Chapter 42
FORTY-TWO
D on drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited in the darkened parking lot for his contact to arrive. The marina was deserted this time of night, not another soul in sight.
A shadow appearing next to his window almost made him jump out of his skin.
“Shit,” he breathed, fumbling for the button to lower the window.
The person stared back at him, hood up.
“What the hell? You trying to give me a heart attack?”
“It’s not my fault you weren’t paying attention. I’ve been hiding in the woods for the last twenty minutes, out of range of the cameras.”
“What about all the others? You know where they are? How to disable them?”
“Yeah.”
“What about the other thing? You sure you know what to do?”
“Really?” The tone was pure sarcasm.
“I’m not taking any chances. This needs to be handled cleanly, and make it look like an accident.”
“If you aren’t sure, why did you ask me to?—”
“I’m sure.” He exhaled a calming breath. Glanced at the dock. This was risky, but less risky than if he’d attempted it himself. He’d been lucky to find someone who hated Lazos as much as he did. Someone who needed cash.
“You got the money?”
He reached into the center console and took out the envelope of cash. Pretty much the last of his reserves. Worth it, if this worked.
His contact took it, flipped through the contents, and he got the impression they were actually counting it that fast. Not all that surprising. They worked with numbers all the time.
“Anything else?” they asked.
“No. When are you going to do it?”
“Now. As soon as you leave.”
Perfect. That was his cue. “Leave a sign on the rock we picked once it’s done.”
He waited for them to melt back into the shadows before he started the car and drove for the parking lot exit. On the way up the hill from the lot, headlights appeared at the top. He peered through the windshield, trying to make out who it was.
That damned nosy conspiracy theorist, Earl.
He kept driving, glancing behind him in the mirror. The dock was still dark, and so was the hangar at the end. A buzz of excitement started in the pit of his stomach. The flight was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.
He and the rest of the board were sick of Lazos’s interference. Of her influence over Slater just because she was riding his dick.
Don was sick of being afraid. Of having to scramble and scrape and beg and make deals just to save his skin.
No more. This ended now.
Or tomorrow, rather. When the plane went down.