St Kilda Consulting 02 - Innocent as Sin

strong.
    “There was a quarter of a billion dollars in the account Bertone set up through Kayla,” Rand said. “She moved it to a place Bertone can’t reach. You. Are. Dead. Broke.”
    Her skin turned the color of ashes. “No. No! He only has half that much money.”
    Rand smiled. “Then he’ll have some really pissed-off partners. If you help me, I’ll help you keep your children and enough money to live well in Brazil.”
    “My friends—”
    “Will read about you in tomorrow’s paper,” Rand cut in ruthlessly. “‘Elena Bertone, wife of an international gunrunner, was arrested with her husband for plotting to overthrow the lawful government of Camgeria and reap billions in oil revenues through the immoral use of illegal arms.’”
    “I’m innocent!”
    Rand doubted it, and didn’t care. “If you don’t help me get Kayla back, I’ll cover your reputation in the blood of all the innocent children who died in Africa to enrich you and Andre Bertone. Your own children can visit you in jail—if they remember your name. Your choice, Elena. It’s the only choice you have left.”
    The television helicopter reappeared over the front of the house. It circled, grabbing footage from a variety of angles.
    Elena clapped her hands over her ears to muffle the roaring sound of the engine. “Make them go away. The noise. I can’t think!”
    “Try being in a war zone. That helo is a songbird compared to the Russian gunships that Andre sells.”
    Miranda came running into the great room and threw her arms around Elena. “Mama, Mama, what is that noise?”
    Rand released Elena’s jaw.
    Holding her daughter, Elena looked at Rand, really looked at him. She shuddered and gave up. She couldn’t bear Miranda’s fear, so like her own when she’d been young. “Yes. Yes. Whatever I can do.”
    He hit the speed dial on his cell phone.
    “Faroe here.”
    “Tell the helo to pull back. She’s cooperating.”
    “Roger,” Faroe said, “but they’ll stay in clear view.”
    Rand punched off. After a few moments the pilot banked right and darted away, taking up a position where his engine could still be heard as a dull roar rather than a howling scream.
    “Where is your husband?” Rand asked.
    Real tears ran down Elena’s face and mingled with those of the child she was comforting. She drew a deep, breaking breath.
    “The club,” she said in a low voice.
    “What club?”
    “The Arizona Territorial Gun Club.”
    “Is it open now?” Rand asked.
    “No. Andre keeps it closed on Sunday, except for special groups. The holy day, you understand?”
    “Yeah. I understand. Irony is his middle name. How can I get in?”
    “You can’t. Andre has the only keys. A chain-link fence surrounds the thirty acres.”
    Rand hit the speed dial again.
    Faroe didn’t answer on the first ring.
    Or the second.
    Or the third.
    Jesus, Joe, now isn’t the time to take a coffee break.
    “Faroe here.” His voice was soft, almost secretive.
    “Bertone’s at the Arizona Territorial Gun Club. The helo was headed in that direction.”
    “Indian land,” Faroe said. “The Hokams. Small, but mighty in the law.”
    “That leaves out the local cops. How about the feds?”
    “They probably could bootstrap some jurisdiction, but St. Kilda can’t help you right now. Everybody in Phoenix suspected of associating with St. Kilda has been rounded up and detained by the local police.”
    Rand hissed something beneath his breath.
    “The badges are being nice about it,” Faroe said. “Grace is doing a professional job of educating a sharp but still fairly confused watch commander.”
    “Bottom line?”
    “Right now we can’t move without getting our asses thrown in the slammer.”
    “Mother of all fuckups,” Rand said.
    “It’ll do.”
    “Tell the news helo to pick me up. If someone with a badge cares, I can provide probable cause for any search warrant any kind of police agency wants to run past a judge.” Rand looked at Elena. “I’m sure Elena Bertone will be willing to discuss the matter with whichever state or federal judge the cops decide to wake up from his Sunday-afternoon nap.”
    Elena nodded agreement and rocked her daughter, comforting both of them.
    “If anyone with a badge and a gun wants to come and play atTire City,” Rand said, “Kayla and I will be the ones in blue jeans. Don’t shoot us.”
    “Roger.”
    Rand punched out and turned to Elena. “Where does Bertone keep his guns?”

70
    Over