CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

They arrived at the Tallahassee airfield a couple hours later and nobody was surprised to see an SUV in Mick’s fleet of Cadillac Escalades waiting for them on the tarmac. Mick, fully suited up in his long white coat, black turtleneck, and black trousers, was dressed in his war outfit the way all of them expected him to be dressed. No surprises there.

The drive through the hilly, college town was slow and quiet. Mick was driving, but he seemed a million miles away. Charles watched him. Mick was worried sick.

But when they arrived at the street behind what Oz said was Aristotle’s house, everybody else in the SUV were surprised. “That’s his house?” Sal asked.

“Yup,” said Oz as he checked his Glock.

“It looks like a shack,” said Reno as he undid his seatbelt.

“Everybody doesn’t flaunt their money, Reno,” Oz said.

“Spoken by somebody who flaunts everything,” said Reno.

But even Charles was concerned. “This is where the supposedly richest man in the world is living? In this shack? The mastermind? Are we sure we have the right guy?”

Nobody was sure of anything. Especially not Mick as he ordered Nikki to remain in the SUV and get behind the wheel, and for Reno to get in the backseat as a lookout in case there were no sneak attacks waiting to pop off. Reno was given a handheld transceiver in case he saw something they needed to be warned about. Then Mick, Charles, Oz, and Sal removed their phones from their pockets and tossed them inside the Escalade as per protocol whenever they were going on assignment, hopped out, and then headed along the narrow pathway that led to the back of the small home.

Mick and Charles remained in back, while Sal and Oz went around front. Mick had a handheld transceiver, as did Sal. “On three,” he said into the high-tech walkie-talkie and began the countdown as soon as Sal told him they were ready.

“One. Two.” And on three, Mick kicked the backdoor in and Oz kicked the front door in, and they all ran inside, their weapons drawn and hurriedly sweeping from side to side. Their collective hearts were hammering, but all they saw was what appeared to be a neat, tidy home, but an empty one.

They met up front in the living room, and together went from room to room. But when they got to the room at the end of the hall, they all braced themselves. Mick nodded and Charles flung the door open quickly and withdrew himself. The others pointed their guns into the room. But nobody was in there either.

“Wait,” said Mick. “What’s that sound?”

They all got quiet. And that was when the heard it. A ticking sound.

Mick and the others went around a corner inside the bedroom, and that was when they saw what looked like a bomb with a detonation clock on it. The numbers were massive, which meant they could see the numbers clearly. And all of them went into pure terror when they saw that there were only eight seconds remaining before detonation!

They tore out of that room and began running for their lives down that hall. They could hear a voice on what sounded like a loudspeaker somewhere in that house beginning the countdown with laughter in his voice: “Seven. Six.”

They ran through that kitchen, nearly sliding they were running so fast.

“Five.Four.Three.”

They ran through that still-open back door and down the steps so fast that they nearly broke their necks getting away from there.

But as soon as they were jumping off the back porch, they heard that male voice over that loudspeaker say the word Zero , and then the bomb detonated.

It was so powerful that it not only tore that small house into pieces, but it threw all four of them off of their feet and clean across the back yard.

Reno hopped out and ran to their rescue, but all of them got back on their feet without injury and watched the house burn to the ground. Nikki remained in the SUV. It was too narrow a passageway for her to drive to them, so she knew to stay put.

“Damn,” said Oz as they watched that house burn, his arms over his head. “Damn!”

And Charles, who had been doubtful that the Aristotle they were after could live in a nothing-looking house like that, echoed what all of them were thinking: “Yep,” he said. “We got the right guy.”

“Boss?Boss?”

It was Nikki’s voice as they all quickly turned to see what was happening. Nikki, who had gotten out of the SUV on the backstreet, ran up to Mick and reached his phone out to him. “It’s for you, sir.”

Mick frowned without taking the phone. “Who is it?”

Nikki’s big eyes blazed into Mick’s. In that moment they had a connection. And Mick already knew. “Aristotle?”

Nikki could only nod her head.

Everybody froze when she confirmed it. Mick snatched the phone from her and put it on Speaker, answering quickly. “This is Mick Sinatra.”

“Well hello there, Mick Sinatra.” The voice sounded robotic, as if disguised. “This is Aristotle, as I’m sure your fat-ass girlfriend told you.”

Mick nor Nikki paid that nasty remark any attention. They were used to the nonsense. “What do you want?” Mick asked him.

“Everything,” Aristotle replied without a moment’s pause.

Mick and Charles glanced at each other with that check this fucker out look on their faces.

But when Aristotle added, “I have your daughter,” everything stopped. Including Mick’s heartbeat. He had to exhale to start it back up again.

“Gloria is her name, I do believe,” Aristotle said. “She actually trusts me. It was so easy. Easier snatch I’ve ever done. Because she trusts me.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s very attractive. I’m looking at her right now.”

Mick’s jaw tightened. He knew Aristotle was attempting to get him to lash out, but his entire focus was on Gloria. “Where is she?”

“She’s here in Philly. With me.”

They all looked at each other. “What do you want?”

“I told you already. Everything! But in this instance, it’s not what I want. It’s what you want. And in order to get what you want you must do two things for me. Deliver her mother, Bella Caine, into my hands. And deliver your brother, Charles “Big Daddy” Sinatra, into my hands.”

Mick’s heart dropped. Everybody looked at Charles. But Charles was singularly focused on the call. “When?” he mouthed to Mick.

“When and where?” Mick said into the phone.

“When is tomorrow. At a time of my choosing. Where you will find out just before time for you to get there.”

“Proof of life,” Sal whispered loud enough for Mick to hear. He knew Mick was too emotionally invested to think clearly in that moment.

And he was right. Mick nearly forgot to ask. “Put my daughter on the phone. I need proof of life. How do I know you have her?”

“In a way you don’t know. But in every other way, you absolutely do know. Tartar ,” he added, and then ended the call.

“Damn,” said Oz. “He had his voice disguised.”

“No shit, Sherlock?” said Sal, who was distressed too. “We know that, Oz.”

But Mick was looking at Charles. Charles seemed unflappable. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, and they all headed for the Escalade.