Unfinished Business, page 20
part #17 of Sam Prichard Series
“Clear,” Sam called, and Darren echoed him from the bathroom.
“How the hell did she disappear so quick?” Steve asked. “Her computer’s still sitting there, her clothes are still here… Where did she go?”
Sam glanced at the window, which was standing open. He leaned out carefully and looked around, remembering that Karen Parks had almost lost her life doing the same thing only a few days earlier. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Gabby anywhere. He had no doubt she had gone out the window, but she had found some way to disappear.
“Somehow, she knew we were coming. I’m not sure how, but it’s the only explanation I can think of. She's out there, somewhere, probably went through a window into another room. She knows damn well we can’t search this whole building.” He shook his head. “Damn!” He took out his phone and called John Morton.
“Sam!” Morton said as he answered. “I got another call, just a few minutes ago.”
“I know, John,” Sam said. “Listen, we’ve identified Gabby, the killer. She's the woman who worked for you in simple bookkeeping, Jackie Bridges. Apparently, she’s been part of this all along. We thought we had her cornered, but she’s gotten away. I need you to get out of your hotel, right now, go someplace where no one would think to look for you, and then call me on your special phone. I'll arrange for security personnel to come and pick you up, but we can’t take the chance that she might find you before we can do that.”
“Right now? It’ll take me a few minutes to get dressed and…”
“John, put on a pair of pants and a shirt, slip your feet in your shoes and get out of there! Just go somewhere and call me, that’s all you need to do. Just do it now.”
Morton swallowed hard. “Okay, Sam,” he said. “I'm going, right now.” He ended the call and Sam turned back to Steve and Darren.
“Well, she's out there. I don’t know how we're going to do it, but we’ve got to find her.”
15
Gabby had been basking in the glow of telling Morton off when her ears caught the slight sound of people in the hallway. She had glanced into the lounge when she returned, hoping to see Raymond still there, but he’d been gone, so she put her eye to the peephole in the door to see if perhaps it was him out there.
The wide-angle lens made it a little difficult to see clearly, but she saw enough to know that it was Sam Prichard and two other men, and Prichard was holding a cell phone and looking at the door of her room. The shock of seeing him actually that close almost made her panic, but she shook it off.
If he’d been alone, she might have tried her luck against him. With two others, however, there was always the risk that one of them could get into a blind spot and get off a shot. She hurried across the room, snatched her purse off the nightstand, and went out the window that she had already opened. She swung down to the tiny balcony below her own, tried the window, and found it unlocked. She slid it open and stepped inside, then fired her silenced Ruger twice as the sleeping couple in the bed woke and began asking what she was doing there.
The woman was a little taller than she was, but there was one dress in her bag that wouldn’t look too out of place. She pulled it on over the pants she was wearing, wrapped a scarf around her head, and stepped out of the room. She went directly to the stairs and started down, turning as she exited onto the main floor toward the back of the building. There was a service exit back there, she knew, and she shot through it into the alley that ran behind the big building.
It had been less than five minutes since she had looked out the peephole, and she was already half a block away. She hated losing her bags, but all of that was replaceable. Her purse, as big as it was, contained several different identities and credit cards that could give her access to more than a million dollars. Tomorrow would simply have to be a shopping day.
Tonight, however, she intended to get just a little bit of payback. She found a café where she could sit down and relax for a few minutes, ordered a cup of coffee, and then took out her phone and opened her email program. It took only a moment to type the message.
Kill the woman. Leave her body in Central Park. Notify police once you are away from it. Morton and Prichard have made it necessary.
There was little hope, now, that the mission could be salvaged. Hickam had undoubtedly been cooperating with that blonde investigator, so it was unlikely that the merger would still take place. Bastian was going to be angry, but he could damned well be angry at Reynard. He was the one who botched up the whole operation, after all.
* * * * *
Sam collected Gabby’s laptop and they returned to the Marriott and Sam’s room. The computer was passworded, unfortunately, and Sam didn’t have a clue how to get into it. He set it aside for the morning, and then picked up the tablet they had confiscated when they rescued Annie. He checked the emails and saw that there was a new message.
He read the message and suddenly began laughing.
“What’s so damn funny?” Steve asked, and Sam turned the tablet so that he could read the message Gabby had sent. Darren leaned over his shoulder, and a moment later all three of them were chuckling.
“Well,” Darren said, “I guess it’s good to know we can get under her skin.”
“Not like I’m about to,” Sam said. He called up the keyboard on screen and typed a quick reply.
Sorry, no can do. That bastard Prichard already killed us and rescued the girl, and your ‘kids’ are dead, too. Oh, wait, I'm that bastard Prichard. Sorry to ruin your day, Gabby, but it hasn’t even started yet.
In the café, Gabby heard the sound that meant she had received an email, so she took out her phone and looked at it. She read it, then read it a second time.
She knew that she shouldn’t reply, but it was just too much to resist.
No problem, Mr. Prichard. There are other jobs where this one came from. Who knows, we might even cross paths again one day.
Sam was surprised when a reply came back so quickly, and Steve and Darren gathered close behind him to read over his shoulder.
“Arrogant bitch,” Steve said. “It’s like she's daring you to come after her.”
“I know,” Sam said, and his fingers began typing.
Do you honestly think I plan to let you out of the city? I've got a photo of you now, remember? Every airport, every train, every possible way for you to leave the city is already being notified as we speak. I wonder how long you will live, now that you have been compromised. Will your organization allow you to remain with them? Somehow, I doubt that. You have become a liability. I'll offer you one chance, however. If you come to me and provide evidence to help us close that organization down, I'll see to it that you are not subjected to the death penalty.
He sent the message, then looked up at Steve. “If she answers at all,” he said, “she’ll tell me she wants to meet and discuss it. It’ll be a trap, of course, but maybe we can turn it against her.”
“Sam, that would be an awfully big risk,” Darren said. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea…”
A reply came, and Sam opened it up.
Appearances can be changed. I didn’t always look like this, and I'm far too valuable for them to abandon. As for your offer, I'll have to decline. While you might be able to keep me from being executed by your government, there would be no way to stop my own people from killing me if I turned against them. And as for leaving the city, you can relax. I'm not going anywhere just yet. I do not take very kindly to having my contract ruined by outsiders.
“That sounds like a threat, Sam,” Darren said. “I think she's planning to come after you.”
Sam grinned. “That is exactly what I was angling for,” he said. “Now all we have to do is put out the right information.”
Sam picked up the phone to call Wendy and Harvey, who had been delayed at the convention because they were able to get interviews with some of the biggest names there. Their producer back home, Mr. Lenox, had personally called to tell them that CNN was picking up their feed. As a result, they had not gotten back to the hotel until almost 10 o’clock, so Sam had let them take the evening to relax.
Before he got to dial, however, the phone rang in his hand. He looked at the display and saw that it was Denny calling again.
“Sam,” he said, “would you please tell these bloody paramedics a flesh wound does not require hospitalization? I mean, they put a bloody Band-Aid on, no stitches or anything. The bullet just slid between my arm and my side, and nicked me a bit halfway above the elbow.”
Sam chuckled. “Are you sure you’re fit for duty? Because if you are, I can damn well use you.”
“Music to my bloody ears, mate,” Denny said. “Jade and her girlfriend just got here, so I'm blowing the joint, right? I'll be there in half an hour.”
“Good, I'll see you then.” He ended the call and then went back to digging Wendy’s number out. He hit the dial button and she answered on the third ring.
“Hello?” The tone of her voice almost sounded threatening, but it got cheerful as soon as she heard Sam.
“Wendy? Sam Prichard. Are you guys ready for an exclusive statement?”
“What, like now? Hell, yes! Can you give me fifteen minutes to get myself looking presentable?”
“You bet,” Sam said. “You want to wake Harvey, or should I?”
“He’s in the next room, I'm already kicking the wall. Fifteen minutes, we’ll be there!”
Steve looked at Sam as he put the phone down. “You sure you want to do this? You put out a press statement on this, you are painting a target on your forehead.”
“I'm certain. Darren, can you get the photo of Gabby out to the police, FBI, DHS, everybody?”
“I started on that twenty minutes ago,” Darren said. “I’ve already got it going to every bus, train, plane, and ship terminal, any place you can buy a ticket. Of course, all she really has to do is hire a taxi driver to take her into Jersey. I doubt there’s any way to really keep someone from getting out of the city, Sam.”
“Of course there is,” Sam said. “You just give them too much reason to stay. Hey, can you run down to the hotel business center and print that picture out for me?”
“Sure, Sam,” Darren said. “I'll be back in five minutes.”
Wendy and Harvey made it in record time, showing up at Sam’s door with Wendy looking like she was just coming from a beauty salon. Harvey didn’t look as good, but he didn’t have to stand in front of the camera.
“Okay, so what are we doing?” Wendy asked. “You said something about an exclusive statement?”
Sam nodded. “Yes. While you were resting, we managed to identify the killer we're after, and we got her on the run. I'm going to plaster her face all over the news, through you, and do my best to make her sound like an amateur, a loser. Darren, got that picture for them?”
Darren handed over a clear 8 x 10, taken from “Jackie’s” personnel photo. Wendy looked at it and nodded her head.
“Nice work,” she said. “Darren, you were with the FBI before, right? Could you hold the picture up for us when the time comes?”
It took a few moments to get everything ready, and then they stood Sam in front of the curtains over his windows. Harvey hefted the camera, and then gave them a thumbs up sign.
“This is Wendy Dawson,” Wendy began. “I'm standing here with Sam Prichard, who is the chief investigator for Windlass Security Services. Windlass is currently providing security for the International Internet Video Convention here in New York City, but they also handle many different types of major investigations. Mr. Prichard was recently in the news after he and his investigators were able to prevent a prototype of a brain-computer-interface chip from enabling someone to become a major threat to national security.” She turned to Sam. “Mr. Prichard, can you tell me what you are working on today?”
“Yes, Wendy,” Sam said. “I think most Americans are aware of the tragic shooting of young Max Petrelli last week during the Web Wide Awards program that was streamed live on the Internet. My team and I have been investigating who was behind the shooting, and we already knew that the international assassin, Pierre Reynard, had been the one who arranged for that shot. Unfortunately, it turned out that there were others involved, and another assassin was brought in and was planning to kill Mr. John Morton, CEO of Web Wide Awards. It was planned for him to be shot while giving a presentation at the convention tomorrow, but we're happy to say that we’ve identified that assassin and are confident that we can prevent any harm from coming to Mr. Morton.”
“Can you tell us who it is, Mr. Prichard?”
Darren stepped forward and held the photograph so that the camera could focus on it, while Sam spoke in the microphone.
“Her real name is Gabriella Fabron,” Sam said, “a French national who has apparently been training to be an assassin for some time. She's part of an organization of assassins that was responsible for both her and Reynard, but we were lucky enough that she wasn’t nearly as capable as her predecessor. She’s made a lot of mistakes, and that has allowed us to not only identify her, but provide her photo. She uses many different names, most recently going by Jacqueline Bridges in Denver for the last year, but she also identified herself as Carolyn Sanders earlier this evening. She's quite adept at disguise, so her hair color may be different, but she's about five foot four and weighs around a hundred and ten pounds. She has blue eyes and dark brown hair in this photo, but those can be changed with hair dye and contacts. If anyone sees her, please notify the police immediately, but do not try to apprehend her. She's extremely dangerous and will certainly be armed, so do not take any chances.”
“What about Mr. Morton? Do you believe that he's still in danger?”
“Well, we’ve currently got him under tight security, but it’s highly unlikely now that Gabriella will be able to do him any harm. However, we can now announce that Ms. Annie Porter, his partner, was actually abducted and held as leverage against him in an attempt by Gabriella and Benjamin Hickam of Starbright Awards to force him into a merger with Starbright. Mr. Hickam is currently in custody, as well, and he was directly involved in the plot to have Max Petrelli shot last week. He is facing some serious charges both here and back in the U.K., since we’ve also uncovered incontrovertible evidence that he arranged the murder of Lord Devon Chamberlain there just a few days ago. Lord Chamberlain had become suspicious of him regarding the Petrelli shooting and confronted him about it, for which Hickam arranged his death.”
“Mr. Prichard, it sounds like you’ve once again solved a crime that almost went cold. Thank you for all that you and your team do, and for giving us the chance to bring this story to the public.”
She made a sign to Harvey to cut off the camera, and he took it down. “How was that?” she asked Sam.
He grinned at her. “I think it’s exactly what we wanted, Wendy. How soon will it be on the air?”
“We’ll send it back to Channel 6 in the next ten minutes, and they’ll have it up five minutes later. Since it’s got your name on it, they’ll notify CNN and it’ll be out as a Special Alert within minutes after that.”
“Then, it’s likely to be seen all over New York City?”
“Oh, I guarantee it.”
* * * * *
The story hit CNN and all of the local New York City networks in less than half an hour, and calls started coming into the police from people who were sure they had just seen Gabby. Sam had sent Darren out to buy a couple of police scanners, and they split into two teams to try following up on all the reports. Sam took Darren with him, while Denny and Steve went out together.
“Steve,” Denny said, “could you pay a little bit of attention to your driving? I figure I’ve got enough chances to get killed on this mission without worrying about getting hit head on by a massive lorry!”
“Oh, chill out, Denny,” Steve said, “I haven’t wrecked yet with you in the car.” He made another turn as he was speaking, rushing to get to the next place where Gabby had been reported.
“Yeah, well, did you notice you said ‘yet’ in that sentence?” Denny whined. “It’s like you are warning me that it’s coming.”
Steve looked at him and then turned back to face the road ahead. “Relax,” he said. “I'm not going to kill you, at least not with a car.”
“I bloody hope not,” Denny said. He took out his phone, then called up its navigation app. “I put the address in here, just in case you get lost.” The computerized voice began giving them directions, and Steve had to turn the car around at the next intersection.
The ride to Richardson’s Restaurant took almost half an hour, most of which was spent in finding their way across the city. The restaurant was in a large house that sat in the midst of a five acre wooded lot, and could barely be seen from the street that ran along in front of it.
“That place would make a pretty fair fortress,” Denny said. “Think we’ll have to force our way in there, mate?”
“Not if I can avoid it,” Steve said. “You know me, I like to do things the easy way. Let’s just go in the front door.”
“It wouldn't be that bad,” Denny said. “We could come at it through the trees on the east, they’re nowhere near as dense there.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “We’ll try that next time, how about that? Come on, let’s go in and see if anybody recognizes her photo.”
“Yeah, sure,” Denny said. Steve turned the car into the parking lot and stopped, and the two of them got out and walked inside. A man, obviously the maître d’, stepped in front of them and looked them up and down disapprovingly.
Steve held out his ID. “Steve Beck,” he said, “Homeland Security. Have you seen this woman in here tonight?” He held out the photo.
The maître d’ glanced at it, then shook his head. “No. I don’t believe I've ever seen her at all.”
