“Then why are there twelve missed calls from you on her phone?”
Hendricks took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Why don’t we skip to the part where you tell me what you want?”
“It’s simple, really. I’ve got someone you’re interested in. You’ve got someone I’m interested in. Seems to me we ought to make a swap.”
“What makes you think I’ll give up Segreti that easily?”
“If you don’t, this little bitch’ll die slow.”
“So you say. For all I know, she’s dead already.”
There was a rustling on the other end of the line. Then, away from the phone’s mike: “Say hello to your buddy, darlin’.”
“M-M-Michael?” Hendricks’s heart ached when he heard the tremor in Cameron’s voice.
“Hey, kid. You okay?”
“Whatever Yancey tells you, don’t believe hi-”
Cameron’s words came out in a rush, and just as quickly, Yancey yanked the phone away. “I think that’s enough for now,” he said. “So, where and when you wanna make the swap?”
“I haven’t said I’ll do it, yet.”
“Oh, you’ll do it, but if I were you, I wouldn’t take too long to come to that conclusion. If I don’t hear from you soon, I’m liable to get bored.”
“Keep this phone on,” Hendricks said. “I’ll be in touch.”
He hung up before Yancey had a chance to reply. When he tried to slide the phone back into his pocket, he realized he was trembling. The air around him suddenly felt too close, too stale, too musty. He leaned heavily on the boat beside him for a second. Then he decided he needed to get the hell out of the warehouse. Without a moment’s concern over who might see him, he pushed out into the darkness, gulping air as he walked down the pier.
The night was cool, silent. The fog was even thicker than before. Hendricks could feel it part around him. It smelled of ocean-salt, sulfur, and rot-and blunted the lights along the waterfront, reducing Hendricks’s world to ten square feet of murky gray. He felt trapped, floating in the void between day and night, life and death, between his desire to avenge Lester and his wish that no one else be sacrificed for his cause.
Close behind him, a throat cleared.
Hendricks wheeled and drew his gun. He was unaccustomed to being snuck up on. Fever had rendered him weak. Distracted. Off his game.
It was Segreti. Hands in pockets. A sympathetic frown on his face. He didn’t flinch when the.45 came to a stop an inch from the bridge of his nose. He just stared calmly down the barrel until Hendricks lowered it.
“You okay?” Segreti asked.
“Honestly? Not really.”
“Lemme guess: Yancey’s got your friend.”
“She’s not my friend,” Hendricks replied. “The truth is, I hardly know her.”
“Clearly, Yancey sees things differently, and whatever else he is, he ain’t stupid.”
“Yancey can go fuck himself.”
“No argument here, but that don’t help the girl none.”
“Hey, she sought me out, not the other way around. I never asked for her to get involved. I came here to find out what you know about the Council so I can take them down. The smart play would be for you and me to walk away and not look back.”
“Guys like us ain’t always cut out for the smart play. Besides, I’m not sure taking on the Council qualifies as one. What’s your beef with them anyway?”
“Last year, they hired a hitter to come after me. He killed my partner.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. Listen, not for nothing, but I know a thing or two about the Council, and betrayal, and revenge. The path you’re on…no good ever comes of it.”
“So what do you suggest I do instead?”
“Big picture? No fucking clue. But there’s a girl out there who could really use your help. That seems as good a place to start as any.”
“You know he wants me to trade you for her, right?”
“Yeah, I figured. Just like you probably figured he plans to screw you over and kill all three of us.”
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
“Then I guess the question is, what’re we gonna do about it?”
“Actually,” Hendricks said, “I have an idea-but it’s not a good one. You’d be nuts to go along with it.”
“Will it save the kid?”
“I think so, yeah.”
“Do I get to live?”
“If you’re very, very lucky.”
Segreti laughed. Genuine and unself-conscious, it echoed loudly through the night, blunted only slightly by the fog. “Easy, pal,” Segreti said eventually. “Try not to oversell it.”
“I don’t want to bullshit you. I want you going in eyes open.”
“Fair enough,” Segreti said. “Let’s hear it.”
38.
THE TRUNK HATCH opened, and cool, clean air rushed in. Cameron’s eyes fluttered. She whimpered as she stirred, the sound muffled by the socks once again in her mouth.
“Up and at ’em,” Yancey said. Then he slapped her awake and dragged her out of the Cadillac by her hair.
Tears welled in her eyes. Her face and scalp burned. She tried to get her feet beneath her, but after a night spent zip-tied in the trunk, her limbs were clumsy, leaden, unresponsive. She wound up lying on the concrete, its chill leeching through her clothes.
They were in a parking garage, empty on this level except for the Cadillac. Dawn threatened but had yet to break. The world outside was bathed in blue, its details blurred by fog.
“I’m gonna remove your gag and cut you free, but if you scream or try to run, I swear to Christ I’ll shoot you. Understand?”
Cameron nodded.
He sliced through her zip-ties with a utility knife and pulled the socks from her mouth. Cameron coughed so hard she thought she might throw up. He’d stuffed them in way farther than last time, and his extracting them had triggered her gag reflex.
“Here,” he said, uncapping a bottle of water and handing it to her. “Drink this.”
She took a cautious sip. Swished it around her mouth. Swallowed, wincing. Then she gave the bottle back to him, her hands shaking so badly, it spilled.
“That’s all you want?”
She colored. “I…I have to pee.”
Yancey made her squat behind the Cadillac while he watched. The moment seemed to stretch on for hours. As she was zipping up, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window. He’d beaten her so badly, she didn’t recognize herself.
“These are for you.” He placed a floppy hat and oversize sunglasses on her head. “Now gimme your hands.”
She did as he asked. He zip-tied them again-in front of her this time-and draped a cheap plastic tourist poncho over them.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “What’s happening?”
“That’s up to your buddy. He called a few minutes ago. Said be ready to move come sunrise. Guess you must mean something to him after all.”
“You won’t beat him, you know. He’s too good.”
“Funny. That’s exactly why I think I will.”
Yancey drove them to a parking lot in Laurel Heights. It was teeming with Bellum operatives when they arrived. He backed the Cadillac into an empty spot and pocketed the keys.
“Here’s how this is gonna go,” he said. “You don’t do as I say, I fucking kill you. You speak out of turn-to my men, your buddy, anyone-I fucking kill you. You so much as look at me funny, I fucking kill you. Are we clear?”
“W-we’re clear,” Cameron replied.
“Good. Now stay put, and don’t touch anything.”
As he climbed out of the car, Yancey’s phone chimed, indicating a text. It appeared to have originated from an anonymous e-mail account rather than another phone. The sender’s name was Tick Tock. The content of the message was a photo of his daughter and her young twins, taken through the window of their nursery.
A shiver crawled up Yancey’s spine. He cursed Lombino under his breath and shot off a quick reply: Stand down. Target acquired. Then he stuffed his phone into his pocket as Reyes spotted him and trotted over.