“Just kidding, dude. Still got that little thing.”
Matt smiled and looked out of a small window that gave him a view of the Bagram runway. He could see the MH-47s huddled at the south end like hulking beasts, resting, awaiting their call. The heat waves made it seem almost as if the machines were breathing.
Next to them he saw a C-17 Globemaster aircraft.
“When do we go get Rahman?”
“We’re working that now. We think we’ve got him pegged in Quetta in a small village. If we get a confirmation, we’ll move.”
Matt nodded. “C-17s don’t usually park at the special ops end of the ramp.”
Hobart looked at Van Dreeves.
“They do when we are about to jump into Yemen.”
“So tell me. What precisely does the database say is in Yemen?”
“The top of the list.”
CHAPTER 80
Nina Hastings sat on the leather davenport in the den of her daughter’s home, steaming coffee cup in one hand. The news played silently in the background as she wondered exactly where Melanie might be. Nina had watched the live reporting from last night, but lost track of time as she fell asleep on the sofa.
She had to admire how Amanda had engineered things. Though she did not know the particulars, she would soon find out. As Kryponite was to Superman, she chuckled, she was to Amanda.
Nina fashioned herself an expert at creating the insecurity and then filling that void with her own version of love and affection. Sometimes it even felt real. She had learned long ago that one got out of life what one took. Nobody gave you anything, and it was survival of the fittest. Her operating premise was to assume everyone was lying to her, question everything, and, above all, strike first, even if she wasn’t certain. When she struck, she was convinced, it had to be hard and from a totally unpredictable direction.
This was usually done best by having better information than anyone else. Say what you would about Nina Hastings, there were few that had more tentacles in more places around the greater Charlotte metro area. She built bridges as fast as she burned them, maybe faster. Dr. Homer Jones and Judge Bart Holbrook were just two of her many sources.
Lenard Dagus was a perfect example. Within five minutes of meeting him she could see that he was a lecherous man. She had actually caught him staring at Amanda one time. Having taken notice, she had logged the information away where it might be useful one day.
When Nina had been dating Judge Holbrook in the Charlotte Circuit Court, he had with hesitation told her about the sealed Emily Wilkinson case, where Lenard Dagus had sex with a fourteen-year-old girl when he was nineteen. Nina and Melanie had thrown a Christmas party where both had been invited. Late in the evening, after the judge had spent a considerable amount of time talking to Dagus, he had asked Nina to have a word. He’d had a few drinks and so his judgment was impaired, yet the judge had pardoned his own ethical break by rationalizing that he was trying to protect Gabrielle’s granddaughter. He was doing her a favor. That he did.
That pearl of intelligence had been her leverage to keep Dagus from going nationwide about having uncovered Del Dangurs’ bogus article on Colonel Zach Garrett. He had come to them in earnest, telling Melanie and Nina that he had discovered who Del Dangurs really was and could expose him for using bogus sources and participating in yellow journalism. Sometimes things just worked out, Nina thought, and smiled to herself.
She looked over at Del Dangurs. He was lying on the sofa shirtless. His bare chest was smooth, hairless. His sandy brown hair was tossed haphazardly. Nina had been able to seduce him one final time.
“Well, Del Dangurs, I think you’ve done enough,” she said with a wicked smile.
He was running a hand along his chest. He smiled at his lover. Though he was initially surprised that she had been good in bed, and that he enjoyed it, he now wondered if he could stop. At the spry age of fifty-nine, Nina Hastings had turned out to be quite masterful at the art of seduction.
“What do you mean? The house, the woman. I did all of that for you, Gabrielle,” he protested. He had been her submissive slave both in the bedroom and outside. Her directions to him had been to burn the house and to kill the woman. Additionally, he was to try and frame Dagus or Jake, whichever was easier.
“One question,” she asked. “How did you pin it on Dagus? The house, I mean?”
“Well, when the cops show up at his house today, they will find a digital camera memory chip of the house, the interior, and the gas can. It’s right there on his desk. But of course no one has helped us more than Amanda. I don’t think I could have pulled a manipulation like that.”
Nina nodded in approval, perhaps pride. This was all good. Very good.
“And you’re sure no one saw you in Sanford?”
Del thought of the Asian, Julie Nguyen. Their hookup had been so quick. It had to be, as he had to return and take care of Riley Dwyer in time to make it look like Jake Devereaux had done the job. But Julie had been too much to resist.
“I’m sure, Gabrielle.”
Nina stared at him a moment, and he shook his head. “None.”
Nina nodded in approval.
Burning the house to destroy the physical memories had been phase one. Killing the psychiatrist to deny Amanda access to living memories had been phase two. There he had not succeeded, but had done well enough. Framing Jake for both the arson and the murder was the most they could do to separate Amanda from his strength of character. Lastly, offering Brianna to Dagus to not go public about Dangurs’ fictional news article was a perfect fit. Brianna needed the money, and she knew Dagus would not be able to resist.
It was a simple fix. He gets Brianna, Brianna gets $10,000, and the article sealing the fate of Amanda’s father endures for all eternity unchallenged. End of mission. And it was to be paid for with Zach’s insurance money.
“We’re done, Del. I told you that from the beginning. We all serve a purpose, and you’ve served yours. I’ll pay you when we get things all sorted out.”
She watched him pull his shirt over his muscular frame. There was a part of her that would miss the sex, but not a large part. He was okay, a means to an end.
The best part? Nina Hastings’s fingerprints were nowhere on this thing except on the $100,000 check she had written out of her daughter’s checkbook. Melanie had been so absorbed in the rapid closing of the house, she hadn’t noticed Nina pull out her checkbook and sign her daughter’s name. Melanie wasn’t the only one who could forge a signature.
“I’ll take my money now, if you don’t mind,” Del said, interrupting her train of thought.
“You’ll get your money tomorrow, maybe later today. Like I said. I need to go to the bank. This all happened a day or two more quickly than I thought.”
He stood in front of her, still seated on the sofa. She locked eyes with him and seemed to telepathically move him to the door. Transmitting her will through her gaze, he understood that he needed to leave now.
“I’ve got more to do today, Del. Thank you for your efforts.” She was a businesswoman thanking a salesperson for spending some time with her. Thank you and have a nice day. Next.
She turned her head as she watched him leave. She felt no emotion. She would pay him to keep him quiet, not for the job he’d done. Besides, he had not completed the Dwyer job, now that she thought about it.
She turned her attention to the television. Flipping through all of the news channels with the remote, she took a sip of her coffee and placed the cup on the cherry wood end table. She kicked off her slippers as if she had just returned from a long day at work and tucked her feet underneath her on the sofa. Finding a station that seemed to have more video and less talk, she watched the video replay of the house burning over and over on different channels.