The Wrong Man (25 page)

Thorpe removed the last padlock and raised the shutters to the underground parking lot at the dilapidated five-storey office
building on East 3rd Street. He waited as Danny steered the van into the darkness. With a last look at the quiet street outside,
he closed them again and used the same padlocks to seal them from the inside.

They were excellent locks. Military grade. Made by Sargent and Greenleaf. Supposedly resistant to every form of attack, including
liquid nitrogen. Retailed at over a thousand bucks apiece. Thorpe had bought them at a considerably lower price and exchanged
them for the old ones four years ago. There weren’t many hidey-holes left in Manhattan these days, but
this was a good one
to keep handy for emergencies and he didn’t need undesirables finding their way in.

He got back in the passenger seat and they continued down into the subterranean garage. At a push, he figured there was enough
space for forty, forty-five vehicles. At the going rate for parking in this town, it was probably worth as much as the real
estate above them. He was just glad the owners were still locked in a divorce court with all their assets frozen. He’d be
sad if they ever settled.

The van came to a halt in the far corner of the lowest level, outside a one-room structure that had housed the car park attendant
in better days. Danny cut the engine, but left the headlights on. Leaving
Jenna in Danny’s capable hands, Thorpe walked into
the office and found the portable industrial lamps. He turned them both on, placed them on the ground in opposite corners
of the room and examined his surroundings.

An ancient radiator sat against one wall. In front of the glassless window was an old desk and chair. The butane stove and
portable
heater were both new. Thorpe had brought them when he brought the lights. The room would do for the next twenty hours
or so before he moved Jenna to another location he had in mind. Storing a kidnap victim in the same place for too long was
just asking for trouble.

He looked up as Danny came in with one arm around the girl’s waist and sat her down
next to the radiator. Thorpe pulled a
pair of cuffs from his pocket and attached her right wrist to the steel pipe that disappeared into the wall, making sure there
was little leeway around her wrist. While Danny walked back to the vehicle to retrieve some supplies, Thorpe joined Jenna
on the floor with his legs outstretched, back against the wall. Taking her left hand in
both of his, he watched as she slowly
raised her head and looked at him.

‘Sorry for the drab surroundings, Jenna,’ he said, ‘but it’s for the best. I need to know you’re safe and sound for the next
few hours and nobody’ll bother you here.’

‘’Cept you.’ She attempted to wrest her hand from his before finally giving up.

‘Not
me, I’ve got work to do. Danny here will be taking care of your immediate needs, so be a good girl and you’ll be treated
accordingly. I should add that the reverse also holds true.’

‘Why?’ Jenna asked, her eyes barely open.

Thorpe looked at her and knew the question referred to more than her current situation. But if she expected him to pour out
his motives to her, in her condition, she was mistaken. It would just be dead air and it would take far too long, anyway.
Besides, pointless navel-gazing had never been his thing, although he wasn’t averse to the occasional dip back into the past
to relive a specific triumph or success. He supposed the Brennan operation qualified as a success of sorts. Despite not actually
finding the file he’d been searching for, he certainly came out of the mess no worse off.

If you ignored the arm injury that forced him out of the field, that is. He definitely hadn’t planned on
that
. But then, he hadn’t been planning on remaining a bodyguard for much longer, anyway. Not when he had a new mission in life
that outweighed all other considerations.

Which reminded him. Thorpe took the cell phone from his pocket. He keyed in a number he’d memorized and waited for the ringing
tone. He didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

‘Yes?’

‘It’s Martin,’ Thorpe said.

‘Martin. I did not recognize the number.’ Although the words were clear, the accent behind them was thick.

‘I change numbers a lot. It’s safer that way.’

‘So. I didn’t expect to hear from you again, my friend. I had long given up.’

Thorpe smiled. ‘I told you I’d find a way and I have. I expect to have it within twenty-four hours. It’ll be available to
you shortly after that. Assuming you still want it.’

‘Of course we do,
my friend. But I am thinking why you are calling me now instead of twenty-four hours from now. When you
will know for sure.’

‘Well, I’ve decided the price is now double what we originally agreed. I imagine you’ll need time to get the funds ready.’

‘I see. Double, you say?’ The foreign man sounded amused. ‘Considering the sum we agreed on, I would think
that is unlikely.’

‘You should think of it as a priceless wine that only gets better with age. Don’t tell me you didn’t expect some kind of renegotiation
with the passing of time?’

‘Little surprises me, to be sure, but that is not the same thing, is it? And I do not drink wine.’ The line went silent for
a few moments before he added, ‘I will
have to consult the others.’

Thorpe stroked Jenna’s head and said, ‘I’d expect no less, my friend. But don’t consult too long. There are plenty more fish
in the sea, especially in your part of the world.’

‘You will get a definite answer very soon,’ the man said. ‘This I promise.’

‘Until then,’ Thorpe said and ended the call.

He leaned his head back until it touched the wall and closed his eyes. Not long now. He knew they’d go for it. They had to.
And with Cortiss dead, he wouldn’t even have to share the spoils.

When Cortiss first approached him with his proposal and the bare bones of a plan, Thorpe and the rest of the team were in
LA, helping to keep that suicidal Newmarket bitch from getting her head blown off.

It had been a while, but Thorpe remembered the ex-spook from his DEA undercover days working for the Cattrall drug cartel.
Their paths had crossed only once, but the man had impressed Thorpe as someone with absolutely no morals who’d do just about
anything for money. This time, when he told Thorpe about the existence of the forty-year-old file, what it contained, and
what they’d need to do to get their hands on it, Thorpe came on board immediately. He knew a great opportunity when he
saw
one.

Of course, it also helped that Randall Brennan’s daughter shared certain similarities with Fiona Stretton. The first girl
he’d ever felt anything for. And the last. The resemblance was clear in every photo Cortiss showed him. The long black hair.
The spray of freckles across the cheeks. The large, blue, condescending eyes. The contemptuous
turn of the mouth. It was really
remarkable. And it wasn’t too long before his desire for Natalie Brennan matched his desire for the file itself. He saw absolutely
no reason why he couldn’t have both.

He and Cortiss worked together on the plan over the ensuing months, going over every step in detail, refining it to the point
where absolutely nothing
was left to chance. Then, when their next assignment after Newmarket came to an end and the team
were sent home for some well-earned rest, Thorpe and Cortiss began their hate campaign against the Brennan family in earnest.
And as Cortiss had predicted, Brennan bypassed the cops entirely and went straight to his old partner, Morgan Royse. Demanding
round-the-clock protection
for himself and his family. The best men available. Which just happened to be Bishop and his team.
Who just happened to be in between assignments right then.

It wasn’t until they all showed up at the Long Island house to meet
their new principals that Thorpe finally got to see Natalie close up. Physically, she was everything he’d hoped for and he
found it
hard to take his eyes off her. They were all in the living room and he was watching her coolly inspect each of them
when her gaze fell upon Bishop. And then her eyes lit up. The almost feral desire in her expression left little doubt as to
what was going through her mind, and at that moment Thorpe’s resentment of Bishop moved up another couple of notches.

Right from the start, he and Cortiss had agreed they’d need a patsy for everything to work. Cortiss didn’t care who, as long
as it was somebody from the team. After Seattle, Thorpe already had a good reason to nominate Bishop for the role. Natalie’s
attitude towards him merely confirmed the decision.

All in all, it took Thorpe almost two months of subtle manoeuvring
to get her into bed. Most of the time they used the room
above the garage, and for a while there it was like he was actually with Fiona again, but without the verbal abuse and the
humiliations she’d subjected him to throughout their brief, and ultimately tragic, relationship.

But Thorpe never forgot that his main reason for being there was to find the vault.
He knew it was somewhere on the property,
but after three months had failed to find any sign. Until Natalie just came out with it one day, as they were lying next to
each other after a particularly energetic session. About how her father had the vault built shortly after his purchase of
the property. Right in the space between his third-floor office and the bathroom.
Thorpe was amazed he hadn’t noticed before
and had to tip his hat to whoever did the interior design.

The next day, Thorpe placed a motion-activated camera in the ceiling of Brennan’s office to catch the combination the next
time he accessed it. He also placed another one in Natalie’s den for his own enjoyment, and two more in the kitchen and living
room as a precaution.

Thorpe stepped things up after that. The visit to the Queens apartment Natalie believed was his and the accompanying photo
session was easy. Thorpe knew Bishop only ever stayed at his apartment in between jobs, so the chances of his noticing their
presence were non-existent. He took the opportunity to plant the evidence on Bishop’s
hard drive at the same time. The fake
IDs for Cortiss and his Romanian team took a little more work, but he got them in the end. Then, with less than a month to
go before their planned assault, Danny sent word
they’d gotten footage of Brennan entering the vault. And the combination was clear enough to make out.

A few days later Thorpe was able to check for
himself. Inside the vault he found over five million in cash, plus hundreds
of sensitive files that were probably worth even more. But the one he wanted wasn’t among them. The Zodiac file simply wasn’t
there. He couldn’t believe it. All their work and planning for
this
?

It took an extreme effort of will to rein in his anger and think clearly again. If it
wasn’t here, it had to be elsewhere.
Somewhere not on the property. Once this mess was behind him he could concentrate on the elsewhere, but right now they had
to stick to the plan they’d already set in motion. And they’d still end up with a million and a half apiece after depositing
the two million in Bishop’s fake account, so it wouldn’t be for nothing.

When Friday, October 15 finally came around, Thorpe spent the early hours dismantling the safe room’s control system and emptying
the vault of all Brennan’s files for later study. The money he left. The files went over the electrified fence for Danny to
pick up later. Then he inserted a remotely activated jamming device in the kitchen capable of disrupting Bishop’s
communications.

After that, it was just a matter of waiting. At 5.35 p.m., Thorpe left his post, climbed the tree next to the garage and accessed
Natalie’s room. She was on the bed listening to her iPod with her eyes closed. He still remembered her surprised expression
when he suddenly inserted a syringe into her neck and depressed the plunger. And then the
mild sedative kicked in and she
was quiet.

The rest happened exactly as he’d imagined it. First, their cautious, stumbling journey to her father’s office, followed by
Thorpe’s demand that Brennan face the bookshelves or his daughter died. Then the red fountain as Thorpe slit his throat from
behind, tying Natalie to the chair and taping her mouth
while the old man’s life poured out of him. Then his opening of the
vault door in preparation for Cortiss’s arrival. Sending that message to Oates’s pager, ordering him to get Brennan to the
safe room immediately without alerting the others. The look of shock when Oates showed up thirty seconds later and saw the
blood. The look of total disbelief when Thorpe showed him the
silenced gun and fired three rounds into his chest. It all went
just beautifully.

After erasing the message from both pagers he checked his watch and
saw he still had plenty of time. From his pocket he unfolded a thin polyethylene disposable coverall and put it on. The next
part would be messy, but necessary. He stood in front of Natalie and tore the shirt
from her body. Then he made the first
slash across her chest and heard her muffled scream under the tape. He watched her eyes pop and her body arch and jerk as
she fought against the bonds holding her down. He slashed again. And then again.

By the time Thorpe was finished a couple of minutes later, he was breathing heavily and his knife was sticking out of
the
girl’s belly. Her chin lay on her chest and she was rocking her head from side to side, uttering meaningless noises in her
throat. Everything below the neck was crimson and there were far more cuts on her body than could be accounted for by a controlled
attack. But that was okay. It would just look like Bishop had let his emotions get the better of him while cutting
his girlfriend
up.

Thorpe plucked the blade out and ripped the duct tape from her mouth. Then he moved behind her and pulled her limp head back
by her hair . . .

He flinched at the sound of a vehicle door shutting and returned to the present. He saw Danny come through the doorway and
drop the other mattress on the floor. Thorpe
turned to Jenna. She was dozing. Her head slumped forward, just like Natalie’s
after he’d slit her throat.

Luck had been with him for the most part that day. Outside, he’d activated the jammer, set the charge on the rear door and
made for the gazebo. It would have been perfect cover had he actually reached it before one of Cortiss’s goons got two lucky
shots off.

A lesser man would have gone down when he took the shots in the arm and shoulder. But Thorpe remained conscious and kept the
kitchen window in sight at all times. Waiting for the exact moment when Bishop began running towards the rear stairs before
blowing the charge on the door, knowing Cortiss would take care of the rest.

Thorpe stood up, brushed the dust off his pants and made a hand motion to Danny to signal he was leaving. He looked down at
Jenna and said, ‘But it’s those moments that separate the winners from the losers, isn’t it?’