construction fence, and headed directly for them at high speed. As soon as the two attorneys grasped the horrifying reality that the car was targeting them, they changed directions and began to run, but it was too late. The car struck them in the crosswalk before crashing into the back of a parked delivery van and exploding into flames. Their bodies were crushed instantly, hurled from hood to windshield and into the air. Cheryl’s body hit the asphalt like a ragdoll, twisting and rolling for fifty feet until it came to a stop beneath a parked car. Daniel’s was thrown against the back of a parked SUV, shattering the vehicle’s windows before dropping lifelessly to the street. Both of them had died instantly.
Later that evening,
Boston Globe City amp; Region Desk
Even though the publicly reported details were sketchy, it was sufficient confirmation for Marco. No one had seen or heard anything unusual. It was a clean remote hit. The remains of the driver would soon be identified as a drunken street bum who’d gotten behind the wheel of a stolen car. The remote control equipment inside the car had exploded into a million indiscernible pieces, a method he’d employed for a dozen other hits. Marco’s two million dollar fee, with another million for no loose ends, would be wired to his Nevis account within twenty-four hours, as promised. Doing business with Tate was truly a pleasure.
11
Wilson — Cambridge, MA
Wilson lay sprawled across the overstuffed chair and ottoman in the belfry library of the Fielder family home in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The two-story library had always been Wilson’s lair. His father turned the circular belfry into a cozy library lined with maple bookshelves when Wilson was eight. The large oculus window provided a lookout to the outside world and a beautiful view of Cambridge Common and Harvard Square. Growing up, he and his friends had used the library and its large round window as an imaginary battle station with a strategic lookout. That’s when he started calling the Fielder family home Brattle House. When he’d gotten older, the library became another place to have long intimate conversations with his father.
Last night, after spending several hours researching the latest surveillance and counter-surveillance practices online, Wilson had fallen asleep in his favorite overstuffed chair. His sister Rachel woke him with a violent shake. “Wilson. Wilson. Wake up. Daniel Redd was killed last night.”
Wilson cracked opened his eyes gummed up from sleep, struggling to bring them into focus. Rachel’s face was distorted. She looked horrified. “What?” he said, as her words began to sink in.
“Last night, just before eleven o’clock, Daniel and another attorney were hit by a drunk driver on Boylston.”
“Where’s the driver?”
“Dead. The car struck a truck and exploded.”
Still dumbstruck, Wilson grabbed the morning edition of
Wilson read the report two more times, still unable to fathom that Daniel was suddenly gone. Killed in a crosswalk because of Fielder amp; Company’s secrets. Why now? The fifty-two files? Sharing them with me? Meeting with Cheryl O’Grady? Had Daniel shared the files with her? Or was there something else Daniel failed to tell me?
“They did it. I know they did it,” Wilson said under his breath.
Rachel looked as pale as death, staring at Wilson in disbelief. “What’s happening to us?” she whispered.
An hour later Wilson was sitting in Bill Heinke’s office at Weintraub, Drake, Heinke amp; Redd, listening to Heinke’s account of Daniel’s tragic death.
“We’re all in shock around here,” Heinke said, placing his hand over his forehead and sighing. “However, I assure you that nothing with respect to your family’s assets or concerns has been jeopardized. Twenty-four hour security protection for your father, increased surveillance and counter-surveillance, liquidation of assets-everything will continue as planned.” Heinke paused a moment, his face distorted, before adding, “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
Wilson waited for a few moments out of respect for Daniel, but his sorrow had already turned into rage. There was no question in his mind that the people who had tried to murder his father had now killed Daniel Redd. “Why were Daniel and Cheryl meeting?” Wilson asked.
“Wrapping up loose ends on the merger, before Cheryl returned to New York for meetings today.”
“What loose ends?”
“She wanted additional information about some of Fielder amp; Company’s clients. Daniel had been working non-stop, hoping to finish everything by this morning.”
“Which clients?” Wilson asked, feeling uneasy as he shifted in the leather wing chair across the desk from Heinke. He already knew the answer.
“We’re not sure. There was nothing found at the scene of the accident. We’re going through his files this morning. Daniel was very particular about his client files. He kept some in his office, some in the firm’s vault, and others in safety-deposit boxes. Give us the rest of the day,” Heinke said, sighing again as he folded his short, plump arms over his swollen stomach. Sweat had formed along his furrowed brow below a crop of receding gray-brown hair slicked back with gel. He looked like a heart attack waiting to happen. He continued, “We’ll have everything accounted for by this afternoon. As for your father’s estate, we have more than a dozen attorneys working on it as we speak. Daniel trained an exceptional group of attorneys. I’m personally assuming a supervisory role. Everything is proceeding as planned. Your father’s assets should be fully monetized within thirty days. KaneWeller is also anxious about the files, the late-night meeting between Daniel and Cheryl, and, of course, the expected negative publicity. They’ve been checking in every half hour for updates.”
“Please keep me informed,” Wilson said as he got up.
“Of course. By the way, do you happen to have copies of any of Daniel’s files?”
“No, I returned everything I had,” Wilson said, disguising his lie with abruptness. There’s no way I’m turning over my copies of the fifty-two files. Not now that Daniel’s gone. Fuck the bastards. I’ll be ready for them when they come after me.
Heinke grimaced slightly as he stood up. Things were obviously worse than Heinke was letting on. Hopefully,