“You’re a tough man to find,” said Dunbar.
“Lucky for me, you aren’t.”
Dunbar tapped the window on the other side of my .45. “You planning to shoot all of us with that little thing?” he said.
“I’d rather not. I’m here to deliver a message.”
“And what’s that?”
“Bishop’s dead. He’s rotting away in his RV, unless the coroner already mopped him up.”
“That’s good news,” said Dunbar.
“Don’t smile yet. That woman you sent for me, Jackie Northman, she’s dead too. So’s the guy Bishop sent. But the police won’t find either of them without sonar.”
Dunbar tapped the window again. “You delivered your message. Now what?”
“I really don’t want to kill anyone else this week.” I took a deep breath and felt my grip on the .45 tighten. Nerves. “And I don’t want to look over my shoulder anymore, so here’s how it’s going to be: This ends here. Now. When we finish this conversation, you’ll never see me again, and I swear to God if you go poking around, trying to find me, I’ll come to Detroit and burn you to the ground. And I promise you won’t see me coming.”
I didn’t make a habit of threatening people like Dunbar. I was a small fish swimming in his ocean, but I had to come off a bit braver and maybe a little crazier than I really was, if I was going to nudge him back to Detroit.
Dunbar smiled. He looked as calm as a man reading a book on the beach on vacation. “I’m not a person you should threaten.”
“I’m not here to threaten you. I’m here to reason with you. You can keep this fight going, but it’s not in your best interest. I’m not competing with you, and I’m not a risk to your operation. You’re allocating your resources in the wrong area.”
Dunbar looked ahead and then back at me.
“Our deal was for you to kill Bishop and get my eight hundred thousand dollars.” Dunbar pointed at the duffle. “My money in that bag?”
“There’s one hundred fifty-five thousand dollars here. It’s everything Bishop paid me over the last two and a half weeks.”
Dunbar rolled down his window the rest of the way, and I pushed the duffle through. He handed the bag to Three Fingers, who unzipped it and inspected the contents.
“You’re a little short,” said Dunbar.
“Bishop didn’t have all your money. It’s everything I’ve got.”
“Maybe we just take the money and kill you anyway,” said Dunbar.
“Not a good idea now that the Feds are involved.”
His jaw tightened. “How’s that?”
I surveyed the traffic coming down the street. “The FBI picked me up and pressured me into turning over evidence against Bishop. They wanted his files and his connection in Cincinnati and Detroit.”
“And what did you tell them?” said Dunbar.
“I told them Bishop didn’t have a connection in Detroit. I kept your name out of it. But if I start getting all jittery, thinking you’re following me, maybe my memory jogs, and I give them a call and push them your way.”
Dunbar looked back at the bag, and then to Three Fingers. “All right,” he said. “So what are we supposed to do now?”
“I go away and you roll up this window, start the car and leave me in your rearview. Then, you can go home to Detroit and get back to doing whatever it is you do there.”
Dunbar cracked a smile. “Let me get this straight, little man,” he said. “You put two of my people in the ground, and you expect to just walk away like nothing happened? You’re stupid if you think that’s how this works.”
“That’s on Bishop, not me. He set this thing in motion. We can drag this out until one of us is dead, but wouldn’t you rather go back to making money?”
“I’d rather kill you and then go back to making money.”
“I thought you might feel that way, so I took precautions to ensure that doesn’t happen.”
“How so?”
“I’ve got a contact. He knows the whole story. You, Bishop and Rollo. Everything. I turn up dead and he goes to the Feds. And then you’ll have a whole different fight on your hands.”
Dunbar was quiet. His eyes squinted and a smile crossed his lips again. “All right,” he said. “As long as you don’t give me a reason to come back here, we’re good for now. But if I do have to come back, we’ll pick up right where we left off. In that basement.”
Dunbar tapped his knee with a thick finger, and then he rolled up the window and signaled to the driver, who pulled into traffic. I slid the .45 back into my pocket and didn’t release my grip until Dunbar’s SUV turned right onto Sixth Street.
I walked back up Walnut Street. A moment later, Dunbar’s SUV rounded the corner and headed straight for me. I stepped back, fumbled inside my pocket to find the grip on my .45 and looked for anything that could shield me from the charging vehicle. Nothing.
Dunbar’s vehicle slowed. I yanked on the .45, but its hammer got caught inside my pocket and I couldn’t release it. All I could do was stand there.
As Dunbar rolled past me, he raised his right hand, pointing an imaginary gun through the open window and squeezing off an invisible round. The vehicle disappeared down the same side street as before.
As soon as the SUV turned, I ran across the street and headed back to the parking garage.
I PULLED INTO MANHATTAN HARBOR’S main parking lot and killed the engine. My heart rate returned to normal, and I was eager to see what Albert had come up with. I opened the door to climb out, but stopped. Thanks to Dunbar, my confidence was higher than a giraffe’s ass. I pulled my phone from my pocket and scrolled through the incoming call history. I found the number and dialed.
“Hello?” said the voice on the other end.
“Hello, Jennifer? This is Finn Harding, Becca’s father.”
“Hello ... Yes ... Hi. How are you?”
“Never better. You?”
“I’m great, thanks.”
“Perfect,” I said. “Hey, I know this is a long shot, but I was wondering if you’d like to grab a cup of coffee with me sometime. I’d love to hear more about being a Catholic school nurse.”
“You want to hear the adventures of an elementary school nurse?”
“Not really, but I’d like to learn more about you. What do you think?”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea.”
“Great. I know a really nice coffee shop.”
From: DarkBrokerOp@groupmail.com
Sent: September 23, 3:27:52 PM EDT
To: Undisclosed recipients
Subject: The Dark Brokerage Has Been Compromised
Hello. The Dark Brokerage has been compromised. Your personal information is safely encrypted and is not in the hands of the authorities. However, as a precaution to you, the Administration is shutting down the website until we can ensure the legal threat has passed. We will contact you as soon as we launch the Dark Brokerage 2.0 and once again begin facilitating transactions.
In the meantime, we have identified one of the individuals responsible for the security breach. His name is Finn Harding. His current whereabouts are unknown. Consider this communication an open contract on his life. We have secured twenty-five thousand dollars in escrow for anyone willing to remove Mr. Harding from circulation. Contact us at the above address for additional information.
Until we chat again. Happy hunting.
The Administration
Continue the Mr. Finn series with
Scar Tissue
Get your copy here.
If you liked The Shadow Broker, please take a few minutes to post a review of the book here.
Reviews greatly help me spread the word about my work.
THIS WORK WOULD NOT HAVE been possible without the generous support of several people. I’d like to personally thank the following individuals for their direct and indirect involvement in bringing this project to life:
Christine Grote, Denise Suttman and Meg
an Vanaski for reading early drafts and showing me the error of my ways; Sally Rowe and Ed Hackett for their keen sense of detail and unmatched grasp of the English language; Doug Hunter for guiding me through the world of private investigations; Roger Pohlman for serving as harbor master and law enforcement consultant; Michael Knost for playing professor; and Joe Lansdale for being a true inspiration.
My sincere thanks to each of you.
Trace Conger
TRACE CONGER IS AN AUTHOR in the crime, thriller and suspense genres. Prior to writing full time, he worked as a publicist, a copywriter and a freelance writer. He lives in Cincinnati with his wonderfully supportive family.
Visit Trace online at:
www.traceconger.com
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
A Note From The Author
Acknowledgments
About the Author