The Last Family (39 page)

“Our lasers?”

Thorne said, “Disarmed.”

“Very good,” Paul said. He patted Thorne on the shoulder. “Let’s forget the lapse. It happens. I’ve been known to relax myself. Let’s just make sure it doesn’t happen again. We’re entering the most dangerous time of the operation. Every single assigned agent is about to swing into motion in Charlotte and Miami. But for right now, when you feel safest, you have to be most alert. What we least expect may well happen. We’re dealing with very crafty men.”

Paul lit another cigarette. “Did you know that Martin can capture signals from bugs planted by others? He explained it to me once. Piggybacking he called it, and he said he had perfected it. Maybe he was just bragging.”

“You mean, if he knew we were using the window readers, he could intercept the signal?”

Paul shrugged. “You turned off the transmitters, so we’re okay now. Sorry I got so excited. It’s my nerves. Martin probably wouldn’t come in like I did. He isn’t into suicide. He’s too goal oriented.” He looked at Thorne and smiled. “I’m telling
you?
You knew him as well as I did. In fact you were the first one at DEA who suspected him of being the leak.”

Thorne perked up again, feeling adequately restored as leader of his team in the eyes of the agents.

“Martin’s accomplice is a man named Kurt Steiner,”
Paul said. “My guess is that he’s here in New Orleans. So even though we don’t expect Martin to be in New Orleans tonight, Steiner may be. He might do something dramatic to draw us here. What he lacks in the sort of personal motivation driving Martin he will undoubtedly make up in some other compensation.”

“Asshole buddies?” Thorne asked, laughing.

Paul frowned. “Agent Lee and I are flying out in an hour or so because I plan to be in Miami when Eve gets there. Whichever way she moves, we intend to have her covered. My people will be in place in Miami, Dallas, or Denver—wherever she heads. We have every confidence we’ll find Martin. If we miss his friend, the game will not be over. When we take Martin, we have to take Steiner as well. All we have so far is a set of his fingerprints from an Argentine police ID.”

“That’ll be a trick. Any chance of a picture?” Thorne asked.

“Not clear yet,” Paul said. “Have you swept the house for explosives like I asked?”

“Yes, sir,” Sean offered. “It’s clean.”

“You mean it’s clean as far as a dog could tell. I don’t plan to take the chance that Martin doesn’t know how to fool a dog’s nose. My family has to be moved to a secure location unknown to anyone outside this house. Nobody is to have a chance to get through to Laura and the kids. They won’t be able to resume a normal existence until Martin and his friend are neutralized.”

“Force her into exile?” Woody said it before he had a chance to think.

Paul froze and looked at him. “Of course. Safe house somewhere until this is over.”

“Sir, no disrespect intended, but what if she doesn’t want to go? Mrs. Masterson doesn’t strike me as someone willing to give up her life to Martin Fletcher or anyone else.”

“Might want to discuss it with her,” Thorne said. “You forget she doesn’t take orders from us, and she hasn’t been in love with the intrusion.”

“She’ll do what has to be done. For the kids.”
For weeks, months, years? No, she wouldn’t
.

“Maybe the Laura you were married to would have let fear rule her life. But I don’t think we’re talking about the same lady,” Thorne said.

“She’ll follow my orders,” Paul said. “For Adam—Reb and Erin.”

“I don’t imagine Fletcher or his friend will follow your orders,” Woody said.

Suddenly Paul wondered what else he was taking for granted. He began to feel anxious. The next few hours took on an entirely different cast in his mind.
Martin may act in or out of character. What if all of the scenarios I’ve anticipated are worthless? Why do I assume Martin will cooperate in his own defeat? How much of what I’m doing is based on what other people think? How much of our intelligence is inaccurate?

Paul turned, wrote a note, folded it. “Thorne, have a word?” When Thorne approached the counter, he handed it to him. It said:
What do we know about Reid?

Thorne folded the note and whispered. “Usual check when we started. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“You see yearbook shots from his high school?”

Thorne looked at Paul, surprised. “He’s okay, he’s been here for over a year.”

Paul finished the thought. “Very firm handshake for a salesman. Hard calluses on his hands for a paper shuffler.”

“He sails. That involves work.”

“I see. Doesn’t he travel a lot?”

“The man owns a business.”

“Well, just to humor me, keep an eye on him. Keep Woody close to him.”

Paul turned to look at the two younger agents who were talking with Rainey. “I’ll be upstairs.”

The doors Paul was certain belonged to the children were closed tightly, and he walked by, slowing only slightly to listen for conversation. He followed the sound of voices to what he presumed was Laura’s bedroom. The door
was cracked open, but he tapped with the ivory head of the cane.

“Come in,” Laura said.

He opened the door and walked in. He had no idea what he was going to say.

“This was quite a surprise,” Laura said. She sat on the end of her bed with her arms linked across her breasts defensively. Reid was standing by the window. Evidently their conversation had not been an entirely pleasant one. Reid looked relieved that Paul had interrupted. Paul noted a pair of loafers parked beside the bed. The side of the bed he himself had once inhabited. Laura’s eyes met his as he lifted his gaze from the floor, and he knew she knew what he had been looking at. “If I’m interrupting, I’m sorry,” he said. “Don’t have much time.”

“Not at all,” Laura said. “I have to say, of all the people I didn’t expect to see, you’re at the top of the list.”

“Sorry I couldn’t announce I was coming. There was a chance Martin might have discovered the fact, and it could have spurred him to try something radical.”

“Secrecy was always easy for you,” she said.

“I was just telling Laura that I don’t think we’re safe here. I think the family should move,” Reid said. “Laura disagrees.”

“Why is that?”

“The house is large, fairly open, and this guy, Martin, has been in here before. Planted bugs, right?”

“I’d bet Martin knows this place as well as anybody. He probably knows
all
our strengths and weaknesses. I imagine he knows a lot about you as well.” Paul locked eyes with Reid.
I wish I did
.

Laura spoke evenly. “We’re perfectly safe in this house. I am sure Thorne’s men will be careful from here on.”

“What do you suggest, Reid?”

“Reid thinks we’d be safer on his boat,” Laura said. “On the lakefront.”

“I don’t know anything about this boat,” Paul said. “Fill me in.”

“Thorne’s seen it,” Reid said. “It’s a forty-eight-footer built in the forties. Three cabins. Docked at the yacht club. Solid wooden hull. All the amenities of home. I know little about guarding and defense, but it can be docked at the end of a pier, which can be covered from all around with a few men. No way to sneak up on it.”

“Too much chance Martin might know about it. Vulnerable from underneath. Martin’s at home in the water. Better to pick a hotel at random … home of a friend. He’s had ears in here.”

“That’s the other thing. The boat’s not common knowledge. I don’t imagine we’ve discussed it in the past weeks, except possibly for the work that was being done on it. But it wasn’t scheduled to be returned until next month. They finished early. We hadn’t been on it for months until a few days ago, because it was in dry dock. I don’t think your Martin or anyone else would imagine us being there. Plus, it sits high in the water. No one could slip on board without coming on from the dock. And there’s a front coming through tonight. No one would think we’d be sitting on a boat in a thunderstorm.”

Paul looked at Reid for a few seconds, sizing him up, this man who had taken his place in his family. A bolt of jealousy moved through him.
Her house—his yacht. Cozy
. Paul resented feeling like a man who had sold his old car for two hundred dollars and learned that the buyer had sold it a day later to a museum for a hundred thousand. That wasn’t what had happened, and Paul was aware that he had no right to be upset. Nonetheless, the thought dug into him, and it wasn’t a shallow trench.

It was hard for Paul to look into Reid’s eyes, but Reid seemed intent on studying him as they spoke. He realized that Reid was sizing him up, too.

“I was hoping for a few minutes to talk,” Paul said. “Alone.”

“I don’t want to see Laura upset,” Reid said. “You seem to have a talent for doing that to people.”

Laura turned her eyes from Paul to Reid and smiled. “How much more upset do you think I can get? I’m fine,
Reid.” She kissed his cheek as he went by, and Paul noticed she didn’t close her eyes as she did. “Go,” she said. “And don’t fight with Woody. He can kick your ass, you know.”

Paul’s heart sank. He had not imagined how painful it would be to see her kissing another man, even superficially. But he couldn’t let his jealousy color his opinion of Reid.
Who is Reid?
He wanted to ask Laura questions but he didn’t.

Paul and Laura maintained position and were silent until Reid had closed the door.

“I like the house,” he said, making a stab at conversation. “Real nice … the furnishings are …”

“Paul, we aren’t going to waste this time talking about decorating, are we?”

“No. So the kids … they’ve grown.”

“Kids do that. They’re like weeds—they grow whether you watch or not.”

“I deserve your sarcasm,” he said.

“As a matter of fact you do, Paul. All of our lives were very manageable before Martin started running about killing our old friends. Destroying the future. That’s what he’s doing, you know. He has no future, and he’s refusing to allow you to have one either. He’s evil but he’s also pathetic, because he can’t help what he is. Evil is easier than good. Want to tell me what you guys did to him that made him go to all this trouble? It wasn’t arresting him, was it?”

“I framed him.”

“You what?”

“I planted the drugs and money he went to prison for having.”

“Dear God,” she said. “You bent the law?
You?”

“I guess you’re upset and I—”

“Upset!
Paul Masterson, you self-centered asshole! I’ve had people listening in on me while I’m making love in my own bedroom. My children are in danger of having their throats cut in their sleep because you dangle us as bait for God knows how long. Jesus, Paul … upset?” She sat on the end of the bed, stood, and then sat
down again. “Even from Montana you’ve been ruining our lives.”

“Reid seems like a nice guy,” he said.

Laura looked taken aback. “He is. He has his own money, his own separate life, and we see each other when we feel like it. Perfect with me. I hope you’ve been seeing someone.”

“One someone. A girl.”

“I hope it’s a girl.” She laughed. “In Montana?” “Nashville.”

“Recent development, then. Nice girl?”

“Yeah. Really nice. She’s studying anthropology.” Paul wished he hadn’t mentioned Sherry. “She’s young. Too young, I think.”
It wasn’t a relationship, though maybe it could be
.

“She’ll be at home in Montana?”

At home in Montana? No, I don’t think it’s like that at all. God, I wish I could grab her and things could be the way they were
. Paul shifted his weight so the cane took more of it off the floor. His leg hurt. “Saw the paintings downstairs. Well, I didn’t look close. I wanted to. I’m glad your career has … You’ve done so well.”

“We get by financially. Hell, we do really great in that department. It’s just hard because there’s never enough time. The kids help out and don’t complain too much, but I’ve been working seven days a week. The show.”

“Germany. I heard. We always planned to go to Germany, remember?”

She dropped her arms to her sides. “I need to start getting the children ready if we’re leaving. For the boat, I mean.”

Paul caught something in Laura’s eyes. Something soft. A memory passing through.
She has to feel something … deep inside, maybe?

“Laura. I’m changing,” he blurted.

“I’m happy for you,” she said. “I hope we’re all changing.”

“The last time we were together … I seem to remember that we had a fight.”

She laughed. “Had a fight? Had a fight? Paul, you have a talent for understating. The police came. You destroyed our bedroom. Threw a doorstop through the TV set. Slapped …”

“I hit you?”

“Yes, you did hit me. But I accept my share of the blame. Drop that weight here. That’s the past and you weren’t yourself.”

“Your share?”

It was as if a curtain that he had been peeking under lifted to reveal a reality he had covered over in his mind to make it bearable. He remembered the way a drunk will remember the night before, in swatches, unpleasant swatches of humiliating moments. He remembered that he had made a sexual overture after a day of throwing temper tantrums and snapping at the family. He remembered pulling Laura close and kissing her. He remembered that she had pushed him away and started crying. “Don’t touch me!” she’d said. “Who the hell are you? I don’t even know who you are!”

“What’s wrong?” he’d said.

“What’s wrong? Look in the mirror. Tell
me
what’s wrong. You aren’t the man I married, the man who fathered my children. You’re a mutilated madman who terrorizes my family. What makes you think I want to sleep with you?” She had turned to leave. “I’d rather take a beating.”

He had seized her from behind by the shoulders and thrown her to the bed. Then he had pinned her and started taking her blouse off. And she had … she had … laughed. She had laughed. “Oh, please fuck me, mister,” she had said, laughing. “It’s my best fantasy. To be screwed by a monster.”

Then he had taken her, and he had taken her in anger. He had torn her clothes off and had forced himself on her.
Had she resisted? Or did she give in?
When he had expended himself and collapsed on top of her, she had lain there, still, beneath him.