Dog Tags

CHAPTER 71

ALAN LANDON COULD HAVE REACTED TO THE CALL FROM CHAPLIN WITH ANGER, BUT THAT WASN’T HIS STYLE. He certainly would have been justified in being furious. He had covered every base, thought of almost every eventuality, but was in this difficult position because of the incompetence of others.

Landon knew Carpenter was a danger from day one. He was smart, and he had resources, and once he took on a client he did whatever was necessary to defend him. That was why Landon had ordered Zimmerman murdered in the prison; if Carpenter’s client had been killed, he would have had no reason to keep going. But that attack had failed, and this was the result.

Landon knew this was coming eventually; there was too much money at stake, too many people involved, too many moving parts, for it to have remained under the radar forever. He had planned for this moment, and he would be fine. He just wished it had waited another seventy-two hours to happen.

“Carpenter knows about the rhodium,” Chaplin had said, a trace of panic in his voice. “He’s putting the whole thing together with Iraq.”

“Does he know the details?”

“No,” Chaplin said. “I don’t think so. If he did, he wouldn’t have been trying to pressure me. He’d be talking to the feds instead.”

“Good,” said Landon. He agreed with Chaplin’s assessment. “Then it’s important you not give in to that pressure. This will all be over very soon.”

“For you, maybe. But I’ve got to go on with my life. I can’t disappear.”

“You won’t have to,” Landon said, even though his plan all along was for Chaplin to involuntarily disappear when the time came. “Everything is under control.”

“That’s not how it looks from here.”

“You need to continue to trust me. By next week, this will be behind you.”

“Right. Okay,” Chaplin said, not very convincingly.

“You have done nothing wrong. You made investments on behalf of your clients, investments you were directed to make.”

“People died,” Chaplin said. “Stanley died, for Christ’s sake.”

“That was an unfortunate accident—”

Chaplin interrupted. “Was it?”

“—that you had nothing whatsoever to do with.”

“I don’t want to go to jail, Alan.”

“That won’t happen.” What Landon didn’t add was the rest of his thought. Because you will be dead.

Once they were off the phone, Landon called M. “Carpenter is making Chaplin nervous.”

The news came as no surprise to M. “I told you Chaplin couldn’t be counted on.”

“He’ll make it for the next week,” Landon said. “And then it won’t matter.”

“I hope you’re right,” M said. He was noticing less confidence in Landon’s voice, a sure sign that he was more worried about Chaplin than he was letting on.

“Are things under control on your end?”

“Totally. We’re just waiting until the target is in place.”

“Good. When you’re finished, we start cleaning up. Chaplin, Carpenter… everyone.”

M couldn’t help but smile. Landon had no doubt that he was in charge, that M would do whatever he asked.

Wrong on both counts.