Born to Run

Jack bristled. He hadn’t heard anything about response.

“You two had a dialogue going?”

“Until her husband died, we did.”

“Did you end up telling her as much as you told Chloe Sparks?”

“No more, no less.”

“So why was it ‘necessary,’ as you say, to kill Chloe Sparks, but not Marilyn Grayson?”

“It’s one thing to know that President Keyes is controlled by a certain family from Sicily. It’s another thing altogether to know why.”

“You told Chloe why?”

The Greek shook his head. “She figured it out.”

“Does Sofia know why?”

“Sofia knows.”

“I presume that’s why those men came for her yesterday.”

“Exactly right. And that’s why I need your help.”

“What can I do?” ’

“You have Sofia’s ear. Convince her that she can’t go to the FBI or the police with this. No one at any level of government can be trusted.”

“What am I supposed to tell her to do?”

“Get out of the country. Now. If she hears that advice from me, she will never believe it. But if you tell her, she might.”

“I can’t promise she’ll believe me.”

“She’d better.”

“What if she just doesn’t listen?”

He leaned forward, his nose just a few inches from Jack’s, his eyes narrowing. “Then killing you will become very necessary,” he said, his voice so calm and cold that, for a moment, Jack thought the Greek would actually enjoy it.

Jack returned the glare, but he was looking at a three-eyed monster-the Greek’s dark eyes and the muzzle of his handgun.

“I’ll do my best,” said Jack.

Chapter 34

They waited until dark, and then Jack led the way to the Hotel San Pietro.

“Faster,” said the Greek. They were already covering the scenic block along Alhambra Circle at the pace of a much younger man, which told Jack something about the Greek’s recovery from his hotel roof fall. The Greek walked a couple of steps behind, his hands buried in his coat pocket. Jack assumed there was a gun aimed at his spine.

The San Pietro was one of the oldest hotels in Coral Gables. The lobby floor was a mosaic of cracked Cuban tile, and cross-beams of pecky cypress supported the high arching ceiling. In daylight, colorful stained-glass windows filtered the strong Florida sunshine, throwing patches of red, yellow, and green against the thickly textured walls. After dark, however, the windows were black against the night sky, and the lobby took on a shadowy, castle- like ambience beneath a broad candlelit chandelier. On the wall behind the front desk were rows of old-fashioned key cubbies with room keys on tassels.

“Good evening, Mr. Swyteck,” said the young woman behind the desk.

Jack tried not to look nervous as he returned the smile. “I sent a client over this afternoon. Sofia is her name. Has she checked in yet?”

“Yes, she has. Would you like me to ring her room?”

“Yes, please.”

She glanced at the Greek. “And who else should I say is calling?”

“It’s a surprise,” said the Greek. “I’m an old friend.”

She ran her finger across her lips, zipping them. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“That’s what they all say,” said the Greek.

She didn’t seem to know how to take his meaning, but she smiled anyway, dialed the room, and announced that Mr. Swyteck was in the lobby.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said into the telephone, then hung up.

“Miss Sofia would like you to come to her room,” she said.

Jack wasn’t surprised. Being on the run, she probably felt safest in the room.

“Then we’ll go,” said the Greek.

“First floor,” said the desk clerk. “Chopin Room.”

That was another cool thing about the hotel. All of the rooms were named after famous composers.

At least she’s not in the Salieri Room, thought Jack.

The hallways were narrow, and there were numerous abrupt turns. Hotel San Pietro was actually several old mansions linked together into a single hotel, which made getting to your room a bit like a trip through a maze. They passed the library and the dining room, and if Jack hadn’t been to the hotel before, he would have had no way of knowing if he was headed in the right direction. The old floorboards creaked beneath the carpeting in the hallway as they passed the Bach and Beethoven rooms. Finally, they reached the Chopin Room.

The Greek stepped aside so that he could not be seen through the peep hole. Jack knocked three times. The door didn’t open, but he heard Sofia’s voice.

“Is that you, Mr. Swyteck?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

Jack heard the rattle of the chain lock, the deadbolt turning. The door opened.

“Please, come in,” she said.

Jack stayed where he was. “I have someone with me.”

Her concern was immediately evident, as if she knew who it was.

The Greek stepped behind Jack. “Hello, Sofia.”

“Demetri!” She gasped, and then slammed the door shut.

The Greek leaned into Jack’s back, letting him feel the gun in his right kidney. It was still hidden inside the Greek’s coat pocket.

“Tell her she shouldn’t be afraid,” he said in harsh whisper. “Tell her to let us in. Go on. Tell her!”

“Sofia, it’s okay,” said Jack, speaking to the closed door. “I’ve worked something out with…Demetri,” he said, repeating the name Sofia had used.

There was no reply. The Greek nudged Jack with the gun.

“It’s all a misunderstanding,” said Jack. “Please, let us in. This is all going to work out.”

The lock clicked. The doorknob turned. Slowly, the door swung open, but Sofia was nowhere to be seen. She appeared to be shielding herself behind the door.

“Come in,” she said, still out of sight.

Jack entered first. The Greek was right behind him. The door slammed shut, and in a lightning-quick blur, both Jack and Demetri were hit from behind with the force of a charging bull. Jack went down first, and Demetri fell right beside him, both men facedown on the floor. The man sitting on Jack’s kidneys felt like a rhinoceros, and the gun at the base of Jack’s skull felt big enough to drop an entire herd.

“Move and I’ll blow your head off,” the man said.

Jack’s right cheek was pressed to the silk rug, and out of the corner of his eye he could see that the Greek was in the same predicament.

“You’re early, Vladimir,” said the Greek.

The man named Vladimir got off Jack’s back and stood over him. The Greek remained pinned beneath the other man.