Webster stared at the screen of his laptop, a smirk curving his lips. Sammy's snooping had uncovered the one lapse in judgment he'd made in the three years since he'd left him behind, shot so full of heroin it would have killed a lesser man. Guess he had a stronger constitution than he'd given him credit for. Still, why didn't the little bastard give up already? He wasn't up to the challenge of catching him. Webster could run circles around the man without breaking a sweat.
Mitchell had been stupid enough to give his admin access to his Jacob Simmons persona. Idiot. He regretted bringing him into his organization from the beginning, but he'd needed somebody with contacts in Asia, and the man had those in abundance. Shipping computer parts or weapons, what difference did it make if you had the right business connections and the savvy wit to keep the feds off your ass?
Sammy had assembled a good team, he'd give him credit. He'd considered trying to steal Carlisle from under his nose, but the guy was too squeaky clean. He'd have gone straight to Sammy and he'd be that much closer to catching him. They'd meet up eventually, but it would be on his terms, when he was good and ready.
Now, the lovely Ms. Kirkland? Webster couldn't figure out exactly how she fit into the whole scenario. He'd been fascinated with her, followed her movements since the funeral of her fiancé. While he hadn't been the one to put a bullet in the cop's brain personally, it had been done on his orders, and he always followed through, making sure there were no loose ends. So he'd attended the funeral and seen the grieving girlfriend.
Imagine his surprise when she'd ended up working for the very man he'd handpicked and set up as his import liaison. Coincidence? Perhaps. Or maybe she had an agenda all her own. Add in her hooking up with Carpenter after Mitchell's slip up? That added up to one coincidence too many.
He'd tried sending a message to Mitchell, but his man reported that the jackass hadn't been in the office. Instead he'd gone out of town with his slut de jour, so he'd torn the place apart, and left some blood stains behind, to make sure his message was received.
Good help was so hard to come by these days, even with the exorbitant sums he paid. That little stunt had done nothing but arouse Carpenter's suspicions of Mitchell, and had tossed pretty little Andrea right into his path and probably into his bed. Oh well, Sammy deserved a little fun now, because he had so little time left to live.
Webster leaned back and folded his hands across his stomach. There was one big score left and he'd leave everything behind and retire to the islands, just like he'd told Sammy three years before. This time next week he'd be soaking up rays and drinking rum in the South Pacific, in a non-extradition country where the women were plentiful and the living was smooth and easy.
Maybe it was time to drop a couple of hints, a trail of breadcrumbs for Sammy to follow, leading him right into a trap designed to get the man off his tail once and for all. Samuel Carpenter was the final loose end he had to tie up. Then he'd be living in the lap of luxury, running his kingdom with enough money to keep him in style for the rest of his life.
He laughed aloud at the sense of satisfaction he felt at the culmination of years of hard work and sacrifice coming to fruition. Taking Carpenter down was the icing on the cake.
Picking up the phone, he started dialing, setting into motion events that would change everything.