Sleight of Hand

CHAPTER Fifty-Seven

Frank Santoro had tried to question Benedict when they drove out of the hotel parking lot. Before the first word was out of the detective’s mouth, Benedict asked for a lawyer and demanded that he not be questioned. The detectives drove in silence to the closest hospital, where his broken wrist and arm could be treated. The last thing they wanted was a motion to dismiss for police brutality.

Charles Benedict had never taken an IQ test but anyone with near perfect SAT scores had to have a hefty amount of brain power. He began tapping into every bit of it during the drive to the hospital. By the time he arrived, Benedict had devised two plans.

For Plan A to work, Benedict had to get out of custody. Magicians were experts at disappearing. Benedict had disappeared from Kansas City with half a million in drug money and had never been found by the Mexicans or the Kung Fu Dragons. He had planned for another escape years ago. If he could get out of jail, he would vanish into thin air. Stashed in safe places were disguises, documents that would establish false identities, and offshore accounts that would let him live in luxury.

Plan B was his backup. It involved asking for witness protection and spilling his guts about Nikolai Orlansky’s operations. That plan could pose serious problems for his health, and he did not want to go there unless all else failed.

At the hospital, Santoro cuffed Benedict’s good hand to the bed and the detectives watched him closely. As soon as he had doctors and nurses for witnesses, Benedict demanded that he be allowed to phone an attorney, leaving the detectives no alternative but to honor the request. Benedict called Marcus Foster and told him to meet him at the jail. He also whispered the number of his secretary, who could let Foster into Benedict’s office so that Foster could get several checks from the register in Benedict’s desk.

Foster was waiting at police headquarters and asked to confer with Benedict as soon as the prisoner was booked in. The first thing Benedict did when the door to the interview room closed was sign one check for Foster’s retainer and a blank check to cover his bail.



Benedict was asleep in his cell when the noise of the bars opening awakened him at 3:30 a.m. Benedict blinked at the guard.

“You’ve been bailed out,” he said.

Benedict’s spirits soared. In minutes, he would be out the door and into the night. Before dawn, he would be gone.

Marcus Foster was waiting in reception. Benedict thanked him for acting so quickly. The two attorneys walked out of the jail into the crisp night air and Benedict looked up at the stars. He smiled and took a deep breath. Freedom was great!

“Can you give me a lift?” Benedict asked his lawyer. “They took my car.”

“Sure. I parked down the street.”

Benedict followed Foster. Before they reached his car, a black SUV with tinted windows pulled to the curb. A very large man got out. Charlie recognized him as someone who frequented The Scene.

“Glad to see you’re out, Charlie,” the man said as he flashed a wide smile.

“It looks like you’ve got a ride,” Foster said. “Let’s meet at my office at noon. That will give you time to get some sleep.”

Warning lights were flashing.

Charlie was about to ask Foster to wait when Peter Perkovic got out of the car and pulled his jacket aside so Charlie could see his gun. When Benedict turned toward Peter, the first man slipped a needle into his neck.