It was time to run.
He had a passport in a different name and enough cash in the safe for a ticket to somewhere far away. His credit cards were good but he wouldn't be able to use those once he left the country. Besides, he wouldn't need them. There was plenty of cash in the accounts in Andorra, more than enough to live comfortably someplace where extradition was difficult. Someplace warm, where a foreigner would be welcome as long as he had enough money to keep the natives happy.
Why did it have to turn out this way? Why did they have to kill Andersson? And then they had to show off, crucify him. They couldn't just dispose of the body. Fucking animals.
He poured another drink. He thought he heard a brief noise, then quickly forgot it.
I'll book a ticket for France with one of the cards. That will throw them off the trail for a little. Then, a quick change to a different look in the airport men's room, something simple. A different airline to South America. By the time they figure it out I'll be far away...
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Bergstrom got up, went to the door and looked through the spy hole. A dark-haired man stood there, someone he had never seen before.
"Who is it?"
"My name is Antonio Bellini, Signor Bergstrom. Count Mercurio sent me to speak with you. Please, may I come in?"
Bergstrom opened the door.
"Unless he's prepared to make a new offer, you have wasted your trip. But come in, it's cold out."
Bellini entered the room and stamped his feet.
"The count has asked me to see if we can work something out. He is prepared to offer more money."
"Come into the living room," Bergstrom said. "We'll talk. Can I get you a drink? Vodka?"
"Brandy, if you have it."
Bellini followed Bergstrom into the other room. The Swede took a bottle of brandy and a glass from a sideboard and poured a drink for his unexpected visitor. He gestured at an empty chair and sat down.
"You still have the tile?" Bellini asked.
"I do."
"The Count is prepared to double his offer."
Bergstrom shook his head. "I'm afraid you have wasted your time after all. The price is not negotiable."
"Please reconsider, Signor Bergstrom. Allow me to point out the advantages to you."
Bellini was about to begin when a man stepped into the room with a pistol in his hand.
CHAPTER 16
Nick and the others parked down the block from Bergstrom’s house, a single-story home set back from the street in an older residential area. The porch light was out. There were no lights in the windows.
"What do you think?" Nick asked.
"Doesn't look like he's home," Lamont said.
"Maybe he went to bed," Selena said.
Nick looked at his watch. "Pretty early for bed."
They got out of the car and hurried to the porch. Nick tried the handle on the door. It was locked.
"Do your thing, Ronnie."
Ronnie reached for his lock picks and bent over the lock. In seconds the door was open. They slipped inside and shut the door behind them.
They were in an entry hall. Everything was dark. Flashlights clicked on.
"What's that smell?" Selena said. "Like the toilet overflowed."
"Something's wrong here," Nick said.
He reached for his pistol, a move born of long practice. The gun that should have been there was back in Virginia.
They followed the smell to the first room off the hall. Bergstrom lay sprawled on the floor by an overturned chair. A second man lay back in a chair, his mouth open. Dead eyes stared at the ceiling. The stench of blood and feces was overwhelming.
"Whew," Lamont said.
Nick's foot knocked against a vodka bottle on the floor. It rolled away toward the wall.
Ronnie shone his light on the bodies.
"Shot. Two or three times each. Someone wanted to make sure."
Nick scratched his ear. "One of these guys must be Bergstrom."
Lamont bent down over the man on the floor and extracted a wallet.
"This one is Bergstrom."
"Okay. Keep going through their pockets and see what you can find. We'll search the house. Pull the drapes over
He had a passport in a different name and enough cash in the safe for a ticket to somewhere far away. His credit cards were good but he wouldn't be able to use those once he left the country. Besides, he wouldn't need them. There was plenty of cash in the accounts in Andorra, more than enough to live comfortably someplace where extradition was difficult. Someplace warm, where a foreigner would be welcome as long as he had enough money to keep the natives happy.
Why did it have to turn out this way? Why did they have to kill Andersson? And then they had to show off, crucify him. They couldn't just dispose of the body. Fucking animals.
He poured another drink. He thought he heard a brief noise, then quickly forgot it.
I'll book a ticket for France with one of the cards. That will throw them off the trail for a little. Then, a quick change to a different look in the airport men's room, something simple. A different airline to South America. By the time they figure it out I'll be far away...
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Bergstrom got up, went to the door and looked through the spy hole. A dark-haired man stood there, someone he had never seen before.
"Who is it?"
"My name is Antonio Bellini, Signor Bergstrom. Count Mercurio sent me to speak with you. Please, may I come in?"
Bergstrom opened the door.
"Unless he's prepared to make a new offer, you have wasted your trip. But come in, it's cold out."
Bellini entered the room and stamped his feet.
"The count has asked me to see if we can work something out. He is prepared to offer more money."
"Come into the living room," Bergstrom said. "We'll talk. Can I get you a drink? Vodka?"
"Brandy, if you have it."
Bellini followed Bergstrom into the other room. The Swede took a bottle of brandy and a glass from a sideboard and poured a drink for his unexpected visitor. He gestured at an empty chair and sat down.
"You still have the tile?" Bellini asked.
"I do."
"The Count is prepared to double his offer."
Bergstrom shook his head. "I'm afraid you have wasted your time after all. The price is not negotiable."
"Please reconsider, Signor Bergstrom. Allow me to point out the advantages to you."
Bellini was about to begin when a man stepped into the room with a pistol in his hand.
CHAPTER 16
Nick and the others parked down the block from Bergstrom’s house, a single-story home set back from the street in an older residential area. The porch light was out. There were no lights in the windows.
"What do you think?" Nick asked.
"Doesn't look like he's home," Lamont said.
"Maybe he went to bed," Selena said.
Nick looked at his watch. "Pretty early for bed."
They got out of the car and hurried to the porch. Nick tried the handle on the door. It was locked.
"Do your thing, Ronnie."
Ronnie reached for his lock picks and bent over the lock. In seconds the door was open. They slipped inside and shut the door behind them.
They were in an entry hall. Everything was dark. Flashlights clicked on.
"What's that smell?" Selena said. "Like the toilet overflowed."
"Something's wrong here," Nick said.
He reached for his pistol, a move born of long practice. The gun that should have been there was back in Virginia.
They followed the smell to the first room off the hall. Bergstrom lay sprawled on the floor by an overturned chair. A second man lay back in a chair, his mouth open. Dead eyes stared at the ceiling. The stench of blood and feces was overwhelming.
"Whew," Lamont said.
Nick's foot knocked against a vodka bottle on the floor. It rolled away toward the wall.
Ronnie shone his light on the bodies.
"Shot. Two or three times each. Someone wanted to make sure."
Nick scratched his ear. "One of these guys must be Bergstrom."
Lamont bent down over the man on the floor and extracted a wallet.
"This one is Bergstrom."
"Okay. Keep going through their pockets and see what you can find. We'll search the house. Pull the drapes over
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