Jonny held his breath as he approached the door, listening for any signs of movement. A slight rustling in the trees made him jump. He whirled around, eyes wide. A pair of birds flew out of the branches, disappearing into the sky.
He calmed himself down. No need to get paranoid. Keep it together.
The back door opened with a groan and Jonny stepped inside, stuffing the keys back into his pocket. Switched the lights on. He noticed Mariel’s coat hanging up in the hallway, the one she’d been wearing on a few days ago when it had been colder. He gritted his teeth. Wherever the bitch had gone, he’d track her down eventually. When all this had blown over he’d find her. Make her pay.
But, for now, more pressings matters to attend to.
He took the stairs quietly, heading for the bedroom. The floorboards creaked under his step, as they always did. He pushed open the door, headed for the dresser.
The smell hit him first.
A thick, musky odor, like meat left out in the sun. Rich, sickly, and metallic. Jonny knew the smell. He froze.
“Welcome home,” a voice said.
Jonny spun around. Two men stood in the far corner of the room. He recognized them from the restaurant. Kanezaki’s men. His eyes flicked between them before settling onto the bed.
His stomach wound itself into a knot. Splayed out on the bed, Mariel had been stripped naked, her clothes torn from her body. A thick, red gash ran the length of her stomach and chest. The sheets were stained dark, almost black, with blood. Mariel stared ahead, unblinking. Her once-brown skin a pale white, lips tinged blue.
“We’ve been here a little while,” one of the men said. “It was starting to stink. You took your time.”
Jonny backed up against the dresser. Opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“You don’t need to say anything,” the man continued. “You knew what would happen if you didn’t come through for us.” The voice sounded jovial, almost mocking. “And, guess what? You fucked up big time.”
Jonny looked at Mariel. Couldn’t tear his eyes away.
“We’ve already lost one good man today,” the man said. “We gave him an honorable death. We won’t say the same for you.” He glanced at the mutilated body on the bed. “People gonna think you killed each other. We can make it look that way, no problem.” He smiled. “We know the bitch’s got an international warrant out in her name. Guessing the ID she’s here under isn’t a real one?”
Jonny shook his head.
“Didn’t think so.” He smiled. “Don’t think the police will waste too much time on her. You know, this is one stone-cold woman. Kills her own father in cold blood. Flees the country, comes to America. Shacks up with a bakayaro like you. You think she’d have hung around much longer? We did you a favor.” He laughed. “Well, maybe not such a big favor.”
The two men advanced, grabbing hold of Jonny by the jacket. They flung him onto the bed, right on top of Mariel’s body. He almost slipped off, the slick blood coating his clothes and hands.
“That’s it, get it nice and soaked in,” one of the men said. “We’ll handle the rest. Just keep still and maybe we’ll make this quick.”
Jonny’s eyes darted from left to right searching for a weapon, anything he could use against his attackers. Instead, his gaze fell upon Mariel, her eyes locked with his in a cold, lifeless stare. For one brief moment, Jonny felt as though maybe he was right where he was supposed to be.
Then the pain came and nothing else mattered.
Chapter 63
THE SEA-TAC DEPARTURE lounge was crammed full of people, and Leopold was glad for the first-class lounge. A long window stretched the entire length of the far wall looking out over part of the runway. Clouds had gathered, a fine mist of rain drifting across the scene, and the light was fading. Warm and comfortable in a leather recliner, Leopold ignored the dreary view and took another sip of Scotch.
“Worth the wait?” Jerome asked, sitting nearby.
“I’d be glad not to go through another weekend like this one,” said Leopold. “Even with whisky involved.” He felt the liquor burn down the back of this throat. “Going through all that stone-cold sober is definitely not recommended.” He looked at Jerome. “You seen the photos Harper emailed through?”
He nodded. “The atomizers look pretty high-tech. Compared to the detonators, anyway. They figure out what was inside?”
“They’re assuming sarin. But such small quantities, they figure it might have been concentrated somehow. They don’t know for sure yet. Need to run some tests.” He hesitated.
“What is it?”