2200 hours
Miserable and in pain, Gardner crouched naked and chilled in the palmetto shrubs outside Ray Branson's multi-million dollar digs. Located on Skidaway Island, the luxury community offered the best golfing and yachting to be had in the Savannah area. The salty ocean breeze coming across the marshes was heavy with moisture and made the night cool. Getting past security had been a challenge, but he'd waited outside the service entrance for just the right truck to hide beneath. They were having some big shindig at the club house tonight, which afforded him a little more freedom to move around, but not much.
He'd had to wait outside. Ray had cheated on Conrad and had replaced the security system Conrad had sold to him. Gardner wasn't sure how to disable it so had been forced to sit in the yard to wait for Ray's return, like a dog.
That burned.
The carbon steel of the K-bar tactical knife he clutched in his right hand was solid and powerful enough to overcome his handicap. He was generally left-handed, but the bullet wound Collins's bitch had nailed him with hurt like hell. He'd packed the wound with gauze and had downed as many over-the-counter pain meds as he dared.
He'd given a lot of thought during the drive on how to take care of Ray and had decided on a knife. The damn rifle he'd used on Lauren's muscle had left Conrad deflated. He'd waited forever for the shot and then it had been over too soon. And he wasn't even sure if he'd offed the guy or not. Clubbing Edward had been much more satisfying. He could feel the death, smell the blood, hear and see Edward's terror and pain.
Guns had their place but not for meting out justice.
The knife would do well, but would also be messier, which is why he had his clothes in a bundle under his arm. It would make clean up easier.
Across the small cove was the club house. He could see people in gowns and tuxes, milling around, drinking champagne, completely uncaring that there were folks like him who had to fight to have a dollar in their pocket. They were just like Edward and Bill and Ray and Bob. Thomas not so much, but then, his death had been an accident.
Somebody needed to go rig the gas to that place and send them all packing to their heavenly reward. Conrad shifted, thinking he'd really enjoy seeing the place blow, and who knew, it could be hours before Ray returned. But what if Ray was there? What if Ray had Bill's letter on him?
Pissed and deprived, Conrad settled back into his spot to watch and to burn inside. He'd always been on the outside of anything good in life, looking in as if he were a lowlife unworthy of anything more. Except for one brief time. Then he'd been everyone's hero. The magic of the game, the feel of the ball, the cheer of the crowd, the whole shinning glory that had gilded him football's golden boy. It had all been his.
He tightened his grip on the knife and tensed as an expensive sports car pulled into Ray's drive and the streetlight illuminated Ray in the driver's seat. A woman in red sat in the passenger's seat. Conrad smiled; she came dressed for his party. As the garage door opened, and Ray slid the Jag-U-R inside-Conrad hated those commercials-he rolled inside, clothes tucked and knife ready. He waited until Ray disarmed the security system before he attacked the couple on the steps leading into the house.
From the first slash until the last, Conrad felt the satisfying rush of blood both in his veins and from out of the veins of his victims washed over him. The surrounding scents were earthy and dark. The wild energy and terror that had permeated the air was electrifying. The euphoria better than any orgasm he'd had in a long time. The mud room was just inside and Conrad showered, hating to wash away the blood, but realizing now more than ever he couldn't be caught. He had the perfect set up as long as everyone believed he too had been a victim. But were he to leave any evidence then he'd lose his anonymity.
Once he was clean, dry and redressed, he covered the shower, knife and towel he used with bleach, then he went in search for the letter Bill sent to Ray. He found it unopened inside a bin filled with mail and packages. Conrad quickly opened the letter and scanned it for the next clue to piece together with the others.
There once was a king. He died on a throne. In his land of Grace, did the whole world mourn. Buried like a bone, by the water's spray. He reigns supreme until this day.
The jackpot lies as does he, but the real prize will be-
Cold steel pressed into the back of his neck. "Don't move. Drop the letter and put your hands behind your back or I will blow your head off."
?Mierda! Andreas stormed into his operations room on the Airbus A380. They were less than two hours from home. He couldn't believe Fidel's emergency call and had to see the live feed immediately. George barked his irritation at the interruption of their picnic among the clouds. He'd had his top chef deliver a number of delicacies that both he and his son enjoyed and they'd just settled down on a checkered table cloth on the floor of the Magic Carpet room for the feast when Fidel called.
The British office building that housed both GreenWorld Corporation and BioLogics's European headquarters was being raided. Guru had video of the invasion streaming in via a backup security system. The ten of his employees gathered about the screen scattered, looking at George with fear.
Andreas ignored them and set his gaze on the unfolding scene. Men in black, dressed in special ops tactical gear and carrying MP5s swarmed every floor of the building, confiscating everything from computers to files to phones. Andreas was stunned. Why hadn't any of his moles in any of the world's top intelligence agencies informed him of the danger?
Guru switched from camera to camera, showing that every business in the building was being targeted to a search, but only BioLogics and GreenWorld Corporation's equipment was being taken. No audio could be heard along with the feed. The men were either working in complete silence or had a high tech inter-communication system.
"Madre de Dios." His security resources weren't prepared to stop an attack like this. Not in such a civilized area of the world. In Brazil, yes, in Peru at his Santuario, yes, but in London where political correctness ruled over everyone and the rights of even an earthworm were protected? No. There'd never been the need. His staunchest environmental supporters were parliament VIPs. He pulled George into his arms to hold him close as he stared at the screen at a loss for the first time since he'd been abandoned as a child.
Fidel tapped the computer screen. "Guru, can we capture some of these men's faces and search for an ID?"
Brilliant, Andreas thought. Exactly what he would have suggested once the shock had eased. Guru set to work. The men's faces were blackened with ski caps pulled low and Night Vision Goggles (NVGs) covering their eyes. Was it even possible?
Guru had the same thought. "With the equipment on, I don't think…hold on. I'm going to hack into the management's computer system and trigger the auxiliary office lights."
Minutes later, in the middle of their raid, the entire building lit up like a Christmas tree. Blinded, men stumbled and yelled before snatching off their NVGs. It had put a major disturbing knot in the smooth operation.
"Bloody hell. What's going on, Scottie?" one man shouted, drawing Andreas's attention.
"Enlarge his face, Guru."
Guru filled the screen with a close up of the man's face and Andreas leaned in close, swearing the man's eyes were very familiar to him.
"Give me more, Guru. I know this man."
On another screen, Guru brought the man's profile up as he turned and spoke to another man. The accent was off, the beard was gone, the hair shaved short, but the nose and the eyes and the voice were the same. Saleem Al-Jabar! The investor he'd had dinner in Dubai with last evening. The investor who knew Andreas was on his way back to South America.
Andreas had known something was going on. The sheikh, UAE's president Khalifa bin Zayed Al Nahyan, was apparently trying to steal GXP from him! Andreas had a surprise for him.
"Fidel. Divert all my Black Op teams from the Canadian attack and jet them to Dubai. Econ 1 is docked there. Tell them there's been a change in our next oil targets. I want to hit all the major oil facilities in Abu Dhabi, Dubai, Sharjah, Ajman, Umm al-Quwain, Ras al-Khaimah and Fujairah. Leave no reserve untouched. They're to begin the attack as soon as possible."
"Yes, sir. I also have more bad news and some minor news to report."
"You speak English well, Fidel."
"I was educated in America. An asset to you of course."
Andreas raised a doubtful brow. "?Como es que?"
"Because, unlike the other Fidel, I have more knowledge of how the world works and am not afraid to make some small decisions on my own. We have been unable to reach the operative after Collins's wife. I have sent a man to the hotel they were at. Also, a small call was made to one of the watch numbers. The message was, "Leaving town now. We are safe. Will call soon. Love you." It was made from a hotel north of Atlanta. I heard some background noise and had Guru amplify it. Play it for us, Guru."
Though garbled the words were still discernable. "See Mickey Mouse! Hurry, Aunt Angie!"
Fidel smiled and Andreas tingled with excitement. "Disney World. Bill Collins's sons are likely going to Disney World. I've checked all the events in Georgia, and in the surrounding states. There is nothing with Mickey Mouse on the ticket."
George tightened his hold on Andreas's neck and pressed his lips into a flat line, expressing his dislike of this Fidel. Andreas patted George's back and smiled back at Fidel, liking the replacement after all. "This call was made at what time?"
"Four o'clock today."
"Divert our flight to Orlando. By morning I want every man possible looking for Collins's twin sons wherever Mickey Mouse can be seen. There will be only so many blond, identical-looking little boys at the amusement park. The odds are more than in our favor. Excelente, Fidel."