“Forty minutes.”
“And do you have any leads?”
Another pause.
“Zero then.”
“I'm sorry, sir.”
I look at the wall. Good quality, as it should be for the hotel's penthouse suite. But is it good enough for what I need?
Three floors above me, my wife is finishing whatever a bride finishes in the bridal suite of a hotel in Como, Italy, and on the other side of the Atlantic, Juan Pascual is loose.
“Mr. Sestini, I want to assure you—”
“There's nothing you can say that can change my mind, and you can tell that to your superior, too.”
Agent Dodd gulps audibly. “Sir—”
“I told you what I'd do, remember?”
Another gulp, which tells me he does remember. The bridge at the edge of town. Away from the crowd. Just before I signed up for witness protection. Pascual had just been nabbed because of the lead I personally fed them.
You lose him, this deal is over, and I'll do it my way.
“I'm sorry, Agent Dodd. Don't say I didn't warn you.”
I hang up.
And then I get moving.
I pull a drawer open, with its built-in industrial grinder, and drop my burner phone in it. One push of a button, and it's ground into dust. There's nothing of it left, just like there's no longer anything that binds me to the United States government.
From here on out, it's my way.
I walk back to the wall I was studying earlier. Should be good enough. Right? I just need something right now...just one.
PUNCH.
I pull my fist back. My knuckles are bloody, but the wall has it worse. It's actually not as tough as I thought it would be since I've now left an embedded imprint on its surface like I want it to bear my autograph for eternity.
Pain starts to register, and I welcome it. Pain is a good reminder of why I need to do what I'm about to do, and a glance at my watch tells me I don't have much time left. I feel sick to my stomach as I make the necessary calls. Going alone to kill an entire warehouse of gang members is easier than this. Anything is easier than this.
Rollo knocks on the door. “Sir, there's someone—”
“Let her in.”
A pause.
“Let. Her. In.”
Rollo doesn't answer, but a moment later, a woman walks in, and she's exactly what I ordered. Beautiful and brash and bitchy. She's even snapping bubblegum as she looks at me from head to toe.
“Honey, if I knew you looked like this, I'd have given you a discount—”
“You have one job, and it doesn't include you talking.”
She makes a face. “Spoilsport.” She looks around. “Where do I set up?”