Takedown

CHAPTER 22

Finding the location of the Latham house took no time at all. Alex had simply stopped the rental car, stuck her head out the window, and asked the first local girl she saw, “Where does Pappy Leo live?”

Twenty minutes later she drove past the fruit stand the girl had described and the main driveway to the house, then made a left turn on a road that took her through a jungle of coconut and bougainvillea trees behind Leonard Latham’s massive plot of land. This seemed to be the only road up here, and after driving past ramshackle houses and their lean-to carports for a while, she began thinking she was lost.

It was then that she noticed a car behind her, another old Buick like hers.

Was it someone who lived up here?

Or was she being followed?

It was possible that Deuce’s close call yesterday had spooked Valac and put him on alert. Latham’s security men could be patrolling the surrounding neighborhood, checking out anyone who might look as if they didn’t belong.

She pulled to the side of the road to see if the other car would do the same, but the Buick sailed past her without slowing and disappeared around a curve. She tried to get a look at the driver, but sunlight glinting on the passenger window prevented her from seeing inside.

She waited a moment in case the car turned around, but when it failed to reappear, she pulled onto the road again. Several minutes later, she finally found what she was looking for: a narrow road on the left with a sign that said PRIVATE. DELIVERIES ONLY.

The service road Deuce had mentioned.

Alex rolled to a stop, staring at the sign and the blacktop beyond. She could see only the first hundred feet before the road curved to the right and disappeared amidst the foliage.

Valac was in there somewhere. And more importantly, Eric Hopcroft.

She sat behind the wheel, engine idling, knowing her fury had gotten the better of her. She had no game plan. None. All she had was the desire to confront Hopcroft and try to make sense of what was going on. To find out the truth.

Studying the lay of the land, she thought about her options. If she went in on foot, it might be best to avoid the service road altogether. The jungle foliage that surrounded it was thick but not impossible to travel through, and it would give her all the cover she needed to approach the estate unseen. And if any guards got in her way, she’d neutralize them.

But as soon as she considered this, she dismissed the idea. If she wanted a confrontation with dear old Uncle Eric, why skulk around in the jungle? Why not take the direct approach and drive straight to the house instead? She would no doubt be stopped by the guards, but if she made enough of a fuss and demanded they take her to Hopcroft, she saw no reason why they wouldn’t. At the very least, they would alert him, and the moment he saw her on the CCTV cam, he was bound to recognize her.

Or would he? She had been a teenager the last time she saw him, and she’d been through a lot of changes. The awkward girl he’d known had disappeared long ago.

Well, he would figure out who she was soon enough, wouldn’t he?

Spinning the wheel, she nudged the accelerator and turned onto the service road, ignoring Cooper’s voice in the back of her head, pleading with her not to blow the op.

She had no idea how far she’d have to travel before she reached the house. A quarter of a mile, maybe? Half? More?

As she wound her way through the trees, she heard the flutter and squawk of birds through her open window, and wondered if their reaction to her presence would alert the guards. This Buick would never be mistaken for a delivery van, and Latham’s men might cut her off before she even reached the house.

She was a good quarter mile in when the road widened slightly and the ground began to rise.

What the hell am I doing?

This all suddenly seemed ridiculous as the temporary insanity that had overtaken her started to fall away.

There was no guarantee she’d even get an audience with Hopcroft. That had merely been wishful thinking. And despite her feelings, there was a part of her that did care about Stonewell’s op. She couldn’t help herself. Embedded in her psyche was the need to do what was right. She wanted that scumbag Valac caught and tried and convicted for his crimes. If she were to barge in on Latham’s private property, that would only alert the bastard that something was up and likely cause him to flee.

“You’re an idiot,” she told herself.

She pulled her foot off the accelerator, intending to make a U-turn and get the hell out of there. But as she eased the car to the side to give her more room for the turn, she heard the roar of an engine, and the Buick she’d seen earlier raced up alongside her, pulled in front, and screeched to a halt. The doors flew open and three men emerged carrying automatic weapons.

She reached for the transmission lever, intending to throw the car into reverse, but froze as the biggest man hurried forward and pointed the muzzle of his gun at her window. “Show me your hands.”

There was something familiar about his voice, but she couldn’t place it. She had no weapon on her, and she was trapped inside the car, so she did as she was told.

“All right,” he said. “Open your door slowly and get out.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Don’t speak, just do what I say.”

Nodding, she pushed the door open and raised her hands as she climbed out.

Did these guys work for Valac?

And where had she heard that voice before?

As the big one gestured her forward, one of the other men slipped in behind the wheel of her car and shut the door.

Alex looked toward the other vehicle and saw a fourth man seated in back, but couldn’t make out his face.

Valac?

Or maybe Hopcroft?

The big man waved his weapon and gestured her forward again, directing her toward the other car as his colleague moved to it and opened the rear passenger door.

“Get in.”

“Tell me who you are. What do you want? I took a wrong turn, is all. I didn’t realize I was doing anything—”

“Get in.”

She started for the passenger door and was halfway to it when she remembered where she’d heard that voice. It had come from behind a ski mask on a moonlit beach in Key Largo. From a man wielding a knife.

What the hell?

As she climbed inside the car, she suddenly knew she had been set up from the very beginning. The e-mails. The phone calls. The walk on the beach. The chance encounter at the Cajetan Cafe.

Because the man sitting on the backseat was Thomas Gérard.

She clenched her jaw. “You’d better have one hell of an explanation for what’s going on here, because I’m in no mood to be kind.”

He showed her that killer smile. “It’s quite simple, Alex. Your father sent me.”