CHAPTER NINE

A light rain had settled in, and the lower mainland was awash in clouds and mist. It was beautiful but depressing, a week from the start of October and already the wet winter weather was settling in. Vancouver was like Seattle, wonderful when the clouds cleared, sunlight-deprived when they settled on the mountains surrounding the city. Edward Brand buttoned his coat against the wet cold that penetrated right into his bones. He was tired of the rain and wanted to leave. But plans were plans, not to be messed with. He was in the Canadian city for at least another week. He sipped his tea and leaned on the railing, watching the small craft navigate a misty English Bay.

The front doorbell sounded, and Brand walked to the door and opened it. Tony Stevens was folding his umbrella as he waited under the portico. Brand waved Stevens into the house and sat in the living room near the wood-burning fireplace. Flames were licking at the birch logs, and an occasional snap broke the silence in the room. Stevens sat on the couch across from Brand. The room was rustic, with open rough-hewn beams and native Haida Indian art on the pine furniture. The acrid smell of smoke commingled with the salt air, and the mixture was somehow pleasant.

“We have a problem,” Edward Brand said.

“So I gathered from your message,” Stevens said, brushing an errant drop of water off his trouser leg.

“We have a leak in New York.”

“Who?” Stevens asked, leaning forward.

Brand took a small sip of tea and asked, “You want a beer?”

Stevens nodded. “Sure.”

Brand disappeared into the kitchen and returned a minute later with two beers. “Canadian. Much better than most of our American beer. Five percent alcohol as well. Only takes a few before you start to feel them.”

“I like Canadian beer,” Stevens said, accepting the bottle from Brand. He wanted to know what was going on in New York but waited. Edward Brand would offer the information when he was ready.

“I have a source inside the Bureau,” Brand said. “I’ve had this person on the payroll for six years now. To date it’s been nothing but a monthly output of cash with nothing to show in return. But that just changed. They’ve given me the name of the FBI agent who managed to worm her way into your organization.”

Tony Stevens felt a trickle of sweat run down his side. The room was warm, but not overly so. “Who is it, Edward?”

“What worries me more than who it is, is how did she get inside? That definitely worries me, Tony.”

“I can see why,” Stevens said, now sweating profusely. Where was Brand going with this? He had been in charge of the New York operation, and it had come off without a hitch. And the longer Brand continued to be elusive, the more worried Tony was getting. “You going to tell me who it is?”

“Sure,” Brand said, taking a long drink of beer and running his free hand through his dark hair. “It’s Alicia Walker.”

Tony was mute. He had allowed Alicia to get close to the operation, although he had been careful to keep some distance between her and the day-to-day setup. In retrospect it wasn’t that difficult to believe she was FBI. Her appearance at just the right time, her interest in how he spent his days, and more than anything else, her elusive nature when he tried to find out who she was and what made her tick. Stevens rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. Edward Brand was staring at the fireplace, but Tony knew the man’s mind was focused on the problem. Brand was not a man you wanted to piss off. He had personally seen the results of Edward Brand’s anger once, and didn’t care to go there again. The man had barely resembled a human being when Brand was finished with him. Alive, but for what? Broken beyond repair. Tony briefly wondered if the guy who had crossed Brand was still alive. He doubted it.

Tony swallowed and said, “Where do we go from here, Edward?”

Brand was silent for the better part of a minute, then said, “Tony, this is a major problem. Not just with this Walker person. I’m not at all happy with you. The rules are very clear. Nobody gets in once the con is on. Nobody sees inside our operation or inside our heads once we’re up and moving. Nobody.” He slowly turned his head and faced his visitor, his gray eyes cold and penetrating. “Where do we go? Good question.”

“Jesus, Edward, it was a one-time thing. It’ll never happen again. I swear.” He was shaking now and concentrated on keeping his beer steady. He swallowed heavily, his throat dry.

“You’re a good guy, Tony, but business is business,” Edward said. He remained motionless, and the room was absolutely quiet. A log shifted slightly in the fireplace and a few sparks shot up the flue. “I tell you what,” Brand finally said. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“What sort of deal?”

“We need to take care of the problem we’ve got in New York. She’s a very real threat to our safety. You take care of her, and everything’s fine.”

“Kill her?” Tony asked.

“Seems almost barbaric when you just come right out and say it,” Brand said, finishing his beer. “Another beer?”

Tony shook his head. “I didn’t sign on to kill people.”

“I didn’t sign you on to do stupid things,” Brand shot back, his voice threatening. “My offer is non-negotiable. Take care of her, Tony, and you’re off the hook.”

Tony Stevens leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. The room was warm, the fireplace soothing, the mountains outside almost ethereal, shrouded in mist. A beautiful day in a beautiful city. He felt cold and sick to his stomach.

“Okay,” he said, his voice just a wisp. “Okay, Edward. I’ll take care of it.”

“Good choice, Tony,” Brand said, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Very good choice.”