can track you with the GPS that’s installed. And it has my contact number. If we get separated, you can call me.”
Sherman didn’t touch the phone. He had a look on his face that told Turrin he was unsure.
“Okay, so you’re here. What’s going down?”
Sherman laid it all out, about the missing money, Sol Lemke and the deadline Conte had given him.
“He’ll do it,” Sherman said. “Conte has a simple rule. Do it to them before they do it to you. Old school. He believes in bringing the hammer down if he sees a problem. Right now he doesn’t trust me any longer. Even if I found his missing money, the suspicion would still be there. He gave me a few days. I know I’m reaching the end of my rope here.”
“You’re right about Conte. He’s a low-life thug, and he’ll want you dead. No two ways about it. Come on board and I can set things in motion. We relocate you somewhere safe. New identity. New name. You can rebuild your life.”
“It sounds so easy when you say it. I have family. A sister and her kids.”
“We’ll look after them, too. Harry, I won’t lie. This won’t be easy for you. A lot of things will change. Harry Sherman will disappear. You and your loved ones will get new identities. If you have any doubts, think of the alternative.”
Sherman reached out, picked up the sat phone and dropped it into his pocket, knowing that “Leo” was right. He understood a man like Conte, knew the man’s capacity for revenge, retribution. The man had no conscience. His instinct was tuned toward his own survival. Nothing else mattered to him.
“I have information you can use to nail Conte. I recently discovered it.” Sherman told Turrin what he had uncovered. “Do what you’ve promised and I’ll give it to you when I’m safe.”
“Then let’s get out of here,” the little Fed said, pushing back his chair.
Sherman pushed his seat back and stood. He caught his foot on the leg of his chair and stumbled slightly. It was just enough to take him out of the trajectory of the slug that missed him by inches and slammed into Turrin. The impact shoved the Justice man back, his seat toppling and taking him with it. He hit the ground hard, blood spreading across his shirt from the hole high in his chest.
The other customers panicked as realization hit in the wake of the gunshot. They scattered, Harry Sherman among them, and two more people were hit as the shooter attempted to pin Sherman down.
By the time the first police cruisers arrived, it was over.
In hospital and under guard, Leo Turrin was slowly recovering from surgery to remove a slug from his chest. The bullet had clipped a lung and had lodged in muscle.
Family and friends had visited after hurried cross-country flights. Even Hal Brognola, Justice Department honcho and director of the Sensitive Operations Group, a secret antiterrorist organization based at Stony Man Farm, had shown up, then quickly departed.
Turrin had given his evidence to the investigating team from Justice. Now, in the silence of his room, staring unseeing at the walls, Turrin tried to make sense of it all. He had been involved in the world of crime and its attendant horrors for so long he imagined nothing could shock him, yet he still found himself drawn into the effects of such pointless violence. He had learned that several innocents had been killed, including two children. What made it worse: there was not a damned thing he could do about it.
He heard the door to his room swish open. The door closed and Turrin became aware of a presence.
Unobtrusive.
Standing silently beside the bed.
Before a word was spoken, Turrin knew who it was.
“We are going to make this right, Leo.”
When he heard those simple words, the little Fed felt a degree of tension drain away.
“It’s not going to be easy.”
“It’s never easy,” Mack Bolan said. “But it’s doable.”
“It should have been straightforward, Mack. Sherman was ready to make a deal. A new identity for information on Conte.”
“Why would he do that?”
Turrin took a breath as a surge of pain slashed through his chest.
“The guy was at odds with Conte. My contact in Vegas said the casino boss was getting more and more aggressive with everyone around him—running the organization as if he was some kind of untouchable. A few people vanished after they had committed some minor discretions. Conte was showing there was no place for mistakes in his organization.
“Sherman knew his time had come when he was accused of stealing money from the accounts. He knew Conte would come after him. He’d want Sherman’s head on a plate. So he took the only option he could.” Turrin took another slow breath. “When Sherman found incriminating information in Conte’s files, he saved it on a flash drive. It was his bargaining chip. When we met, he told me he’d give us the data that would give us the go on Conte’s organization. Now I’m not sure the information will be worth what it’s already cost in lives.”
Turrin asked for water and Bolan obliged. Bolan placed the plastic cup in his old friend’s hand and waited as he sipped the water through a straw.
“Leo, if this is too much right now, we can leave it.”
Turrin shook his head.
“We don’t have the luxury of time. Sherman’s out there on his own. The guy is in a bad place, Mack. He’s an accountant, not a street soldier. I contacted him and offered my help. Now he’s on the run. Conte’s kill squads will be hunting him. If they get to him first, it’s over.”
“Then we stop Conte, Leo. Play him at his own game. By the rules he sets down.”
“Read up on him, Mack. This guy runs his organization through violence and intimidation and doesn’t give a damn about anyone. The casino is his legitimate cover for what goes on behind the scenes. From what we’ve learned that’s a hell of a lot.”
“Justice knows but can’t touch him?”
“Conte has the backing of his people out east. The real power is the Russian mob out of Brighton Beach. They have high-priced lawyers and money to burn on payoffs. These people know how to buy their protection, Mack. Justice has been trying to find a way in, but these guys have it sewed up tight. Sherman’s information could go a long way to bringing them all down. But right now I have no idea where he is or what he’s done with the evidence.”
“The thing about sewing things up is the opportunity to pick at the stitches,” Bolan said.
Those few words told Turrin that he could rest a little easier.
Mack Bolan was on board.
The
