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FINAL
JUSTICE
by
Jasmine Cresswell
Mira Books
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Melody's partner, Nick Anwar, isn't about to let the woman he loves become the victim of a stone-cold killer. As a web of intrigue and danger follows Melody from Mexico to Washington and New York, Nick comes up with a daring plan to trap their elusive quarry. It will take chilling deception, ruthless determination and complete trust. Because although a killer is out for revenge, Nick and Melody are looking for final justice.
REVIEWS
"This is a page-turner in the truest sense." Romantic Times
CHAPTER ONE
The Sleep Ezy Motel, near Gary, Indiana, November 2004
The motel room smelled of cigarette smoke and old carpet, overlaid by a thin veneer of cheap cleaning products. The heating unit was churning full blast, intensifying the stuffiness with intermittent blasts of hot, dead air. The sagging curtains had been drawn shut, not to close out the dreary view of rain falling onto the icy parking lot, but to conceal the activities of the occupants from any chance passers-by.
Melody Beecham sat at the rickety table, her laptop open, her Sig Pro pistol within easy reach. Her blank expression concealed the intensity of her focus on her partner, Nikolai Anwar, and the other two men in the room. So far, her role in Unit One’s latest operation had merely been to look decorative, but in a few moments she would have to fake the transfer of two million dollars into Bryce Merton’s bank account in Western Samoa, a newly popular hot spot for illegal banking activities, and it was vitally important for the transaction to proceed with apparent smoothness.
Bryce was a lab tech employed by the Seneschal Corporation where he worked under the direction of the renowned physicist, Doctor Simon Feng. Doctor Feng was one of the world’s leading authorities on the application of nanotechnology to the problem of energy generation. In return for two million bucks, Bryce had promised to provide Nick with a CD-ROM he had stolen from his employers. The disk reportedly contained complete details of Doctor Feng’s groundbreaking research into photovoltaic materials that could generate electricity directly from sunlight. Nick had heard rumors that the disk was for sale during the course of another Unit One operation, and had approached Bryce with an offer to buy. After two weeks of hard bargaining, this afternoon’s meeting had been arranged.
Bryce Merton’s appearance was as greasy and unappetizing as his ethics, but provided he didn’t get spooked and start shooting, he didn’t pose much of a physical threat. Although only a few pounds overweight, he was seriously out of shape, his body flabby and shapeless beneath his too-tight pants and sweater. Melody didn’t anticipate any trouble when they arrested him, even though he was flashing a pearl-handled Beretta that he seemed to have no clue how to use. Amateurs and guns often made for a dangerous cocktail, but Bryce was both arrogant and incompetent, which made for a soft target. Having observed him closely for the past fifteen minutes, she was confident she would be able to disarm him without much difficulty.
Bryce’s hired bodyguard wouldn’t be so easy to handle. Jesse Appolito was at least six feet two, and he appeared bulky with steroid-grown muscle. Jesse was carrying a businesslike Glock and, in contrast to his client, he gave every impression of knowing how to use it. He wasn’t easy to distract, either. Melody’s short leather skirt, and long legs encased in tight zippered boots had won nothing from him beyond a single assessing glance. Any longing glances Jesse cast toward her corner of the room had been aimed at her SIG rather than her body.
Unit One was a covert organization, not officially acknowledged by the government and not bound by the strict procedural rules of agencies such as the FBI, or even the looser regulations of the CIA. Unit One operations were always secret, aimed at targets within the United States, and usually kept confidential even after they were completed. Consequently, many of Unit One’s most successful missions didn’t end in legal prosecutions. Even when they did, Unit One handed off most of the actual arrests to local law enforcement or the FBI. But today Nick and Melody would be acting as the arresting officers which meant they were required to offer Jesse and Bryce all the protections guaranteed by the constitution. However, since both suspects were armed and likely to shoot their way out of the motel room the moment they felt threatened, Nick and Melody could legitimately disarm them before announcing the arrest. But first, they had to have evidence against the pair that would hold up in court. That meant Bryce had to accept the two million dollar payment for the stolen research.
Bryce handed the promised disk to Nick with an elaborate flourish. “Here you are, then. Everything you need to start a revolution in the world’s energy markets.”
“I look forward to doing just that,” Nick said. He spoke with a slight Russian accent, since he had conducted his negotiations with Bryce in the role of Nikolai Anwar, a businessman with connections to the Russian oil cartels and their associated criminal underworld.
Bryce gave a hoarse laugh. “Hell, when you get down to it, I’m a regular patriot. By selling you this research, I’m fucking over all those Arab dictators who want to hold America to ransom by charging a fortune for their oil.”
“I am blown away by the intensity of your desire to serve your country,” Nick said.
Bryce scowled. “Yeah, well, we can’t all be goddamn heroes.” He scratched at a pimple on his chin. “Anyway, I’ve given you the disk and now it’s your turn. I want my money.”
Nick tapped the slim plastic case containing the CD-ROM. “Before I hand over any money, I need to be sure that you are not selling me garbage.”
Bryce appeared insulted. “You have my word that the disk contains all of Feng’s current research materials.”
“Your word?” Nick allowed a moment of withering silence and then smiled coldly. “My thanks, but I prefer to review the disk for myself.”
Bryce Merton flushed, stung by Nick’s contempt although he tried not to show it. He shrugged, almost visibly consoling himself with a reminder of how much sun and fun he would be able to buy with two million bucks.
“Be my guest,” Bryce said. “Here, use my laptop.” He sat on the edge of one of the beds and slipped the disk into his computer. He keyed in a command and the computer hummed quietly. After thirty seconds or so he swiveled the screen around so that it was facing Nick.
“There you go, hotshot. I’ve pulled up the table of contents. Take your pick of any file. They’re all loaded with good stuff. Feng has no clue about how to keep his files secure. You know what his password is in the lab? His wife’s name.” Bryce shook his head, genuinely appalled. “What a loser.”
“In fact, he almost deserves to be robbed,” Nick said.
“You got that right,” Bryce said, sublimely unaware of Nick’s irony. He gave his pimple another quick scratch. “Feng may be a genius at physics, but he hasn’t a grain of common sense. The guy needs a keeper to remind him to tuck his dick inside his pants.”
Nick sat down on the bed. He actually understood no more about nanotechnology than Melody, which meant he understood next to nothing. However, he’d been extensively briefed by Doctor Feng, and he knew which files contained the most confidential and innovative elements of Seneschal’s research project. He swiveled Bryce’s laptop around on the bed, opened an appropriate file, and started reading, searching for the crucial equations that Feng had helped him memorize in order to identify the contents of the CD-ROM as stolen property.
In fact, Nick’s insistence on examining the contents of the disk was mostly for appearance’s sake, since Bryce Merton was toast once he took the two million bucks even if the disk contained nothing but gobbledygook. If he couldn’t be arrested for the sale of stolen research, he could be arrested for extortion.
Melody watched Nick as he read, ruefully aware that she must have fallen dangerously deep into the minefields of love when even his frown of concentration struck her as sexy. Neither Bryce nor Jesse spoke, and the roar of the heating unit fan sounded loud in the stuffy room, the only other sound being the creak of Jesse’s boots as he rocked backward and forward in monotonous rhythm.
After less than five minutes, Nick ejected the disk, slipped it into its case and tucked it into his shirt pocket. The fact that he put the disk into his pocket using his right hand was a prearranged signal to Melody indicating that, as far as he could tell, the disk contained exactly what Bryce had promised. Honor among thieves, if you could call it that, had apparently prevailed.
Nick pushed the laptop back across the bed to Bryce. “I am satisfied you have delivered Doctor Feng’s research materials.”
“Impressive stuff, right?” Bryce sounded as proud as if the research were his own.
“Very impressive,” Nick acknowledged. “Doctor Feng is clearly a genius.”
“Yeah. Also a major pain in the ass.” Bryce grimaced, then glanced toward Melody. “Okay, enough already with the socializing. Let’s move on to the good stuff. Where’s my money?”
Melody looked at Nick, as if for approval. “Shall I start the transfer?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes, that is acceptable to me. You can transfer the money into Bryce’s account now.”
“The motel only has a dial-up connection,” Melody said as she entered the codes that connected her laptop to the computer system at Unit One headquarters. She keyed in the numerical combination and the password that indicated she was ready to begin the fake transfer of two million dollars. “It’s going to take several minutes to complete the transaction.”
“That’s okay.” Bryce smiled. “My plane doesn’t leave for another four hours.”
“Where are you going?” Nick asked, propping himself casually against the wall of the motel.
Bryce laughed, increasingly excited now the money was almost in his grasp. “That would be telling, wouldn’t it? Somewhere warm, that’s for sure. I’m sick to death of freezing my ass off through five months of goddamn Midwestern winter. That bastard Feng insists on starting work at seven in the morning.” He sounded outraged. “You know what it’s like getting up before dawn at this time of year? Fucking miserable, in case you couldn’t guess.”
“Well, now you are about to enjoy several years free of Feng’s demands.” Nick delivered a bland smile.
“Yeah, and I’m lovin’ it.”
Doctor Feng and starting work at seven am were going to seem like fond memories when Bryce was in prison, Melody reflected, waiting for her laptop to connect with Unit One. The link was finally established. Thanks to the outstanding computer skills of Bob Spinard, the director of intelligence, Melody’s laptop whirred through several screens and then displayed what appeared to be a Nigerian bank account in the name of Nikolai Anwar. Bob Spinard had enjoyed himself, Melody saw, and given Nick a supposed bank balance of over seventeen million dollars, although only two million were shown as immediately available.
Melody gestured to Bryce, indicating the screen and showing him that Nick had sufficient funds to pay for the disk. “You notified us that you want your two million dollars transferred to the Presidential Bank of Western Samoa,” she said. “I’m accessing the website of that bank now.”
The monitor went blank for a full minute and then displayed a screen that supposedly welcomed her to the Presidential bank. So far, so good. “For the next step I need to enter your account number, Mr. Merton.” She moved her mouse to highlight the box asking for account details.
“I’ll type in the account number myself,” Bryce said hoarsely. Now that the two million dollars were only moments away from his possession, his excitement had escalated to the point that his breathing had become audibly quick and shallow. “I’m not stupid enough to give my passwords to you. You could take the two million back out of my account as soon as I leave here.”
“We never expected you to give us your account passwords,” Melody said, turning her laptop toward him. “Go ahead. Enter them yourself.”
Bryce merely grunted. Hunching one arm over the keyboard so that nobody could see what he typed, he pecked out a series of numbers using only his left hand. The screen blinked and then returned with a request for him to enter his password. Bryce repeated his one-handed entry system, which effectively prevented anyone in the room from learning his passcodes even if they managed to sneak a clear view of the screen. Unfortunately for him, every stroke was being recorded back at Unit One headquarters, giving Bob Spinard immediate access to Bryce’s account.
From Bryce’s perspective, however, all was well, and he gave a satisfied grunt when a window popped up on the screen asking him what transaction he wanted to complete. He clicked the box for Make a Deposit.
“Okay, it’s all ready for you to transfer the two millions bucks into my account,” he informed Melody, stepping aside so that she could access the keyboard. He moved behind her, hanging over her shoulder, and she pointedly asked him to move away while she typed in the symbols that supposedly gave her access to the funds in Nick’s Nigerian account.
“I’m transferring the money now,” she said, entering the final command that created the illusion of two million dollars winging their way into Bryce’s account in Western Samoa.
Bob Spinard was such a computer whiz that Melody had never anticipated any serious problems. Still, it was a relief that there had been no glitches in this crucial part of the operation. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding when a window finally appeared announcing that the transfer was complete.
Bryce used the sleeve of his sweater to wipe his forehead. “Show me my new balance,” he demanded.
Melody swiveled the laptop in his direction. “You need to enter your password again for that screen to come up.”
“Okay, I’ll type it in.” For a second time, Bryce hunched over the keyboard and pecked away. A few seconds later, a banner flashed onto the screen containing the information that his account now held two million, two thousand, three hundred and eleven dollars and sixty-three cents.
Thank you Bob Spinard.
“Hey, how’s that for a healthy bank balance?” Bryce’s face broke into a beaming smile. “Two million and change!” He gulped in air and then laughed as he shut down his laptop and zipped it into its carrying case. “Come on, Jesse, let’s get out of here. We’ve got a plane to catch.”
“Not so fast.” Jesse spoke almost for the first time since the meeting began. He stepped in front of Bryce, extending his arm to stop his partner’s rush toward the door. “You need to check that transfer of funds again. This time run the check on your own computer, not hers.”
Bryce’s gaze narrowed. He clearly wasn’t a man who reacted well to having his decisions questioned. “Why?” He jerked his head toward Melody. “I watched what she did. I keyed in my account number myself. There’s no way for her to have screwed us over.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.” Bryce’s voice was riddled with doubt, despite his confident words.
“Humor me,” Jesse said. “Double check the balance on your own computer. Did she really put the funds into your bank, or did she just make pretty pictures on her computer?”
Melody rose to her feet, tucking her SIG into her waistband, the movement fluid and deceptively casual. She and Nick had considered the possibility that Bryce would insist on checking the transfer of funds on his own computer and Bob Spinard had promised to arrange a diversion from the website of the Presidential Bank. Anyone attempting to access Bryce’s account for the next twenty-four hours would actually be reading information generated by Unit One. She hoped to God the link and the diversion were in place, and would function as advertised. It would be much easier to disarm Bryce and Jesse if they were relaxed and happy, not anticipating problems. She didn’t want this afternoon’s operation to end in a shootout, or serious injury to Bryce and Jesse, even if the two men had all the appeal of rancid lard.
“Check all you want,” she said to Bryce. “The money’s in your account, as you’ll discover.”
“It’d better be.” Scowling, Bryce shoved his revolver into the holster hidden under his sweater. Then he slid his computer case onto the table Melody had just vacated. He extracted his laptop, plugging in the modem, his fingers tapping impatiently as he waited to get on line. Standing behind him, Melody hid a rush of relief when his Presidential account came up, once again displaying a supposed balance totaling in excess of two million dollars.
“Nasty suspicious minds you and your partner have,” she said mildly.
“Better safe than sorry.” Bryce delivered the cliché with as much aplomb as if he’d just invented it.
Melody shrugged, using the gesture to conceal the fact that she was looking to Nick for instructions. This operation had gone on long enough. Bryce had incriminated himself a dozen times over, and Jesse was apparently never going to put away his gun, so they might as well get on with the business of arresting them.
Nick clearly shared her opinion that it was time to move. His hand hanging loosely at his side, he pointed his index finger almost imperceptibly toward Bryce, their agreed signal to indicate that she should disarm him while Nick, who was a master of unarmed combat, concentrated on taking down Jesse, the stronger and more dangerous target.
She gave Nick the briefest of nods, and positioned herself directly in front of Bryce, her attention focused on getting his gun away from him without injury to anyone. She acted immediately, without warning, throwing a hard punch to the region of Bryce’s solar plexus. Her hand sank into at least an inch of flabby flesh and Bryce reacted as if she’d sliced his liver with a stiletto. He shrieked and doubled over, probably as much from shock as from pain. Melody quickly moved in close, screening out the thuds and bumps of Nick’s fight with Jesse so as not to become dangerously distracted.
She grabbed Bryce’s right arm. Almost simultaneously, she brought her right leg forward and hooked it around Bryce’s leg, forcing it toward her. He fell backward, crashing into the table. She pulled his fancy Beretta out of his holster as he careened off the table and collapsed onto the floor. He laid there moaning, although his total injuries didn’t amount to much more than a few bruises and maybe a couple of pulled muscles.
“You’re under arrest,” she said, keeping the Beretta aimed squarely at his heart. “Don’t move until I say you can. You have the right to remain silent. If you choose to speak--”
“You’re a fucking cop?” Bryce spat the words out.
“Something like that,” Melody said.
Behind her, she heard the crash of a chair tumbling to the floor and the thud of hard blows landing on flesh. Jesse was apparently proving as tough a target as he looked and had enough skill in unarmed combat that Nick hadn’t been able to disarm him within the first couple of seconds. Nick yelled out her name almost at the same moment as she heard the explosive sound of a gun firing.
A sudden searing heat burned through her side. Pain blossomed, spreading out to envelop her body so completely that she could no longer think, only experience the pain. She tried to focus on keeping the Beretta aimed at Bryce, but it was impossible. Her eyes were open – weren’t they? – but she couldn’t see. The room had gone dark.
More noise. More shots. More crashes. More thuds. It required too much effort to work out what was happening. Then Nick was suddenly leaning over her and she realized she was on the floor. She felt him take her hand. She sighed in relief and closed her eyes.
“Stay with me, Melody!” he pleaded. “Melody, for God’s sake, you can’t die on me, damn it!”
I’ll try not to.
“I’m calling the paramedics now. Just hang in there, Melody. Promise me, you’ll hang in there.”
She would have answered him if she could. Promised him that she would fight to stay alive, since he seemed so frantic, but the link between her thoughts and her voice had been severed. Sound and light vanished, and she slid into the comfort of darkness, where there was no more pain.
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