The Bishop's Pawn (Cotton Malone 13)

I nearly smiled. He’d brought me here to bribe me.

Something thudded into the door loud enough to grab both my and Oliver’s attention. He rose from his seat and rushed across to a desk, where he withdrew a weapon.

“Stay here.”

You wish.

He headed for the door.

I snatched up the coin from the top of the waterproof case and pocketed it, then I cut Oliver off, planting a solid right uppercut that sent the bastard down. I then relieved him of his gun and mocked him.

“You stay here.”

I opened the door.

Jansen lay on the floor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I bent down and checked.

Jansen was still breathing, but he’d taken a pop to his head, a fresh gash marking the method of attack. I came alert and stared down the corridor toward the entrance hall. The man in the glasses who’d escorted us inside lay sprawled on the terrazzo. Apparently, somebody unexpected had arrived.

But what about Coleen, her father, and her husband? I decided there was no choice, so I called out, “Coleen?”

“In here.”

I heard the voice, muffled, as if through a closed door, coming from ahead. Three doors down I found them, but the knob was locked.

“Stand back,” I said.

I pounded my right foot into the wood. Two more kicks and the jamb gave way.

I stepped inside.

“Something’s happening here,” I told them. “And it’s not good.”

Then I realized.

The waterproof case was back in the library.

“Follow me.”

We returned to the room to find Oliver still on the floor, the waterproof case gone, the French doors leading out to the terrace open.

“Get in one of the cars out front and get out of here,” I told Coleen.

“I’m going with you,” she said, then she faced her husband. “Take Dad and go. Do you have your cell phone?”

Nate shook his head. “The guy back there on the floor in the hall took it.”

I understood Coleen’s point, so I rushed back inside and searched Jansen, finding the unit.

“When you get away,” she told Nate, “call us on your phone.”

Nate nodded.

“Let those files go,” Foster said. “They’re not worth all of this.”

“I can’t,” Coleen said.

I agreed with her.

“I demand you listen to me, Coleen.”

“We’re way beyond that,” she told him.

I grabbed Foster by the arm and led him away, whispering into his ear, “Go, or I’ll tell her what you did to get us here.”

I could see the threat registered.

The older man nodded his acquiescence.

“You and I will talk privately later,” I muttered.

We all raced from the house, rounding one side and following the towering hedges back to the driveway entrance.

Several parked cars waited.

“One of those hopefully has keys in it,” I said. “Take it.”

Foster and Nate headed off.

Coleen and I left the grounds and found the street beyond the hedges. To my left I saw two men moving east, toward the ocean, carrying the waterproof case. They were nearly a hundred yards away, too far for the gun, and besides, I didn’t want to draw any attention that might bring the local police.

An engine cranked behind us, and a moment later one of the cars with Nate driving sped from the house. I motioned for them to turn right. Nate hesitated, seeing the two men with the case farther down the street. I knew what he was thinking.

He had a car.

We didn’t.

“We’ll get it,” I told him through the closed window. “Get your father-in-law out of here.”

He turned the car right and disappeared down the street.

Coleen was already running toward the two other men.

I followed.

One of them glanced back and saw her. They increased their pace. So did I. I saw them cross the street at the end of the block and trot down a narrow, sandy footpath, then disappear into the oaks and palms that separated two of the estate properties. A posted sign noted that the trail was for public beach access. A wall ran down the right side guarding the perimeter of a huge house that rose among the trees. A fence protected the private property to the left.

Coleen crossed the street and headed for the trail.

I ran faster.

A shot popped ahead.

Coleen was unarmed, which meant she was taking fire. I crossed the street and plunged into the foliage, following the sandy ground through the

trees. Coleen was huddled against the trunk of one of the thicker oaks. The two men were near the trail’s end, where daylight and the sound of surf signaled ocean.

I knelt and sent a bullet from Oliver’s gun their way.

It thudded into the sand at the end of the trail just as the two men crested a small dune and disappeared from sight. I ran ahead since the path was clear and found the dune. The sand beyond was thick and soft, slowing their forward progress. Fifty yards past them, where the waves crested at the shoreline, an inflatable boat waited. Daylight was waning, but enough light remained to see everything clearly. This part of the island seemed the realm of the wealthy. More private. Less crowded. No one was on the beach. I dropped to the sand, using the dune for protection, and fired again, intentionally sending the bullet to the right of both men.

“The next shot will be into one of you,” I called out, telling them there was nowhere to go.

They stopped.

“Leave the case.”

Coleen came up and lay belly-first beside me. I kept the gun trained. One of the men held a pistol. He moved to raise the weapon and I fired another round at his feet.

“Drop the gun.”

He did.

I’d already noticed a large boat about two hundred yards offshore, similar to the one Valdez had been using. But there was no way he could be here. His boat was back in the Keys. My guess was that these guys worked for him and had been previously dispatched to keep an eye on Oliver.

“Leave the case and go,” I said again.

They hesitated so I stood and aimed the gun.

“I can shoot you both. Right now. Doesn’t really matter to me.”

They turned and headed for the inflatable, trudging through more soft sand. Coleen and I headed for the case. She opened the container and made sure the files were still there.

“Tell Valdez to go back to Cuba,” I called out. “This is over for him.”

Coleen stood beside me and we watched as they pushed the inflatable into the surf and left.

“You handled that like a pro,” she said with a grin. “Aren’t you full of surprises.”

* * *

We fled the beach and headed back down the public trail to the street. It seemed quiet at the far end of the block where Oliver’s house stood. Probably because they were all still unconscious. Palm Beach proper was left, toward the south, a few miles away, past some of the most expensive real estate in the world. To our right, only a few hundred yards away lay the northern tip of the island. I decided the shorter route was the smart play, so we walked until the road ended. Across a narrow saltwater channel I saw more land populated with more lavish condominiums. No bridge made a connection from here to there. A small park stretched to our left, which came with a boat ramp. I knew Coleen wanted to read what was in the case as much as I did. And since there was no way to exclude her, I gestured toward one of the picnic tables. Daylight kept fading, now only a rim of orange on the western horizon, a lurid glow that highlighted the ever-graying darkness of the clouds scurrying low overhead.