The Pact (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 17) (35 page)

She thought of Bruno watching from the airport window. Of Darwin in the van waiting for his hired mercenary to return, sad that Bruno didn’t earn a bonus. Maybe one day Sarah would contact Darwin and get Bruno shipped over to her on loan. She could find a way to offer him a financial bonus for busting some heads.

The plane thrust forward as it prepared to take to the air. Danish soil dropped below the plane as it left the ground and she was safe, gone from the airport security, away from the Danish authorities.

Now all she had to do was get to Toronto and deal with the one man behind everything before he died. Homicide Detective Shawn Bryant had some explaining to do as well.

She lifted the brim of the hat and faced Parkman. His arms were crossed over his chest, his head back, eyes closed.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said.

Parkman opened his eyes and looked at her. Realization dawned on his face and his eyes widened further.

Sarah held a finger to her lips. “Shhhhh.”

“What the? How the hell?”

“Come sit beside me. The window seat is empty. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Chapter 53

Ben Wilson spent the last day of his life preparing for death. He didn’t fear death. If anything, it would be an end to the pain, to the suffering. Since there was nothing after death, he would become nothing and that was okay with Ben. Nothing was better than the something he had now.

The sun shone through the windows of his mother’s house. He walked across the room and looked down at the street. He had never been happy living downtown Toronto. To be on such a busy street with so many people coming and going at all hours of the night and day. The relative quiet after midnight was the primary reason he worked through the nights and slept in the day.

But not today. This Tuesday was special. Today Detective Bryant would experience karma like never before.

Ben turned back to his computer. He had not heard from Ansgar all weekend and as of this Tuesday morning, none of his spiders could track Ansgar’s whereabouts or the whereabouts of any of his aliases. Nor could he triangulate the man’s cell phone.

Aaron Stevens had been formally charged with murder and his friends were charged as accomplices. They were being detained until some kind of court meeting tomorrow. Anton Olafson was under arrest at the hospital in Denmark where he was still healing from wounds sustained at his house in Skanderborg, which Ben’s spiders couldn’t find anything else on.

None of that mattered to him anymore. Anton Olafson was a bad man and this was his comeuppance for what he had done to all those boys over the years. None of it would’ve come to light if Anton hadn’t shut down Ben’s hacking job months ago when Ben had gotten into the Danish Land Registry. They’d caught him because Ben had carelessly published data retrieved from the Land Registry site on a forum and entered into a debate on Danish laws. He had no idea the Danes were as good as they were at tracking IP addresses.

When they found his, they yanked the post off the forum and shut him down. The Danish Data Protection Agency worked closely with Anton Olafson, the Director of the NC3, to sever Ben’s access. Going after Anton had been a side gambit. Something to have fun with.

Because Ben enjoyed playing God. If he could, then why not? Judgement Day. Since there was no God, he might as well act like one.

When Ben discovered Anton had a daughter, he hacked into her system easily and began talking to her through Plenty of Fish. Knowing her interests and needs, her wants and desires, it wasn’t long before Clara was drawn to him. Ben told her he was a rich sports store owner in Toronto. Of course he would send her a plane ticket. Round trip, all expenses paid, to Toronto, Canada, and the rest was history. Clara had fallen for him.

Ben had had his doubts about Anton fulfilling the murder task. Would he actually murder a random girl? Could he go through with it?

Once Ben saw what Anton was doing to those boys, Ben had no choice but to go after their pimp, Damien. He emailed evidence from Anton’s computer and got Damien arrested in Aarhus.

Then to play with Anton. It was so simple, it was laughable. Death was the ultimate consequence and Ben’s death wasn’t only coming, it would be of his own doing. Then there would be nothing. No Judgement Day, no reincarnation, no nothing. If God were real, there’d be no suffering. If he truly loved us, why place us on Earth to feel pain, to suffer?

So Ben became the pain and created, LEGACY: PAIN PACT. He was the Passive Aggressive Internet Nomad who wanted Performance, Action, and a Commitment Transaction out of people.

Ben had loved acronyms ever since he learned that Iron Man’s Jarvis was named in honor of the former butler named Edwin Jarvis. The name actually stood for Just A Rather Very Intelligent System.

On the wall of his master bedroom office, a sign read F.A.I.L., First Attempt In Learning. Ben had learned enough and failed as many times. Only death was left and he was ready.

He had set his computers to wipe their hard drives clean. They were loaded with information that would incriminate him after his death. He didn’t want that. The public would spew sympathy on Detective Bryant if any of it came out.

What he had ready for his game, LEGACY: PAIN PACT, had been uploaded and would launch tomorrow when it did not receive a prompt from his computers. Since they would be defunct soon, that prompt would not come, thereby launching the game onto the Internet. Once the authorities discovered where its host was, they would shut it down, but Ben would’ve won for the time being. His game would be seen by hundreds, if not thousands by then. He could only hope it would go viral.

After his last lunch of three Mars bars, his stomach churned and he thought he might vomit them back up. Maybe Jessica would come in time for him to vomit on her. Could be something the stupid emo was into.

He snorted a laugh. “Shit wave,” he whispered.

At three on the dot, Jessica knocked on the door downstairs. The hard drives were almost done wiping. Close to another hour to go. He’d wanted them to finish so he could use a sledgehammer to break them into pieces before he left for the vegan café.

But they would still be here when he returned.

She knocked again.

“Persistent little bitch, eh.”

He checked the main computer and saw it had fifty-three minutes left. The abort key flashed in the center of the screen.

“Fuck that,” he muttered.

He activated the screen saver with one button and left the room. Downstairs, he adjusted his new shirt—not new, just never worn—sprayed cologne on his neck, set the bottle on the kitchen counter, then entered the main foyer and opened the door.

Why didn’t she just use her house key like before?

Jessica couldn’t have looked more pathetic than she did at that moment. Her hair was still black, but shinier somehow. The boots were still rugged-looking and black. But the nail polish was red this time.

“Less goth?” he asked, studying her nails.

“Never goth,” she smiled with her tiny mouth. Then blinked rapidly twice. “Hate goth. Not me.”

Something about her was different. She seemed edgy, maybe even a little nervous.

“You okay?” he asked. “You don’t look so good.”

“It’s this.”

Jessy twisted around and leaned forward to reveal a large white bandage taped to the back of her shoulder.

“Tattoo?” he asked.

She twisted back to face him. “Yup.”

“Of what?”

“A three-headed dragon.”

He recoiled as if slapped. “A three-headed dragon? What the hell for?” Pain flashed in her eyes briefly. He tried to calm his reaction. “I’m sorry, what I mean is, how is that tattoo significant to you?”

These fucking emos and their gentle egos.

“The dragon itself represents my inner fire.”

“Oh, yeah,” he blurted out. “I can see that. Inner fire. Yup.”

She actually thought his sarcasm was a genuine comment. She continued without missing a beat.

“Each head of the dragon represents my three dimensions.”

He stepped back and leaned against the wall dramatically. “Wow,” he gasped. “What dimensions? Pray tell.”

Jessy giggled and dipped her face, appearing shy now.

Are you fucking kidding me? How do people like this even function in society? Like pay rent and shit.

“I’m honorable to a fault. I’m funny, and I’m loving. One dragon makes you laugh, one will stand by you, and the other will always love you.”

He stared at her. He waited. She looked down at the welcome mat below her feet. What was she waiting for? Validation? He couldn’t give it to her. He couldn’t add to her fucked-up-ness.

“Oh hey, Jessy, that’s something,” he managed to get out. “That’s, um, wow, can’t wait to see the dragon.”

Her head shot up. “Really? Thanks.” She backed up and started down the four steps to the sidewalk.

“Hey, where are you going?” he asked.

She turned back, a frown creasing her tiny forehead.

The dragon forehead.

“I thought we were going to the vegan café for my birthday?”

“Oh, right. Yes, we are. Just give me a sec.”

He slammed the door shut. Then clenched his fists and stomped his feet five times.

“Ohhh, that girl drives me mad.”

He yanked open the hallway closet and retrieved the nickel-plated magnum from its case. A toy. Not even loaded with water. Completely empty. And not something a cop would know from five feet away.

He didn’t need the gun until they were back in the house and he’d killed Jessy. Vegan café first. Back to the house after. Kill Jessy, destroy computers, then call Detective Bryant over.

Two hours left to live.

He slipped the gun in the back of his pants and covered it with his shirt. Why not carry it for the last two hours anyway? Carrying it made him feel closer to the end.

And who knew? What if someone robbed the café and shot the place up and killed Jessy and homicide were called in.

He could be dead meat where the vegans hang out.

He let a laugh escape his lips.

“Hilarious.”

When he opened the front door, Jessy was still standing there, looking as lonely as ever on the sidewalk.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again as he closed the door behind him.

She nodded and covered her mouth at the soft giggle that escaped her lips.

Oh my fuck, one hour with this bimbo bowler from Buffalo and anyone would kill themselves.

He went to lock the front door, then frowned and turned back around to face her.

“Hey, you still have my house key. You wanna lock the door?”

She shook her head, mussing up her hair. “Left it at home this time.” She shrugged, but not just any shrug. This one had her shoulders pounding her ears. “Next time.”

Then she hopped to the right and walked away.

Holy shit wave, I’m gonna kill her before we get one city block.

He locked the door and started after her.

“Jessy, wait up.”

Chapter 54

Sarah Roberts watched as Ben Wilson dropped down the front steps of his house and followed Jessica Bryant along the sidewalk until he caught up to her. Jessica was playing her part wonderfully. If anyone had any doubts, they would be allayed by now.

The bandage on her shoulder covered the wire the Toronto Police had installed so they could hear everything Ben said to her. The tattoo idea was Jessica’s so she could hide any demeanor changes or nervousness under the guise of the new tattoo’s irritation.

Ben was a mean, patronizing son of a bitch. His time was coming.

Detective Bryant sat beside her in the police cruiser holding the house key to Ben Wilson’s home. Once they had approached Jessica yesterday and told her what Ben had been up to, and discussed their plan, Jessica handed over Ben’s house key. No one knew what Ben had in store for Jessica, but they didn’t feel he would harm her in public. Her brother had given her explicit instructions to not enter Ben’s house under any circumstances.

After hours of coaching, no one had mentioned the house key. What if Ben asked for it back? What if Ben wondered where it had gone? Yet Jessica handled that question with ease when he asked.

Maybe when this was over she should get a three-headed dragon tattoo after all because if anyone warranted it, Jessica Bryant did.

Detective Bryant pushed the button on the microphone in his hand.

“Clear.” He set the mic down.

“You coming in?” he asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Sarah said.