He put the cylinder back, relocked the door, pressed his device against the fender and the alarm system came back to life. There was no sign he’d ever been there. If only the public knew what was out there to rip them off. Yet better they remain oblivious in the belief that they were actually secure.
On the way home Finn glanced at the stolen badge. Good thing he wasn’t really a bad guy, because with a little doctoring of the plastic he could topple the entire legislative branch of government single-handed, all 535 members. But there was only one he wanted. Just one.
Stone, Annabelle and Caleb were in the back of a van. Mike Manson, one of Bagger’s men, sat next to them. Mike had been the one to open Caleb’s door, gun pointed straight at them. Stone hadn’t thought they would be following Caleb; it was a miscalculation that apparently was going to lead to their deaths.
“So how’s Jerry?” Annabelle asked casually. “Run into any good scams lately?”
Mike said, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I doubt we’re going to the hotel where he’s staying,” Stone said. “A little too public.”
To this Mike said nothing.
An anguished Caleb had his face pressed to the window and seemed focused on not passing out.
“I guess a bribe wouldn’t do any good, would it?” Annabelle asked.
Caleb wrenched his face away from the window. “Are you aware that you could go to prison for this!”
Mike pointed his pistol at Caleb’s head. “Shut the hell up!”
The van swerved to the side as another vehicle suddenly cut it off. As the driver fought the wheel, Mike took his gaze off Stone for only an instant, but that was enough.
“What the-” Mike began before he slumped hard against the door. His gun clattered to the floorboard. Stone snagged the weapon and leveled it at his head.
Mike’s left side was in spasms after Stone had pressed his finger against a spot near the man’s rib cage. “Come on, old man, give me the pistol before you hurt yourself,” Mike said, grimacing in pain.
Stone cranked off a round, blowing away a tip of Mike’s ear before the bullet shattered the window. Then he pointed the gun at the driver’s head. “Pull it over now, before I put the next one in your brain.”
The van jerked to a stop on the dirt shoulder.
Stone stared at the stunned and bleeding Mike. “Next time you kidnap someone, sonny, tie them up. That way, you won’t look like an idiot again.”
“Who the hell are you?” Mike cried out.
“Just hope you never really find out.”
They bound Mike and the driver using straps and rope they found in the van, and then laid them in a ditch next to the road. They searched them for ID but found none.
Stone climbed in the driver’s seat and the three drove off.
Annabelle looked over at Caleb. “Are you all right?”
He turned to her, his face a delicate shade of rage. “I’m fine. Why shouldn’t I be? In less than an hour’s time I’ve had my home broken into, been kidnapped and then nearly killed. And now this Bagger monster knows that I lied to him. And he also knows where I live and where I work. Oh joy, joy for me.”
“Well, we’re not dead, that’s something,” Stone pointed out.
“Not dead yet!” Caleb shot back.
Stone handed Caleb his phone. “Call Alex Ford at home. His number’s on my speed dial. Tell him what happened and where he can pick up Bagger’s men.” He looked at Annabelle. “Jerry made a big mistake. And now we have something to hang him with that doesn’t require you and Paddy going after him.”
Caleb made the call and they continued on down the road. When they passed a curve a truck shot out from a side road and blocked their way. Stone tried to swerve around it but Annabelle cried out, “It’s my father. And Reuben.”
It was indeed Paddy Conroy driving and Reuben in the passenger seat. Paddy pulled the truck up next to the van and rolled his window down.
Annabelle leaned across Stone. “What the hell are you two doing here?”
Reuben said, “Got to thinking after you two left that Bagger had visited Caleb at work and maybe he had his guys follow him home. So me and Paddy decided to play a little backup.”
Paddy added, “We drove to your friend’s place in time to see them come out with you. From what Reuben told me, you”-he pointed at Stone-“just needed a bit of a distraction to take over the situation. And I guess he was right, as it turns out.” He glanced over at Annabelle. “I can see why my daughter trusts you so much.”
Stone shot a look at Reuben.
“Paddy and me had a nice chat on the way over.” He clapped the Irishman on the back. “And let me tell you, the dude can drive.”
“Started my career as a wheelman.” Paddy added hastily, “For the army, of course.”
Stone drove off in the van with Paddy and Reuben following. All were in high sprits at having nailed Bagger and his men. Yet it was not to be.
After Alex sent agents to get Bagger’s men, they reported back that the pair had disappeared. After that the news didn’t get any better. The pistol Stone had taken from Mike was sterilized; the van stolen. Their kidnappers had not mentioned Bagger’s name, so there was nothing to connect any of it to the casino chief. They didn’t even have enough to bring him in for questioning. The authorities were not happy about coming up empty. In the future it was made very clear that the cavalry would not come running when called.
It seemed to put them back at square one in their war with Bagger.
Yet it was Oliver Stone who was the most worried. Sterilized weapon, stolen van, no IDs, bound people disappearing in the night with no trace? What if it hadn’t been Bagger’s men who’d kidnapped them? What if instead of being after Annabelle they were after him?
CHAPTER 50
WHEN MIKE AND HIS PRISONERS didn’t show up at the pre-arranged spot, Bagger didn’t shout or throw objects. He was far more introspective than most people realized. You didn’t get to his level without thinking things through from every angle.
The casino boss knew that losing Mike was not a good thing. Worse than that, he didn’t know who he’d lost Mike to, or what Mike might be saying to them. The town was crawling with feds. You could spit on any street corner and hit five of them, easy. Bagger’s instincts had allowed him to survive many dangerous moments. He could sense this was one of them. He could hop on his jet and make a run for it. Yet that cut against everything he’d built his career on. Jerry Bagger never ran from trouble.
He made some calls. The first one was to bring down some reinforcements from Atlantic City. Bagger then called Joe, his PI guy, and instructed him to dig up some more information that Bagger felt he would need as this whole thing unfolded. The last call was to his lawyer, who knew more of Bagger’s secrets than anyone. The man immediately began constructing alibis and legal strategies in case the feds knocked on his client’s door.
With that business finished, Bagger decided to take a stroll alone. Unlike Atlantic City, D.C. closed shop early. On a weeknight there were few restaurants, bars or clubs open this late. Yet after about a ten-block jaunt, Jerry found a neon-lighted dive, went inside, grabbed a stool at the bar and ordered a whiskey sour with a chaser from a bartender whose features clearly showed that life had come down on him like a sledgehammer. The fat guy seated next to him gazed droopily into his beer while an Elvis Costello song drifted from the dented jukebox that was coated with decades’ worth of beers and tears.