The first thing Leopold noticed when he woke was the smell of gasoline and metal. As his ears began to function he could hear the Bentley’s chassis groaning under its own weight and the sound of footsteps crunching through broken glass. His vision returned, and he could just about make out the still body of Jerome in the driver’s seat and realized the car had been tipped upside down. He heard the door wrench open and felt a strong grip pull him out onto the road by his ankles. Fading in and out of consciousness, he saw the same thing happen to Jerome.
“Is he alive?”
Leopold made out the husky voice, though he couldn’t see whom it belonged to. From the accent he guessed its owner was Eastern European, probably Czech.
“Looks like it,” said another voice.
“Good. We can have some fun.”
He felt a kick to his side and let out a gasp. The two men jeered and positioned themselves at either end of his body, one grabbing him by the arms and the other supporting his legs. They hoisted him off the road and effortlessly carried him over to the SUV, tossing him into the back seat. The door slammed close to his face, causing him to finally snap out of his daze and sit up. His headache had suddenly gotten a lot worse. He stared at the two men, fixing their faces in his mind. Both were a little over six feet tall, with shaved heads and arms as thick as their legs. Imposing, but not in the same league as Jerome. Both carried handguns tucked into their jeans and both had an assortment of tattoos on their bulging forearms. They glared back menacingly, showing their yellow teeth, close enough for their breath to fog the glass. Leopold looked over to where Jerome had been lying. He had vanished.
The two men must have sensed something was wrong and immediately turned to where the bodyguard had been seconds earlier, expressions of confusion on their ragged faces. They stalked over to the upturned Bentley and drew their weapons, searching for their prey. One of the men stepped toward the front of the car and peered around the crumpled hood. That was when Jerome attacked. The bodyguard’s palm connected with the man’s throat, choking him as his larynx collapsed and his airways filled with blood. In the split second it took the injured man to realize what had happened, Jerome grasped his forearm, turned on his heel, and flipped the man over his shoulders with such force that Leopold heard him shriek as he smashed into the road.
He watched the giant bodyguard quickly bring his palm down onto the man’s elbow while pulling the wrist upwards, snapping the arm. The Czech squealed in pain and horror as bone sliced through his tattooed skin, falling silent as Jerome slammed his skull into the asphalt. Grabbing the unconscious man’s firearm, Jerome raised the weapon level with the other attacker and fired, just as the second assailant brought his own gun up to take a shot. His head exploded in a mist of crimson and he dropped to the ground, just a few feet away. Leopold saw Jerome lean in closer to the first man, checking for a pulse, before walking back to the SUV and opening the door to help his employer out onto the road. Leopold took a moment to look up at the towering bodyguard, whose features had softened.
“I’m fine, don’t worry,” said Leopold, noticing the look of concern. “Who were those guys?”
“Didn’t get a chance to ask, I’m afraid.”
“Well, I don’t think we’ll get any useful information out of this guy,” said Leopold, pointing at the body lying nearby. “What about the other one?”
“No pulse. Blood loss and head trauma were too much for him.”
“And you didn’t think it might be a good idea not to kill both of them? The police are going to be swarming all over the place. This looks like an execution. Not exactly self-defence.”
“Relax. It’s my job to keep you alive, so if I’m in any doubt I put your safety first. It’s an unfortunate outcome, but it’s manageable. Let me handle the cleanup.”
“Fine, but be quick,” said Leopold, turning his attention to the ruined Bentley. “We’re already late as it is.”
Chapter 9
The black Mercedes S65 AMG swept silently through the quiet East Hampton roads. Mary sat in the back, fully insulated from the outside world, and soaked up the view. Impossibly huge houses sailed past on either side, most of which were set back from the road and locked up behind heavy metal gates. Each house sat on acres of pristine lawn and most were nestled close to the woodland areas that seemed to stretch all the way out to the horizon. One or two had security guards standing in plain view by the front door.
“Not far to go now, ma’am,” said the driver, turning his head.
Mary nodded and pulled out a small makeup mirror. She adjusted her hair and added some foundation to the dark circles under her eyes. The result was just about acceptable, but hopefully the senator wouldn’t be looking too closely. Not with everything he had to worry about, anyway.
The car pulled around a corner and the houses disappeared, leaving just an empty road lined with trees. After thirty seconds they reached a clearing to the right and a set of large iron gates. The car pulled up and the driver opened his window, leaning out of it to reach the keypad mounted near one of the pillars. He punched in a code and the gates jostled open, swinging slowly backward to allow the car passage. Mary couldn’t make out a house yet, only a long driveway lined with trees and immaculately trimmed bushes.
“Just half a mile or so to the house, ma’am,” said the driver, as he started the car moving again.
Mary had assumed that the senator had money, but she hadn’t expected him to own a large estate in one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the world. She couldn’t help but feel slightly intimidated, but quickly shrugged it off and concentrated on what she was planning to say during the meeting.
Mary had been surprised that the senator had agreed to see her at such short notice. Usually, the NYPD was kept out of the loop in high-profile cases like this, especially when the FBI got wind of what was going on and started fencing other departments out. This time felt different though, and the veteran police sergeant wasn’t sure what the senator was expecting from her. He had sounded a little distant on the telephone, a little distracted. Mary supposed that was probably a normal reaction to finding out your only daughter had been kidnapped by a violent psychopath, but there was something niggling at the back of her mind. Something just didn’t feel right, but she couldn’t work out what it was. Hopefully, Leopold would be able to shed some light on the situation. As usual.
The senator’s house loomed into view, and the Mercedes rolled up to the front door. The asphalt gave way to white gravel and the tires crunched quietly over the neatly raked stones before stopping near the entrance archway. The driver stepped out of the car and rang the doorbell. One of the house staff answered, a middle-aged man in a smartly pressed uniform, who said a few words to the driver that Mary couldn’t quite make out. The driver nodded and opened the rear passenger door for her, tipping his cap as she climbed out and went inside the house. The front door opened up into the entrance hall, an enormous atrium clad in white marble, with ceilings that stretched a full three stories into the air. Mary saw another man walking toward her, dressed in a dark blue uniform and body armor, with a large handgun holstered to his hip. It looked like a .45 SIG Sauer.
“Senator Logan is upstairs at the moment, ma’am,” said the security guard, drawing up close enough that she could smell his cheap cologne. “Perhaps you would be comfortable waiting in the drawing room? The senator will come down when Mr. Blake has arrived.”
Mary took a second to look the man up and down, a force of habit from years of sizing up potentially dangerous suspects on the force. She could tell he carried at least one other concealed handgun, and probably a bladed weapon sheathed to his calf, judging by the cut of the trousers. His face was pockmarked and scarred, suggesting occupational damage, and his expression was passive. His eyes gave away nothing. This guy was clearly a pro, but probably not in charge. That meant there must be others.