Smoke and Mirrors

94

Kurt Klein tried to relax, but every few minutes he checked the computer for Styer’s reply, softly cursing the empty screen. He was accustomed to business-borne intrigue and suspense, but so much was hanging on this deal that he was screaming inside.

Kurt winced when the phone rang. Finch answered it and spoke softly into the receiver before placing his hand over the instrument and walking over. “Sir, a Senator Raffleman wishes to speak to you.”

Kurt took the phone and waited until Finch had left the room. “Klein here.”

A woman said, “Just a second, please.”

After a click, Bert Raffleman’s voice came on. “Kurt, how are you?”

“I am fine, Senator.”

“And Freida?”

“She’s in Paris spending money. And how is Cindy?”

“Doing the same here in Washington, of course. Any word on when you’re going to hold that press conference on your resort?”

“Absolutely. I will be scheduling it tomorrow, and the invitations will be going out Monday. Can’t do it unless you’ll be here to take credit, since you have been so instrumental in paving the way for it.” Not to mention the nine hundred thousand dollars I paid you and your crooked, blood-sucking pals, you slow-talking, two-faced ass.

“Well, it’s not every day we get an investment like yours down there. Going to be a big boost to the economy. I can’t wait to get on one of those golf courses you’ll be building. And Cindy is excited about the spa. Not that she needs any help in the beauty department. Just let me know when and I’ll be there. You know I wouldn’t let you down. That’s what friends are for,” Raffleman drawled.

After he hung up, Kurt glanced at the computer screen and saw that Styer had answered his e-mail. Sitting forward on the edge of the couch to see better, he put on his glasses and read the response.

Uncle, Message understood. Good news on land. Girl will be home by ten tonight. Will be away from computer from here out. Wire money if satisfied. I have personal business to attend to before leaving.

Kurt closed the connection and sat back, thinking. Styer knew he had been called off the Gardner family. The part that was of concern was the “personal business” reference.

He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Massey’s name had been vaguely familiar to him even before Mulvane mentioned it. Kurt had learned from his source in D.C. that Winter James Massey, while he was a deputy U.S. marshal, had crossed swords with a rogue group of shadows, killing several of them in a series of firefights. He knew that when Yuri Chenchenko had betrayed Styer, he had sent him to kill an ex-federal marshal. That contract had been a ruse, designed to put Styer in a position to be killed by the CIA-sponsored shadow men. Since Massey knew Styer by name, and knew he was in Tunica, the only explanation was that Massey was Styer’s target, and that had to be the personal business Styer mentioned.

It all made sense. Styer had pushed Klein for the assignment in Tunica after Klein had asked Styer to recommend a lesser talent for the job. Styer, claiming he needed an easy assignment to stay sharp, had asked Kurt to let him solve the Gardner problem. For the past eight months Styer had lived here among the natives, doing research and crafting a plan that would make the land deal happen by the drop-dead date Kurt had given him. That date was at hand, and, however it had happened, the land was as good as Kurt’s.

Styer could not kill Massey. Not here or now. He stared out the window unseeingly as something came to him. The only people who could possibly take Styer out were the shadows-the cutouts who’d been Styer’s main adversaries before the Berlin Wall fell. They had wanted Styer dead for years, and had made a very expensive deal with Yuri to get their hands on him. If the two unidentified men Massey had told him were dead were cutouts, they would have been expecting to find Styer, and now that he had killed two of them, they would be looking even harder for him.

Kurt had an idea and a new direction for his thoughts.