part0083

H e hadn’t liked it much the first time around and Banks wasn’t at all happy to be back. Visiting prisons was never a pleasant experience, no matter how light the security was. The fact that Carlson still refused to be released into open custody—which would allow Banks to meet with him at a house arranged by the FBI—was something that annoyed him immensely.

It annoyed the client too, Banks thought, but for different reasons. Carlson used prison to hide from this Savage character, and despite the news that they were working on eliminating him, the ex-CEO had insisted that his lawyer bring him the evidence of what he claimed. He’d stated unequivocally that he wouldn’t leave the prison until he did. Every time someone arrived to transfer him, he claimed he had more information to share and wouldn’t do so if he was removed from the prison.

Annoying rich prick. Banks couldn’t help the thought as he slammed the door to his car and marched over to the guard who already waited for him. He’d called ahead as he wanted to do this as quickly as possible. In addition, he’d notified the FBI handlers to inform them their prize pony would leave the prison in short order and be moved somewhere more civilized.

He stepped into the prison and went through all the same motions he had on his previous visit. For some reason, he felt more on edge than he had then as they stepped through the doors. This was the first time he’d done something like this for his client. He knew, of course, that this kind of thing wasn’t unusual and assumed he would be called upon to do it eventually. While he had prepared for this eventuality, he was still nervous. To initiate an attack on someone as directly and as violently as he now did against Savage was new. It was exciting too. Like a chess game for keeps.

When he entered the room with the tables and chairs, he noted the cameras were already off and the security guards huddled on the other side of the room. There was only one topic to be discussed in this conversation, and nobody wanted it to be heard.

Banks didn’t have time to organize all his paperwork on the table before the prisoner was led into the room. The manacles around his wrists and ankles were removed quickly. The man limped to the table and still used that ridiculously expensive ivory and mahogany cane he had seen him with before. Carlson looked wired and anxious as well, which bit into the calm and aloof air he usually wore to set everyone around him on edge. The lawyer assumed the man hadn’t felt like this in a long time, and he still couldn’t find it in his heart to feel bad for him. He was the one who had forced him to make the trip all the way out there, driving to Pennsylvania from New York and then having to drive all the fucking way back.

“So…Banks, right?” the man asked as he lowered himself into his seat slowly and thoughtfully. He very noticeably spared his bad knee any weight as he settled in.

“Mason Banks, yes,” he responded with a small, annoyed quirk of the lips. It wasn’t quite a smile or a scowl but a chilling mixture of both. He continued to set his papers out.

“You said you had my Savage situation handled,” Carlson said and leaned forward with a frown, obviously unused to having anyone give their paperwork more attention than him. “I look forward to seeing what you have to show me.”

“You won’t take any calls, Mr. Carlson,” Banks replied and still made no effort to look at the man. “You won’t accept electronic messages, and you won’t help me help you get out of this place.”

“As I’ve told the FBI, the people who have targeted me—Savage included—have significant resources.” He slapped his open palm on the metal table between them. “I don’t pretend to understand how any of it works, but if you want me to survive my time in here and my time out there, you need to assure me that you have my situation under control.”

Banks sighed. He’d completed his meticulous arrangement of documents but still wasn’t comfortable enough to look the other man in the eye. “I have to ask something here. I can handle the likes of Savage, as you call him. He’s a tough cookie, make no mistake, but he’s not invincible and certainly not immortal. More importantly, he has weaknesses that can be exploited. But what makes you think Anderson and Monroe won’t simply find someone else to do their dirty work for them?”

“Well, I’m sure they will find someone else.” Carlson shrugged as if he found the question irrelevant. “You have to understand, Banks. I’ve been around military people my whole life. I’ve dealt with military defense contracts since before I entered the world of business. I know these people. They’re all tough fuckers, reliable, and can get the job done. I actually have nothing against them. But once or twice in a generation, you have someone with exactly the right mixture of will and remorselessness that makes them the perfect killers. It might be something genetic, I don’t know. But they become the best killers of their time. Of course, they’re not always celebrated as such.”

Banks had to resist the urge to roll his eyes while the prisoner went through what had to be a rehearsed speech. He rationalized why he would rather play golf with his older friends instead of taking his place in the world again and making a difference. The lawyer liked this side of the man even less than the other arrogant asshole persona. Let him be afraid in private all he wanted as long as he had the balls to keep himself in the game.

This Savage seemed to have really knocked the fight out of him.

“So please tell me you actually have the means to get Savage out of the way and for me to get my ass out of this fucking place,” Carlson finished belligerently. He leaned back and watched his attorney closely.

“We were able to locate some evidence of him,” he said. He drew the picture of Savage out, placed it in front of the man, and watched his reaction closely.

It wasn’t quite what he had expected. The ex-CEO avoided touching the picture, a look of anger and disgust in his eyes, and the way that his nostrils flared indicated clearly that he still wasn’t over being shot in the knee.

“That’s him.” His voice was a little hoarse.

“You’re right, if it’s any consolation,” Banks continued. “He does appear to have some help in keeping his record—legal and online—clean as a whistle, so it took a fair amount of digging before the client found a picture our friend’s friend missed. Using that, we were able to obtain his file in the Pentagon. This is it.”

Carlson was more willing to touch that than the picture and rapidly read the various details of Savage—or Johnson’s—life during his time in the military. He looked a little more relaxed as he did so. The lawyer wondered if this was merely a result of now knowing what he faced and not having to deal with the unknown of it. It could also be that he had started to feel better, knowing what had beaten him and feeling more at peace with that.

He didn’t know much about the man’s psyche, so he wasn’t sure which was more likely. It could even have been a combination of both.

“Well, that was some interesting reading.” The prisoner smirked and placed the file on the table. He watched Banks return it studiously to its place in his little organized pile. “Knowing that Savage, or Johnson, is an actual human being is something of a relief, but I still don’t know how we can eliminate him. You told me the situation was handled. This is progress, not handled.”

“You didn’t read the full file,” Banks said and opened it to the section he had in mind. “He has a family—an ex-wife and a kid his pension was sent to after his alleged death. I assume it means he still cares about them and thus, they can be used as leverage to bring him into a position for our maximum opportunity.”

Banks’ confidence dropped suddenly when Carlson’s face paled dramatically and his usually confident demeanor completely vanished. He seemed to recoil with each word.

“Are you fucking crazy?” the prisoner demanded and shoved his chair back a little farther.

“I don’t understand your response. You’re talking to me like this, but I know you’ve done this kind of thing in the past—used your enemies’ loved ones as leverage—and not too long ago, either.”

“Yes, and do you know what happened to me the last time I tried it?” Carlson asked and somehow managed to speak through clenched teeth. “I was shot in the knee and ended up arrested for fraud and a shithouse full of other charges. Savage entered my plane and he told me very clearly that my decision to target Anderson’s family made it personal. Then, he shot me in the knee and left me to be arrested. And that was what he did when I attacked someone else’s family and he wanted to teach me a lesson. What kind of shit show do you think we’ll be in for when he finds out we have targeted his? I’m warning you, don’t do this. Find another way.”

The lawyer shook his head with a soft sigh. “The client has grown impatient with your wishy-washy attitude regarding her investment. Remember, she’s the one who keeps you nice and comfortable in a prison that has the kind of amenities most resorts lack. She can take it away too. It’s something you might want to keep in mind.”

“I don’t think you’ve heard me,” the other man said and narrowed his eyes as Banks began to collect his papers. “What I’m saying is that I’ve met our client. I’ve also met Savage, or Johnson, or whatever we call him now. I’ll take my chances with the client. Did you not hear me when I told you what kind of bastard he is?”

“I tried to ignore you, honestly,” Banks said. “If you want to go against the client, believe me, it will be your funeral. For my part, I’ll continue to work to move your ass out of here, although whether it will be for you to continue your work or for the client to kill you with her own two hands remains to be seen.”

He placed the last of the documents in his briefcase and wondered why he had wasted so much time to set them up. It was a little ritual of his that helped to establish himself as a pro to the people he met with but honestly, he didn’t think the man was worth the trouble. He certainly wasn’t worth the trouble he’d been put through to save the bastard, but he was paid to do it for someone who had a bigger vision. He was merely a puppet, and she pulled the strings.

When he reached his car, he muttered a few exasperated curses and tossed his briefcase into the back seat while his mind tried to decide what he would do. Despite the fact that the ex-CEO was a spineless freak, Banks still knew the man had a point. The plan to eliminate someone like Johnson meant they only had one opportunity to succeed. To give him the chance to retaliate would put him in a similar situation as the other man had found himself in. Banks really didn’t want to have his knees capped.

And again, Carlson was right when he assumed Johnson had gone easy on him because it had been someone else’s family. His actions had been a lesson, not a rampage. It wasn’t rocket science to correctly assume the retribution would be considerably more intense the more personal it became.

But it wasn’t like he intended to try to kill the family either. They merely did this to draw the operative out into the open, not to plan an assassination. The plan was simply to hold them, keep them alive, and threaten their lives until Daddy came in to rescue them and walked directly into a killing zone that gave them all the advantages. Banks wasn’t sure what would happen to the family afterward, of course. The client wasn’t the kind to leave witnesses alive. Which meant…yeah, they would probably die anyway.

Savage had to know that—or Johnson, rather. Dammit, it would be hard to switch them around. The name Savage was already well and truly stuck in his head.

He debated the topic with himself in the car all the way back to New York. Sometimes, he actually talked to himself on the highway when the car assumed the responsibility of driving. It wasn’t an easy debate. Having Savage earmark him for vengeance wasn’t something he wanted for himself, but there would be enough time to deal with that once—if—he actually found himself in that situation. The client would want him to be creative and precise about this.

When he reached his office, he told his assistant to make sure to clear his schedule for the rest of the day, settled at his desk, and pulled the phone up to open a comm line.

“Banks, how was your visit to Carlson’s prison?” The woman’s voice was chillingly familiar, hardly surprising since it had been a part of his life for the past six years or so.

“Well, he didn’t like the plan to involve Savage’s family,” he replied and scowled because there was no face to face contact with the woman on the other side of the comm link. “He said he won’t leave the prison until we’ve dealt with Savage. I think he was really broken.”

“Well, I have my doubts about him being our man anymore anyway,” she replied. The distinctive sound of screaming echoed in the background. He couldn’t tell if it was fun or pain that caused the screams, and he had no desire to ask. “But we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. It would be much easier to kill a free man than an FBI prisoner. That doesn’t alter the fact that we need to eliminate Savage. Get it done, Banks.”

With that peremptory command, the line cut out. He shook his head. Unlike Carlson, he hadn’t met Savage, but he had met the client. It wasn’t part of his agenda to risk pissing her off. With that in mind, he started dialing another number rather hastily.