Nick called Paul Gilbrech. “He’s at the Ritz in DC. Any news?”
“We closed all the threads, Nick. There’s no doubt he’s buying Congress, one member at a time. The ones he can’t buy, he’s blackmailing or threatening, all through third party people. No one wants him arrested, detained, or questioned. The Ritz would be a wonderful place to die, Nick. A splash like a gangland hit is what is desired. Are you still interested?”
“Absolutely. Will you be able to smooth over the Ritz people somehow? I’m sure he has bodyguards. I’ll have to do this messy in there.”
“You get it done. I’ll handle the rest. Do you want to do it before the Cameron Meeting?
“I need him dead during my negotiation, so it will be before.”
“Outstanding.”
*
“This is Ken Carter,” Clyde said as stocky gray-haired man in a suit joined them with a slight smile. “Paul trusts him with anything. He’ll keep an eye on Salvatore and whatever else we need done.”
“Hi Nick. I’ve heard a lot about you from Paul. He and I go back a long way.” Ken shook Nick’s extended hand. “Is this the gentleman you would like me to look after?”
“Nice to meet you, Ken. Yeah, this is Phil. I’m glad you could join us.”
“I know Washington like the back of my hand,” Phil complained. “I don’t need a guide. I’ll be fine. I need to get in touch with a few old friends.”
“No phones, no contact at all, Ken,” Nick said, ignoring Phil. “I want him held incommunicado until we return home.”
“Understood. He and I will be fine.”
“You’re not listening. I’m not-”
Ken grabbed Phil by the throat, lifting Salvatore onto his tiptoes. He stared into his eyes from inches away. “Listen closely, Sir. This is not a game. Your business is completed today. I will look after you this afternoon until your meeting later. Nick will then bring you back to me again after the meeting. You will be incommunicado or adjusted in painful ways. You and I can be friends or I can show you some very bad ways to pass the time until you go home. Your choice. Understand now?”
Ken eased enough on Phil’s throat for Salvatore to choke out enthusiastic agreement and understanding. “Very good, Mr. Salvatore. Have a seat on the sofa over there in silence. Hand me everything of an electronic nature right now.”
Salvatore handed over everything as ordered and sat down as Ken requested.
Ken walked over to the apartment’s sofa on the opposite end of Phil. “Good luck, guys.”
“Thanks, Ken,” Nick replied. “We should be back here in a few hours. Can we bring you back anything?”
“No, I’ll be fine. If I get hungry, I’ll order room service. I know all the personnel here from the maids to management. Are you expecting anyone?”
“Not a soul.”
“No visitors then. See you later.”
*
In the apartment hallway, Nick turned to Clyde. “Paul sent the right guy. Do you understand what I have to do at the Ritz this afternoon?”
“I do. We’ve confirmed Fontaine’s in the apartment with two bodyguards. What would you like me to do?”
“When I get down, we’ll have to make a hasty exit. I’ll need you ready to flash ID and badge in case more noise gets made in the apartment than I’m anticipating.”
Clyde handed Nick an envelope. “Here’s your Ritz-Carlton security identification. I have the security cams on all the floors ready to glitch for half an hour in which time there will be commotion when the real security people start going nuts.”
“Perfect. When I get in there I have to ask a question so the half hour will be nice. Is Paul planning on letting Homeland hit the place after I do?”
“He’s hoping to get them in there within fifteen minutes of you leaving. Have you given any thought of what to do if this goes sideways, Nick?”
“Yep. I brought a grenade.”
Clyde’s eyes widened until he saw Nick grin. “Not funny, Muerto.”
Chapter Thirteen
Omar Fontaine and Enablers
Nick guiltily checked the grenade in his pocket. Some problems need a bigger hammer. I’m not getting caught in here. Sorry, Clyde, I told the truth. It’s not like I plan to use it on a whim. Nice justification for bringing a grenade to a gunfight, Nick… you wanker. Another couple of weeks dealing with political black holes with death and I could clean up Washington, DC… or end my days talking to myself in a padded cell.
“Now, Clyde, cut the cams.”
“Done. Cams and all communications blocked. Thirty minutes from right now.”
Nick left the elevator. He straightened his suit coat top and tie as he approached the Presidential Suite with nametag in place, security ID in one hand and his silenced Beretta in the other. His repeated knocks on the door drew a gruff heavily accented voice on the other side.
“What is it?”
“Ritz-Carlton security, Sir. Christian Alvarez here. I need to speak with Mr. Fontaine. It is urgent.” Nick held up the ID for an actual security employee named Christian Alvarez.