He stammered, “Some black dude and a couple of camel jockeys.”
“Did you see a white guy?”
The clerk answered tearfully and stuttered, “Yeah, he… he… he just walked up the stairs.”
Kareem looked at Candy and, referring to Jenny, said, “Hurt her.”
Before taking any action, Candy eyed Mohammed, who nodded. She raised the weapon above her head, preparing to strike Park’s daughter, but Jake intervened. “Okay. Okay. I’ve got the money.”
He pulled up his shirt and like a piñata bursting forth with Benjamins, the remaining seven bundles of newly minted counterfeit hundreds fell to the floor. Candy squealed with childish delight as the terrorists’ behavior revealed their excitement.
Rostam slipped his weapon in his waistband and was joined by Kareem, who lurched to help gather up the bundles, tossing them on the couch as the two men collected their plunder.
Mohammed remained still but dropped his weapon by his side. Though it was more money than any of the room’s occupants had seen in a lifetime, Mohammed was fairly certain the ten packets of bills on the couch amounted to far less than the $3 million ransom demand. He ordered, “Rostam, count one of the bundles.”
Rostam tore off the brown paper Treasury wrapper and began counting the bills on the coffee table.
As Rostam counted out the contents of a single packet, Kareem stacked the other nine bundles in a neat row on the table, saying, “This will further our cause. We can bring America to its knees. Allah’s word will reign supreme. Allah be praised.”
The eyes of the others were focused on the man counting the money, but when Rostam said, “This packet is ten thousand dollars,” it took only an instant for Mohammed to do the math.
He turned, pointed his weapon at Jake’s head, and said, “This is only one hundred thousand. Where is the rest of it?”
“It’s nearby. You’ll get the rest once Jenny and Gracie are safe. I need you to let them both go. Jenny can have the keys to my car. I’ll stay here. Once they call and tell me they are with Park, I’ll take you to the rest.”
“That wasn’t the deal,” bellowed Kareem, looking to Mohammed for reassurance.
“It is now,” said Jake calmly, as Gracie, scared by Kareem’s angry shriek, began to sob again. Jake held her close, her heart pounding with fear and uncertainty.
Suddenly Candy began to cackle mirthlessly. Everyone in the room but little Gracie turned toward the maniacal outburst and saw the reason for Candy’s mocking laughter: both Candy and Jenny were pointing large-caliber semi-automatic pistols at the men in the room.
Neither Mohammed nor Rostam said a word. Kareem, on the other hand, moaned, “Ohh noo… Candy, noo…”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Candy’s sights were set on Mohammed, who quickly dropped his weapon when she ordered. Jenny swept the room with her .45, poised to kill anyone seeking to interrupt the women’s plan of action.
Jake, still crouched on the floor, his arms around Gracie, quietly addressed Jenny: “You’ve got to be kidding me. I risked my life for you and now you’re part of it.”
“What can I say?” said Jenny, shrugging, a growing smirk on her face.
“Is the pregnancy a lie, too?” asked Jake.
“How’d you know about that?”
“Reid told me.”
Jenny looked toward Candy and the two laughed, both cunning and composed. “Yeah, that was a lie. Reid tried to buy it off cheap but I was negotiating for a little bigger payday.”
Kareem’s face bore defeat as he realized he’d been played, betrayed by those he trusted, even loved. He looked toward Mohammed and saw the look of a cornered animal seeking a way to escape.
Jenny sneered, her weapon now pointed at Jake. “My father made me a widow. He had my husband killed because he thought Michael was stealing from him. He made Gracie an orphan when her parents got in the way of the hit on my Michael. Daddy Dearest lied to me about how they died and tried to buy my love and affection, but I knew he was responsible.
“Now it’s payback time. Candy and I have been planning this ever since he ran his mouth about the three million coming in. He thought I never paid attention. I heard him scheming with Tommy. Thanks, by the way, for helping him get the container across the border.”
Candy laughed. “Tommy say you reliable.”
Jenny, poised and assertive, continued: “I guess he was right. Too bad he’s not around anymore to help us spend it.”
“But this money is going for a greater cause. This is for Allah,” pleaded Kareem.
Jenny shook her head. “Sorry about that, Ali Baba, but this is not Al-lah’s. This is all-ours.”
Candy laughed at Jenny’s effort at humor.
Jenny’s focus was now on Kareem, her muzzle pointing at his chest, center mass. “I figured a street-smart guy like you might realize what was happening when we got you to eliminate Sonny and Gabe. They could have ruined this for us. That’s why Candy accompanied you on your little nighttime romp to take out Sonny. Besides, I think she made it worth your while. You celebrated that night, right?”
From the hallway Jake heard the squeak of the boards and suspected the next phase of what now appeared to be his ill-conceived plan was about to be implemented.
Jake’s whole strategy was based on a false assumption: that the kidnapping was at Yeong’s behest. He planned to have Yeong and his bodyguards show up at the hotel after Jenny and Gracie were gone. Then, with the help of Trey and Brian, he would take down two Korean crime rings and shut down a North Korean — Iranian conspiracy to circumvent the new UN treaty on nuclear arms. And he had hours of audio-video recordings and $3 million in Supernotes to make the case.
From outside the door he heard the unmistakable sound of a weapon being racked. Crouched down and holding Gracie closer, the thought occurred to him: Katie would know the verse in the Bible about pride going before a fall.
As the doorknob began to turn, Jake’s eyes darted around the room, seeking cover or concealment from what was now inevitable, unstoppable carnage, and he said to himself, Oh dear God, help me and this child to survive this!
In that same instant, Jenny looked at Candy, who smiled and nodded. When Jenny returned the nod both women opened fire; the crack of gunfire in the small room deafened everyone.
Jake grabbed his Glock 19 from his right hip and dove on top of Gracie, pressing their bodies tightly to the floor, protecting her from the barrage of bullets, refusing to join in the erupting chaos.
Mohammed reached for his weapon, seeking cover behind the couch, his combat experience prevailing. Staying on his feet meant certain death. Prone on the floor, he reached up without exposing himself, firing blindly over the arm of the couch in the direction of the women, his shots ringing out in a semi-measured pace of two- and three-round bursts.
Kareem, still coping with Candy’s betrayal, was slow to grab his weapon. Jenny’s first three rounds hit him in the chest. The bartender’s prison-tuned physique was no match for the hollow-point ammunition ripping through his internal organs. He bellowed just once as he fell to the floor in the kind of agony he had so often inflicted on others. He briefly struggled to breathe, coughed up bright red arterial blood, and convulsed as his eyes went lifeless.
Candy got off several rounds before Rostam, frozen by the madness, finally reacted. As the Hezbollah terrorist attempted to drop to one knee and return fire, he was hit in the head, never engaging in the gun battle, never firing his weapon. For all his bravado in the back room of the mosque, he lacked the skills to survive on the street. His reward would have to be elsewhere. He would not find it on the second floor of a battered Los Angeles brothel.