Jesus Christ, STOP.
But all I wanted to do was hit him again.
Erica removed her gun from his thigh (at that point, I’m not even sure he knew it was there) and shook her head subtly.
We’re not getting anything else out of him, is what she meant.
“Hey guys,” Joey said from the front seat, “am I driving through this gate or is there another way in?”
The glow I’d seen came from a limestone quarry. Blue limestone, to be exact, the exposed edges of which had been polished by the wind and rain to such a fine sheen, it glowed, ever so slightly, when the moon hit it right.
“Through,” Erica said. “It’s only secured by a chain, and only if someone has replaced it since the last time I was here.”
Joey gave the little Fiat some extra gas and it split the ten-foot high, barbwire-topped gates with ease. The mouth of the quarry came up quicker than he expected, and we skidded to a stop on the loose dirt leading up to it.
“Get out,” I said, dragging David Wheeler from the car. He collapsed onto the ground, sending up a little puff of dirt. I pulled him to his feet, walked him to the edge of the quarry, pulled my gun and pressed it to the back of his head. “Last chance.” I cocked the hammer for effect. “Why did Trish want me and Leon working together?”
“I swear to God, I don’t know,” he blubbered. “They have so many people working for them. They don’t tell us anything. Just what they need us to know. Please don’t hurt me.”
“Tell me!” I screamed. My voice echoed off the steep walls, which dropped over a hundred feet to the shallow pool of water below. I could have used a bullhorn if I’d wanted. The place was long abandoned.
“I don’t . . .” he started, but the rest wasn’t words as much as it was a nonsense jumble of sounds mixed with hysterical crying. There was nothing left to wring out of him. I lowered my gun.
“Rick,” Erica said quietly, “if we let him go . . .”
She didn’t need to finish the thought. We were on the same page. But I wasn’t crossing that line. I’d already gotten far closer to it than I’d ever thought possible.
“I know,” I said.
David’s sobs quickly turned to full-fledged, panic-filled screams as Erica raised her boot and kicked him square in the back, launching him over the edge. I kept my back to the quarry, and didn’t look when those screams came to an abrupt stop.
“Damn girl,” Joey said, peering over the lip, “remind me never to ghost you after a date.”
“Who’s Willem Van de Berg?” Erica asked.
“He’s a senator,” I said, grateful for the chance to muffle the echo of David’s screams in my head with some dialogue. I holstered my gun, my hand still shaking. “Or at least, he was. Young guy, rose up the ranks fast. Grew up on the streets of Brabant. Classic ‘kid from the rough part of town makes good’ story. Media ate it up. Except he never really left those streets behind.”
“No he didn’t,” Joey said. “I was always trying to score a meeting with him. Guy rolled deep in the arms trade.”
“Got busted a few years ago brokering a deal between one of his connections and the head of an Iraqi militia that Belgium voted not to support. Except his buyer was an undercover VSSE agent, not the militia leader. He was arrested and kicked out of Congress.”
“And he’s still walking around now?” Erica asked. “How did he get acquitted?”
“He never made it that far,” I said. “Died in prison six months after his arrest, awaiting trial. At least, that was the story. Huge headlines here in Belgium. Got decent press in other parts of the world, too. Surprised you didn’t hear about it.”
“I don’t follow the news.” Erica took another look over the edge at the remains of David Wheeler. “So you’re telling me they faked his death?”
“It certainly appears that way, assuming our buddy Dave was telling the truth about working for him. And if Trish’s organization can fake the death of someone that high-profile without anyone catching on, then it means they’re even more powerful and well-connected than I thought. Which means they’ll be even more motivated to protect their interests and eliminate anyone who they see as a threat. Which means I’ve got to get to the States, although they’ll be watching the airports, so I have no idea how I’m going to do that.”
“What’s in the States?”
“His family,” Joey said before I could stop him.
“Are they in danger?”
“His ex-wife’s fiancé has got a hit out on him from these people.”
“Joey!” I said. I’d felt he deserved to know what was going on when I called to ask for his help, but was now regretting telling him as much as I did. Erica never asked for a reason when I called her. She just asked for a price.
“What, it’s a fucking secret?” Joey shot back.
“It’s my mess to clean up, nobody else’s. Jesus Christ, you heard what that guy said, they have people everywhere. I already got Ian killed, I don’t need anyone else getting hurt because of me.”
“That wasn’t your fault, Rick.”
“Who’s Ian?” Erica asked.
“A candidate of mine,” I said. Then I corrected myself. “Was a candidate of mine.”
“What happened?”
“I asked him to do me a favor, same as you two, except he took a bullet to the head for it.”
“I’m sorry,” Erica said, although there was no sympathy in the sentiment. It was spoken as more of a formality. “Were you close?”
“Not really. It’s just . . . Ian was a good kid.”
“There are no good people in this business, Rick.”
