Sabotage (25 page)

Raylon wanted to be home, but since that wasn’t possible, he rolled down the privacy glass. “Marvin, get some rest. We gon’ be here a while.”

Marvin nodded. “I’ll do that.” He put up the glass.

Raylon looked at Joey. “You too, man. Catch some rest. We may need you in a while.”

Joey shook his head. He couldn’t look tired—even now.

“Naw, man,” Raylon urged. “Get some rest. For real.”

Joey took a hit of the little bit of purple that was still in the car.

“Aiight, man, I will.”

Raylon was all to himself for the first time in many hours.

G
rant had never let his guard down quite so spectacularly, and his body paid for it. He didn’t know how long he had been out, but he didn’t think it was long. Still, it was long enough for Naseem to be well on his way. He felt the blood running down his cheek, and the pain radiated up and down his neck. But those were the least of his problems. Now, Grant was doubly fucked as there was still video of him assaulting Mandy on the plane. He cringed when he discovered he didn’t even have his badge.

He heard his phone ring; thank God Naseem hadn’t taken that. It was Caitlin, giving Grant no additional time to wallow in his grief. Grant grabbed at the phone.

Caitlin told him to come to Harrah’s and explained as best she could what wing she was in. She told him to call again when he was on site, and they could talk on house phones, which seemed safer to her. After everything that had gone on, she was terrified Britt might still have some ability to track her. Her rational mind was sure this wasn’t the case, but she wanted to hedge her bets.

Grant told her he could be there in twenty minutes. He was also pretty sure that if he waited much longer there would be a dragnet thrown across the city looking for him. He walked through baggage claim, which was nearly empty, and ran to the front of the taxi line, normally longer than a good lie but instead had only a few employees trying to make it to the other side of town. Grant flashed his wallet as a “badge” and gave everyone a dirty look who dared cross him. He had learned this trick years ago, and he looked just gnarly enough to pull it off. The Indian man who kept the taxi line was no match, and he gave Grant the first taxi.

The cab smelled of incense and clove cigarettes; it was overpowering. Any other day, Grant would have waited for another cab, but today he didn’t have time.

“Hundred bucks extra if you can get me to Harrah’s in fifteen minutes,” Grant said to the driver

His driver was astonished. “Done,” he nodded.

Y
ankee was more important to Naseem than freedom. Ending Yankee’s life was more important than keeping his. He was willing to do anything he needed to in order to avenge what happened today. So the next move was easy.

He saw another government-issued Chevy Suburban, obviously an FBI vehicle. He knew he only had seconds, but it was worth a try. The vehicle was still running, and its driver stood having a smoke a few yards away. He hadn’t thought this through, but he edged toward the vehicle, out of the driver’s sight. He imagined that even with today no one was planning on someone doing something quite so bold. Naseem walked up to the vehicle, put it in gear, showed Grant’s badge, and headed out. He figured the badge bought him a few seconds, so he drove slowly at first and then floored it as soon as he was past the flabbergasted driver. He made the corner and knew he could get out in time to put some distance between him and another vehicle.

Naseem managed to keep hold of the phone he bought at Wal-Mart. He expected them to confiscate it, but they hadn’t—thankfully. It was another sign Grant didn’t have the makeup to do what needed to be done with Yankee. He was foolish to believe he ever had. He was the only one who stood a chance.

Now, the phone came in handy. He memorized all of Yankee’s numbers, but he knew that Yankee would be carrying only one phone now—the secret phone, only given to those closest to him.

He drove fast and texted. Sue him. He sent a simple and direct message:

THIS IS NASEEM. YOU DIDN’T KILL ME.

He didn’t have to wait long for the response.

HOW DO I KNOW?

Naseem took a second. He needed to make this quick.

BECAUSE I HAVE THIS #. BECAUSE YOU’LL KNOW MY VOICE WHEN YOU CALL ME.

Brilliant. Make him make the move. He knew it wouldn’t take long.

The phone rang. Naseem answered it immediately.

“Who is this?”

“You know who it is.”

He could hear the recognition on the other end.

“Wha …?”

“Your plans have failed, you two-timing sonofabitch. Your woman is still alive, and she’s meeting with your enemy, the real reason you did all of this.”

There was a long pause.

“Where are you?”

“I’m coming to find you. Let me know if you want to make it easy.” Naseem hung up the phone.

R
aylon nudged Joey, who had almost gone to sleep. They were in this position now for well over two hours. Raylon wondered if they weren’t chasing ghosts. Well, obviously, they weren’t. Here was their man.

They rolled down the window after he went by. He didn’t acknowledge their vehicle at all and parked in the driveway, not bothering to use the garage. He got out of the SUV and activated the rear gate. He got a small black carry-on bag out of the back and then closed the door. The vehicle made the familiar yap-yap sound and yellow lights flashed.

Joey started to walk out of the limo, but Raylon put his hand on his arm. He looked at Joey.
Wait. See what he’s doing.

The man pulled his phone out of his pocket. He was looking for the door code. He fumbled for a second but then found it. He punched the code in carefully and hit the pound sign.

Tony heard a “whee” sound he immediately recognized. He took only a step when the door blew apart in a violent burst. The man was enveloped in the flames. His phone flew out of his hands, and his head hit the ground hard.

Tony, who had planned and executed so many deadly bombings since he was a teenager, now experienced what one actually felt like; he felt the all-encompassing pain, the nerves flaring, then numbing, and the sense of hallucination and all-too-real at the same moment. He saw two black men approaching him fast. He wasn’t sure if they were friend or foe.

C
aitlin heard the phone ring and let out a sigh of relief. She gave Grant directions from the lobby up to the room and then waited the eternity it took for him to arrive.

She looked at Grant, saw the damage to his face. She hugged him and wouldn’t let go. He didn’t know how to play this, so he stood still and held on. She stood in that spot for an awkwardly long time.

Grant thought about saying something stupid like, “Fancy meeting you here,” but he couldn’t stomach it. He squeezed her tightly and then stood away from her. The reunion was over. It was time to get to work.

“What can you tell me?”

“I’ve dated Britt Vasher for about six months. It was nothing serious at first, but he kept pursuing me.” She looked down. It was hard to tell her former lover this. “I finally started seeing him more and more. He was always very inquisitive about my past, which is kind of rare. Most guys don’t ask much, you know? I found it odd. Finally, it was really awkward, actually, and he asked about you. And then after he brought it up, he couldn’t stop asking about you. It was weird. It was one of the first things that kind of pushed me off.”

“Do you have a picture of him?”

“Just one, and it’s not very good. I left my phone in a cab on purpose, because I figured he could track me.” She went to the dresser and picked up a picture she left there. “It’s not great, but it’s some people I have known for a couple of years. He’s the …”

“… Second from the left.”

Caitlin looked at him. “You know him?”

“His name isn’t Britt Vasher. It’s Britt Vance. He was one of the FBI agents I busted in 2006.”

Caitlin’s heart sank. This wasn’t about her at all. It was about Grant.

“So he …”

“Set me up in D.C.”

Caitlin wanted to vomit.

Grant didn’t have an I-told-you-so left in him. He had to figure out how to get this information to the FBI, who now wanted him.

“Whose phone is least compromised?”

Caitlin gave him the phone that Tonya gave her.

“No problem.”

He looked at Caitlin. “Can your girl get rid of this after I’m done?”

“No doubt.”

“Call her now.”

Caitlin went to the room phone and did this.

Grant searched who to call. Mandy would be the easy choice, but he didn’t want to give her any more grief. He didn’t really have friends in the last couple of years. He didn’t have any of his contacts with him, so he decided to call the general FBI tip line in Vegas. He even had to search for this number.

After the dance of the automated phone, he finally got an operator. “This is Special Agent Grant Miller.”

“You are wanted, Agent Miller.”

“I know. I can’t come home just yet. Need to find a couple more details. But I have one bit of information you need. The man to look for? His name is Britt Vance. He masterminded this whole thing.” Grant wanted to say, “to get even with me,” but he didn’t. It sounded egotistical. It might not even be true. It probably seemed too flippant. But he knew that it was true, and it explained everything.

When he got off the phone, Tonya was waiting by the door. He handed her the phone she was going to make disappear.