Worst Case (Michael Bennett 3)

We watched as Captain McKnight lifted Hastings from the floor. It looked like something he’d done before. He spoke to him soothingly as he guided him to the back of the ship.

Vivid freeze-frame images of Jacob Dunning and Chelsea Skinner flashed through my head as I reread the last part of the e-mail.

I do not think I need to remind you what I am capable of.

No, he didn’t, I thought. He was right about that.

Chapter 44

AS OUR TECHS got busy tracing the e-mail, I caught Emily’s attention.

“Could I talk to you out on the aloha deck?” I said, motioning for the salon’s exit.

On our way outside, through an open doorway I spotted a dining room set with crystal and silver for twenty. I found the sight of it, for some reason, the most lonesome thing.

No wonder Hastings had gone over the edge. Even with eight hundred million dollars, life had rammed him completely through the wringer. Despite his drunken melodrama, I truly felt sorry for him.

“I don’t like this, Parker,” I said as we stood outside, watching yuppies hit golf balls on the converted dock beside us. “Something smells. On the one hand, switching to e-mail is in keeping with our guy’s pattern of changing methods. But on the other hand, our guy loves the sound of his voice too much to send an e-mail. He loves talking to me, crying on my shoulder. I’m not convinced this is the same guy.”

Ramirez suddenly stuck his head outside.

“Mike, get in here quick. And I thought Columbia was bad. Now this is really getting nuts.”

Back inside, I saw a large, bald gentleman in a pinstripe suit collecting the laptops off the desks.

“Sic ’em, Vin,” Hastings yelled from a couch with a laugh. He lit a cigar. “Tell them their services are no longer required.”

“Vinny Carbone,” the new arrival said, offering his hand. “I’m Mr. Hastings’s attorney. I’m going to be representing Mr. Hastings in this matter here.”

I stared at Parker, baffled.

“I wasn’t aware this was a court proceeding,” I said.

“The bottom line is, you don’t need to be putting any kind of trace software or spyware or anything else on Mr. Hastings’s computers,” the lawyer continued. “He’s had a little trouble with you guys, especially the IRS, and, well, we’re sorry, but we can’t cooperate. In fact, you can get off his phones, too. He wants to handle things on his own from here. And if you’ve left any bugs, you should take them with you. We will be sweeping the whole boat after you leave.”

Spyware and bugs? I thought. These people really were worse than the nuts at Columbia.

“Mr. Carbone,” I said, putting up my palms. “This is a kidnapping. Dan Hastings is a citizen. We can’t just walk away.”

“Tell him to get the fuck off my boat, Vinny,” the father yelled, pointing his stogie for emphasis. “Tell him we’ll do it the right way. By ourselves. I let these assholes handle it, Dan comes back in a plastic bag.”

“You heard it from the horse’s mouth, kid,” the lawyer said in his Brooklyn accent. “You gotta go.”

More like the other end of the horse, I thought.

“Yeah, in a second, Pop,” I said to Carbone, stepping past him.

“This might not even be the same kidnapper,” I said to the father, trying not to lose my cool.

Emily, following me, seemed to have lost hers.

“You think you can buy your kid back?” she said loudly. “You’re going to get him killed.”

“Piss off, cop,” Hastings said. “You’re oh for two! You fools have no idea what you’re doing.”

He waved his cigar at us dismissively. He suddenly sounded a lot less upper crust than at our initial meeting.

“Oh, don’t worry. I am pissed off, Mr. Hastings,” Emily yelled at him as we left. “I’ve been pissed off pretty much since the second I met you.”