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“You really put your foot in it this time. Ormond has paid the Kretts to kill you.”

“What?” Patrick asked.

“That fight you had on Monday. Ormond took you seriously enough to put a ten million dollar price on your head.”

Ten million. To the Kretts.

“Right. I think that knock to your skull did some damage.”

“This is for real, Trick. Ormond would rather see you dead than beyond his control, and the Kretts are exerting a lot of pressure to find out who killed their brother. All he had to do was give them your name.”

Not possible. Ormond was an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid enough to kill the company’s cash cow. Too many questions would be asked. If that weren’t a concern, Ormond would probably have done this long ago.

“I know that look,” Jack pressed. “You don’t believe me, but I’m not making this up. You’ve gotten too powerful and stepped on his toes too many times. At this point, I wouldn’t even rule out the possibility he set you up.”

“What? You mean he ordered me to kill Tony Krett so he could sell me out later?”

“That’s exactly what I mean. A revenge killing gives the Kretts motive, and with those guys in the picture, no one would even look at Ormond.”

Now that he would believe. But he still would not accept this. He refused.

Intending to sound off-hand, he asked, “If the Kretts are that eager, why would Ormond pay so much? To make sure I suffer?”

“No. He’s paying them to wait,” Jack stated flatly. “They’re out for blood, but Ormond needs them to wait until Christmas Day.”

There had to be a misunderstanding. Or a logical explanation for this, but Jack sounded a bit more serious than he’d like. Deathly serious.

“Wait?” Patrick repeated. “Wait for what? I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I yet, but that envelope back at the house—there are copies of the e-mails between Ormond and the Kretts. Read them. Then you’ll know as much as I do.”

Good God. Jack really was serious.

Of all the… Eighteen years. Eighteen years as that cretin’s whipping boy, and this was the thanks he got. If it was true Ormond had sold him out, as sure as he was sitting here, the whip was about to change hands.

Trying one last time, he asked, “Are you sure this is for real?”

“Read the e-mails. The Kretts have already been paid.”

Feeling his blood pressure rise, he gripped the wheel tighter to maintain control, but the anger had a mind of its own. All the contempt and condescension he’d swallowed from the moment William Ormond had taken office was growing claws and fangs, begging to be unleashed.

He could even hear it in his voice as he said, “Then I’ll make sure they don’t live long enough to enjoy their paycheck.”

“Now who’s being stupid? There are three of them but only two of us, and what can I do about it? Bleed all over them? They’ve got a triple-digit body count. Men, women, children, pregnant women… They’re animals, Patrick.”

“Okay, then I’ll make a deal with Interpol or someone to have them picked up.”

“No one will touch them,” Jack argued. “Half the world is too afraid of retaliation to pursue them. The other half can’t throw stones because they’ve hired the Kretts themselves.”

The car hit a patch of ice, and Patrick had to steer them out of a skid.
Jack, pressing the towel to his head, slid him a rueful sidelong look. “Watch the skidding. I’m not feeling very well.”

“Funnily enough, neither am I. My slave-master wants me dead, you’re a pulp, and if I make one wrong move I’m back to jail for the rest of my life. Merry Christmas to me.”

“I’m sorry, Patrick. That’s why I asked you not to call anyone. You’ve always been a vengeful prick, and you need time to cool off and figure out how to handle this without getting caught.”

“Handle this? I killed Tony Krett. Either I take the other three out, or I’m a dead man.”

“It won’t work. You might manage one or two. Never all three at once. So the way I see it, there’s only one thing we can do—make Ormond pay for this before you disappear. But we have to be smart about how it’s done.”

Right. Now Jack was speaking his language. “How?”

“I have an idea, but there’s something I have to tell you first.” Jack sounded weaker with every mile they traveled. “Those e-mails weren’t the only thing I found. There was also an insurance appraisal statement for Ormond’s California vineyard, and there are items on it I’m sure he wouldn’t want anyone to know he had.”

“What items?”

“The ring and tile missing from your mother’s hotel room the night she died.”

“You lie.”

“Do you honestly think I’d lie about that?”

No. He knew Jack wouldn’t, but he didn’t want to believe it. The official inquest hadn’t been able to explain what had become of the ring and tile, only that it was supposed they’d been sold or traded for the drugs that had killed Nina Mancini.

How the hell had they wound up in Ormond’s possession?

On second thought, did it really matter? Ormond had paid someone to kill him. There was only one way to resolve this situation to his satisfaction, and it wouldn’t end until Ormond had been made to suffer.

Jack, unaware of the storm brewing beside him, went on, “You can see the appraisal for yourself. I stuck it in that envelope with the e-mails and hard drive. Sorry to dump it all in your lap this way, but with the Kretts in the works, there’s no time to be nice about it. Christmas is only five days away, and if there’s even a ghost of a chance we can make a case against Ormond, we have to try.”

They’d reached the hospital now and as Patrick pulled up to the emergency doors, Jack said, “Go. Do what you can until they spring me.”

“I can’t just dump you here. And if I take Ormond down, you could go down with him, you know. The Councils weren’t kidding when they said they’d fire you.”

“Do you think I care about getting fired? I loved your mother, Trick, and we’ve finally found evidence that could prove Ormond killed her. If you can’t finish him for yourself, do it for me. And for her.”

That was all the permission he’d ever need.

He got out in the cold to help Jack inside, but the older man stopped him at the door. “We can’t be seen together or people will ask questions. And I don’t think I need to explain what might happen if Ormond finds out I gave you that hard drive.”

“Right,” Patrick said, humoring his long-time friend, although he already had a plan taking shape in his head. First he needed to know, “About the hard drive—you said you had an idea how to crack it?”

“Well, this is extremely risky, but it’s the only way.”

Jack explained, and Patrick shook his head.

“Are you mad? One of them, I put in jail. The other will go crying straight to Ormond. Forget it. I’ll handle it some other way.”

“There is no other way. The clock is ticking. And I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you, the living legend.”

Patrick grumbled, “Soon to be a proper dead one if I do what you’re suggesting.”

“This is the end for you, one way or another. Even if we nail him and you slip the noose somehow, you’ll spend the rest of your days running from the Kretts and the Dutch authorities. So if you have to lose everything, wouldn’t you rather go down swinging?”

He knew what Jack was saying, and the idea did have its appeal. But it was crazy. Insane. Even more insane than the plans he’d been making. He’d almost certainly be caught.

Sounded good to him. He liked it.

“Get yourself patched up,” he said. “I’ve got work to do.”