Shattered Mirror
“Go on.”
“Manard was to accept a major percentage of the selling price to settle a gambling debt Akim owed him. He even invested some of his own money in the project. It would have been a fairly peaceful transaction until Akim got greedy. He decided to risk muscling in on territory some of your people had already established with the Pakistanis to get a bigger fee to make up for what he had to pay Manard.” He paused. “Very stupid. Your organization would never permit that to happen. It had the expected result. Akim and his men were shot, and the cargo disappeared into the mountains.”
“That often happens, doesn’t it? Pakistan is still such a primitive country.”
“But Manard wasn’t that philosophic. He’d lost a bundle when your ‘associates’ hijacked that shipment from Akim. He found out you were the kingpin in the background, and he was mad as hell. He wanted revenge.”
“Unfortunate. But it was unlikely I’d even know who Akim’s investors were nor would I care … if any of my associates happened to be involved. Strictly small potatoes. Nikolai approves of statements, and it seems as if a statement had been made and a transaction completed.”
“I believe you probably didn’t know about Manard. As you said, small potatoes. You’d just keep an eye open for any fallout. And there was no immediate fallout. It came a few months later. Manard wasn’t about to take you on, but he wanted his revenge. So he did some research and found Cara. He sent his favorite hit man to see if he could cause you a little pain and suffering and still keep his ass intact. Sean zeroed in on her like a true professional, but he wasn’t all that good. That’s why he had left Dublin; he didn’t want to be compared to his twin. Even my man, Stanton, spotted Sean, and he thought he might have scared him off.” He paused. “But that wasn’t it, because someone else also evidently spotted him. You mentioned to Cara that you’d had someone watching her. And when it was reported back to you that Sean was a possible threat to her, you decided elimination was necessary. Of course, nothing close to Cara’s school. There was a car-bomb explosion in Harlem the next day. Very big explosion and vaguely designated as gang-related. But there was not even enough evidence to identify the victim.”
“The C-4 was Sean Norwalk’s,” Kaskov said. “He was planning to set off an explosion in Cara’s suite at the residence.” Kaskov added softly, “Only a touch of poetic justice. Tell me that you wouldn’t have appreciated that poetry, Jock. Though you would probably have preferred using your hands. The thought of Cara’s being blown to bits would have been difficult for you to handle.”
“Yes, and I’m not arguing that Sean Norwalk wouldn’t have died whether you’d been involved or not.”
“I regret robbing you of the pleasure. But I admit I thoroughly enjoyed giving that order.”
“And why didn’t you go after Manard?”
“I wasn’t sure he was involved. I didn’t know that much about Norwalk. He was going under an assumed name, Marc Sanford, and he wasn’t under an exclusive contract to Manard. There were at least four other organizations who used Norwalk’s services in France and Spain. I didn’t even know about Manard’s connection to Akim at the time. So I decided to watch and investigate and be certain. Only fools act hastily. I thought the immediate threat was over, and Cara would be safe now that I’d issued a statement.”
“Until she almost got choked to death,” Jock said harshly.
“I was watching Manard. I didn’t know Sean Norwalk even had a brother. As I said, he’d changed his name when he left Ireland. Yes, there were reports a Rory Norwalk visited Manard during the time I had him under surveillance after I’d disposed of the threat to Cara, but I didn’t see a connection.” He added, “But after the attack on Cara that night, I let you look for connections for me. You did exceptionally well, Gavin.”
“Always pleased to serve,” he said ironically. “It didn’t occur to you that you could have been a little more open.”
“It’s not my nature. I did give you considerable information. That’s not my custom, either. However, I will tell you that Rory Norwalk did me a favor in disposing of Manard. If he wasn’t such a totally erratic psychopath, I might have decided to let him live.”
“Really? Not likely. It was inevitable that he’d kill Manard. He had his own share of responsibility, and Norwalk is getting rid of everyone connected with his twin’s death. He probably went to Manard, crying vengeance, and pressured him into doing what he wanted. It wouldn’t have been that difficult. Manard had to know what a nut job Norwalk was from his visits to his brother during the preceding years.” He added, “And Cara is on that list. It’s a wonder he didn’t kill her that night. But we both know why he didn’t, don’t we?”
“He wants me to see her die,” Kaskov said without inflection. “And probably in the most painful and bloody way possible. It’s the customary ending in a situation like this.”
“Aye, so it is. But it’s not going to have a customary ending. Because you’re going to use yourself as the bait to trap Norwalk. It’s the only way to keep him away from her.”
Silence. “Oh, am I going to do that? It sounds like a fine plan, but I believe Nikolai would have objections to its effect on my many enterprises. Along with damage to my rather vulnerable body. Besides, there’s also the fact that I make my own decisions, Gavin.”
“I’m sure you do. So do I. That’s why I thought that I’d give you a chance to think about it before I made any overt moves. Give me some other way to get it done, or that’s the way we go.” He cut the connection.
How’s that for confrontation, Benoit?
* * *
“Shit,” Joe said. “Did you have to sign your own death warrant, Jock?”
“You may be exaggerating. It’s a practical way to go,” Jock said. “Norwalk wants Kaskov more than anyone else. If we dangle Kaskov in front of him, he may forget about Eve or Cara.”
“Dangle? No one dangles Kaskov.” Joe was silent. “Though I can see how tempting it—”
“No, Joe,” Eve said firmly, as she handed Jock his cup of tea. “What can you be thinking, Jock?”
“I’m thinking I have to get Cara out of the crosshairs.” He shrugged. “Oh, I’d try not to get Kaskov killed.” He smiled. “I thought I’d give him a chance to sacrifice for his beloved granddaughter. Of course, if he refused, it would look very bad for him, wouldn’t it? Do you think Cara would be so upset, she wouldn’t think she had to keep her promise to him? Pity.”
“No, she would not expect anyone to sacrifice themselves for her. You know that.”
He nodded regretfully. “It would only be an unexpected bonus. I didn’t really think Kaskov would go for it, but I wanted to throw it out and see if he could come up with anything else. He’s smart, and he likes challenges…” He added, “And he might care … something … about Cara.”
“That’s a huge admission for you.”
“I didn’t say what he felt. I’m just exploring every option.” He was silent. “I want this over. I don’t like what’s it’s doing to Cara. She’s not the same.”
“You can’t expect her to stay the same,” Eve said gently. “She’s growing up, and all this stress is forcing it to escalate at warp speed.”
“Then we have to get rid of the damn stress.” His lips tightened. “She has a right to enjoy these years. She had a nightmare childhood, and I thought when she was safe, she’d be able to live the life she should have.”
“I think she was living that life,” Eve said. “She had her music, she had us.” She hesitated. “She had you. But sometimes it’s a question of shifts and balances, and it all has to come from her.”
“No, it doesn’t. I’ll change the balance when I kill that son of a bitch,” he said recklessly. “Then she can go back to enjoying her life again.” He set his cup down on the coffee table. “Though she’ll probably argue about that, too. She seems to always be on edge with me these days.” He turned to Joe. “I want to take a look at that box that Sylvie’s skull was in. Can you t
ake me down to the precinct today and get me into the evidence room?”
“Not today. Eve and I have to go to Michael’s first soccer game this afternoon.” He smiled at Eve. “Some things are too important to put off. Eve’s worried that Michael’s being cheated by all this ugly business. You should identify since you’re so concerned about Cara’s missing anything. But I’ll call ahead and get you permission to look at it on your own.”
“That will do.” He headed for the door. “Now that we know why Cara was a target, the only missing link is how Darcy and Sylvie fit in all this. I have Benoit looking into it, but maybe I can figure it out on my own if I examine that gold box.” He had a sudden thought and stopped as he opened the door. “Who’s going to be here with Cara and Darcy?”
“You mean besides half a dozen police officers milling around within calling distance?” Joe asked dryly. “I think that would be enough protection for our three-hour absence. I thought about it, Jock.”
“Aye, probably.” He frowned. “Still, maybe I’ll take them with me.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Joe asked. “You don’t trust anyone but yourself.”
Jock smiled. “Not true. I’d trust you, but you’re going off to play soccer.”
He swung the door shut behind him.
SATURDAY 4:40 P.M.
“We were pretty bad, weren’t we?” Michael was frowning up at Joe as he walked with Eve and Joe back to their car after the game. “The coach said we sort of fell apart, but we’ll be better the next time.”
“I’m sure you will,” Eve said. “I thought you were fine. You just have to become accustomed to all the action that’s going on around you. It’s distracting. Don’t worry. You’ll pick it up, bit by bit.”
“I’m not worrying. It was kind of fun. It didn’t matter if we lost.”
“Now that attitude does bother me,” Joe said. “Winning is important because competition always makes you perform better. And people should always reach the highest peak they can manage.”
“Says the ex-SEAL.” Eve chuckled. “So much for soothing his bruised ego.”
Joe looked down at Michael. “Climb the highest peak, or be satisfied with the roller coaster at Disney World?”
Michael thought about it. “Both.”
Eve laughed. “And I’m not going to delve into that. We might get in too deep. You did great, Michael. Next time, you’ll do even better.”
“I know,” he said absently, his gaze on a tall, sandy-haired child in soccer uniform running toward him. He was suddenly straightening, moving protectively closer to Eve. “It’s going to be okay, Mama.”
“I know it will.” Her gaze went to the boy. Freckles, pale skin, huge blue eyes, dressed in the same red-and-gold soccer uniform Michael was wearing. And Joe was right, he was almost a head taller than Michael. “Gary?”
He nodded. “I thought I made him understand, but maybe he’s not—” He took a step forward. “Hi, Gary, do you need something?”
“Nah, I just wanted to see her.” He was standing there, gazing at Eve. “Michael says you bring people like my dad home.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that, Gary,” she said gently. “I’ll be glad to explain myself later if your mom says it’s okay.”
“I don’t think there’s going to be time. But I think maybe my Dad wanted me to know about you.” His eyes were fixed intently on her face. “He knew I was scared.”
“There’s no reason to be scared, Gary,” Eve said. “No reason at all.”
“I know that.” He smiled. “Michael told me. But I still had to see you. He said it would be better.” He turned to Michael. “Coach said to tell you that he’s going to take the whole team to Pops Ice Cream Emporium on the square. He said we can’t celebrate a win, but we can practice for the win next week. Can you go?”
Michael’s face lit with eagerness as he looked at Joe. “May I?”
He nodded. “Why not?” He got in the car and waved the squad car on duty to follow them. “We’ll drive you to the square and wait in the car until you’re done. We wouldn’t want to intrude.” He looked at Gary. “Need a lift?”
He shook his head. “I’ll go with the rest of the guys in the coach’s van. See you, Michael.” He was dashing back toward the field.
Eve was gazing after him as she got into the passenger seat. It had been a strange few minutes, but she supposed it was positive. “I take it you and Gary have straightened out your differences. You told him it would be better if he saw me?”
“No. That wasn’t me.” Michael was buckling up his seat belt. “I wasn’t the one who told him that.” He leaned forward to talk to Joe. “Isn’t this cool? Do coaches always buy ice cream after a game? You said you played football. Did you get—”
“No, I don’t recall ever being offered ice cream for making touchdowns.” Joe was grinning. “But then I could be mistaken…”
* * *
Joe pulled into the square at the same time as Coach Wilkes and parked the next row down from him. The boys poured out of the van and ran toward a shop with “Pops Ice Cream Emporium” in ornate red script on the frosted windows.
Michael jumped out of the backseat of their car and was streaking after the other boys. He caught up with them at the red swinging doors. He gave Eve and Joe a brilliant smile and a wave, then disappeared inside with the rest of the red-and-gold-uniformed boys.
“I believe he might be a little excited,” Eve said as she leaned back in the seat gazing through the frosted windows at the boys running around the ice-cream shop. “That poor coach is going to earn his money today.”
ATLANTA POLICE DEPARTMENT ATLANTA, GEORGIA
“I’ve been in a police station before but this is much different,” Darcy told Cara as she stared with interest into the offices they were passing as they made their way toward the evidence room. “No one’s paying any attention to me. The last time I was only ten, and we were filming in a police station in New York. I was supposed to have run away from home, and the cops brought me to the station until they could convince me I should go back to my family.”
“What an amazingly original script,” Jock murmured.
“Hey, don’t knock it. The ratings went off the charts for the episode. I even got an Emmy nomination. I was touching, funny, and I even sang a wistful little song to those cops. It wasn’t like ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow,’ but it hit square on dreams and family values so it—” She stopped and drew a shaky breath. “I’m talking too much. Sorry. I guess I’m kind of nervous about this.”
“You don’t have to do it,” Cara said. “Go back to the car and wait for us.”
“I do have to do it. He put Sylvie in that box. I’ve seen the rest of what he did to her. I have to finish it.” She smiled determinedly. “And I will. It’s not so bad. Come to think of it, I did get some attention as we came into the station. Maybe they thought I was a hooker. No, at least a high-class escort. The first is Academy Award material, but I’m not ready for that yet and I—”
“Hush.” Jock was showing his pass to the policeman in the wire cage. “We’ll be out of here soon. I don’t really expect to find anything unless something just strikes a note. It just needs to be checked.” He took the gold-foil box from the policeman and placed it on the table. “Joe said it was a double-sided mirror with the top mirror intact and that the mirror facing down to reflect the skull was broken.” He was carefully opening the lid. “I just wondered about the mirror that was left unbroken. It’s been nagging at me. Norwalk has been planning this down to the last detail. The broken mirror was to reflect Sylvie’s death. What was the other mirror meant to reflect?”
“Me?” Darcy whispered, gazing down at the box. “One broken, one intact. One twin dead, the other one left alive. It makes sense, doesn’t it?” She moistened her lips. “Open that box. I want to see it.”
Cara took a step closer to her. All she could do was offer silent support. She knew what strain Darcy was under, but she also
knew that in her place she would have had to do the same thing.
Jock opened the lid. “Quick look, and then we’ll be out of here. It’s not necessary to— What the hell!” He started to swear.
Glass. Shattered mirror pieces spread all over the interior of the box. No intact mirror reflecting their faces. Jagged splinters. Total destruction.
Cara stared down at it stunned. “You said it was— It’s not supposed to be like this, Jock.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Maybe one of the police clerks was careless?”
“It has a fragile tag. Police know how to care for evidence. It can make the difference between a murderer’s going free or being convicted.”
“He was here.” Darcy’s face was pale. “Or he paid somebody to do it. That could happen, couldn’t it, Jock?”
“It could happen,” he said quietly. “But he’d have to have a good reason to go to all that trouble.”
“He’s crazy.” Her voice was shaking. “I think that’s probably a good enough reason for him. But let’s take it a step further. He wanted to prove he could do it and make us feel helpless. And he wanted to tell us that there’s going to be another death, that he wasn’t done.” She was staring at the glittering shards of glass. “That there was still another twin who had to die.”
Cara grasped her arm. “He’s wrong. We won’t let him touch you.”
“I’m saying what he intends. Not what’s going to happen,” Darcy said. “I won’t let him kill me. He butchered Sylvie. I won’t let him do that to—”
“What’s that scrap?” Cara had stiffened and was looking down at a bit of colored material on the bottom of the box that was half covered in glittering mirrored shards. “I’ve seen that—” Then she realized what it was. Her heart lurched. “No!” She couldn’t breathe. “My God. No!”
* * *
Eve’s phone was ringing.
“Cara. She was worried about how Darcy would take that visit to the precinct.” She accessed the call. “How did it go? Is she—”