IT’S AMAZING HOW QUICKLY you can wake up when you feel a knife at your throat. So much for being “perfectly safe.” I wondered vaguely what had happened to Clovis and Royce’s guards.
The man holding the gun waved it about a bit, and I flinched. He leveled it again and said, “Easy does it, Jack. You know, I can read your mind. Your friend Jones is out cold in the other room, and the guards are sound asleep. Make even a whimper and Jones will be killed. His life depends on you doing exactly as you’re told. Got it?”
“Yes, I understand.” It was simple: he had a gun, I didn’t.
“Get dressed and pack your things. And be quick about it. We’re leaving the hotel, and you’re coming with us. Don’t try anything cute.”
The man with the knife backed away so I could get out of bed. I noticed that it was long and pointed, more like a dagger than a kitchen knife. I quickly threw on my khakis and golf shirt from the night before, pulled clothes from the drawer, and grabbed my dop kit. I started for the closet but dropped everything when I felt the knife on my neck again. The man with the gun gestured toward the common area of the suite, where we met two other men. One raised his arm.
“I’ve got his laptop,” he said. “What should we do with this box of files?”
“Get his bag, leave the box; he won’t need it anymore. Give him his wallet and keys but leave the cellphone here. He’s always losing his phone. We want it to look like he left on his own.”
I wondered how he knew my cellphone habits.
He laughed and said, “If you’re a good boy, I’ll explain once we’re in the car. Let me repeat: if anything goes wrong, anything at all, Jones won’t live to see another day. Now out the door and to the elevator, Mr. Patterson. We’re going for a ride.”
I noticed that all four of the men were dressed exactly alike—short haircuts, dark suits, and shiny black shoes. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were Secret Service agents. In fact, one of the men even wore an earpiece. He remained behind as the rest of us left the room. I assumed he’d been told to kill Clovis should I not do exactly what they said.
As we headed toward the elevator one of them said, “We’re going to walk straight through the lobby. The car will be at the front entrance. Keep your eyes straight ahead—no looks, no signals. Walk straight to the car.”
I did as I was told. The hallway and lobby were empty, no one at either the front desk or valet station. Where were Royce’s guards? It was pitch-dark outside, and I was shoved into the back seat of a large, black SUV. The man who had held the knife jumped in the front seat. The man with the gun eased in next to me in the back. He spoke into a cuff microphone after we pulled away.
“Clockwork, no problems at all. You can leave now. Meet us at the boat dock.” He then turned to me. “Bet you’d like to know what’s going on.”
“I am curious,” I said, staring at the gun still aimed in my direction.
“This SUV was rented in your name a few hours ago. When Peters shows up in the morning, he’ll find a very groggy Jones and the guards sound asleep. They won’t have any idea what happened, either to you or them. You, your bag, and your computer will have disappeared. Both the woman at the front desk and the front doorman will swear you waved and wished them well when you left the hotel around three a.m. The doorman noticed you were carrying your bag, but decided it was none of his business. You left your phone in your room, which won’t surprise Jones one bit. Thibodeaux will be suspicious, but he won’t have a clue where you went or why you disappeared. It was easy for the woman at the desk and the doorman to disappear in all the confusion. What d’ya think—pretty good plan?”
“You may fool Thibodeaux, but you won’t fool Clovis,” I replied.
He smiled. “For the next several days your credit card will be used at hotels and restaurants all over southern Louisiana. People will see you checking in and out and eating in small town restaurants. You’ll buy gas and rent fishing boats and equipment. You’ll even get a fishing license and buy a handgun at a local Walmart.”
“Don’t you think someone will notice that I’m always accompanied by a gaggle of men in dark suits?” I asked.
“Aw, gee,” he said with a smirk. “Guess I forgot to mention that someone matching your description will do all those things. You, on the other hand, are going to take a long ride into the swamps.”
We’d gone over at least one bridge and were leaving the city, but that was about all I could be sure of. The nights never got this dark in DC. I tried to keep my cool, but my stomach was in knots. I’d been abducted once before, in Arkansas, and a wait and see strategy had saved my life. I could only hope it would work a second time.
“Why not kill me?” I asked.
“You still don’t get it, do you? You came to Louisiana under the syndicate’s protection. If you were killed in New Orleans, every crime family in Louisiana would turn over every rock and stone to discover who was responsible and take revenge. We were prepared to kill Jones if you didn’t cooperate back at the hotel, and I’m more than ready to kill you if you try anything, but that’s not the plan. You’ll get a chance to live—for our sake, not yours. But don’t get any ideas. If you even think about being uncooperative, you’ll be found lying on the side of the road with your throat cut and your wallet stolen.” He paused, and added with a leer, “Quicker than you can say Jack Robinson.”
I didn’t respond—couldn’t think of anything to say. At least someone other than this jackass had a plan. If I didn’t cooperate, they’d make it look like I’d left the hotel on my own, was carjacked and killed somewhere in southern Louisiana. Thibodeaux wouldn’t believe it, but he wouldn’t have any proof that his umbrella of protection had been violated. The good news was they hadn’t killed Clovis. My job was simple: stay alive until he came to the rescue.
“How did you rent a car in my name using my credit card? You don’t even have my driver’s license,” I asked.
“Piece of cake. Everything about anyone is on the Internet. We can rent a car, buy a meal, or get a hotel room in your name in a blink of an eye. Same for getting a hunting or fishing license. There are no secrets left in this country. Hell, we know more about you than you do yourself.”
I had no doubt that what he said was true. But who was “we?” And why were they willing for this guy to give me so much information?
“Okay, but why get rid of me? I’m just a lawyer hired to represent a client. I’m not a threat to anyone.”
“Your disappearance accomplishes two purposes. You have a reputation for pulling rabbits out of a hat in the courtroom. With you out of the picture that possibility is eliminated. Thibodeaux will be livid that you took a flyer, and his only option will be to hire someone else.
“Your disappearance will also be embarrassing to Thibodeaux and that asshole Peters. The big man is losing his touch—it’s time for new leadership. Whether you chickened out or someone was able to snatch you goes a long way to proving that he shouldn’t be the head of his family, much less the syndicate. Your disappearance will be the mistake that brings about his downfall.
“Old Tom didn’t have an inkling that someone might be listening to yesterday’s lunch or that someone might care who he’d hired to represent David. It never occurred to Thibodeaux that the moment young David told his girlfriend to call his grandfather, every step Peters took would be monitored. When we learned that you were being considered as David’s lawyer, it was only a matter of time before we were told to make sure that didn’t happen, no holds barred.”
“How can you be so sure the next lawyer won’t be better than me? I’m an antitrust lawyer, for God’s sake.”
“Come on, Patterson. You got the man who shot a U.S. Senator off with a ten-year sentence. And that football player, too. Why anyone wants to send the kid to prison is none of my business, but it’s your bad luck that you agreed to help. The next attorney Thibodeaux hires will have a great reputation, but he’ll take his directions from us.”
“In other words, he’ll talk a good game, but make sure David doesn’t have a chance in Hell,” I said.
“Exactly,” he responded with a grin.
I leaned back and closed my eyes, hoping he’d quit talking. The adrenaline was wearing off, and I was exhausted. I’d learned a lot, but nothing I could use just now. The last time I’d even been near a swamp was in Little Rock, and I’d almost been lynched. My current situation didn’t look much brighter.