Smoke and Mirrors

76

Pierce Mulvane tapped at the door to VIP suite 825. Kurt Klein’s security man, Finch, answered the door. Behind him the elderly German, wearing a silk robe and slippers, stood waiting in the sunken living room. “Come in, Pierce.”

Finch closed the door. “Please raise your hands, Mr. Mulvane.”

“Do you think Pierce means to do me harm, Steffan?”

“Sorry, sir,” Finch said. “There are security procedure’s in place for a reason. Would you like me to suspend them?”

“I can’t tell you not to do your job,” Klein said, shrugging.

Finch searched Mulvane by moving his hands up and down his frame, then gently but firmly into Pierce’s genitals as well as the crack between his buttocks. After Finch moved back, satisfied, Mulvane’s boxer shorts remained inside the crevasse.

“No problem,” Pierce said, as cheerily as he could. “We must all follow rules.”

“Without following rules, we are no better than animals,” Kurt agreed, with barely a trace of his native German accent. The son of a prominent industrialist, Kurt had graduated from Harvard with an international law degree. During WWII, the Klein factories had made vehicles and military equipment for the German army. After a few years in jail after the war, Kurt’s father had gone right back to it, manufacturing toasters, stoves, train cars, buses, and treaded earth-moving equipment instead of Tiger tanks. Kurt had taken over the Klein businesses some thirty years earlier, and had expanded and diversified until the family name was once again synonymous with goods made from German steel that performed as they were supposed to.

Kurt Klein’s easy smile was as disarming as the eyes of a baby seal. But beneath the polished exterior and gentle demeanor, he was as ruthless as a WWII SS Special Action Unit commander.

“I hope your accommodations are suitable,” Pierce said.

“Quite so, Pierce, my old friend. It is a pleasure for me to be here in your temporary palace,” he said, emphasizing the adjective. “This little Disney World.”

“‘Temporary’ is the right word,” Pierce said.

“Steffan, you may leave us,” Kurt said.

Finch walked to the kitchen and waited with his back to the cabinet, watching, but out of earshot.

“Please, sit,” Kurt said after he had taken a place on the sleek leather sofa.

Pierce sat and crossed his legs to reflect a casualness he didn’t feel.

“Fill me in on the River Royale.”

“Well, Herr Klein, I regret that I have some unpleasant news on that front. Well, not unpleasant, because it is going to be handled, but I seek your advice on a matter or two. You have experience with such complexities. I know this is a small venture for you.”

“Every one of my businesses is as important to me as any other.” Klein’s soft eyes hardened and the smile changed into one that filled Pierce’s veins with ice water. “I’m listening. Please make this business discussion as quickly to the point as possible. This is supposed to be an inspection trip for me. No sugar coating, Pierce.”

“Your man Pablo, the one who was to help with the land acquisition, made a snafu,” Pierce said.

“What sort of snafu?”

“It appears he killed the wrong person. The local authorities have gotten involved and now they suspect the murder is connected to the land acquisition. The sheriff and a deputy are investigating. The deputy is new, and evidently has been involved with several violent situations. He has killed several people. His name is Winter Massey.”

“Finch!” Kurt yelled, keeping his eyes fixed on Pierce.

Pierce jumped involuntarily at the sudden bark, spilling the Gardner files onto the carpet, but not daring to pick them back up.

“Finch!”

Finch moved into the room, gun in hand, with amazing speed. He stopped behind Pierce like a malevolent shadow. Pierce could see Finch in the mirror across the room, and that the gun was being aimed at the back of his head.

“Sir?” Finch said.

“You swept these rooms?”

“Yes.”

“This idiot has taken a very simple assignment and turned it into toxic waste.” Klein’s ability to mask his fury was slipping. He grabbed a heavy ashtray from the coffee table and for a second, Pierce was sure he was going to throw it at him. Instead he put it down again, took out a cigarette case and a gold Dunhill lighter from the pocket of his robe, and lit a cigarette.

“Sir,” Pierce said. “I didn’t have any part in the mistake. I’m sure-”

“Shut up!” Kurt snapped. “Why is this Winter Massey person here? Steffan, do you have any idea who he is talking about?”

“I’ve never met him, but I know him by his reputation. He was a United States marshal. From the little I do know about him, he is a formidable individual. He’s killed some very capable people.”

Pierce nodded and looked at his hands, which were tightly gripping his knees. “He’s retired. I don’t have any idea how he ended up in this, but he is here and he is involved.”

Kurt said, “We may have some repairs to make. I will talk to Pablo and see how he explains the snafu. Then, together, we will all figure out the best path to take. Have you spoken with him?”

“No,” Pierce said. “I’ve never met him. As instructed, I gave him someone local who could be trusted, to assist him as requested, but I am pretty sure he killed him. Jack Beals, the man Albert assigned to work with him, was the only one who ever met him.”

“Maybe this Massey killed your Beals?” Kurt relaxed, sat back against the back of the sofa, and took a long drag from the cigarette before expelling a cloud of thin white smoke.

“This will all work out,” Pierce said.

“I hope so,” Kurt said. “Steffan, you will handle it. Use that man…Tug, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Tug Murphy.”

“Where did you get this Murphy?”

“He came to me highly recommended by friends of mine in Boston. He can be absolutely trusted.”

Finch nodded. “I checked him out. He has a solid background with the Irish mob. Follows orders and knows how to keep his mouth shut.”

“What does Albert White know?”

“A little. I asked him for someone we could trust totally for a special job, and he recommended Beals immediately. He said he had used him for delicate matters in the past. Beals was an ex-deputy sheriff. Local, but he had a history with White. Beals’s father was a contractor for the Dixie mob.”

“What does White know about our prior discussions?” Kurt asked.

“As far as he knows, I am acting alone, doing what I think needs to be done for the project,” Pierce said.

“Where do you stand at this moment with Mrs. Gardner?”

Pierce said, “I have a two-and-a-half-million-dollar offer before her. I am hoping she accepts it. That would make the other thing unnecessary and expedite groundbreaking. The sheriff and Massey are snooping around, and Massey threatened me, but there is no proof of anything they can use against us. They won’t keep her from selling. In fact, it would be best to openly buy from her since they are nosing around.”

“I agree,” Kurt said, inhaling smoke from his cigarette. “We negotiate. But if we don’t succeed in negotiating by Sunday, we go with the relatives. If we get behind schedule on the project, it will cost me hundreds of thousands of dollars a day. You should remember that you talked me into this investment. You made me assurances on start and completion dates, and I have based everything on your timetable.”

“Which was given to me by the construction companies, based on other things.”

“I don’t care about their dates or contingencies or problems. You gave me dates. You made the decision on how to handle the Gardner situation, and I said okay, do it. I am in this here and now because of you. If we succeed, you will be running the finest resort in this country. On the other hand, people who fail me, do so only once.”

Mulvane wanted to scream. He looked at his image in the mirror and saw that he was smiling like an idiot. How it was that a man so close to ruin could be smiling was something he couldn’t fathom. But try as he might, he couldn’t change his expression.