“And was my mentor in those years when I was with the CIA. He even dropped in on me occasionally when I was doing my stretch in the Special Forces. From the day he came into my life, there wasn’t a time that I didn’t feel that he was there for me.”
When Margaret thought back on that conversation, she could see how Patrick had dropped in and out of Lassiter’s life, forming it, changing it. She had been so absorbed with Lassiter’s background that she hadn’t dwelt on that impact. “Sort of a father figure…”
“God no.” He grimaced. “Wrong, Margaret. Get off that track. First, my lovable uncle Bruce and now Patrick? I assure you that Patrick would be insulted. He was only in his thirties when he saved my ass with the CIA during that hacking brouhaha. We just liked each other and kind of hung out together when we got the chance.”
She blended the emotion he had felt on deck with that description and translated: “Your best friend.”
“If you need to put a label on it. He’s a great guy and I owe him. After I grew up a little, I realized what he was doing for me. I know how I would have turned out if he hadn’t been around.” He leaned back in the chair. “When I quit the CIA and opened my computer business, I thought I might be able to pay him back a little. I persuaded him to resign, too, and I made him vice president and executive director of international sales. He laughed at the title; he called it pompous. But he took the job.” He paused. “I think he’d gotten kind of used to looking out for me. Crazy, huh? It’s not as if I was that seventeen-year-old kid any longer.”
But Margaret could see why the closeness had developed between them. She did not know Sean Patrick, but he must have been the kind of man who had been able to overcome Lassiter’s wariness of trusting anyone. “Maybe not so crazy.”
“Anyway, I tried to give him a percentage of the business, but he wouldn’t take it. I wanted him in charge of the Silicon Valley office, but he refused that, too. He said that he’d been globetrotting too long to be stuck in an office.”
She could see where this was going. “International,” she repeated. “Nicos?”
“We were doing very well. Besides the office in Silicon Valley, two factories in Bangkok, three in Vancouver. We were planning on opening a new factory in Colombia. So Patrick went down to Bogotá to check out the area. It was located in a small seaport, and it turned out that Nicos had decided that he wanted to use it for running his contraband. He started using strong-arm tactics to keep us from getting a business license. He burned down a warehouse. Then he murdered one of Patrick’s construction engineers. Patrick went after Nicos and there was a confrontation. Patrick barely got away without being killed. I was on my way down there by that time and I told Patrick to back off and let me handle it. Nicos had paid off the local policía and I couldn’t get any help there. So I knew I’d have to do something else to keep Nicos from going after Patrick and his crew. I warned Nicos to back off and then started to research. I thought I’d found a way to hurt him enough that he’d rethink the situation.”
She could feel his pain start and she ignored it. She had to get to the end. “How did you hurt him?”
“Money is important to everyone. Particularly to scum like him. I hacked into one of his Grand Cayman bank accounts and eliminated it as if it had never existed.”
She knew the rage that would have ignited in Nicos. “And then what happened?”
“He went after Patrick and the construction crew immediately after he’d been told he’d lost some 3.5 million dollars. I’d told Patrick to pull everyone out of the construction camp and get out of Colombia before I went after Nicos. I’d timed it to give them plenty of leeway.” The pain was growing within him and she had to try to block it now. “But they were still at the private airport near Bogotá. They couldn’t get out because of weather, some freak tropical storm that prevented takeoff for over six hours.” He stopped and she knew he was having trouble going on. “A storm. Everything would have gone off like clockwork. They would have been safe. Son of a bitch. A storm.” He went on quickly, jerkily: “Nicos killed two men, took Patrick and another man prisoner. That was eighteen months ago.”
“You couldn’t get him out.” It was a statement, not a question. “Why?”
“Patrick and the other prisoner just disappeared.” His lips twisted. “There are stories that Nicos has a stockade in Colombia that he uses as his own private concentration camp. I’ve got a security team made up of my Special Forces buddies I worked with in Afghanistan that I sent all over the jungles down there, but they came up with zilch. I even called in the CIA and asked them to try to find out something, anything. After all, Patrick had worked for them for years. But they told me that I could only expect limited help. It seems Nicos has been considered an asset lately because he’s been persuaded to back off supplying arms to the Taliban in Afghanistan.” He paused. “I even contacted Nicos and offered to ransom Patrick and Ben Karick, that other prisoner.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” Margaret said. “You beat him when you stole that money from him. He’s an egomaniac. The revenge would mean more to him. Besides, he likes to cause pain. Any way that he can.”
“I found that out,” he said. “He texted me a photo of Ben Karick the next day. He had a machete in his chest. He said he was saving Patrick for something long-term and special.”
Margaret remembered the burn wounds, the scars from the whip on that emaciated body. It made her feel sick. “And he’s been doing it.” She swallowed hard. “How many photos, Lassiter?”
“Twenty-two. He tries not to send too many.” He added bitterly, “I suppose he thinks I might get jaded and they’ll lose effect. That hasn’t happened so far.”
She inhaled sharply at the bolt of pain she felt issuing from him. “How long can he last?”
“I don’t know,” he said hoarsely. “Until Nicos gets bored and kills him? Until he picks up a bug or gets pneumonia? You saw what kind of shape he’s in.”
“Or until you find a way to locate that camp and get him out,” she added. “Or until you strike a deal to get to Nicos and make him release Patrick.” She tapped her chest. “That was plan A, right?”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t plan A; it was the last resort. I was down to desperation measures,” he said quietly. “But I wasn’t desperate enough to trade you or to leave you with Nicos. I told you the truth. I would never have done that. I just had to have a card to play.”
“Whether I wanted to do it or not.”
“I have to save him.”
“I know.” She could feel the frantic desperation that had driven him, that was still driving him. “And now you have your card to play. I hope you play it well, Lassiter. Because it’s a beautiful world out there and I don’t intend to leave it anytime soon.” She lay back down and drew the covers over her again. “And don’t think you’re in charge of how this is going to play out.”