The Living End (Daniel Faust #3)(66)

“That’s proof,” I said. “Proof we’re on the same side. I could never have gotten my hands on that contract without Calypso’s permission. If I hurt you or exposed you, that’d bust your deal, and that’s the last thing he wants. Therefore, I must be trying to help you. Think it over, Senator. Simple logic.”

“All right,” he said, reluctant. “If that’s true, then what do you want?”

“To save your life. Lauren’s going to betray you.”

“Ridiculous. Lauren’s a traitor? Why? She’s literally getting everything she wants. I’m showering her with money and support. She gets to—” He paused, catching himself.

“To become a goddess,” I said. “We know about the Enclave. We know everything. What you don’t know is that Lauren doesn’t like to share. You think she’s going to reward you with eternal life for your loyalty? Guess again. That makes you competition, and she doesn’t like competition. She’s planning on having you killed. We can prove it.”

“How?” he said.

As he spoke, another monitor running a speech-to-text program displayed a running transcript. Reminding me what words he’d spoken, and what I still needed to get on tape for the second half of the plan.

“Not here, not on the phone. Let’s meet tonight, just you and me. I’m sending you an address in Eldorado.”

“You want me to meet,” he said, “alone? With a murderer who’s trying to destroy my life’s work and my best chance of salvation.”

“And what happens if I kill you tonight, Roth? Oh, that’s right, contract’s null and void, and you don’t have to burn in hell. Want more proof that I’m looking out for you? Try this on for size. I’ve got a document, in your handwriting and with your verifiable signature, literally selling your soul for political power. What happens if I email this to every media outlet in the country? If I was really out to get you, I’d have already done it.”

He didn’t answer right away.

“All right,” he said, chewing it over. “I’ll come.”

“You’ll come alone?”

“Yes!” he snapped. “I’ll come alone!”

Caitlin tapped the transcript of his words on the screen and gave me a thumbs-up before sending another email. Pixie had set the system up for us in advance, making sure anything we sent would bounce off proxy servers from here to Beijing and land in Roth’s inbox with nothing but a generic user name and a dead trail behind it.

“Did you get the email?” I said. “Confirm the address, please.”

“Uh, 14082 Sauk Trail, room six,” he said. I heard him typing in the background. “Wait a second, that’s not in Eldorado at all. Google Maps says it’s a motel off I-15 about ten miles outside Vegas.”

Another thumbs-up from Caitlin.

“Sorry, sorry,” I said. “Ignore that. That’s for a different meeting. Sending you the right one now.”

“I can’t believe Lauren’s trying to kill me. After all I’ve done for her! You’d better be right about this, Faust.”

“Trust me,” I told him. “I’m your best friend in the world right now, Roth. I’ve got no reason to lie.”





Thirty-Two



With Roth on his way, it was time to get the hard work done. Caitlin and I helped set up a cluster of remote cameras in the house, little gray plastic orbs smaller than a cue ball, fixing them in place with ceiling brackets. Pixie linked them up with the screens in the Wardriver, calling in to give us directions.

“Little to the left,” she told me. “No, your other left. Right there, perfect. I can see all the way down the hall.”

Caitlin and I shared a stepstool, our bodies pressed dangerously close. She held the camera in place while I slipped the bracket under it, screwing it in tight with an electric screwdriver. I jumped down and ran into the living room to check the sight lines. It was perfect. The cameras were already unobtrusive, but thanks to a low-hanging bit of molding, this one was literally impossible to see from where Roth would be standing.

Bentley and Corman practiced their moves like they had been born on the stage, coordinating with Caitlin and Pixie. I stopped Corman near the basement door, nodding at the stairs.

“You sure about this? That’s a pretty steep climb,” I said.

“Kiddo,” he said, “did you just imply I’m too old to run up and down a goddamn flight of stairs?”

“Not in the slightest.”

He nodded grimly. “Good. Because I’m also not too old to smack you upside the head. You just worry about getting Roth on his mark, so he gets a nice clear view. We do this right, he’ll be pissing his pants.”

The guns were the last ingredient. A black nine-millimeter Glock for me, a pair of big chromed .45s for Bentley and Corman. I checked my load; then I checked it twice. Then a third time, just for safety. If everything went right, nobody would get hurt tonight. Problem was, it’d be real easy for everything to go wrong.

? ? ?

Night fell over the abandoned development. Pixie and Caitlin took the Wardriver, pulling it into a half-built garage across the street. Bentley and Corman took their marks. I took a slow, deep breath and waited.