Saint/Sinner

Chapter 24

It took seven months and a lot of digging, a lot of patient research, recalling every single thing she knew — or thought she knew — about the man, and spotting patterns that no one else saw. Fortunately, she had spent a lot of time learning how to hunt down people who didn’t want to be found, and two years of inactivity hadn’t dulled that knowledge completely.

She didn’t bother trying to get his room number at the five-star Croatian resort hotel where he was staying. It wouldn’t have worked anyway. There was a reason clients paid a lot of money to stay here, and privacy was a big part of it. It cost her a good bit of her savings just to reserve a room, then for the plane ticket and everything else that came with a “last-minute vacation.”

It took half the day, alternating between lounging at the pool, walking around on the beach scanning faces, and turning down drinks from men in the resort’s three separate bars before she finally spotted him coming back to the hotel with, predictably, a tall blonde on his arm. He always did prefer blondes. The taller and skinnier, the better. She followed them up to his room, memorized the number, then returned to hers.

He was still groggy from last night’s activity when she knocked on the door the next morning. She had a blonde wig on, contacts, and almost the exact same black cocktail dress that his date was wearing on the night prior — not that she expected him to notice all the minor differences — so when he peered through the peephole and saw her, he didn’t even question her identity.

He opened the door, still wearing his robe, and flashed that smug grin that had been haunting her dreams for the last seven months. “Forgot something? Because I have to tell you, I think we were pretty thorough last night.”

“Charming,” she said, and showed him the small Sig Sauer P220 with the suppressor she had been hiding behind her purse.

His eyes went wide.

“Step back,” she said.

The surprise gave way to confusion as he backpedaled into the room. She closed the door, and with one hand extending backward, locked it, all the while keeping both eyes on him. She didn’t expect him to try something, but you could never be too careful when dealing with a fugitive who knew that there were worse things than being captured by the law.

“Who—” he started to say, when his eyes got big. “Oh, shit.”

“Now that’s the reaction I was hoping for,” she said. “Do I even need to say how this is going to work?” When he didn’t answer, “Scream, and I shoot you. If you have any doubts, remember what happened back at Walter’s.”

He sighed, then turned around and walked into the living room where he sat down on the couch. The open patio window let in a cool breeze, and she could see the sandy beaches and smell the blue waters all the way from up here.

She sat down across from him and took off the wig, then placed it on the table between them. “I want it.”

“Want what?”

“The money. All of it. Or whatever’s left,” she said, gesturing at the room, “after this.”

“Five million or so.”

“Bullshit.”

“I had a lot of people to pay off. Womack survived, you know. Mostly brain dead, but alive—”

“I don’t give a shit,” she said.

“Harsh.” He sighed and leaned back against the furniture, then crossed his legs. He wasn’t wearing anything under the robe. “I read about Lucy. Living with her aunt now?”

She didn’t reply.

“I thought you would adopt her,” he continued.

“I had other things to do.”

“Such as?”

She pointed the gun at him.

He smirked. “Looking for me.”

“Uh huh.”

“How did you do that, by the way?”

“I wasn’t always your secretary.”

“I guess not.”

They stared silently across at each other for a moment. She wondered what was going through his mind at the moment, and if he was scared of her — scared of the gun in her hand — or of all those people he didn’t “pay off” when he fled.

“Well, shit,” he said finally. “How do you want it?”

“Show me how to access it.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then I’m going to shoot you in the leg. Keep being stubborn, and I’ll shoot you in the other leg.”

“I might scream.”

“Sure, you could, but then someone would call the cops, and the cops might run your name through Interpol.”

“Croatia has no extradition treaty with the U.S. That’s why I came here, remember?”

“We both know the U.S. government is the least of your worries.”

He frowned.

“I ran across a couple of them while looking for you,” she continued. “They’re anxious to find you. Like you said, Dan, Gorman and Smith has been dealing with some very bad people. I suspect they want their money back, and you doing a little screaming isn’t going to bother them one bit. Me, on the other hand, I’ll settle for just the money.”

“Well, it’s nice to be wanted,” he smiled. Or tried to. The smugness was gone, though, replaced by obvious desperation. Then he sighed again. “I’ll need my laptop.”

“So let’s go get your laptop,” she said.

“They’re on their way,” the English voice said over the phone. “You’re cutting it close.”

“Plenty of time,” she said.

“Who’s that?” Dan asked.

“No one that concerns you.” She put the phone away and picked up the laptop with her free left hand, then slipped it into her purse. She gestured with the gun in her right hand. “Lie down on the bed on your stomach and put your hands behind your back.”

He grinned. “I didn’t know you were into that, Allie. You should have told me earlier; we could have had a lot of fun at the office.”

She ignored his comment and watched him do as he was instructed. When he finished, she took out a pair of plastic zip ties and bound his ankles and wrists and left him lying in the middle of the bed.

“Hey,” he said when she started walking away. “Hey!”

“I wouldn’t shout too loudly,” she said at the door. “Don’t want your neighbors calling down to the front desk and sending for the cops.”

He said something else — not quite screaming this time — but she had already closed the door by then.

She stepped out of his hotel suite and was halfway down the hall when the two men in suits turned the corner.

As they walked past her, the one with the slicked back hair gave her a sharp look. She didn’t respond but could feel his eyes on her back even as she turned the corner, moving faster with every step.

“Got everything you needed?” the man asked.

She nodded, watching Apollo bound off the truck bed and run toward her when he spotted her climbing out of the taxi. She crouched and rubbed the dog’s head, and he leaned against her leg for more.

“What time’s the next flight back to the States?” she asked.

“Two hours,” the man said, glancing at his phone. He was in his fifties, English, and his services had cost her the other half of her life savings. “I can get you to the airport in thirty, and you’ll be back in good ol’ America eating hamburgers before you can say, ‘I’ll have the Happy Meal.’”

“We don’t all eat hamburgers, Pell.”

“No?”

“You don’t see me making dentistry jokes, do you?”

He smiled widely, showing perfect white teeth. “I joke because I care.”

“Right,” she said. Then, standing up, she said to Apollo, “Come on, time to go home.”

She opened the truck’s back passenger door for the dog, then climbed into the front seat. Pell slammed his door and turned the ignition.

“What’s in the purse?” he asked.

“Womanly products.”

“It looks bigger than when I dropped you off yesterday.”

“You’re just imagining things.”

He chuckled. “Well, I am getting up there in years, I suppose.”

Pell maneuvered them away from the cliff and back onto the road just as two local squad cars flashed by them on the next lane over.

“Looks like trouble at the resort,” Pell said.

“Looks like it.”

“You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?”

“Nonsense. I’m just an American woman on a last-minute vacation.”

“Of course you are,” he said, and smiled at the road. “So, on a scale of one to ten, would you recommend my services to friends back home?”

“Will you lay off the Happy Meal jokes?”

“Promise.”

“Then, yes.”

“Excellent,” Pell said. “So what’s next for you, Allie Krycek?”

“I don’t know,” she said. She opened her window and mirrored Apollo behind her by sticking her head outside into the cool breeze. “I guess we’ll see where the wind takes me…”