they were off the chart and into the realm where early cartographers wrote “beyond here there be dragons,” but Mercer was desperate.
“I knew you’d ask. I’m searching for it now. I remember what you’re like when you want something. You were after me for years to buy that piece of the
“Er, yes,” Mercer lied. “It’s on a credenza next to my desk.”
“Ah, here we go. He still lives on his family farm in Waretown. Believe it or not his name is Erasmus Fess.”
“Mercer!” Harry shouted from where he was reclined against the bed’s headboard.
Mercer didn’t turn, just held up a finger for Harry to wait. “Erasmus Fess?”
“That’s right.” Mercer wrote out the address Dion rattled off.
“Goddamn it, Mercer!”
“Hold on, Carl.” He covered the phone. “What?”
Harry was pointing to the television. Mercer looked. On the screen cops and a medical team were swarming around a small suburban house. Mercer tuned into the reporter’s voice. “…this morning by a neighbor who describes the scene inside as a slaughterhouse. While the body has yet to be found, sources have been unable to locate Miss Ballard and the amount of blood in her house indicates foul play.”
Mercer went numb and the color drained from his face. He cut the connection without saying good-bye to Carl Dion. “Serena?”
“Yes.”
Another few seconds ticked by as the trio watched the news change to another story. Cali was the first to pull herself together. “We have to get out of here. If they tortured her, they know we’re staying at the hotel. Probably the room number too. Mercer, do you have a car?”
“Yes,” he said, his mind spinning faster and faster. “It’s in the garage.”
“Mine too. That’s where we should head.” Cali had already closed her laptop.
“Bad idea. If they’re already here they’ll have it staked out. Harry, do you still have that suite?”
“Sorry, the room they gave me is reserved tonight. They’re giving me another but it won’t be ready until seven.”
Mercer just nodded at the news. “Okay, then we’ll just slip from the hotel, amble down to the next casino on the boardwalk, and hail a cab. If we can get that far without being spotted, we’re clear. Cali, any chance you have a gun?”
She shook her head. “In my desk drawer at the office I’ve got a Glock, but that doesn’t help us here.”
“My spare Beretta’s in my bedside table,” Mercer admitted, handing Cali her computer case and casting an eye around the room for anything important. “Ready?”
Harry and Cali nodded.
Mercer opened the door and peered quickly down the long hallway. It was deserted but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t lurking in the elevator vestibule. With Harry in tow the stairs weren’t an option. He motioned for them to hold still and he took off down the hall, moving so his shoes made the barest whisper against the carpet-a sound easily masked by the hotel’s humming ventilation system. There was no one hiding by the elevators so he pressed the button and motioned for Harry and Cali to join him. On the odd chance the people who murdered Serena Ballard arrived on the next car, the three of them had better odds using surprise to overpower them than had Mercer waited alone.
His stomach was calming after the first jolt of adrenaline at seeing the news piece, and he began to wonder what they had stumbled into. It was no coincidence that Caribe Dayce was operating near Kivu at the same time Cali was searching for a potential uranium deposit. The key had to be the one-eyed mercenary, Poli. Mercer’s thinking about what had happened in Africa was backward. Dayce hadn’t hired Poli to work with his troops. Poli was paying the African rebel to secure the lode of highly radioactive ore.
Answering that question to his satisfaction left Mercer with another. How the hell did they know about the uranium in the first place? He glanced at Cali. Was it possible she wasn’t who she claimed to be? Mercer discounted that idea even as it formed. Too many bullets were flying in her direction for her to be working with Poli and Dayce. The answer lay someplace else.
The light above one of the Deco elevator doors popped on with a discreet chime.
The instant before the doors opened, Mercer heard the distinct sound of an automatic pistol being cocked inside the elevator car. They had less than a second before the gunman saw them, not nearly enough time to run more than a few feet. And if they had their weapons drawn, Mercer could forget about overpowering the assassins. Their only chance was to hide in plain sight. The gunmen were looking for two men and a woman. But not a couple and another man.
Harry stood closer to Cali than Mercer, so he pushed his friend into her arms and hissed, “Kiss her.”
Mercer was sure Cali understood what he had in mind but felt confident that Harry would just give in to his natural lechery. As the elevator doors slid open, the two wrapped their arms around each other.
“Oh, thank you, John,” Cali squealed in a little girl voice and pressed her lips to Harry’s.
Mercer had turned away just enough so it was evident he wasn’t with the May/December couple.
The three men who stepped from the elevator held their pistols under their coats. Each gave Harry and Cali a passing glance, and as their eyes swiveled to Mercer, he bent as if to tie his shoe. Mercer didn’t recognize two of the men, but the third was indelibly imprinted on his brain. Poli wore a black turtleneck and suit, and rather than give him a piratical air his eye patch made him all the more menacing.
Cali made sure she kept Harry between herself and the gunmen as she and Harry strode into the elevator.
“Room 1092,” one of the assassins said, studying a plaque screwed to the wall. He motioned to their left. “This way.”
Mercer felt Poli’s eyes burning into the back of his skull but remained calm as he stood erect and casually moved into the elevator behind Cali and Harry. Harry pressed the button for the lobby. “How’s your luck holding out, chum?” he asked Mercer, playing the part of strangers.
The elevator doors began to whisper closed. “Just fine,” Mercer replied and began to turn to face the front of the car.
Poli stood rooted in the vestibule, ignoring his men as they moved down the corridor toward Mercer’s room. His single eye went wide as he recognized Mercer, and his mouth split into a rictus of anger. He lunged for the elevator doors, trying to prevent them from closing, but he was a second too slow.
“Holy shit,” Cali gasped as the car began to plummet for the lobby. “How did he escape the counterattack in Africa?”
Mercer didn’t have an answer and knew now wasn’t the time to worry about it. “We have just a few seconds once we reach the lobby,” he said, then added grimly, “or no time at all if Poli has more men and a radio.”
“What’s your play?” Harry asked.
“Can you get around okay without your cane?”
Harry smiled, understanding what Mercer really wanted. “I think I’ll be all right.” He handed over the polished wood cane that Mercer had given him for his eightieth birthday.
Mercer had commissioned the cane from one of the finest knife makers in North America. He took the walking stick from Harry and pressed a hidden button to release a two-and-a-half-foot-long rapier. The blade was as sharp as a scalpel, and while Mercer had no formal fencing training, the barest touch would split cloth and skin. He gave the black walnut scabbard to Cali.
“Clubs and swords against pistols?”
“Desperate times,” he replied with a smirk.
Mercer’s hands were slick on the silver handle and he rubbed the sweat against his pants, leaving a damp smear. He kept the blade tucked behind his leg while Cali held the baton across her chest and under her suit jacket. They remained silent as they watched the indicator lights fall inexorably toward the lobby.
Before the doors opened, they could hear the chimes and bells from the slot machines, and the noise grew as the doors hissed apart. Mercer ducked his head around the door and spotted nothing out of the ordinary. No one was rushing for the elevators and it didn’t appear that anyone was listening to a radio or cell phone.
“Come on.” He led them out of the car.
