Man in the Middle

scrutinized.”

“And we’ll be able to set this up in time?”

“A bank official is ready to input all of the data as soon as we’re finished here today. After that, you and Morgan will have an account in which neither of you can withdraw the money without the other’s verbal authorization. I will arrange for each of you to read precise instructions when the time comes.”

Once they finished, Peter left, opting for the stairs. He exited through a rear door and began to run. He took a route through alleys and around buildings until he arrived at a bus stop, more than a mile from the office. He rode one bus north, then a second east. A short cab ride followed another mile of circuitous running. A sudden cab-stop in mid-block preceded more running and then a second cab. Ten minutes later, Peter picked up his rental car from an outdoor parking lot.

Peter drove the Celica several miles in the wrong direction, intending to lose the tail he was certain had tried to keep pace with him from Ayers’ office. An hour later, he reached Carlsbad and removed the registered mail. He took the first envelope to Speedy Delivery Service in Fallbrook, twenty-five miles north and east of where he planned to meet Stenman and Ayers tomorrow. He gave the man delivery instructions: “Tomorrow. Exactly one forty-five p.m. You approach from the beaches north . . .”

He took the second package to Always Reliable Delivery Service in El Cajon, twenty miles south and east of tomorrow’s rendezvous. He told them: “Tomorrow. Exactly two p.m. Through the men’s locker room . . .”

From there, Peter went back to his hotel room, turned on the television, and tried to relax, but couldn’t. Beginning at dawn, he would either take the first step on the road to salvation, or the last step to perdition. At this stage of the game, he wouldn’t have wanted to make book on which.

At nine, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

 CARLOS, ALONE, ENTERED THE TIGER LILY RESTAURANT AND LOOKED around. Sarah Guzman flagged him with a raised hand. He crossed the well-lit room and slid into the bench next to her. He leaned on his elbows, looking ready to explode into a violent rage. Sarah understood his feelings. She disliked having to be a messenger to this transaction.

“What is next?” Carlos asked.

“I expect my phone to ring within the hour.” Sarah glanced at her cell phone resting on the Formica-topped table. Around them, diners began to exit the buffet line, trays piled to overflowing with Chinese. The smell of grease and soy inundated the still air and clung to hair and clothes. “We will be given instructions at that time,” Sarah continued.

“I do not like that we are not in control of this situation.” Carlos’ eyes jittered, as if impatient.

“We have no choice in the matter,” Sarah said. “Morgan wants those documents. So do I.”

“Tia,” he asked, “why do we agree to this?”

“Because we failed to take care of Peter Neil.”

“Suerte. Senor Neil has suerte.”

“Luck? I am not so sure. He has instincts. We are unable to follow him. Muller presents him with what seems to be an insurmountable dilemma, and Neil slices an arm off and throws the appendage into a safe. He is not one to sit back and wait for help. He has changed over these last months: no longer a boy, I think.”

“He is overdue for a mistake.”

“Perhaps,” Sarah said unenthusiastically. “But Peter Neil is unpredictable.”

“We will handle Neil,” said Carlos. “I pledge it on my life.”

“I hope so, Carlos.” Sarah Guzman studied him and nodded.

The minutes they waited seemed long. Her chest heaved, not so much from anger as frustration. She didn’t hate Neil. He was a victim—someone in the wrong place at the wrong time. But that didn’t change the facts: Peter Neil would be dealt with the moment they had those documents tucked safely away. Nobody survived screwing them over.

“We have people watching Neil’s friends,” Carlos said, interrupting her thoughts. “If anything goes wrong, I shall personally order a bullet put through the pregnant bitch.”

“Nothing will go wrong, Carlos. You will be at my side.”

“Si, senora. I shall make certain we are successful.”

When Sarah Guzman took a sip of tea, it burned her tongue.

“You ready?” Drew asked, leaning into Monica’s ear. “Twelve-thirty— show-time.”

“I think so,” she whispered. “Are you certain this is necessary?”

“Bread says so. After what happened the other day, with you being lured away, our apartment broken into, I agree.”

“What’s Peter up to?”

Drew shook his head. “Don’t know for sure. But Bread says there’s gonna be some heavy fireworks.”

A moment later, Monica Franklin began to moan. Her groans grew until they reached screams.

In a voice loud enough to be heard by any eavesdropping equipment, Drew said, “Don’t worry, Honey. The ambulance is on its way.”

“I’m not due for another month . . .” She hyperventilated, just as they had taught her at Lamaze class. “These aren’t labor pains, are they?”

“No, Sweetheart, but everything’s going to be fine.”

Drew reached for the telephone and dialed. “Kate,” he said a moment later, “Monica’s in some kind of severe pain. We’re on our way to the hospital. Could you meet us? She’ll feel better knowing you’re nearby for support.”

Kate agreed and Drew went back to his suffering wife.

As the couple stood just inside the open front door, Monica doubled over while Drew attended to her like a concerned husband. The sounds of a distant siren grew stronger. Less than five minutes later, a noisy ambulance, with a handsome expectant couple in the back, sped through traffic to Scripps Hospital and a well-guarded room.

Across the street from Drew and Monica’s apartment, a sniper watched through the scope of a rifle and seethed at his bad luck.

Jason Ayers phoned Stenman in her limo and gave her the location of the meeting. “You are to get the room number at the front desk after you arrive...”

With that call out of the way, Ayers paid a visit to the Tiger Lily Restaurant. When he entered, he could tell that Sarah Guzman and Carlos Nunoz were surprised to see him. When he slid along the well-worn Naugahyde booth-seat across from them, Sarah said, “I thought you were going to phone me.”

“Morgan wanted us to meet. She’s nervous about cell phone calls.”

Ayers gave Sarah her instructions. “Go to this section of beach.” He described the exact spot. “A beach chair, an umbrella, and a blue windbreak are in place, reserved for you.”

He then told her about the first packet. She was to remove her sunglasses if the delivery came off as promised. “You will receive a second delivery, several minutes later. After that second delivery, phone Mauritius Trust Bank at this number, ask for this man—” he put a slip of paper on the table “—and read him these instructions.”

He pointed to a brief statement and two bank account numbers. “Morgan has put Peter Neil’s five million into one of your new accounts. If the materials are complete and sealed as promised, you are to transfer the balance from your account to Peter’s.” Ayers’ finger tapped the bank account number he identified as Peter’s. “We’re using the new voice recognition technology to make the transfer.”

Sarah frowned. “Why bother paying Neil anything?”

“It’s only five million, and Morgan wants to make certain this goes smoothly. After the delivery, she has arranged a nearby boat to transport you and the papers to your villa in Ensenada. You should be in Mexican waters