Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
Callum pulled a cigarette from his glove compartment stash, smiling to himself as he lit it. He’d get an earful about the smell when he got home, a prospect he was actually looking forward to. By then, he would know the success of his mission and the value of basing his whole life on a hunch.
Big Frank had to be here, in the back bar room at Giovanni’s.
Callum figured Frank’s moles in the police department would have alerted him of the earlier happenings at Vitalie’s party.
He also knew that whenever there was a crisis, Big Frank hunkered down here.
If Callum read the dim light in the back window right, his knowledge of Big Frank Riley’s habits again had served him well.
He drew a long drag, letting the smoke slither out from between his lips.
The parking lot was empty, a fact that surprised him.
Whenever Callum pictured this moment of redemption, he figured he would have to eliminate the rest of the goon army to get to the general.
But he also knew the yellow wind flag outside warned all to stay away. Frank was all alone. Unguarded.
The darkness had dulled to a shroud of grey when he stepped from his car.
A weird sort of tunnel vision heightened his senses, making each of his steps echo in his ears, and the smell of the rain more pungent than usual.
He pulled open the door, walking to the back room as if something propelled him.
He slowed when he saw a shadow at the bar. There in the darkness Frank sat on a stool, his hands wrapped around a shooter of something, probably his usual bourbon.
In that instant, Callum could feel the impact of the crash all over again, like the wind had been violently forced from him. He hung in the doorway, drawing strength from the shadows, gathering himself for the showdown he’d dreamed about.
“So,” Frank said finally, lifting his glass slightly, like they were old friends meeting or a drink. “There you are.”
Callum stepped forward, slow, deliberate.
“You weren’t hard to find. Even snakes come up for sun once in a while.
” Callum let his words settle around him, making sure it was clear his visit was not out of friendship.
He stepped behind the bar, snapping on the overhead light.
A bottle of bourbon was breathing beside him, and the half-full ashtray hinted he’d had been waiting a while.
“So the boys were right about you, Harrison. You do have some sort of personal agenda.”
“You think so?”
“You never did get over what happened on that track, did you? I thought we were square now.”
“We’re not friends, Frank,” Callum said. “Friends don’t ruin friend’s lives.”
Frank nodded, staring at the contents of his glass. “So let me guess how it went. You felt cheated after what happened at the Daytona. Then, filled with this drive of revenge, you made it your mission to pay me back. That sound about right?”
Frank was smiling. He was known for his even temper, a strategy adopted to frustrate those seeking confrontation.
It wouldn’t work on Callum.
“I agreed to throw one race,” Callum said. “Because of you, I lost my career. You tampered with my car and you made sure I would go down. Was my word not good enough?”
“I didn’t mean for it to turn out that way.”
“Is that what you are going to tell Brielle. Because, I can’t imagine you’d roll with the truth. That you had her whacked for some condo in South Beach. Sounds like you’re Father of the Year.”
Frank took a long swig, his silence clearly strategy rather than having nothing to say. Callum walked around the bar, running his fingers along the edge.
“It was no condo,” Frank said finally. “It was forty percent of my business.”
“And that makes it okay?”
“What the hell do you want me to say?” He shrugged as if talking about the weather. “That’s the way it goes, Callum. Sometimes in business when you take a chance you lose out. You and Brielle were unlucky.”
“Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you sold her out. And I want to know everything and what for.”
Silence stretched. Frank took a slow sip of his bourbon. Buying time. Callum could feel himself unraveling the anger swelling inside him ready to break loose. And then, before he could stop himself he grabbed the bottle off the bar and smashed it hard against the edge.
Glass exploded. Seconds later he was on the other side of the bar holding Frank by the lapel with the jagged neck of the bottle pressed tight against Frank’s throat. A thin line of red welled instantly.
“Start talking,” he seethed.
Frank didn’t flinch. But his breath changed. “Careful, Harrison,” he said quietly. “You’ve always had a problem with impulse.”
Callum leaned in closer. “And you’ve always had a problem with underestimating me.”
Callum tossed the bottleneck to the corner and dragged him to the supply room door. With inhuman force, he kicked it open, tossing him on the ragged couch in the corner. “Start talking,” Callum barked and pulled the string on the naked light bulb overhead.
With the deliberate speed of a stalling man, Frank lit his cigar and took a long drag before returning the lighter to his jacket pocket.
“Anston Vitalie and I have never been friends. He was my daughter’s coach for years, but we didn’t get along.
He always acted like he knew better than me what was best for her. ”
“I wonder where he got that impression.”
“So I see him one night about a year ago at a party in South Beach. He’s whining to anyone who’ll listen about how he’s filing for bankruptcy because his old partner, Geoffrey Martin, is luring all the players into signing management deals with only him.”
“Brielle being one of them,” Callum said.
“Sure. She was the crown jewel. Geoffrey makes more in a year off Brielle’s endorsements than what Vitalie makes in five with his school.”
“So one man’s misery is your business opportunity,” Callum quipped. “How do you get from that to whacking your own daughter?”
Frank shifted in his seat, the cloud of smoke swimming over his head. “I didn’t have her whacked,” he said calmly. “All I wanted was to fix the match. She agreed to help me at first, when I pushed her, but she changed her mind. So, I had to work around her. Improvise.”
“Then you and Vitalie set it all up.”
Frank nodded in the affirmative. “All he had to do was loosen a few strings on each of Brielle’s racquets, just enough to throw her off. But he freaked out and had her attacked.”
“That upset you?”
“Hell yes, it upset me! She’s my baby.”
Frank took a puff of his cigar. “The mail threats were another bright idea of Vitalie’s.
He had that same moron with the knife send Brielle threats in the mail.
Anston thought it would throw off the investigation if anyone ever questioned him.
The most likely suspect would be the one who threatened her in the first place. ”
Callum was surprised at how forthcoming Frank was with his information. A better man would have acknowledged a shred of remorse, but Callum needed to believe the worst. He pulled out a zip tie, then motioned for Frank to put his wrists together.
“Why didn’t you kill Vitalie?” Callum asked. “Not like you to leave loose ends.”
“Believe me I thought about it. But I came up with something better.”
“Better?”
Frank nodded, his hands now bound together. “I told him that I’d spare his life if he gave me everything else. His stocks, bonds, private plane, two yachts and his whole compound here in Bonita Springs. Seemed like a fair trade.”
“Sure.” Callum sneered. “Brielle loses everything but you make out.”
“No, because Geoffrey and I are partners now.”
“Partners.”
Frank shrugged. “He’s easy to handle and I don’t have anything against the Swiss banking system.” He smiled gnawing on the end of his smoke. “We’ve done business for a long time.”
“This was a joint venture then.”
“Not at first.” Frank corrected. “I told him I’d hand him the school if he agreed to marry Brielle and convince the Tennis Federation to drop the investigation into her attack.”
“Did you know he’d been signing deals for Nila Norcova in place of Brielle?”
“It doesn’t surprise me. He gets a bigger cut that way. But what the hell is the difference? Brielle’s the one who benefits. Geoffrey will be her husband. More money to go around.”
“So you planned this whole marriage thing, too.”
“At the time, no one knew if Brielle would ever play again. I figured this way if she couldn’t, she'd have the school to run. She loves that place and I know she loves kids. With Geoffrey, she could have a family. I do look out for my daughter, you know.”
“Weren’t you afraid Vitalie would talk?”
“And say what? He was in just as deep as any one of us.”
Callum stood back up, satisfied, by his handiwork. Picking Frank up by the collar, he shoved him to his knees on the floor.
“So why hire me, Frank?”
Frank shook his head, as if realizing his fatal mistake. “I thought we were friends. I thought you’d look out for me.”
“The hell with Brielle, right?” Callum felt his composure snap, his stomach tightening with a jolt.
Frank balanced on his knees. In Callum’s experience, even the worst killers feared their own death. The glint of panic in Frank’s eye revealed he was no different.
“What are you going to get out of killing me, Harrison? You’d have your revenge but what will Brielle have? Her career will be ruined. She might even head to prison. No Geoffrey, no school. She’d have nothing. Vitalie is dead. Let this whole thing die with him.”
“Shut up.” Callum raised the gun. This was the moment that had sustained his existence for eight years. Big Frank Riley at his feet, a breath away from death. His finger twitched on the trigger. One squeeze and it was over. He aimed between the eyes…
The same deep green. The same resolve with a rebel’s edge. Callum had seen fear in them before.
These were Brielle’s eyes.