Page 119 of Hit Man
Whoever walked by has passed. I press on. Looking for that lucky charm. Ireland. Where are you?
UnderInvestments, I find everything under the sun. An invoice for weapons from Marseille. Notes about several prominent government officials. Huge amounts of money being deposited into banks across the globe. Switzerland, especially.
Dirty money.
I fold up several more sheets to take with me. Knowing I have to hurry. Yet knowing there’s got to be more. Señora might be organized but she’s far from ignorant. Whatever is here isn’t important.
So . . . where?
I stand and inventory the room. A stone statue in the corner. Two comfortable chairs by a fireplace. No window—which is why I tempted fate by using the one and only door leading into this room.
Nothing. Nada. Zip.
Even the goddamn cows on the painting on the wall seem to be shaking their heads . . . wait . . . like mother, like son . . . ?
I stalk over to the painting, remove it from the wall, and flip it over. No cameras this time—not that I expected there to be. No, this painting has a false back.
I twist the small latch and open it up. I feel like whistling at the sight of the thick folder inside. Quickly, I take it and tuck it into my pants. Then just as quickly place the picture back into position.
With small steps, I creep down the hallway until I can see into the dining room.
“Sylvester, finish your pudding. You’ll be leaving as soon as the car arrives. Remember, be on your best behavior or I won’t be taking you anywhere.”
“But Mommy, I want to see the big cats.”
“You will,” says his nanny. “Mommy has business to attend to. We’ll meet up with her on Saturday for our trip.”
I shake my head. Itinerary for two? I wonder if the nanny realizes that the only trip she’s going to be taking is to Señora’s garden.
Sylvester swipes his arm across the table and sends plates, glasses, silverware, the works, crashing to the floor. “I want to stay with Mommy.”
I hear Aubrey’s gasp as I seize the opportunity to find my way upstairs.
Once inside the blue room, I close the door and, making my way over to the walk-in closet, step inside, turn on the light, and close the door behind me.
I pull out the file and open it up. It’s there. The uranium invoice from South Africa from Lanther Enterprises. A million-dollar purchase. Hayden will be pleased that I’ve found the source. Included in the file is detailed correspondence between Señora del Leon and one Henry O’Brian. Financial partners, you bet. Looks like Henry will be taking over the uranium shipment once it leaves Mexico.
I’ve hit the mother lode, all right.
Job over. Fahder’s dead. Señora’s unknowingly offered up her contacts. O’Brian will most likely be meeting McDuff.
I can leave Mexico. Return to the little house I own in Sedona, Arizona. Take a breather. Kick back and watch the sun fall over the red-rock mountains.
Aubrey will love it.
Aubrey.
I dial Hayden.
“Report.”
“You might want to relax the knot in your man-bun before hearing my news.”
36
Aubrey
After dinner, Señora hustles Little Lord away for some quality playtime together before he leaves. An invitation was extended to me yet I quickly refused, offering the excuse of being tired. The boy’s behavior at dinner was reprehensible. For all her talk about a woman being in charge, her son seems to do as he will. The salad-dressing stain on my skirt is proof enough.
