The Pact (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 17) Page 27

  “Ahh, yup,” the man said. “But she turned and headed that way after.”

  “Toward the parking lot?” the officer asked.

  “Yeah, that girl ran fast.”

  The officer stepped away.

  “All units,” he said, the sound of the radio’s feedback answering him. “The female suspect appears to have gone toward the parking lot. All units report to the parking lot and stop all vehicles leaving. I want the exits cordoned off.”

  The feet scuffled away from around the van leaving the legs of two men as they continued to unload boxes onto a small skid.

  The man below her released her mouth.

  “Wait,” he whispered. “Don’t move.”

  They waited, her palms sweaty, her back soaked as all her body weight pressed down on the man below her. His abdomen was hard, like a bodybuilder fresh from the gym. They had slid under the vehicle on one of those square pieces of wood on wheels that mechanics used to get under cars.

  The word creeper popped into head. The board was called a creeper so mechanics could creep under vehicles.

  Vivian, useless facts are great, but getting me out of this mess would be more useful.

  Two words flitted through her mind like the echo over a canyon.

  I am.

  Someone slapped the side of the van twice.

  “Go.” The short word burst from the man’s mouth under her. The creeper slid sideways and the Danish sun blinded her momentarily.

  Hands latched onto her and dragged her to her feet. She blinked and tried to see who it was, but didn’t fight them. The man on the creeper had said they were friends. It was either them or airport security.

  She was shoved into the back of the van, her eyes acclimating instantly. The bodybuilder who had dragged her under the van jumped up with her shaking the van with his weight, and the man outside slammed the van’s back doors closed.

  The man outside smacked the back door twice.

  “Sarah?” a man said behind her, his voice familiar.

  Sarah turned to look into the eyes of Darwin Kostas.

  “It seems I received a strange letter from your sister about a week ago,” Darwin said, his grin wide and warm. “Thought I’d do what she asked.” He shrugged. “It’s worked for you all these years.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. “Oh Darwin, it’s so good to see you.”

  “You too, Sarah, but there’s no time. You need to leave.” He held out his hand. A passport protruded from his fingers. “Clara Olafson’s passport. I received it via special delivery this morning from Toronto.”

  “What?” Sarah said, staring down at the Danish passport. After a moment, she took it from him. “How?”

  “Aaron sent it to me. Must be part of his letter from Vivian.”

  “But how?”

  “He said you’d ask. Told me to tell you to remember when he took Clara to her hotel room and got clothes for you before you flew here.”

  “I remember.”

  “He snatched her passport and after you went to the airport that night to fly to Denmark, he Fedex’d it to a mailbox I rented here in Billund. According to Vivian, he was supposed to protect the Danish girl and mail you her passport. My letter told me to be by door A3 here at the airport and give it to you when you come running out with the authorities on your ass.” He shrugged again. “So here we are.”

  “But how could Vivian have seen such detail all those years ago?”

  The same as you often do now, Sarah.

  She tilted her head as she listened to her sister.

  “Vivian talking?” Darwin asked.

  Sarah looked down at the passport in her hand. “Sometimes this shit still surprises me.”

  “Me too, man, me too.”

  She raised her head and stared into his eyes. “It’s so good to see you, but it appears I have to leave again.”

  “I know. Bruno here will see that you get to the plane on time.”

  The bodybuilder nodded his head once. The man had to be seven feet tall and as thick as a tree.

  “He’ll stand out too much,” Sarah said.

  “He’s also the only way through a pack of security guards if you’re stopped again. Don’t worry about Bruno. He’ll take the heat. He wants to. There’s a huge bonus in it if he gets arrested.”

  “Bonus,” Bruno whispered.

  Darwin grabbed a bag beside him and held it out to Sarah.

  “Take this. Put it on. It’ll help you appear more Danish.”

  Sarah rifled through the bag and pulled out a top and new jeans. Bruno turned away when she started to change. Darwin didn’t have to ask her to remove the clothes the security officers saw her in. They were the clothes she’d died in. It was good to be rid of them.

  Once she was changed, she placed a large hat on her head and smiled for Darwin.

  “All good?” she asked.

  “Almost.”

  He pulled a small amber colored bottle out of the bag and sprayed copious amounts of disgusting perfume on her neck.

  “What’s that?”

  “To complete the package.”

  “It’ll bring attention to me,” she gasped, trying not to breathe herself in.

  “You’ll be fine. Now go. And Bruno, take care of my girl here.”

  Bruno grunted and grabbed the handle of the van’s door.

  Sarah didn’t know if the grunt was derisive or an agreement.

  “Bruno?” Darwin said.

  Bruno turned back to look at Darwin.

  “I’m serious. Watch over her with your life.”

  “Understood, Boss,” Bruno said, his voice as solid as his biceps. In that one word, Sarah felt the man’s commitment as much as heard it.

  Darwin slapped the inner wall of the van once.

  They waited. He took her hand, clutched it tight, then let it go.

  “Stay safe and we’ll see you soon, Sarah. I love you like a sister, only more.”

  “You know I love you too, Darwin.” She planted a kiss on his cheek and moved back to crouch beside Bruno.

  Someone slapped the van’s outer wall twice.

  The coast was clear.

  Bruno slammed the door open and hopped out. He raised a hand to help Sarah out and then walked her to the door she had exited from earlier when being chased. The door was propped open, the alarm from earlier silenced.

  Back inside the terminal, Bruno ushered her along the wide corridor, blocked her from view of the security agents who were checking people at the metal detectors, and walked her toward her gate. With her clothes different, the large hat, and the new smell, Sarah walked through the Billund airport with a seven-foot tall bodybuilder as if he were her boyfriend.

  At her gate, she didn’t see Parkman anywhere and felt the first pangs of fear. What had he done? Where was he? Could he have gone against his promise to her and chased after the officers?

  Bruno leaned down to her ear.

  “I leave now. Stay here. In line. I watch from over there. When you board, when plane leaves, then I leave. Otherwise, your life is in my hands and I won’t let go. Understood?”

  Sarah looked up into the steely determined eyes of a man built for the Greek Olympics of old, and an honor-bound system most men wouldn’t understand today.

  “Understood,” was all she said to him, a warmth spreading over her.

  That was all he wanted to hear. A one-word answer. The corner of his lips lifted in a half smile. Then he moved to the left and disappeared behind her.

  If a brawl erupted around her on any given day, that was the kind of man she wanted in her corner.

  The line edged forward. She looked over her shoulder to watch Bruno retreat to a small coffee kiosk.

  That was when she saw Parkman sauntering toward her.

  With the brim of her large hat pulled down, she faced forward and waited. Parkman stepped in behind her, just as he should.

  Good man. Kept his promise.

  Sometimes it’s better to not have the whol
e story and just follow your word, do what’s right anyway. Isn’t that the definition of honor? Doing what’s right when no one was looking?

  The line edged forward. At the small kiosk, the flight attendant took Clara’s passport, checked the photo, glanced at Sarah, then swiped the passport and handed it back to her. Sarah produced the ticket she had bought in Clara’s name with the boarding pass and the woman waved her through.

  Sarah walked the ramp and entered the plane. Once seated, her stomach still mixed with acid to the point where she held a hand over it. No matter how much she’d been through, this high-tension shit still got to her. Reminded her she was human. Which was the reason it didn’t bother her that she wasn’t jaded, and probably never would be.

  Minutes later, Parkman shambled down the aisle toward her. She lowered her head so the hat would cover her face. Not until they took off would she speak to him. They could have been seen together at the airport earlier before they bought their tickets.

  He sat across the aisle from her in the same row.

  The captain’s voice emitted from the speakers. They were ready to leave. The doors closed moments later and the plane taxied out to the runway.

  She thought of Bruno watching from the airport window. Of Darwin in the van waiting for his hired mercenary to return, sad that Bruno didn’t earn a bonus. Maybe one day Sarah would contact Darwin and get Bruno shipped over to her on loan. She could find a way to offer him a financial bonus for busting some heads.

  The plane thrust forward as it prepared to take to the air. Danish soil dropped below the plane as it left the ground and she was safe, gone from the airport security, away from the Danish authorities.

  Now all she had to do was get to Toronto and deal with the one man behind everything before he died. Homicide Detective Shawn Bryant had some explaining to do as well.

  She lifted the brim of the hat and faced Parkman. His arms were crossed over his chest, his head back, eyes closed.

  “Excuse me, sir,” she said.

  Parkman opened his eyes and looked at her. Realization dawned on his face and his eyes widened further.

  Sarah held a finger to her lips. “Shhhhh.”

  “What the? How the hell?”

  “Come sit beside me. The window seat is empty. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  Chapter 53

  Ben Wilson spent the last day of his life preparing for death. He didn’t fear death. If anything, it would be an end to the pain, to the suffering. Since there was nothing after death, he would become nothing and that was okay with Ben. Nothing was better than the something he had now.

  The sun shone through the windows of his mother’s house. He walked across the room and looked down at the street. He had never been happy living downtown Toronto. To be on such a busy street with so many people coming and going at all hours of the night and day. The relative quiet after midnight was the primary reason he worked through the nights and slept in the day.

  But not today. This Tuesday was special. Today Detective Bryant would experience karma like never before.

  Ben turned back to his computer. He had not heard from Ansgar all weekend and as of this Tuesday morning, none of his spiders could track Ansgar’s whereabouts or the whereabouts of any of his aliases. Nor could he triangulate the man’s cell phone.

  Aaron Stevens had been formally charged with murder and his friends were charged as accomplices. They were being detained until some kind of court meeting tomorrow. Anton Olafson was under arrest at the hospital in Denmark where he was still healing from wounds sustained at his house in Skanderborg, which Ben’s spiders couldn’t find anything else on.

  None of that mattered to him anymore. Anton Olafson was a bad man and this was his comeuppance for what he had done to all those boys over the years. None of it would’ve come to light if Anton hadn’t shut down Ben’s hacking job months ago when Ben had gotten into the Danish Land Registry. They’d caught him because Ben had carelessly published data retrieved from the Land Registry site on a forum and entered into a debate on Danish laws. He had no idea the Danes were as good as they were at tracking IP addresses.

  When they found his, they yanked the post off the forum and shut him down. The Danish Data Protection Agency worked closely with Anton Olafson, the Director of the NC3, to sever Ben’s access. Going after Anton had been a side gambit. Something to have fun with.

  Because Ben enjoyed playing God. If he could, then why not? Judgement Day. Since there was no God, he might as well act like one.

  When Ben discovered Anton had a daughter, he hacked into her system easily and began talking to her through Plenty of Fish. Knowing her interests and needs, her wants and desires, it wasn’t long before Clara was drawn to him. Ben told her he was a rich sports store owner in Toronto. Of course he would send her a plane ticket. Round trip, all expenses paid, to Toronto, Canada, and the rest was history. Clara had fallen for him.

  Ben had had his doubts about Anton fulfilling the murder task. Would he actually murder a random girl? Could he go through with it?

  Once Ben saw what Anton was doing to those boys, Ben had no choice but to go after their pimp, Damien. He emailed evidence from Anton’s computer and got Damien arrested in Aarhus.

  Then to play with Anton. It was so simple, it was laughable. Death was the ultimate consequence and Ben’s death wasn’t only coming, it would be of his own doing. Then there would be nothing. No Judgement Day, no reincarnation, no nothing. If God were real, there’d be no suffering. If he truly loved us, why place us on Earth to feel pain, to suffer?

  So Ben became the pain and created, LEGACY: PAIN PACT. He was the Passive Aggressive Internet Nomad who wanted Performance, Action, and a Commitment Transaction out of people.

  Ben had loved acronyms ever since he learned that Iron Man’s Jarvis was named in honor of the former butler named Edwin Jarvis. The name actually stood for Just A Rather Very Intelligent System.

  On the wall of his master bedroom office, a sign read F.A.I.L., First Attempt In Learning. Ben had learned enough and failed as many times. Only death was left and he was ready.

  He had set his computers to wipe their hard drives clean. They were loaded with information that would incriminate him after his death. He didn’t want that. The public would spew sympathy on Detective Bryant if any of it came out.

  What he had ready for his game, LEGACY: PAIN PACT, had been uploaded and would launch tomorrow when it did not receive a prompt from his computers. Since they would be defunct soon, that prompt would not come, thereby launching the game onto the Internet. Once the authorities discovered where its host was, they would shut it down, but Ben would’ve won for the time being. His game would be seen by hundreds, if not thousands by then. He could only hope it would go viral.

  After his last lunch of three Mars bars, his stomach churned and he thought he might vomit them back up. Maybe Jessica would come in time for him to vomit on her. Could be something the stupid emo was into.

  He snorted a laugh. “Shit wave,” he whispered.

  At three on the dot, Jessica knocked on the door downstairs. The hard drives were almost done wiping. Close to another hour to go. He’d wanted them to finish so he could use a sledgehammer to break them into pieces before he left for the vegan café.

  But they would still be here when he returned.

  She knocked again.

  “Persistent little bitch, eh.”

  He checked the main computer and saw it had fifty-three minutes left. The abort key flashed in the center of the screen.

  “Fuck that,” he muttered.

  He activated the screen saver with one button and left the room. Downstairs, he adjusted his new shirt—not new, just never worn—sprayed cologne on his neck, set the bottle on the kitchen counter, then entered the main foyer and opened the door.

  Why didn’t she just use her house key like before?

  Jessica couldn’t have looked more pathetic than she did at that moment. Her hair was still black, but shinier s
omehow. The boots were still rugged-looking and black. But the nail polish was red this time.

  “Less goth?” he asked, studying her nails.

  “Never goth,” she smiled with her tiny mouth. Then blinked rapidly twice. “Hate goth. Not me.”

  Something about her was different. She seemed edgy, maybe even a little nervous.

  “You okay?” he asked. “You don’t look so good.”