Bodyguard of Lies

CHAPTER 15

Racine was fuming. What had begun an hour and a half ago as a mild irritation had worked into a full-blown rage. He had traced the women to this street in downtown Kansas City. It hadn't taken long for him to discover their stolen car. He had watched it for a while until he saw one of them walk out of the damn store and feed the meter. They didn't realize he was still onto them. Probably thought they'd lost him leaving the parking lot. Still he had to be careful in such a public place and so he sat and waited.

He planned to nab them as soon as they hit the street. He had a serviceable shield in his wallet and handcuffs. He knew he'd have little trouble ‘arresting’ the two women on the busy sidewalk. People hated to get involved nowadays.

He was getting cramped even though he had pushed the front seat back as far as it would go. Racine listened to the radio for a while, twiddled his thumbs, studied a map he found on the back seat and read the airbag instructions a few hundred times. He couldn't stand waiting.

Racine had washed out of sniper school when he was in the service because he couldn't wait. The instructor had told him if it was just about putting a round in someone's skull, everyone would be doing it. But they had exercises at Fort Bragg where you were supposed to sit still for two days just so you could put a single fifty caliber round into a microwave relay tower to disable it. They called it Strategic Target Interdiction. Racine had called it a waste of time. Walk up to the damn tower, kill the guards, strap some C-4 on the sucker and blast it, was his recommendation.

Racine had no idea how those stupid sons-of-a-bitches sat with those bushes on their head for days at a time. Gant could do that shit, but there had been lots of other things Gant had avoided that Racine could do with ease.

Watching the store, Racine felt a new surge of anger. Women were just plain different. They had things in their head they couldn't control — like the urge to buy stuff when they should be running for their lives. The women had been in that store going on two hours. What was left to buy? He glanced at the sign above the door. Give him ten minutes and a hammer and he'd know Victoria's damn secret.

He thought about the brunette, Gant’s shadow. She didn't look bad if you forgot she was dead meat. Hannah Masterson wasn’t too shabby either and it was a shame that Nero wanted her intact. Racine grew even more uncomfortable as he thought about the two women.

That was it. Racine decided to take out the store. Enough was enough. Who the hell did they think they were? He wasn't some schmuck waiting around while they modeled every Goddamn thing in the store.

He checked the gun in his jacket pocket, unfolded himself from the confines of the car and strode to the front of the store exuding purpose and barely suppressed rage.

His entrance was loud enough that the one saleslady immediately stepped forward. She recognized Racine's state and without a word pointed to the back. Racine nodded. Smart girl. Recognized a man pushed to the edge. He looked around and figured it happened a lot in this snatch temple. As he walked in the direction the clerk had pointed, he could hear them talking behind the closed door of the dressing room but he couldn’t make out the words.

Racine kicked his foot against the flimsy lock and walked into the small room — and found himself staring at the blond. She was fully dressed and seated in a chair, one leg resting on a stool.

What really caught his attention next though was the mirror behind her and the reflection of the brunette and most especially the gun she held and the red dot on his right temple. He froze, recognizing the Glock 20 and knowing what the bullet would do punching through his skull.

Neeley was in her jeans and jacket and she gestured with the gun for him to move to the center of the room, out of arms reach, like a pro would. Hannah slowly got to her feet, favoring her wounded leg slightly. She took a wide berth around him and shut the door, locking it.

Racine almost tried to take Neeley, but he remembered her shooting at the house and the fact that Gant had trained her. The asshole had his faults but Racine had no doubt he’d taught her to drop someone in this situation in a heartbeat. And if she’d wanted to kill him, she’d have done so. She wanted to talk so this wasn’t a dead end scene. So like a woman. Racine moved to the center of the room, hands away from his sides so she wouldn’t make a mistake.

Neeley nodded. "Well, it's nice to finally meet you face to face. Do you have a name?”

Racine said nothing. She was going to pay. Pay hard. No quick death for either of them he decided right then and there.

“Why don't you take off your clothes," Neeley said, no hint of a question in it.

Racine started to protest but the combination of the muzzle of the Glock and the look in her eye pushed him toward acquiescence. He warily watched the two women as he stripped down to his shorts.

"The knives." Neeley gestured with the gun. Racine dropped the assorted weapons onto his pile of clothes. Hannah picked up the handcuffs. Racine sat in the chair Hannah had vacated. Hannah secured his hands behind the back with the cuffs, ratcheting them down tight on his wrists.

Neeley waited until Hannah was done before she spoke again. “Do you have a name?”

Racine remained quiet.

Hannah went through his wallet, pulling out a card. “This says he’s FBI. Special Agent Harold Racine.”

Neeley glanced at the massive Desert Eagle pistol deposited with the clothes. “No FBI agent would be carrying that thing. And the gun that shot up the house was big caliber like that, which isn’t exactly what the FBI would do either. You work for the Cellar don’t you, Harold?”

“Racine. No one uses my first name.”

Neeley nodded. “OK, Harold. Here’s the thing. I want to make a deal."

Racine tried to maintain some control. "You're not playing nice for someone who wants to deal."

Hannah seemed about to say something but a glance from Neeley stopped her.

"Here's the deal," Neeley said. "I take Gant’s place and Hannah takes John Masterson’s. We keep things as they are with new people in the old places."

Racine shook his head. "You know the rules. Or you should know the rules from Gant. You can't beat the Cellar."

"I'm not trying to beat the Cellar, just you," Neeley said. “And I’ve already done that.”

"You're stupid," Racine said. "I don't make the rules, I follow them. And the rules say you die and I take Mrs. Masterson back with me. There's no negotiating that."

"We're dealing with the wrong man,” Hannah said. “We want to talk to your boss. Mister Nero."

"Yeah, right." Racine's voice oozed sarcasm. "Mister Nero doesn't deal with people like you."

"I think he will," Neeley said. "We have what John and Gant had. Nero knows that."

"What do you have?"

Neeley held up the briefcase. “John Masterson’s piece of the puzzle.”

Racine shook his head. "Whatever is in there isn't in my instructions so I don't care."

"Perhaps Mister Nero does," Neeley said.

“What about Gant’s piece of the puzzle?” Racine asked.

“I have that,” Neeley said.

“And your piece?” Racine asked.

“I have that too,” Neeley said, surprised at the question.

“Good,” Racine said. “So before I kill you I can make you give both those pieces over to me. Real slow.”

Neeley gestured and Hannah stepped forward with a nightie in her hands. "Open you mouth."

"Fuck you!" Racine yelled.

Neeley stepped forward and pressed the end of the gun against his lips. "Open or I blow it open."

Racine opened his mouth and Hannah stuffed the silky wad in. Then she tied another around his head.

When Hannah was done, Neeley looked down upon the helpless Racine. "Contact your boss. Tell him we want to talk."

Racine could only glare up at her.

"They'll find you soon, no harm done. We'll be long gone."

Neeley turned and walked out of the dressing room, Hannah following.