fuckup. My orders were to watch and listen. I’ll lay it on the line for him. It won’t happen again.”

  “It better not, Walt. This is not a good time for added problems. What about your other deputies?”

  “Eddie Phillips is happy to man the office. He doesn’t have much ambition and even less curiosity. He’s no threat. Same with the others. Lou, they’re not in the loop, so don’t worry about them.”

  “And what about Kowalski? I’m not so sure about her. Something in the way she prowls around. Hell, Walt, she’s got eyes like a hawk and doesn’t miss a beat.”

  “One thing about her, Lou, is that she works by the book. Follows orders and knows her place. I keep on her all the time. She’s a mouthy bitch, but she knows I’m boss.”

  “Why the hell did you ever see in her?”

  “You know the story. Her old man was a cop in McQueen until he got shot on the job and had to retire. He’s a well-known face around town. She’s keeping up the family tradition and all that crap. The mayor made it his business to see that she got a place on the force. Good PR when election time comes around,” he said. “Having a woman on the team pleases his lady voters.”

  “Well, don’t give her time to have a social life. I don’t need to have her nosing around.”

  Torrance chuckled. “She’ll love me for upping her shifts. That damn girl thrives on work. The more I give her, the better she responds.”

  “Keep it that way, Walt. Try to work things out without calling too much. It’s why I pay you—to keep a lid on potential problems—and extra trouble is what I don’t need.”

  “Are things that bad?”

  “Only if I don’t keep on top of it.” Cameron almost hung up, then said, “Keep it quiet, but watch this Cooper guy. Until we know better, stay on him without making it obvious.”

  “I understand. Lou, should I be looking out for more visitors? What about this Russian crew? You think they might show up in McQueen County? Actually, what if this Cooper guy is working for them?”

  “We watch, we listen, Walt. Look, we can’t jump on every fresh face that comes to town. Not until we know who we’re dealing with. If you scare too many people, we could end up with the state police riding in and asking a lot of awkward questions.”

  “Okay, Lou, that makes sense.”

  “I’m waiting to see what the Russians are going to do. This Poliokof son of a bitch is no beginner. Back in Newark he has a bad rep, so yeah, he might decide he needs some sunshine and makes the trip. These fucking Russians want to take over the country for themselves. If he decides to visit our backyard, we’ll deal with him on our terms. If he thinks he can do his hardman act and watch me roll over, he’s in for a shock.”

  Cameron disconnected the call and put the phone down. He swung his chair around and stared through the window. A couple of miles from where he was seated the Cameron Oil facility was working at full capacity. The legitimate arm of the company, refining products and freighting them out, had full order books. It brought in tidy sums, and every cent of that revenue went through the books. Cameron made sure that part of the business was as lily-white as possible. He kept it separate from his core enterprise—the supply of ordnance to his country-wide clients. The arms trading was conducted from a deep bunker at one corner of the extensive site. The bunker was situated next to a building structure designated as Cameron Oil’s development facility and was separate from the day-to-day activities of the business. The goods were shipped in via a select number of the big tanker rigs and kept within the steel-lined, below-ground storage. Cameron employed his own, selected crew to handle the weapons. The dealing was done discreetly, and so far there had been no problems.

  Not until the past week, when the series of incidents had begun. First Florida, followed by Chicago and then Newark.

  It made little sense to pin the blame on Poliokof. Okay, the Russian had made it clear he was blaming Cameron’s lack of security for allowing the strikes to take place, but Cameron pushed that aside, concentrating on the fact that whoever was responsible had destroyed the weapons, as well as taking down Cameron’s men. It was a senseless act. Removing the opposition was bad enough—but why demolish new, state-of-the-art weapons? Poliokof, whatever else he might be, needed the arms he had been going to buy. There was no sane reason to turn them into scrap metal. The same reasoning went into an explanation for the hit on the late Fredo Bella’s place. The destruction of prime, expensive cargo was wanton and pointless. As a businessman, it pained Cameron to think of all that stock going to waste. He could get his hands on more, sure, but it still hurt to imagine the weapons being vandalized. And there was the bad feeling the losses created among Cameron’s clients. Failure to deliver was a black mark against his credibility. And his pride. He couldn’t afford to allow it to happen too many times. Customer relations were hard to foster—losing those relationships was all too easy.

  On top of that, Cameron had the mystery of the perpetrator, the single, shadowy guy who seemed to come out of nowhere, create mayhem and madness, then vanish just as quickly, leaving destruction in his wake.

  And death.

  No witnesses remained to identify him—except Bella in Chicago. Not that Bella had survived his hospital experience. His usefulness as one of Cameron’s employees had been fully terminated, an example to any others who might fall short of their responsibilities. Cameron was no better off understanding the attacker, or his agenda. More than anything it was his lack of knowledge and the feeling of frustration that angered Cameron. If he knew who this guy was and what he ultimately wanted, then he would have something to work with.

  FROM THE APARTMENT formally used by Nicky Costanza, Tony Lorenzo spoke on the phone to Cameron.

  “I still can’t figure Costanza’s murder. Who needed to do that to him?”

  “Jesus, Tony, I’ll fuckin’ tell you who it is. That crazy Russian Poliokof. No one else has the balls to go against me. No one else on the East Coast.”

  “Why him?”

  “Why? Goddamn it, Tony, the guy is in the Russian Mob. They screwed up back home so they come here and think they own America, try to muscle in on our business. Well, it isn’t happening, Tony. I don’t give a damn that he’s pissed because he lost his fuckin’ guns and went ape shit when I didn’t rush over and give him his money back. I know he’s had his eye on the business for a while. Since that hard ass started knocking off our shipments, Poliokof has figured this is the time to step in and take over. Well, hell, it doesn’t play that way. Tony, use the bank. Go out and hire some top muscle. I want the best, and I want them down here. If Poliokof wants a war, he can have one. Call Mitch Kassalis in Kansas. He can find us the best people. Do it immediately, Tony, and get cover for Chicago and Newark so we can show these Russian jerk-offs the way we play the game.”

  “This could get serious, Lou.”

  Cameron laughed harshly. “You think? Tony, it’s already serious. If we don’t put up a fight, Poliokof will think he can just walk in and take my chair. They upped the stakes, Tony. So we keep it going.”

  Since arriving in Chicago, Tony Lorenzo had been checking out every contact and sending men out onto the streets, trying to get a handle on the mysterious black-clad man. He had come back with nothing positive—no sightings, no news to put even the faintest of smiles on Cameron’s face.

  Lorenzo’s depressing report had informed Cameron of the deaths of Nicky Costanza and Manny Gottfried. The news was not new to Cameron. He had already received the photographs sent to his cell phone via Costanza’s own phone, so he was not as shocked as he would have been if Lorenzo’s news had hit him cold.

  “Lou, I can organize a hit. We know where Poliokof hangs out. You want me to do it?”

  “Not yet. That fuck is up to something. I want to figure it out first.”

  “There’s something else I haven’t told you. I called Newark and got it from a contact at NPD. When the cops showed up at Gottfried’s place, they found more dead. Not any of our boys. It seems they were Russian, identified as being known to work for Poliokof. Five or six, our contact said.”

  “This gets crazier every turn,” Cameron said. “Poliokof takes out two of ours, then his own men get hit. What the hell is going down, Tony?”

  “Are you thinking what I am, boss? This guy who hit our bases, maybe he’s going for Poliokof’s boys.”

  “Maybe.”

  “So who is he? Some new age Lone Ranger? A loony vigilante?”

  “Keep digging, Tony. We need to work out just what the hell is going on. I’m putting you in as top man in Newark, as well as Chicago. I need your input. Delegate so that we keep the business running, but confine your priorities to finding out who this hitter it. I’ll let everyone know you’re running the operations.”

  “Okay, boss, I’ll stay on it,” Lorenzo said.

  “Anything you need just yell,” he said, then ended the call.

  Cameron took a walk outside the house, trying to clear his head. Across from the sprawling ranch-style house, a couple of his hands were busy in a corral, running a new horse on a rope as they attempted to saddle the excited animal. The horse was refusing to be saddled, bucking and jumping and defying every move the pair of hands tried. Cameron stood at the fence, losing himself in the moment and letting his thoughts drift away from his business problems.

  “I like to see my employees earning their wages,” he said.

  The hands pulled away from the horse, wiping sweat from their faces.

  “We’ll be doing that, boss,” one of them said. “That is one tough bronc. He’ll fight us all the way down to the wire.”

  “It’ll be worth it,” his partner said. “Once that feller is tamed he’ll be a damn good horse.”

  “Keep at it, boys,” Cameron said.

  He watched them working for a while longer, then turned as he heard a car approaching.

  It was Nathan. He spun the gleaming Ferrari to a stop and climbed out.

  “You hear what happened to Lonny?” he asked.

  “I was on the phone with Torrance.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the corral. “That bronc in there has more sense in his head than Magruder.”

  “And he’s better-looking,” Nathan said. “Why did Lonny roust that guy?”

  “Because he’s a walking, talking idiot. He made a decision to stop the guy because he’s new in town and wanted to show how smart he is. Only it backfired on him. The guy knew his rights and put Magruder on the spot.”

  “Lou, what if this guy is the one?”

  “Then he’s changed his routine. Letting himself be seen out in the open. Our hitter has kept himself under the radar so far. And coming out here is not like Chicago or Newark. Back there he could lose himself in the city. This is wide-open country, not so easy to hide in. And why let himself be spotted? This guy is a hit-and-run specialist. Nathan, I’m not saying he couldn’t be our guy. That’s why I’m keeping him in the spotlight. We monitor his movements. We stay sharp.”

  Nathan nodded. “Yeah. So, has anything happened back east?”

  “I put Tony in charge of Newark, as well as Chicago. Told him to concentrate on this badass in case he’s still there working on some fresh hit.”

  Nathan nodded. “That’s good. If anyone can figure it out, it’s Tony. What about Poliokof and his goons? You going to do anything there?”

  “Working on it, brother, working on it.”

  Just over an hour later Cameron’s cell phone rang. It was Tony Lorenzo and the news he delivered this time actually brought a smile to Cameron’s face.

  “Boss, I think we got him,” Lorenzo said. “We were out of luck on the streets, so I figured okay, maybe he moved on. I called an IT contact and had him run checks on local airports around Newark. He came up with a flight plan put in by a pilot of a private aircraft. The flight plan was for a single passenger to be flown to Las Cruces, New Mexico. The plane touched down at a small local strip, and it’s still there. No return flight yet. I had my guy extend his search to rental agencies in Las Cruces. He picked out a guy renting an SUV on an open lease. The name on the rental form was Matt Cooper. The times are in line with your guy showing up in McQueen.” Lorenzo gave the vehicle model and the license number. “Check it out with Torrance. See if there’s a match.”

  “Hey, good stuff, Tony.” He relayed what had happened involving Lonny Magruder. “Lonny is not going to be happy when I tell him he was possibly face-to-face with the guy.”

  Lorenzo laughed. “I’d like to see the look on his fat face when you do.”

  “I just bawled him out for stopping Cooper. Much as I don’t want to, I’m going to have to apologize.”

  “Boss, if Cooper is out there, I can call off our search and get the boys to concentrate on the Russians. I got a feeling they’re ready to pull something. I don’t want any more problems here.”

  “You do that, Tony.”

  “Thanks for the promotion, boss. I won’t let you down.”

  “You earned it. Just keep me in the picture.”

  Cameron called Torrance. He told him what he had just learned, and Torrance had to cut off a burst of laughter. He coughed loudly to cover his indiscretion.

  “Sorry, Lou, it came as a shock to know Lonny did something right.”

  “How do you think I feel? Okay, Walt, we need to stop this guy before he makes his play. He didn’t come all the way down here just to beef up his tan. This changes things. You and Lonny step up the search. I want this asshole on the ground in front of me. I want him alive but hurting. You understand me, Walt?”

  “You got it, Lou,” Torrance said. “What about the stuff you got out at the plant?”

  “I been thinking about that. I’ll call Calvera and tell him to pick it up. The sooner it’s off my hands the better. I’ll set up the loading and we can move out in the morning. Meet Calvera’s plane at the pickup point. If there isn’t anything on the shelf, this Cooper guy can’t blow it up.”

  14

  Erin Kowalski overheard Torrance’s phone conversation by pure accident. The young deputy had been about to knock and enter Torrance’s office, a request for shift approval in her hand, when the sheriff’s raised voice caught her attention. It was the tone of Torrance’s voice, part-defiant, part-deferential, that made her stop and concentrate on the discussion.

  “…only one thing we can do, Lou. Get the mother out of town. On his own. We can handle it any way you want. Deal with him and dig a hole where no one can find him. Like you say, this is not a good time to have some loose cannon wandering around. If Cooper’s the guy who did the number on your Chicago and Newark places, it stands to reason he’s on a roll. Cameron Oil will be next. Let me and Lonny handle it from this end. Hell, it won’t be the first time we made someone vanish. There’s plenty of empty space to put him where he’ll never be found.”

  Torrance stopped talking as the party on the other end of the line spoke. Although Kowalski couldn’t make out the words, she could tell the speaker was raising his voice, asserting his position. He talked for some while before he allowed Torrance to continue.

  “Okay, Lou, if that’s what you want. We take him alive and deliver him to you at the ranch. Yeah, that’s clear. So what do we do about this Russian thing? Okay, we keep a watch for them. Handle them if they show up. Fine, Lou, you’re the boss. Talk to you soon.”

  As Torrance put the cell phone down Erin backed away from the office, stepping quickly into the department’s armory, which was next to Torrance’s office. She busied herself with her service revolver, quickly opening the cylinder and ejecting the loads onto the worktop.

  She heard the solid sound of Torrance’s boots as he left his office and walked past the armory door, pausing when he saw her.

  “Isn’t it time you were on patrol, Kowalski?”

  She half turned, nodding. “In a couple of minutes, Sheriff. Just making sure my piece is clean. Dust seems to get everywhere.”

  Torrance took a half-step toward the door, his face set as he watched her wiping her revolver with a cloth. “You hear anyone out in the corridor?”

 

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