“My theory is that he wanted to get control of Omega and then have it drop the case against Tomorrow, or at least settle it for some ridiculously small amount. It’s called, If you can’t beat your opponent, eat him.”
“But how could he have Omega drop the case? There are other shareholders besides him. Whoever’s on the board of Omega has a fiduciary duty to all the shareholders, to maximize the amount of the judgment.”
Blake laughed.
“That’s the difference between someone fresh out of law school like you and a crusty old guy like me,” he said. “You’re absolutely right, in theory. In reality, though, it would have worked very differently.” He nodded with respect. “You got to hand it to the guy, he was a genius. The interesting thing was, both companies would have come out stronger. But then, out of the blue, Yates gets robbed one day. It turns out he had about twenty dollars in his pocket. He decides to resist instead of handing it over and gets both himself and his daughter killed. Then, in an even stranger twist, his wife walks in front of a bus. That, by the way, just happened a day or two ago.”
She sighed.
“How tragic.”
He seemed to chew on the words.
Then looked at her.
“Yeah. It really was.”
Back at her office after lunch, she found a sealed envelope sitting on her chair where she’d be sure to find it. Inside she found a sheet of paper. A little birdie told me you could use a friend, so here’s your shot of reality for the day. Don’t trust Christina Tam. She’s a spy. My advice is to get out of the firm while you still can. And whatever you do, don’t show this note to anyone. I’m the only one you have watching your back.
She read it six more times.
Then she swallowed hard and shredded it.
As soon as she did, she wished she hadn’t.
Slightly hung over, Draven crawled out of bed before dawn, being careful to not wake Gretchen. He carried his jeans and T-shirt outside and put them on, then walked over to the barn and took a heaven-sent piss in the dirt. Crickets chirped. Something small rustled in the brush, maybe a mouse or a snake. He zipped up, unlocked the barn and inched his way into the blackness.
He couldn’t remember a darker dark.
Nothing was visible, not even the outline of the tow truck.
He held his arm out until he felt steel, and then followed the cold body of the vehicle around until he reached the door. When he opened it, the dome light came to life and shined on the driver’s dead body.
He grimaced at the sight.
Shit.
The dumb bitch.
Why’d she have to go and screw everything up?
He moved her arm to see how much stiffness had settled into the body since yesterday afternoon-not enough to make a difference. He opened the door as far as it would go and then pulled on her arm until she dropped to the ground with a thud. Then he dragged her out of the barn over to the Nissan, where he muscled her into the trunk. The whole thing took less than three minutes but left him covered in sweat.
He locked the barn and double-checked the lock.
It was important that Gretchen didn’t stumble across the tow truck today while he was gone. He’d come up with a plan to dispose of it later, but right now he had to concentrate on first things first.
He checked on the tattoo woman, chained to the seat frame in the back of the Granada. She was still wonderfully unconscious, thanks to the injection. He moved her into the back seat of the Nissan, re-chained her to the frame and covered her with a blanket. Then he left a note on the kitchen table for Gretchen, telling her he had business but would be back this afternoon.
Finally at ease, he pointed the Nissan toward the cabin.
He arrived at the structure just as dawn broke.
It looked deserted, as it should.
No lights were on.
No cars were parked in front.
Perfect.
Everything was back on track.
He found the stripper-Chase-naked and dead in the bedroom, brutally dead to be precise, the victim of multiple bloody wounds. In addition to all that, a nail had been pounded into her forehead.
The hammer sat on the dresser, next to a box of 3? galvanized nails.
“Goddamn sicko,” he muttered.
For a split second, he had half a mind to hunt the guy down and do the same thing to him, to see how he liked it. But the feeling passed after he wrapped the woman in a bed sheet and made a pot of coffee. Out in the garage, he confirmed that the satellite DVD recorder-the one that the clients never knew about-had done its job. He watched for a few seconds, just long enough to tell that it had worked properly, and then popped the DVD out. He put it in a plastic case, carried it into the cabin, and set it on the kitchen counter where he wouldn’t forget it.
Okay.
Good.
He filled the cup back up with piping hot coffee and then sipped it on the front steps. The sun was already taking the chill out of the air and washing the mountains with a yellow hue.
It’d be a nice day.
Autumn in Colorado.
It doesn’t get much better than that.