Jack stopped when he reached the bus bench. Theo was seated at the other end and didn't look at him. He didn't even seem curious as to how Jack had found him.
"Why'd you come?" Theo asked.
"To find you," said Jack. "Why did you come?"
Theo glanced over, and then he looked back at that spot on the street. "Same reason, I guess."
Jack didn't get it at first. Not very often did he hear Theo make allusions to finding himself. He took a seat on the end of the bench, leaving a comfortable space between him and his friend.
"I talked to Trina," said Jack.
Theo showed no reaction.
Jack said, "You can't do this alone."
Theo tapped the bulge in his jacket, the handle of his Glock. "I'm not alone."
"If Redden has done half the things you think he's done, you need a lot more help than that."
"You got a better idea?"
"I do."
"Let's hear it."
"Andie can explain it better."
"No FBI," said Theo.
"She knows."
Theo shot him a sideways glance. "Henning is cool with that?"
"Yeah," said Jack. "She is."
"So the FBI doesn't know shit about this?"
"No. Only Andie."
"Damn," he said. "That's a hell of a woman."
"No kidding," said Jack. "So, you'll talk with her?"
A bus pulled up and stopped in front of them. The air brakes hissed, the doors opened, but Jack and Theo didn't move. The driver shrugged and pulled away, leaving them in a cloud of diesel fumes.
Theo turned to look straight at Jack, his eyes narrowing. "I want you to do two things for me."
"What?"
"Number one, when this is over, don't you dare blow it with her again."
Jack smiled. "Deal," he said, as he extended his hand to shake on it.
Theo shook his hand, but he didn't return the smile. "Two: stay the hell out of this. Both of you."
Theo rose from the bench and walked away.
THEO CABBED IT BACK to Gilford's apartment. He hadn't bothered to ask Jack, but he surmised that it was his car's Lojack system that had had given away his location. It was easy enough to taxi around that problem – literally.
Lance Gilford was right where Theo had left him, gagged and hoe-tied in his garage. Coming this close to drilling through the guy's skull had given Theo pause. He knew that Gilford could hold the key to finding Cy, but Theo didn't want to act out of emotion. A little time alone in the Coconut Grove ghetto had given him a chance to clear his head and devise a plan – the kind of plan that could involve neither Jack nor Andie, neither lawyers nor the FBI.
Theo put his gun to Gilford's head. "Time to call Fernando Redden."
Gilford nodded eagerly as if willing to do anything to avoid a bullet in the head – or worse, a drill bit. Theo told him exactly what to say and Gilford nodded once more. Then Theo removed the gag, got the number from Gilford, and dialed on Gilford's phone. No one answered at Redden's house. They tried his cell. Jackpot.
"What the hell is it now, Lance?"
"Sorry," said Gilford.
Theo put his ear next to Gilford's so that he could hear.
"Sorry, nothin'. It's one o'clock in the morning."
"I know. I-" Gilford took a breath, and Theo feared he was losing his nerve. Theo glanced at the tool chest – the drill bits – and Gilford fell right back into line, following Theo's script to the letter. "Theo Knight was just here."
Redden was silent. His tone changed dramatically. "Why?"
"He's mad as hell about something. Wouldn't say what. But he gave me something to give to you. It's in an envelope. Kind of feels like a videotape."
"Put it in your machine right now. Tell me what's on it."
"Forget it. I already know more than I want to know. You come here and get it."
"I can't," he said, and the strain in his voice was audible. "I got… there's something going on."
"At this hour?"
"Just – yeah, at this hour. I need you to bring it to me."
Gilford looked at Theo. A road trip wasn't in the script, so a little improvisation was in order. Theo nodded his approval. "Okay. I'll bring it to you. You at your house?"
"No. I'm out at the barn, you'll have to come here." Redden seemed to sense how strange that must have sounded in the middle of the night. "I got a sick foal. Can't leave."
"Where's your barn?"
Redden told him. It was in horse country south Miami-Dade County not far from Sparky's Tavern. Theo knew the general area. He flashed five digits, four times.
Gilford said, "I can be there in twenty minutes."
Theo gave him the cut signal. Gilford said a quick "See ya," and Theo hit the end button.
Theo untied Gilford's feet, kept his hands bound, and nudged him toward Gilford's car with his pistol. "Come on," said Theo. "We gotta look after a sick foal."
Neither man needed to ask if its name was Cy
Chapter 47
Fernando Redden tucked his cell into his pocket and went back inside the barn.
HAPP-Y Stables seemed like the perfect place to keep Cyrus Knight. It was secluded, butting up against a palm-tree nursery on one side and a tomato farm on the other, and it was near Redden's private plane at Tamiami Airport, just in case something went wrong. And there were plenty of places to hide away a hostage. Redden slid open the barn door and closed it. His pupils were adjusted to the night, so he didn't turn on the lights. A horse neighed in the darkness.
"Easy, girl," he said.
The stable had stalls for twenty-four horses, a dozen on each side of the long center aisle. Redden owned a dozen thoroughbreds, with plans to acquire more. He also owned the barn, the paddocks, and the surrounding acres of fenced pasture. He'd purchased the entire package for $7.5 million. Every penny had come from the Miami-Dade Housing Agency, thanks to the contacts he'd built as general counsel to his friend the mayor. Nearly $1.8 million had been approved for the construction of two dozen single-family homes, and another $2 million for an apartment building. The rest was earmarked for assisted-living facilities for the elderly. All of the projects were slated for Overtown. Not one was ever built. Fernando Redden kept every penny of the money. He supposed that he would get around to honoring that commitment. Someday. Maybe. For now, he would just enjoy HAPP-Y Stables – the inside joke being that HAPP stood for Housing Agency Project for the Poor.
Happy was not his mood at the moment, however.
"Moses!" he said, his voice rattling off the barn's tin roof.
Moses emerged from the stablehand's quarters at the far end of the stable. He was barely visible in the darkness, and it was only the sound of his footfalls on the concrete floor that enabled Redden to discern his approaching silhouette. With horses on either side of them, they needed only the jangle of spurs to look like two gunfighters squaring off at midnight outside the proverbial Gold Dust Saloon.
Moses stopped and leaned against the hitching post. "What's up, my man?"
"An old friend of mine just called," said Redden.
"Who?"
"Doesn't matter."
"Then why tell me?"
"He's on his way over here. Says he has a video for me. It's from Theo Knight. You know anything about it?"
"Uh-uh," said Moses.
Redden went for his gun, but Moses moved like lightening to draw his weapon and pressed the barrel up under Redden's chin.
Redden flashed a stupid, nervous smile. "What…what are you doing?"
"You were gonna pull a gun on me, weren't you?"
"No – no, no.”
Redden hadn't been this scared in years – maybe ever. But he was also furious with himself. Part of him wanted Moses dead, and he wanted to be the one to pull the trigger. Moses had been so convincing in selling an alliance with O-Town Posse. Unless Redden wanted to go to jail, he would eventually have to pay back millions to the Housing Agency. The drug trade's promise of a 200 percent return on investment would allow him to do that without liquidating his ill-gotten real estate. But Moses and his gang had proved to be nothing but trouble.