The Zimmer Doctrine (Corps Justice Book 11) (10 page)

Chapter 19

Haifa, Israel

3 Hours Earlier

Her bed beckoned as Hannah Krygier tried to focus on the computer screen. She would’ve liked nothing more than to slide under the sheets and fade away. But she couldn’t. Even when she tried to sleep, her mind spun from the toxic mix of anxiety and paranoia that made even the simplest tasks an effort. It was like she was on a roller coaster whose speed kept increasing as it streaked along rickety wooden tracks. She wanted to scream and flail her arms in terror but she couldn’t. They were watching her closely. Efraim Perlstein had his goons tailing her around the clock and little effort was made to remain hidden.

It could only mean that Perlstein’s plans were progressing. She had no way of knowing if Maya had contacted President Zimmer, and it was too risky to find out. The best she could do was monitor the headlines on America’s top media outlets while trying in vain to get a handle on her normal workload. Nothing so far. Either Zimmer was waiting or Maya had been captured.

Her heart sank at the thought. It would be just like Perlstein to withhold that information from her. That was his modus operandi. He would undoubtedly disclose such information at the worst possible moment, his slippery tongue flicking the barbs at her wounded soul. She wasn’t a particularly religious woman, but she found herself saying a silent prayer for Maya, that she be guided and protected. It was the best she could do. That thought made her want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. She, Hannah Krygier, sister to the prime minister and a long-term mole for the American government had been relegated to whispering prayers to the darkness.

Krygier bit back the laughter and tried to ignore the futility of the situation. All was not lost. There was always a chance. There had to be. No sooner had the thought embedded in her subconscious when the bell chimed in the front hall signaling a visitor at the gate. Her chest tightened; it could only be one person.

Slowly, she closed her web browser and clicked on the security program linked to her home monitoring system. Three long seconds later, the face of Efraim Perlstein appeared on her screen.

“It’s a little late for a house call,” she said, trying to sound upbeat.

“Open the gate,” came Perlstein’s sharp reply.

Hannah clicked the OPEN button on her screen and she heard the gates slide open.

She met him at the front door. He wasn’t wearing his customary suit. Instead, he had on a pair of gray linen pants and a dark untucked button-down shirt with some kind of design on it.

“Do you have your passport here?” he asked, pushing past her and walking into the living room.

“I do. Why?”

“Pack a bag. Nothing fancy. Bring a bathing suit or two,” he said, his eyes running casually down her frame.

“Is this some kind of  joke? I have work to do. My brother…”

“Your brother knows you are leaving with me.”

Krygier tried not to let the surprise register on her face. It didn’t matter. Perlstein sensed it. Not for the first time she wondered if her brother was in on the whole affair. He was a good man, a man of the people who’d been swept into office on a wave of nationalist support. He’d served his country in the military, and he’d even lost a wife in a Palestinian bombing. She pushed the nagging thought out of her head and asked, “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere warm.” Perlstein was pouring himself a drink from the bar. He had an irritating way of making himself at home whenever he came to call. “You have five minutes.”

Krygier stood there for a second, wondering if she should push the man for further details. In the end, she felt it was safer to go along with Perlstein. Maybe then she could get a better idea of what was going on. Maybe that was his plan too.

That sliver of hope helped her focus and, four minutes after entering her bedroom, she emerged with a rolling travel bag. Perlstein was pouring himself another drink.

“Ready?” he asked.

“I will be after I get my purse from the kitchen.”

He nodded and waved her away.

After gathering her wallet, keys, and passport, Hannah’s hand slid over the concealed panel that held her handgun, which she always kept loaded. It was one of five she’d hidden throughout her house. The idea floated within reach; she could do it. She could put the pistol into her purse or even hold it behind her and return to the living room to kill Perlstein. She would have to fight off his men, but her home was well barricaded and she’d been trained by her ex-husband.

But then the thought came again. What if her brother was conspiring with Perlstein? Any reprieve that killing Perlstein might elicit would only be temporary.

When she emerged from the kitchen the only thing in her hands was her purse. “Shall we?” she said, trying to appear unfazed by being forced out of her home and to a fate yet unknown.

Perlstein could not have cared less. He drained the rest of the drink and motioned for her to leave first. Just as her hand grabbed the doorknob, she felt his hands on her waist. Hannah tensed at this violation and almost spun around until he said, “I just needed to make sure you didn’t bring that handgun you have hidden in your kitchen with you. No weapons are allowed on my airplane.”

As he frisked her entire body, lingering a bit too long on her inner thighs, Hannah gritted her teeth and looked straight ahead. Then he took the purse from her hands and searched through its contents.

“You can go,” he said, handing the bag back to her.

She flashed him an icy glare and opened the door. As she carried her suitcase down the steps, the only thing Hannah could think about was that nothing would please her more than putting a bullet in Efraim Perlstein’s head.

Chapter 20

Wild Dunes

Island of Palms, South Carolina

August 28th, 7:44pm

“I’ve got him,” Neil announced, turning every head in the room.

The tech genius had been on the hunt for Chance Baxter all afternoon. One of The Jefferson Group warriors had said early on that it was nearly impossible for a billionaire to disappear. They had too many responsibilities and too many ties to the world.

They’d gotten the lowdown on their suspect minutes after Neil discovered the identity of the super-yacht,
Nightshade
. Baxter’s wealth stretched back many generations. It was stated that his family was one of the oldest families without title. There were no lords or ladies residing in the Baxter family tree. From what Neil could find, the billionaire traced his lineage to the 16
th
century, during the time of Queen Elizabeth I. The Baxter family often touted the exploits of their most distant relative, an apprentice shipbuilder named William Baxter who was working for Sir Francis Drake, the famous English hero who broke the Spanish Armada in 1588.

It was said that William Baxter concocted the plan and executed the English fire ship attack that sent the Spanish Armada running during the Second Battle of Gravelines which would later lead to its final defeat.

William Baxter was given neither a title of nobility nor land for his part in the English victory but he was given the title of master shipbuilder. Instead, he would stand at Sir Francis Drake’s right hand until the vice admiral's death in 1596. It was Drake, known as a privateer to his own people but as a pirate to the Spanish, who introduced Baxter to the slave trade.

After Drake’s death, William and his sons expanded their empire until they were a direct competitor of the East India Company in everything ranging from grain to opium. It was also rumored that the English monarchy secretly used the Baxter organization to crush the East India Company when the monopolistic behemoth became too powerful.

From what Neil had told them, the Baxters knew how to stay out of the spotlight. For centuries they’d managed to do so, and within the last hundred years they had paid reparations for their part in the slave trade. On the surface, they seemed like a merchant family who’d toiled against the elite and sometimes with them in order to build a brand that had lasted for almost five hundred years.

There had been the occasional transgression by the younger Baxters, a DUI here or an alleged assault there, but for the rest their records appeared clean. Every Baxter subsidiary was involved in the community, gave money to all British political parties, and donated time, energy and resources to charities around the globe.

On paper, Chance Baxter looked the spitting image of his long-dead ancestor, William Baxter. He graduated from a middle-of-the-road university with a degree in engineering. He’d gone to work for his father after college and spent many years toiling in most of the Baxter subsidiaries. To Cal, the guy who appeared on paper looked like what a billionaire should be. He was a hard worker who’d taken the time to learn the business from the bottom up prior to assuming the reins.

“He’s in the Bahamas,” Neil said, looking back and forth furtively between computer screens.

“How did you find him?” Cal asked.

Neil sniffed. “You don’t want to know.”

He was right. Cal didn’t want to know. He’d learned a long time ago that the things Neil  did to track down money, information and people were rarely legal. Sometimes it made Cal wonder what would happen if a guy with the skills that Neil possessed, but one lacking the moral compass and ethics, were let loose on the world. All the top brass were discussing national security concerns in the face of cyber attacks on American systems. It would not be much of a stretch to then consider the ramifications of people or countries to use cyber technology to either interrupt or disable communications networks or electrical grids.

“Where is he, exactly?” Cal asked.

“He owns an island just north of Grand Bahama. It’s called Great Sale Cay and it is about 370 acres. He has a compound and small marina. It’s all here in the interview he did with
Inc
. magazine.”

Cal looked over Neil’s shoulder and skimmed the article. It was a typical “This Is How This Billionaire Lives” piece. There were five pictures, one of Baxter holding up some kind of fish, his smile wide but practiced.
This guy’s used to the cameras
, Cal thought.

“Have you gotten anything else from Maya’s files?” Cal asked.

“Nada.”

It didn’t feel right. Why would Hannah Krygier deliver the random notes to Maya if they couldn’t use them? The only thing that had come to fruition was the image of the super-yacht but even that didn’t tell them about what they were up against. Hell, Chance Baxter looked like a saint compared to most of the scumbags the men in the room had dealt with over the years. Still, it was the only breadcrumb they had discovered.

“Jonas,” Cal said, getting their CEO’s attention. “How hard would it be for you to get an introduction to this guy?”

“Are you thinking for you or me?” Jonas Layton asked, humor lacing the words.

“I was thinking we could come up with some story about how you’d like to meet him regarding a project you’re working on. You billionaires all know each other, right?”

There were chuckles from the other men and Jonas rolled his eyes.

“It’s not that easy, Cal. I don’t even know the guy.”

“But you could come up with something?”

Jonas thought about it for a moment and then nodded. “Let me get in touch with one of my assistants in charge of setting up that sort of introduction.”

Cal nodded and turned back to Neil.

“Get me everything you can on that island and whatever else Baxter owns in the area.”

“Okay. What about his yachts?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want to know where his yachts are too?”

“How many yachts does he have?” Cal asked, incredulously.

Neil counted from a list on his screen.

“Twenty-three.”

Trent whistled. “Maybe Jonas should let me have the introduction.”

Cal ignored him.

“Yes, get me the information on all his assets in and around the Bahamas.”

“That could take some time. He’s got property scattered under a plethora of different entities,” Neil said.

“Do your best.”

Neil clicked his teeth together and got back to work.

Cal decided that things were well in hand for the moment. He needed time to think, to step back and examine the pieces of the puzzle. He figured a walk would do him some good, so he told the others where he was going and he stepped outside.

When he got to the street, a car was just pulling up to the end of the cul-de-sac. The driver’s window rolled down revealing Todd Dunn.

“You got a minute?” Dunn asked.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Did you hear about Marge?”

“She texted me. Congrats on the pay raise. You cool with it?” Cal asked.

Dunn shrugged. “She’s been dropping me subtle hints for months. I figured it might happen.”

People who didn’t know Todd Dunn, whose official title had been Head of Internal Security at SSI for years, thought that the former Ranger was just another muscle-bound meathead. Cal and his friends knew better. Since he’d arrived at SSI, first under Travis and then under Marge Haines, Dunn had been much more than a security guard. He knew every secret and protected it with the intensity of a Doberman. He was also much smarter than he ever let on. The MBA he’d earned while going to school after hours was only one such indication of his intelligence. In short, Cal knew Dunn was more than capable of running SSI.

“If it means anything to you, I think you’re the right man for the job,” Cal said. He was more than happy that Dunn was taking over the Stokes' family business.

“Thanks.”

“You heading back tonight?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got something for you. It’s in the back.”

Dunn stepped out of the small SUV and popped open the rear hatch. Cal heard what sounded like metal on metal and then he saw Dunn reach into the back. He pulled something out and set it on the ground.

“Go ahead,” Dunn said to the ground.

Cal cocked an eyebrow in confusion. A second later  a chocolate brown dog with white- ticked legs walked around the car. Cal didn’t know a thing about dogs but he knew she was just a puppy. Then, to Cal’s astonishment the dog took a seat and stared directly in his eyes, waiting for his command.

“You got a dog?” Cal asked.

“She’s not mine.”

“What breed is she?”

“She’s a German Shorthaired Pointer,” Dunn said.

The dog hadn’t moved. It was still gazing intently at Cal.

“And she belongs to —?”

Dunn hesitated and then said, “Travis had an order in with a breeder up in Indiana. I didn’t know about it until the guys called SSI requesting final payment.”

Cal gulped. The dog, as if sensing his unease, held out a paw. Cal bent down to get a better look at the beautiful pointer and he took the extended paw. The dog licked his hand once and then looked up at him again. There was an ease there, like an older dog trapped in a puppy's body. Cal wondered if all dogs were that brilliant and well-behaved, or if Dunn had trained her that way. He stroked her head, feeling the velvety fur under his fingers. It was just the kind of dog Travis would want. Trav loved to hunt, and he’d always wanted a bird dog. Cal pictured his cousin sitting by a fire, the dog curled up at his feet while he sipped a glass of Jack Daniels, his belly full of whatever they’d got that day. He gulped again, his newfound emotions bubbling to the surface.

“What are you going to do with her?” he asked.

“Travis left everything to you.”

It took Cal a couple beats to realize what Dunn was saying.

“You want
me
to take her?” But even as he asked the question and looked into the dog's eyes, Cal knew he would. Still stunned he continued, “What did you name her?”

“I didn’t. Travis did.”

Cal’s mouth felt dry. He couldn’t take his eyes off the dog.

“What’s her name, Dunn?”

After a moment, Dunn said, “Liberty. He named her Liberty.”

Cal stared at the dog as if it might bring him closer to understanding his cousin’s death. There was no answer there but there was something else. What was it? He realized it a split second later. The dog was a piece of Travis, like an extension of his cousin’s life, and a treasure left behind that Travis knew Cal needed.

Cal smiled and the dog cocked its head as if studying him. This time she moved in close, slithering in under his arm, leaning against him like she needed his body heat. Cal stroked her back and said, “Liberty; I like that.”

The only response he got back from the dog was a soft happy whine and the wag of her tail.