the extreme course of action Tyrell had undertaken, these people were essential if he was to get back in favor with the Pinnacle Investments board.
“Don’t you believe your man will succeed?” he
asked.
“To be honest, I don’t. I think he’ll prefer to stick to his own plans,” Tyrell said.
“Wouldn’t you prefer I take care of your next targets while he finished his current assignments?”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“Personally, I prefer not to take over another operative’s assignment.”
Jesus Christ, these guys are paid killers. They murder for financial gain, but they have all these fucking ethics. Honor amongst thieves … what a load of bullshit. Tyrell had no time for the politics of the industry.
He just wanted results. “Do you want this job?”
“Yes,” his new killer answered.
“So we understand each other?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Tyrell picked up his briefcase and placed it on his lap. He removed two files from it and dropped them on the bed.
The newly hired killer picked up the files. He sat in another of the comfortable chairs by the window. He opened the first file and flicked through the documents, then did the same with the second file.
“Like I told your brother in firearms, you have two days to make Joshua Michaels and Margaret Macey
into obituary articles. No fancy stuff, okay?”
The killer looked up from the files and nodded.
“What about my… colleague? What do you want
done with him?”
“He’s a liability. I would like to have him removed from my employ, as it were. If you can find him, you can kill him. I’ll make it worth your while.”
“How do I find him?”
Tyrell removed another file from his briefcase and dropped it on the bed. “I thought you might be interested.
The file contains all the information I have on
him.”
The killer picked up the scant file, much thinner than the previous two. He sat down again, scanned the file and nodded in agreement.
“I don’t know his name or his address. All I have is a post office box that all monies and files are directed to.
I’ve included the cell phone number I’ve contacted him on. Be warned, he regularly changes his number. I thought a man of your profession could trace his location by the number,” Tyrell said.
The killer placed the files in his briefcase, stood up and went over to Tyrell with an outstretched hand.
Locking his briefcase, Tyrell got up and shook the hand offered.
“I don’t think there’s anything else I need to know. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see if I can’t get a flight out tonight.
I’ll contact you as soon as I have news.”
“What do I call you? Our intermediary didn’t say.”
The killer paused for a moment, then smiled. “Mr.
Smith.”
Tyrell smiled back. “I’m sure there are a lot of men in your business with that name.”
“A few.” At that, Smith released Tyrels hand and
departed.
Tyrell checked to make sure he had everything he’d brought with him. He was pleased with himself. Things would be changing for the better, and fast. I can see the checks rolling in, he thought.
“Bang, bang, who’s dead?” he joked to himself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Mark Keegan’s service was at St. Thomas’s Anglican Church. Josh’s flying partner hadn’t been a religious man, but his sister was and she wanted a religious ceremony.
The church was half filled with relatives, coworkers, flying club members, airport officials, and
friends. Josh sat with his wife and daughter in a row of pews waiting for the ceremony to begin.
Organ music and echoing conversations drowned
out the silence within Josh’s family. He looked at them.
Kate stared into an infinite distance beyond the walls of the church. Abby sat between Kate and him, studying the floor and absently clacking her shoe heels together.
They weren’t a happy family. It was a blessing that Kate had returned to work, Abby had school and he had the house to himself. Everybody had their space.
Josh let his gaze wander and it fell upon the coffin.
The simple pine casket with brass fixings rested at the head of the church, garnished with funeral wreaths.
Josh struggled to believe Mark was dead. It didn’t seem real. He couldn’t imagine Mark’s body was inside the box. It couldn’t be true. Mark was his friend and his living image preoccupied Josh’s mind, but it kept being replaced with the one of him slumped over the Cessna’s control column. It seemed the funeral was a hoax, a big joke played on Josh by his friends as a belated birthday prank. The urge to go up to the coffin and tear off the coffin lid was becoming impossible to resist. But deep down, Josh knew the truth. Mark was dead, killed by the man trying to kill him. An innocent man lay dead because of him. He didn’t want to be there. He shouldn’t be there. His presence seemed sacrilegious.
Josh felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, Josh,” Bob said.
Josh turned to the row behind him, where Bob was
taking his seat. “Hey, Bob.”
Kate and Abby turned to Bob and they said “Hi” to each other. Abby managed a smile for the first time that day.
“Thanks for coming, man. You didn’t have to,”
Josh said.
Bob leaned forward. “Yeah, I know, but I was talking to the guy the day before the crash.” He leaned farther forward and whispered, “Can I talk to you
afterwards?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
Bob sat back. The wooden pew creaked under his
weight. He nodded to a group of four people and
moved over to let them sit down.
The minister took his place at the lectern and the organ music died. A hush came over the congregation.
The minister introduced a hymn and everyone stood and sang. The service echoed throughout the bowels of the church and sniffs and gentle sobs punctuated the proceedings. Mark’s sister, Mary, gave a tearful eulogy about Mark’s love for life. The service ended with a final hymn.
Those gathered slowly filed out of the church and into the courtyard. The mourners clumped into groups and made awkward conversation. Josh excused himself from his family and made a beeline for Jack Murphy, who was heading toward the parking lot.
“Jack.” Josh placed a hand on the mechanic’s shoulder.
“I’m glad you came.”
“I wasn’t going to, but Mary asked me,” he said.
“Why weren’t you going to come?”
