Chapter One Hundred and Three
‘I’m glad you’re here to see this for yourself, Atticus,’ the Wolf said to his lawyer. ‘This is such bullshit harassment. My businesses are beyond reproach. You know that better than anyone. This is highly insulting.’ He looked at me. ‘Do you know how many business associates you’ve insulted at this party?’
I was still restraining myself from his physical threat to my family, to little Alex. I didn’t want to take him down; I wanted to take him out.
‘Trust me, this isn’t harassment,’ I told the lawyer. ‘We’re here to arrest your client for kidnapping and murder.’
Sorokin rolled his eyes. ‘Are you people mad? Do you know who I am?’ he asked. Jesus, I’d heard almost the same speech the day before in Dallas.
‘As a matter of fact, I do,’ I said. ‘Your real name is Pasha Sorokin, not Ari Manning. Some people say you’re the Russian Godfather. You’re the Wolf.’
Sorokin heard me out – then he laughed a crazy laugh. ‘You are such fools. You, especially.’ He pointed at me. ‘You just don’t get it.’
Suddenly there were shouts coming from one of the other rooms on the first floor. ‘Fire!’ people were yelling.
‘C’mon, Alex!’ Mahoney said. He and I left Sorokin with three agents and ran to see what the hell was going on. How could there be a fire? Now?
Guests were rushing out of a large study off the main living room. There was a fire. It seemed to have started in the study. Mahoney and I pushed through the exiting crowd. Apparently, the fire was in a closet. Swirls of smoke came from under the door. A lot of smoke.
I didn’t hesitate. I lowered my shoulder and hit the closet door hard. I slammed into it again. The wood cracked this time. I hit it once more and the door collapsed. Thick black smoke billowed out.
I stepped up close and tried to peer inside. Then I saw something move.
Someone was in there. I could see a face.
Elizabeth Connelly was on fire!
Chapter One Hundred and Four
I took a breath then lunged forward into the cloud of smoke and heat. I felt the skin on my face begin to burn. I forced myself inside the walk-in closet. Stooped down. I grabbed Elizabeth Connelly in my arms and stumbled backwards out of the closet with her. My eyes were tearing, my face felt blistered. Elizabeth’s eyes were open wide as I removed her gag. Ned Mahoney worked on the rope bindings around her arms.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered in a voice hoarse with smoke. ‘Oh, thank you,’ she gasped.
Tears ran from her eyes, smudging the soot on her cheeks. My heart thumped a wild beat as I held her hand and waited for the paramedics to come. I couldn’t believe she was alive, but it made everything worthwhile.
I only got to savor the feeling for a few seconds. Shots rang out. I ran from the den, turned the corner, and saw two agents down, but alive.
‘Bodyguard came in firing,’ the closer agent told me. ‘They ran upstairs.’
I hurried up the stairs with Ned Mahoney following close behind. Why would the Wolf go upstairs? It didn’t make sense to me. More agents joined us. We searched every room. Nothing! We couldn’t find the Wolf, or the bodyguard. Why had they run upstairs?
Mahoney and I did another full walk-through of all the rooms on the second and third floors. Fort Lauderdale police had begun to arrive and helped secure the house.
‘I don’t see how he got out of here,’ Mahoney said. We were huddled together in the second-floor hallway. Puzzled and disgusted.
‘Has to be a way out up here somewhere. Let’s look again.’
We went back down the hallway when I had a thought. I retraced our steps down the second-floor hallway, checking in several guest bedrooms as I walked. At the far end of the hall was another stairway, probably used by the help. We’d already searched it. Sealed it off at the bottom. Then it suddenly struck me. A small detail that I had overlooked.
I hurried down to the first landing. There was a casement window and a window seat there. It was just as I’d remembered. Two small cushions on the floor. I opened the latched cover of the window seat.
Ned Mahoney groaned out loud. He saw what I’d found. The escape route. The Wolf had gotten out!
‘He might still be here. Let’s see where this goes,’ I said. Then I lowered myself into the opening. There were narrow wooden stairs, a half-dozen of them. Mahoney held a flashlight on me as I climbed down.
‘It’s here, Ned,’ I called back to him. I saw how they’d made it out. A window was open. I could see water a few feet below.
‘They went into the Intercoastal,’ I called up to Mahoney. ‘They’re in the water!’
Chapter One Hundred and Five
I joined the frantic search in the waterway and the rest of the neighborhood, but it was already getting dark. Mahoney and I raced up and down estate-lined narrow streets. Then we drove along nearby Las Olas Boulevard, hoping against hope that someone had spotted two men in soaking-wet clothes. But no one had seen the Wolf or his bodyguard.
I wouldn’t give up. I went back to the Isla Bahia-estates area. Something was wrong. Why hadn’t anyone spotted two men fitting that description? I wondered if they had diving gear in the cellar alcove. How thoroughly had the Wolf planned his escape? What extra precautions had he taken?
Then I let my mind go in a different direction – he’s arrogant and fearless. He didn’t believe we’d find him and come here to take him down. He didn’t have an escape route! So maybe he was still hiding in Isla Bahia.
I passed my ideas on to HRT, but they’d already begun to go door-to-door at the estates. There were dozens of agents and local police combing the exclusive neighborhood in Fort Lauderdale. I wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t let the others quit. Whatever drove me – stubbornness? perseverance? – had paid off before. But we didn’t find the Wolf, or anyone who’d seen him in Isla Bahia.
‘There’s nothing? No sign? Nobody saw anything?’ I asked Mahoney.
‘Nothing,’ Mahoney said. ‘We found a cocker spaniel on the loose. That’s it.’
‘We know who owns the dog?’ I asked.
Mahoney rolled his eyes. I didn’t blame him. ‘I’ll check.’ He went away and came back after a couple of minutes.
‘It belongs to a Mr and Mrs Steve Davis. The Davises live at the end of the street. We’ll bring them their dog. Satisfied?’
I shook my head. ‘Not really. Let’s the two of us return the dog,’ I said. ‘I don’t know why a dog would be loose this late at night. Is the family home?’
‘Doesn’t look like it. The lights are off at the house. C’mon, Alex. Jesus. This is hopeless. You’re clutching at straws. Pasha Sorokin is gone.’
‘Let’s go. Get the dog,’ I said. ‘We’re going to the Davis house.’
Chapter One Hundred and Six
We had started toward the Davis house with the brown and white cocker spaniel when a report came over the two-way. ‘Two suspicious males. Heading toward Las Olas Boulevard. They’ve spotted us! We’re in pursuit.’
We were only a few blocks from the shopping district and got there in minutes. The cocker spaniel was barking in the back seat. Fort Lauderdale police patrol cars and FBI sedans had already formed a tight ring around a GAP clothing store. More patrol cars were still arriving, their sirens screaming in the night. The street was crowded and the local police were having trouble stopping the pedestrian flow.
Mahoney drove up to the blockade. We left a window cracked for the dog. We jumped out and ran toward GAP. We were wearing flak jackets, carrying handguns.