She felt sick herself.
“You’re not overjoyed? Teresa will be.” He took out his phone and punched in her number. “It’s done. Asad just confirmed the death, Teresa. Yes, he’s certain. I’ll be there as soon as I finish here. That check had better be ready.” He glanced at Jane. “Yes, I know what I’m to do. I’m not the fool you treat me like.” He hit the disconnect button and smiled. “But I think Asad is correct about ending this quickly. Teresa certainly agrees.” He pressed a button on the phone and spoke into the receiver, “You can have her now, Ganlad.”
She stiffened, her gaze on his face. “What is this?”
He unlocked her car door again. “This is good-bye. Though I may see you again if we cross paths before I get my money.” He got out of the car as the giant bald-headed man she had seen in the garden of Teresa’s house came toward him. “This is Victor Ganlad. Perhaps you remember seeing him at Teresa’s?” He exchanged car keys with the man. “I have something to do here, but Ganlad followed us and parked down on the second level to wait until I was ready for him. He’ll be glad to take over for me and drive you to Teresa’s waiting arms.”
Caleb, she thought in panic. Santara was going after Caleb. Her hand instinctively flew to the door handle.
“Oops, forgot something.” Santara leaned back into the car and his fingers dug into the carotid artery in her neck. “I wouldn’t want Ganlad to have any trouble. I might not get my money. Good night, Jane.”
Darkness.
CHAPTER
19
The linen closet on the third floor was only marginally safer than the fourth floor, which was in total chaos right now, Caleb realized as he ran down the stairwell from the fourth floor. But the focus would be on that operating room for at least an hour or so. The lack of proof of murder would stop any in-depth floor-to-floor search until someone high in authority took the reins and ordered it.
It didn’t matter; he had to be there anyway. Santara had to be taken down. And he didn’t have the faintest doubt that Santara would show up in that linen closet, where he thought Caleb would be hiding, within the next few minutes.
His phone vibrated as he reached the third floor.
Quinn.
“She’s not here,” Quinn said. “No Mercedes. No Santara.”
Caleb froze. “What?”
“Dammit, you heard me. But I ran across the street and checked the videos of the outgoing cars for the last fifteen minutes. A black Mercedes left the garage five minutes ago. We must have just missed it while we were running up the ramps to get to the third floor. But it wasn’t driven by Santara. It was a heavyset man, bald-headed. No sign of a passenger.”
“Switched drivers.”
“That’s what I figured.”
No sign of a passenger.
The words had almost paralyzed Caleb. Think.
She could have been slumped over or on the floor in the backseat. She had to be in that car.
“Then Santara might still be here and targeting me,” he said. “I’ll have to get my hands on him to find out what’s happening with Jane. Where are you?”
“In our car, driving up one street and down another, trying to catch sight of the Mercedes.” Quinn muttered a curse. “Damn poor chance.”
“I’ll call you.” Caleb pressed the disconnect.
Spotting that Mercedes was not a matter of a poor chance; it would be almost impossible. Think. Okay, the switch in drivers was unexpected, but it didn’t mean that Santara was assigning someone else to kill Jane. Caleb knew Santara would prefer to do it himself. So she might still be safe.
Or she might not.
Assume that Jane’s first guess was right and Santara had been assigned to kill him.
Go back to square one. And that square was centered on the third-floor linen closet.
He’d give Santara another five minutes before he started going down a blind alley like Quinn was doing now.
Caleb slipped into the linen closet with no problem. All the nurses and other personnel were watching the intercom videos to see what was happening upstairs. It was dim, almost dark, in the deep closet, almost thirty feet long, but he didn’t turn on the light. He could make out shelves piled high with sheets and linens, and mops and brooms shoved against the wall. He went to the very back of the closet to wait.
He could feel his heart pounding.
Had he guessed wrong? Was he wasting precious time?
Come on, you son of a bitch.
Let me get at you and rip your heart out.
Three minutes.
Don’t think about him not coming.
Think about your strategy when he gets here.
Santara wouldn’t use a gun—too much noise. His orders were to not cause anyone to suspect Haroun’s death was anything but natural. It was an indication of how much Teresa wanted to rid herself of him that she’d ordered Santara to do the kill at all. So it would probably be a knife. Swift. Silent. Efficient.
Not efficient enough.
He heard the door open quietly.
Yes.
In the dimness he could still make out Santara’s sandy hair and spare build as he warily entered the closet.
“Back here, Santara,” he called softly. “She must have paid you well to take a chance like this. How are you planning to get rid of my body?”
“A laundry hamper to the basement and then the incinerator.” He moved forward cautiously. “It’s all set up. Even a bribe in place with the janitor to get rid of the ashes. No one’s going to pay any attention to the basement with what’s going on up on the fourth floor. She did pay well, but I would have done it for much less. I keep remembering San Leandro and all the things I had to do because that bitch Teresa was so sure that I couldn’t be trusted to take you out.”
“And you’re so sure you can?” He chuckled. “Why do you think she changed her mind? She’s willing to take a chance you’ll kill me because she wants it so badly. But if you don’t, she’ll get rid of an expensive hit man who could also be a witness. Did you consider that?”
“No, because I will kill you. And I’ll take her money and then plan a few surprises for her. So all her plans won’t be worth shit.”
“How did you get rid of Jane? Who took her?”
“You know about that?” He chuckled. “Worried? I wish I could see your face. Teresa thought she might matter to you.”
“Who took her?” he repeated.
“Victor Ganlad, an errand boy suitable for deliveries. Teresa wasn’t finished with her.” He was moving forward. “Are you ready? Do you know how good I am? Better than some slick con man who has a few tricks and a couple sticks of C-4 explosives. Just tell me one thing. I was right, wasn’t I? About you altering that anesthetic?”
“Why don’t you come a little closer and find out?”
“Oh, I’m coming.” Santara was only a few yards away. The knife in his hand was gleaming in the dimness.
He suddenly dodged to the left and went for the jugular!
But Caleb was no longer there. He’d dropped to the floor and rolled forward, ramming into Santara’s knees.
Santara’s legs buckled, but he recovered immediately and his knife was plunging down at Caleb even as he fell.
Caleb grabbed his wrist, avoided the blade, and was suddenly on top of Santara. He’d have only seconds, but it should be enough.
One second.
Two seconds.
The arteries in Santara’s right wrist exploded!
Caleb’s hand covered Santara’s mouth to smother his scream. “You wanted an answer,” he whispered. “Do you think you have it now?”
Santara was cursing, his eyes on the blood pouring from his wrist.