Myron’s thought exactly. But Win seemed untroubled.
“Herman is a sweetheart, you will see,” Win said. “In the meantime, what happened to Myron’s brother?”
Crisp frowned. “The guy married to Kitty?”
“Yes.”
“How the hell would I know?”
Win sighed. “Cooperate. Reveal all. Remember?”
“I’m serious. We didn’t even know Kitty was around until she contacted Lex. I don’t have a clue where her husband is.”
Myron thought about that. He knew that Crisp could be lying—probably was—but what he said fit with what Lex had told them.
Win unfastened his seat belt and walked over to Evan Crisp. He handed him the satellite phone. “I need you to call Herman Ache. Tell him we will meet him at his Livingston residence within the hour.”
Crisp offered up skeptical. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I am indeed a mirthful fellow. But no.”
“He won’t let you in armed.”
“That’s fine. We don’t need weapons. If anyone touches a hair on our heads, the world finds out the truth about Gabriel Wire. Bye-bye, big money. We are also moving Lex Ryder—your cash cow, if you will—to a secure location. Do you see?”
“Cooperation,” Crisp said. “Reveal all.”
“I love it when we have an understanding.”
Crisp made the call. Win stood over him the whole time. On the other end of the phone, Herman Ache didn’t like what he was hearing, not at first, but Crisp explained what Win wanted to do. In the end Herman agreed to the meet.
“Wonderful,” Win said.
Myron looked at Crisp’s smile, then up at Win. “I’m not sure I like being kept in the dark,” Myron said.
“You don’t trust me?” Win asked.
“You know better.”
“I do. And I have it under control.”
“You’re not infallible, Win.”
“Correct,” Win said. Then he added, “But I’m also not always your faithful sidekick.”
“You may be putting us in a dangerous situation.”
“No, Myron, you did that. When you agreed to help Suzze and all those who came before her, you put us where we are now. I’m just trying to find us a way out.”
Myron said, “Wow.”
“The truth hurts, old friend.”
And in truth, it did.
“If there’s nothing more . . .” Win checked his watch and smiled at his favorite stewardess. “We still have thirty minutes before we land. You stay and watch our prisoner. I’m going into the bedroom for a little Mee time.”
32
Big Cyndi met them at the Essex County Airport in Caldwell, New Jersey. She put Lex, the nurse, and the baby in an SUV. Big Cyndi was going to bring them to Zorra, the cross-dressing former Mossad agent, and then Zorra would find a safe house and would tell no one—not even Myron or Win—where it was. This way, Win had explained, if his plan somehow backfired and Herman Ache grabbed and tortured them, they wouldn’t be able to tell them where Lex was.
“How comforting,” Myron had said.
Win had a car waiting. Normally he’d use a driver, but why put anyone else in danger? Crisp was fully awake now. They pushed him in the backseat and redid his restraints, adding some to his legs. Myron sat in the passenger seat. Win drove.
Herman Ache lived in a legendary mansion in Livingston, scant miles from where Myron grew up. When Myron was a kid, the estate had belonged to a famed crime boss. Rumors swirled around the playground about the place. One kid said that if you crossed their property line, real-live gangsters shot at you. Another kid said that there was a crematorium behind the house where the mafia boss burned his victims.
This second rumor was actually true.
The gateposts were topped with bronze lion heads. Win took the long drive to the first landing. That was as far as they’d be able to go. They parked. Myron watched three big guys in ill-fitted suits approach. The one in the middle, the leader, was extra beefy.
Win took out both his guns and placed them in the glove compartment.
“Get rid of your weapons,” Win said. “We’re going to be searched.”
Myron looked at him. “Do you have a plan here?”
“I do.”
“Do you want to share it with me?”
“I already did. The four of us are going to chat. We will all act rationally. We will learn what we need to about your brother. We will agree not to harm their business interest if they don’t harm us. What part of this bothers you?”
“The part where you trust a psychopath like Herman Ache to act rationally.”
“He is, first and foremost, interested in business and the air of legitimacy. Killing us would harm that.”
The biggest of the beefy bruisers—he had to be six-seven, three hundred pounds—knocked on Win’s window with his ring. Win rolled down the window. “May I help you?”
“Get a load of this.” Beefy looked at Win like he was something that had just dropped out of a dog’s behind. “So you’re the famous Win.”
Win smiled brightly.
“You don’t look like much,” Beefy said.
“I could offer up several clichés—don’t judge a book by its cover, big things come in small packages—but really, wouldn’t that just go over your head?”
“You being funny?”
“Evidently not.”
Beefy lowered his brow in a Neanderthal frown. “You armed?”
“No,” Win said, pounding his chest. “Me Win. You armed?”
“Huh?”
Sigh. “No, we are not armed.”
“We’re gonna search you. Thoroughly.”
Win winked at Beefy. “I was counting on that, big boy.”
Beefy took a step back. “Get the hell out of the car before I put a hole in your head. Now.”
Homophobia. Still gets to them every time.
Usually Myron joined Win in these fearless taunts, but this situation seemed too out of control. Win left the keys in the ignition. He and Myron stepped out of the car. Beefy told them where to stand. They did as he asked. The other two men opened the back door and used straight razors to free Evan Crisp from the plastic restraints. Crisp rubbed the circulation back into his wrists. He walked over to Win and stood directly in front of him. The two men stared each other down.
“Can’t sneak up on me this time,” Crisp said.
Win gave him the smile. “Would you like to go, Crisp?”