Clyde parked his car and took a seat in Hank’s black Mercedes SUV. They rode along one of the few paved streets, weaving around dozens of contractors’ trucks and vans parked haphazardly on dirt lots. Hundreds of workers hustled about. Toward the end of the street the homes were almost finished, and at the very end were three spanking-new model homes being used to entice buyers. Hank parked in one of the driveways and they went inside. The carport door was unlocked. The house was empty of people and furniture. “Follow me,” Hank said, and they climbed the stairs.
Vonn Dubose was waiting in the empty master bedroom. He was looking out a front window, as if admiring the frenzy of yet another scorched-earth development. They spoke, shook hands, and Vonn actually smiled and seemed in good spirits. Clyde had not seen him in over a year and he had not changed at all. Slim, nice tan, golf shirt, and khakis, just another affluent retiree.
Vonn said, “So, what’s on your mind?”
—
The bug was built into the Timex watch on Clyde’s left wrist, a watch identical to the one he’d been wearing for the past three years. Clyde had not noticed the watches worn by Hank or Vonn, and he was almost certain they had paid no attention to his. Men tend not to notice such things, but Pacheco and his technicians were taking no chances. The leather band was tight because of a tiny vibrator on the back facing of the watch. When the van was within range, the facing would vibrate and Clyde would know they were in business.
It was an exact replica of a FedEx delivery van, and it rolled to a stop in front of the house next door. The driver, dressed in official FedEx garb, got out and popped the hood; some mechanical failure. In the rear was the FBI—Allie Pacheco and three technicians with their gear. When they were within two hundred feet of the Timex, they pushed a button and it vibrated. Inside the bedroom, the mike in the watch would pick up a whisper from thirty feet away.
The day before, Clyde had spent four hours with Allie Pacheco and two other agents rehearsing his role. Now it was time for his big moment. Deliver Vonn Dubose, and he, Clyde Westbay, would serve a few years and grow old a free man.
—
Clyde began, “Two things, Vonn. I can’t find Zeke Foreman. I told him to disappear two weeks ago and call me every other day. We spoke a few times, then his phone went silent. I think the kid probably just freaked out and ran away.”
Vonn looked at Hank, shrugged, looked at Clyde, and said, “I know this already.”
Clyde, his stomach flipping fast enough to make sounds for the Timex, shuffled his feet and continued, “Look, Vonn, this is all my fault and I’m taking responsibility. It was a stupid mistake on my part, and, well, who knows what might happen.”
Vonn looked at Hank again and said, “I thought I told you to pass along my displeasure with what happened.” He looked at Clyde and said, “Sure, it was stupid, but it’s done and I’m over it. It looks like the damage is contained. You just do your job running the hotels and I’ll get other folks for the dirty work.”
“Thanks, Vonn,” Clyde said. “The other thing is that, I just want you to know, I’m willing to leave town for a year or so. I think it might be smart if I just, you know, took a trip and vanished until this blows over. You see, Vonn, my wife and I aren’t doing so well these days, and, frankly, it’s a good time for me to get away from her. We’re not giving up, but she’s cool if I hit the road for a while.”
“Maybe not a bad idea. I’ll think about it.”
“I mean, that’s my face in the video, and I’m not sure what I’ll do if some cop shows up at the office asking questions. Makes me kind of nervous, Vonn. I’d rather just leave for now. I have good people under me and I’ll check in every week. The hotels will be fine.”
“Like I said, I’ll think about it.”
“Okay.” Clyde shrugged as if he had nothing else to say. He took a step toward the door, stopped, and turned toward Vonn. Time for the Oscar.
“Look, Vonn, I gotta tell you, I love my job and I’m proud to be part of your organization, but, well, you mentioned the ‘dirty work,’ and…” His voice began to break, his words were scratchy. “Look, Vonn, I’m just not cut out for that stuff, you know what I mean? I didn’t know that guy was going to die. I didn’t know it was all, well, you know, planned. Somebody tampered with the seat belt and the air bag and the poor guy went flying through the windshield. You should’ve seen him, Vonn. His face was cut all to hell, blood pouring everywhere, and he was thrashing around. He looked at me, Vonn. He gave me this look that said, ‘Please! Please!’ I have nightmares about it, Vonn. I just left him there. I didn’t know what I was doing. Somebody should’ve told me what was going on, Vonn.”
“You were told to do a job,” Vonn growled and took a step closer.
“But I didn’t know the job involved killing someone.”
“It’s called intimidation, Clyde. That’s the name of the game and that’s how I run things. If not for intimidation, I wouldn’t be here and you wouldn’t be making a fat salary running my hotels. Sometimes, in this business, you gotta put folks in line, and sometimes these folks understand nothing but intimidation. If you don’t want to do it, fine. I guess I misjudged you. Thought you had some balls.”
“I thought I had some too, but I lost them when I saw that guy bleeding to death.”
“That’s part of it.”
“You ever watched someone bleed to death, Vonn?”
“Yes,” Vonn said proudly.