The wake-up

36

Thorpe waited for Missy to get out of her car before he called Warren and told him to go ahead and crash Arturo's system. Warren snapped his fingers into the receiver, said, "You're welcome," and broke the connection.

He followed her through the Fashion Island mall for over an hour before making his move, tracked her through Prada and Chanel and Versace, Missy striding along in her sleek forest green skirt and top, snapping her fingers from the dressing rooms, barking at saleswomen. The clothes that didn't meet with her approval were tossed aside, diaphanous dresses thrown onto the floor; those she liked were packaged for delivery later. Fashion Island was four stories of platinum AmEx finery and hauteur, nymphets practicing their sneers as they window-shopped, their mothers proud of their own washboard midriffs, looking like their daughters' older, harder sisters.

In a tapered blue-black suit and with a newly cropped haircut, Thorpe fit right in-"the New Militarism," the stylist had called it. Thorpe checked himself in the mirror. His face reminded him of an ax blade, but there was something off about his eyes. He had glimpsed Claire only once or twice through his window since they had made love. Neither of them made any effort to contact the other, their fleeting intimacy fractured, sending them in opposite directions. That didn't mean he didn't think about her.

Missy headed for the elevator to valet parking, and Thorpe closed in. "I would have passed on that last outfit you bought, the silvery one," he said, the words barely out of his mouth before she turned. "It made you look like a Martian hooker."

Missy stared at him. "Arturo is going to be disappointed, but I'm not. You look dangerous enough to eat, Frank. Did you kill Guillermo?"

"No, but I took his bulletproof car away from him."

Her mouth twitched. "I almost believe you."

"Ask around. I'm sure someone has heard Guillermo lost his wheels."

She watched him, then nodded to the small round tables outside the French-themed cafe. The waiter ambled over a few minutes later, a skinny kid with scimitar sideburns, leaving just as slowly with their cafe au lait orders. Missy crossed her legs, showed just enough thigh to get the attention of every passing male. "How did you get away from Guillermo?"

"Smoke and mirrors."

She showed the tip of her pink tongue. "Whoever hired you to cause trouble between Guillermo and us chose the right man." She waved at someone behind Thorpe's back. A woman-he could see her in the reflection of the cafe's window. "Alison Peabody," she said, looking past him, still waving. "Last time I ran into her, she asked me if it was true I was collecting decorative ceramic thimbles. Cunt." She turned back to Thorpe. "Who was it who hired you, by the way?"

"Guillermo hired me, just like I told you. He wants you and Clark dead. That hasn't changed. He just doesn't think he needs me anymore."

The waiter interrupted them, set their drinks on the table, one cup wobbling, spilling a few drops of cafe au lait into the saucer. He backed away without a word.

"Vlad and Arturo were supposed to back me up at the orange grove. We could have ended both of our problems." Thorpe sipped his coffee. It was weak and barely warm. "I thought we had a deal."

"You lied about Guillermo's taking down our cookers. That ended the deal."

"I didn't lie. That's what he told me."

"That's what Cecil said." Missy tossed her blond mane. "When Cecil starts agreeing with you, Frank, you're in big trouble."

Thorpe pushed aside his coffee cup. "When I was sitting in Guillermo's Town Car, just before his pistoleros made their play, Guillermo said he was officially canceling my contract. He said he had somebody on the inside working for him. They were more expensive than me… but Guillermo said he could be more certain of the outcome."

A pencil mustache of foam curved across Missy's upper lip. She slowly licked it off. "Of course, Guillermo didn't tell you the name of this someone."

"No."

"I bet you could find out, though, if I deposited money in your offshore account. Where is it, the Caymans?"

"Isle of Wight. Tighter bank security laws than the Caymans."

Missy laughed. "What ever are you up to?"

"Same as ever… I'm up for telling the truth and having fun telling it. I'm up for doing unto others before they do it to me. I'm up for giving you a hard ride and making some money, too. The all-American dream. You up for that, Missy?"

Missy's eyes flashed, and he knew that look, pure blood lust masquerading as eroticism. She stirred her coffee, the spoon clinking against the side of the cup. "Someone inside our operation. There's probably a dozen people who qualify. Dealers, cookers… our accountant, our contacts at various chemical supply houses. You must have some idea who Guillermo was talking about." She spooned the foam into her mouth. "Otherwise, what do you have to sell?"

Thorpe smiled. She was fast. "I don't know, but we can find out."

"We?"

"That's right."

"Now I am intrigued. Why don't we go back to the house and see if Clark wants to play."

"Clark doesn't get to play. Arturo wouldn't have hung me out to dry if Clark hadn't okayed it."

"Arturo made that decision on his own."

Thorpe shook his head. "This is between you and me."

"I'm flattered."

"I thought you would be."

Missy had a small laugh that dirtied everything it touched. "I can't get a handle on you, Frank. I love the way you talk… but I wonder what I've done to deserve you." She crossed her legs again, treated him to the rustle of silk. "I'm a married woman, a happily married woman, but I know what men are like. I think you show yourself movies in your head when you're all alone. Sweaty movies with lots of grunting and groaning, and I think I'm the star, aren't I, Frank?"

Thorpe allowed himself to fall into her eyes, and he wondered what Clark would have been like if he hadn't met her. A man could drown in those cold blue eyes; a man could lose himself and never find the bottom.

"I think we could have some fun, Frank."

"I think we've already started." She didn't work on him, but Thorpe was impressed. She used everything she had to claw her way up the food chain. So did he. "Do you have a PDA? Vlad and Arturo were always checking their PDAs."

A little confused, Missy dipped a hand into her purse, brought out her wireless PDA. "Do you really think Guillermo has an inside man?"

Thorpe took his time answering, waited until she inclined her head toward him, an inadvertent sign of vulnerability, but enough. "I'm not sure. He might have been just fucking with me. Maybe he let me get away, thinking I'd come to you with the story, and set you worrying about who was about to betray you. No better way to ruin an operation than from within." He shrugged. "I don't know if Guillermo was lying, but I know how to find out the truth. It will cost you one hundred thousand dollars." He slid the number of his offshore account across the table to her.

"Do you expect me to trust you?"

"No, I'll trust you instead." Thorpe smiled. "Just before I came here today, I contacted Guillermo and made him an offer. I said unless he paid the balance due on my contract, I was going to tell you that he had compromised your organization."

Missy looked down her nose at him, waiting. "Well? What did Guillermo say?"

"He said he wanted to think about it. He also asked for his car back."

"So all I have is your word that-"

"Log on to your PDA. Send an e-mail to everyone in your operation. Everyone in your address book. Tell them it's a test, that you want to make sure they're monitoring their messages, and that they should send you an e-mail response immediately." Thorpe stood up. "I'm going to take a stroll, give you some privacy. I'll be back in ten minutes. That should be enough time."

"For what?"

Thorpe started walking. He didn't need to look behind him to know she was already sending out the e-mail. He took twenty minutes to return. Never let anyone be able to clock you-that was one of the first things Billy had told him when he signed on. Returning in five minutes would have been just as effective.

"You're late," said Missy. The PDA was on the table.

Thorpe sat back down. "Has anyone gotten back to you?"

"What do you think? I said I wanted a response immediately. "

"Then you'll know soon enough who's the inside man." Thorpe looked just past her, watched the reflection of the passing shoppers in the cafe window, all the pretty people on parade. "After I spoke with Guillermo, I sent him an e-mail with my offshore account number. Inside the e-mail was a doomsday virus that bypassed his fire wall and corrupted the hard drive. Anyone Guillermo sent an e-mail to in the last hour had their computer infected. Anyone he contacted had their system fried." He tapped Missy's PDA. "I figured that after I spoke to Guillermo, the first thing he would do is contact his inside man. So, anybody who doesn't answer your e-mail… that's the guilty party."

Missy stared at her PDA.

The waiter appeared. "Hi. Can I-"

Missy waved him away.

"How many of your people still haven't responded?" asked Thorpe.

"Three."

"Kind of exciting, isn't it?" Thorpe stood up. "You owe me one hundred thousand dollars. Send it to my account as soon as you're down to one no-show. I work on the honor system." He kissed her hand. "Strangely enough, no one ever stiffs me."