Chapter 105
FOUR HOURS AFTER leaving Las Vegas behind forever, Lester Olsen disembarked from the small plane at Aspen–Pitkin County Airport. He walked through the concourse, glanced at CNN on the TV screens, and saw no mention of a Ford Taurus with a body in the trunk found in Sunset Park’s pond. With luck, the car wouldn’t be discovered for at least another twelve hours, or maybe for days, but either way, by morning, he would be traveling as Jay Darnell in the first-class cabin of a jet heading to Tokyo.
A car was waiting for Olsen at National Car Rental, and he paid for it with Jay Darnell’s Visa card. He punched Cooper’s address into the GPS, then got onto Colorado 82 East toward Aspen.
When he was in the inside lane, Olsen turned on the radio, listened to music without really hearing it. He was thinking ahead, making plans as he stayed on the highway that narrowed and crossed a bridge, still heading toward town. From the bridge, he could see across the valley and into the mountains surrounding Aspen, where he would close the biggest deal of his life.
He called Barbie and told her he would be there soon.
“I’m having drinks with Bryce right now,” she said. “We’re going to bed early. Right, sweetie?” she called out. “Want to go upstairs now?”
“How could he say no to that?” Olsen said. “See you soon.”
Olsen took directions from the voice on the GPS; it brought him to West Main, where he continued along a residential, tree-lined corridor and from there through the commercial area of town. After passing the historic Hotel Jerome on the left, Olsen turned onto North Mill Street, which wound up the hill toward Bryce Cooper’s home.
It was a beautiful drive, but Olsen was working. He had always been able to play multiple hands of poker, and he’d done the same with Love for Life. Barbie and Tule had been in play at the same time. He’d hoped to add Val to the array of games on the table, but he’d always known he might have to cash in his best hand on short notice.
He thought about his contract with Barbie, locked away in his box in Zurich. It implicated her and indemnified him against the possibility of Barbie getting weak or greedy after the fact.
Olsen tuned back in as the GPS voice said, “Turn right in one-quarter mile.”
He turned off the radio, slowed the car, and switched off the headlights as he turned up the long drive to Bryce and Barbie Cooper’s house. He saw the gleam of lights through the trees, then, as he rounded the turn, he saw the enormous mountain-style house that was cantilevered out over the hill, overlooking Independence Pass, Aspen Mountain, and the entire valley.
The syringe of potassium chloride was in Olsen’s shaving kit, a shot he’d be able to deliver while Cooper was asleep. The drug stopped the heart without a trace. Cause of death would be written up as cardiac arrest, and it was inconceivable that anyone would contest it.
Olsen was thinking of the millions he was about to receive as he pulled the car up to the Coopers’ garage. He shut down the engine and called Barbie.
“There are so many doors, Barbie. Where should I go? Give me a hint.”
“Where are you?”
“Between the guesthouse and the garage.”
“Stay right there. I’ll come get you. I cannot believe it,” she said breathlessly. “My prince has arrived.”