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39
“What? What in the world are you talking about, Ramsey?”
Ramsey didn’t shout, repeated in his calm judge’s voice, “I’ll ask you again, Shaker, where did you take Molly and Agent Sherlock?”
Rule Shaker frowned, cocked his head to the side. He said slowly, “You’re saying Molly and Agent Sherlock are missing? And you’re here because you think I took them? Are the lot of you completely nuts? Kidnap Molly and Agent Sherlock? Where are your brains? I’d have absolutely nothing to gain and everything to lose.” He turned and strode across an antique carpet to what looked like a dark green velvet sofa that belonged in a palazzo. He knotted his white towel around his neck, sat down and stared at them, his face hard with anger. He made quite a picture, a man in gym shorts sweating up his muscle shirt on a piece of priceless antique furniture.
Mason said, “Nothing to gain? Come on, Rule, don’t play the injured party.”
Shaker continued to dry sweat off his arms after he sat. “Wait a minute. I can understand Molly being taken because she’s your daughter, Mason. Revenge, money for ransom, something along those lines, but why Agent Sherlock?”
“She happened to be with Molly, as you know,” Mason said. “You had them taken together right in front of the Hay Adams Hotel in Washington.”
“For heaven’s sake, don’t stand there looking at me like you want to rip my head off. Sit down and tell me what happened.”
Eve sat down in a high-back chair with beautifully sculpted arms beside her father. She said, sarcasm combing through her voice, “Sit down, the lot of you. So you actually think my dad had Molly and Agent Sherlock kidnapped and taken somewhere? What kind of proof do you have he had anything at all to do with it?”
Mason sat on a love seat next to his bride. “A Gulfstream 500 left Jet Aeronautics with two women, both with red hair, in the close company of two men. Both Molly and Agent Sherlock have red hair. They filed a flight plan for Las Vegas.”
Shaker spread his muscled arms along the back of the sofa. “Obviously the flight plan was a fiction. Even so, you decided to barge in on me?”
Savich’s cell vibrated. He slipped it out of his jacket, looked down, and rose from a high-back burgundy velvet chair fit for a cardinal. “Excuse me.” He walked toward the dining end of the huge room. When he returned a couple of minutes later, Ramsey was on his feet, shouting, “You took Emma six years ago and you’ve hated Molly ever since because she outwitted you, she beat you. She won.”
Shaker nodded. “Yes, she did. And yes, I’d just as soon see her at the North Pole, but still I had to admire her for risking everything to protect Emma and her family. Whatever has happened to her, I know nothing about it.”
“Cut the crap, Rule.” Ramsey’s voice was hoarse now. “You tried to take Emma first in San Francisco, but my girl is well trained and she kicked the crap out of the man you sent and she ran. Agent Sherlock saw to Emma’s protection at Kennedy Center, so you failed there as well. Then you decided to go after Molly. You thought it wouldn’t matter, either Emma or Molly would do.”
Ramsey looked like he might run at Shaker. Savich walked between them. He said, “There’s more than the flight plan connecting you, Mr. Shaker. We found the limo the kidnappers used a couple of blocks from Jet Aeronautics at Dulles. There was blood on the rear-facing back seat, not Sherlock’s or Molly’s since they were seen boarding the Gulfstream uninjured. Our agents got a warrant to jimmy the trunk and found a man’s body in it, a bullet through his forehead. They identified him in our facial recognition database. He was the same man who tried to take Emma at Kennedy Center, the same man who rented a car and a limousine in Washington using the stolen identity of an M. J. Pederson of Elder City, Nevada. His name was James Pope, aged thirty-four, Mr. Shaker, and his criminal record shows you as his employer. Perhaps you’d like to reconsider what you’ve said?”
As he spoke, Savich moved past Ramsey and stood over Shaker, staring down at him, rage banked in his eyes. He said softly, fists clenched at his sides, “They have my wife. It’s time to tell us the truth before I take you apart.”
Eve roared to her feet. “Don’t you dare threaten him, or I’ll have you thrown out one of those windows! Dad fired Pope months ago, caught him taking protection money from working girls at the casino. We haven’t heard from him since. It sounds obvious to me someone wants you to believe my father is the mastermind here. My father had nothing to do with this. You’ve been played for fools. And believe me, I would know.”
Mason said, “I’d easily believe you were a partner with him in this, Eve.”
Eve took a step toward him. Shaker said, his voice sounding tired, “Evie, sit down. What would you expect Mason to say? Believe you’re magically now a saint? Now, they’re not about to touch me. Savich is FBI, basically toothless without his bloody warrants and so many bureaucratic hoops to jump through I’d die of old age before he could haul me to a police station.”
Savich laughed. “And you think I care about the rules? Convince me you didn’t take my wife, or I’ll lay you out.”
Shaker shrugged. “How can I do that, since I have no idea who took her? Listen to Eve, you idiots. Like she said, I fired Pope months ago and I haven’t seen him since. I don’t know where he went or who he works for now. If he was involved in taking Molly and Agent Sherlock, that’s not on me. Both ties to Elder City and Pope—sounds to me like someone’s setting me up.”
He slowly rose. “You can take this to the bank, all of you. I have no idea where Molly or Agent Sherlock are, no idea who took them. Get out now, all of you.”
Mason got up, and Elizabeth Beatrice rose to stand beside him. He sounded quite calm. “You’ve always been a convincing liar, Rule, but you forget I know you well. What I don’t understand is why take them and not tell us what you want? Is it as simple as you want another war with me?”
Shaker was so angry he shook with it, but his hard voice was calm, controlled. “I don’t want anything you’ve touched, Mason, especially your daughter. As for this bit of skirt you’ve married, you’ve despoiled her just as you tried to despoil my Eve. But you failed with Eve. It’s a pity she didn’t shoot you dead years ago. You killed Melissa, my daughter. Of course I hate you, and you hate me. What else is new?” He paused, eyed Mason. “You talk about starting a war again. I’ve wondered if that’s what you want, not me. Someone has been disrupting business at my casinos, as you doubtless know. Is it you? Is this all a ruse, Mason, an excuse you’ve arranged so you can attack me?”
“That’s absurd. I haven’t given you a single bloody thought for at least the past year, too many important things on my mind. You are nothing to me. About the penny-ante crap happening in your casinos, Rule, sounds to me like what every casino owner has to put up with now and then, one of the costs of doing business that’s built into your overhead.”
“Penny-ante?” Shaker said. “Someone set a fire in Caliph, my newest casino. No one was hurt thanks to the Las Vegas firefighters I pay privately. They were there in three minutes, herding out the screaming patrons without anyone getting trampled. The inspector said the fire started in the high-stakes poker room and spread from there, but luckily not far into the casino itself. They got the fire out quickly, but the water damage was extensive. The Caliph will be closed for two months.” He looked directly at Mason. “I’m told it was arson. You’re the first man I thought of, but I had no proof. And neither do you about Molly’s kidnapping.”
Mason said, “Sounds like you have an enemy, Rule, but you know I’d come right at you, not nibble at you and hide in the shadows, so I don’t give a crap if you want to think I’m behind it. It’s quite true I haven’t given you a single thought in months. I’ve been in England with Elizabeth Beatrice.” He glanced at his wife. “If you fell off the face of the earth, Rule, I’d drink a glass of champagne, and move on. I wouldn’t give you a further thought. Talk about an enemy attacking you, sounds like you have a list.” He paused. “Tell us where they are, Rule, and stop this show of innocence. You’ve never been innocent of anything in your life.”
Shaker raised a blunt-fingered hand with manicured fingernails toward Mason’s face. He said in his smooth powerful voice, “Are you getting senile? We both know your precious Molly saw to it six years ago that if I touched a hair on her head, or Emma’s, the cops would come down on me like a freight train. Molly’s lawyers in San Francisco would release the recording she made of Eve admitting to killing Louey, and that thick pile of everything else Molly wrote down about us. I’d be the first on their list of suspects.” He sneered. “Or is that all a lie, too? Do you already have the documents?”
Ramsey said, “You know what I think? You want all that evidence back, you don’t want it hanging over you anymore, and you took Molly to get it.” Ramsey strode to Shaker, grabbed the white towel around his neck and jerked him close. “I’m going to kill you if anything happens to her. Do you understand me?”
Eve raised a 9 mm pistol, pointed it at Ramsey. She said, anger thick in her voice, “Back up, Ramsey, get away from him. Dad told you he had nothing to do with their kidnapping and it’s true. Like he said, it could only have ended with me going to prison for killing Louey. Dad would never want that. I’ve really had enough of all of you. We don’t know who took Molly and Agent Sherlock, which means, Judge Dredd, you need to check your own enemies list. Think of all the criminals you’ve sentenced over the years. Now, get out of here, all of you.”
Savich looked at Ramsey, gave him a shake of his head. He said, “Mr. Shaker, your daughter has a point as far as it goes. It’s possible the kidnappers will prove to be someone else. Your life here seems very pleasant and financially rewarding, except, I suppose, for your competitors here in Las Vegas who appear to mean you harm. But you know, if it isn’t about getting the truce documents and going to war again, what is it about?”
“Like Eve said, a criminal the judge here sent to prison. Revenge is always a powerful motive.”
Savich looked at Eve. “You hate Mason for murdering your sister six years ago, after you killed Louey. You hate Molly because she found you out and closed you down. Was it you who arranged to take Molly, to get revenge for your sister?”
Eve’s pistol wavered a moment, then she straightened. “We’ve told you, neither my father nor I know anything about this kidnapping. We’re going around in circles. It’s enough.” She paused, sent a vicious smile toward Elizabeth Beatrice. “I’ll bet you had no idea what sort of man you married, did you? He’s a ruthless, murdering bastard. Probably for the first time in your young life, you got first prize.”
Elizabeth Beatrice said in a clipped, very upper-class Brit voice as she took Mason’s arm, “I’ve found you and your father vastly entertaining. I’m very glad Molly—my stepdaughter—found you out and drew your teeth, and left Mason for me. Oh, and congratulations on your own marriage last year. And where is he? Did your second husband leave you as well?”
Eve looked her up and down, smiled. “A pity the kidnappers didn’t take you.”
