Page 92 of Master of Lies

I grabbed one, and hefted it up, lunging to rest the sharp spike right at the hollow of her quivering throat. “Talk to me, Rachelle. Tell me how you contacted Boer. Or your girls get orphaned.”

Rachelle’s jaw dangled. She looked helpless and clouded, and too fucking slow. I brandished the poker again, trying to look thuggish. “How did you do it? Did you have a phone number to call? Did he give you a burner phone?”

Her eyes flickered, so I seized onto it. “Burner phone, then. Give it to me.”

“No!” she squeaked. “I can’t! He’ll kill us! He told me!”

I pressed the poker as hard as I dared. Breaking the skin was a line too far for me. “That’s right,” I said. “I can kill you now, or he can kill you later. You decide.”

Rachelle squeezed her eyes shut as she shoved her shaking hand into her jacket pocket. She pulled out a flip phone. “Take it,” she hissed, flinging it at me. “He said he’d leave us alone. He wasn’t supposed to kill Joe! Just…” Her voice trailed off.

“Yeah, I know,” I said bitterly. “Just my boyfriend. Don’t expect me to feel sorry for you. What’s the number?”

“There’s only one number in the address function. The name is…Boss.” Her voice choked a little on the word. “He said he’d leave us alone,” she bleated.

“He’s a liar, a cheat, a thief, and a killer, Rachelle. And you just made yourself his bitch.”

“Fuck you,” she said.

There I went again, haranguing her. Rachelle had to live the rest of her life with what she’d done. Or else spend all her energy stuffing it. Either way, she was fucked.

Whereas I, on the other hand, had a great deal to accomplish in a very narrow window of time. I had to come up with a brilliant plan, and be braver than I’d ever been in my life, and I was not looking forward to either thing. I was shaking in my boots.

Dawn was starting to lighten in the sky on my way back to the hotel room as I pondered the optimal moment to call Boer. He or least his minions couldn’t be very far, having just killed Grifo and taken Jed. No more than a scant hour in any direction.

I also had to be extremely careful about how I timed the call to my brother. He, too, would try to take control of the situation, according to his own idea of what was most important, which wasn’t necessarily mine. A careful balance had to be struck.

I pulled into the road that led to the cabin, and sat there in the car outside it, gathering my nerves. I had to do this now, swiftly. Without overthinking it.

There was one single chance I could help Jed. It was extremely slim, and it depended on many completely unpredictable variables.

I pulled out the burner and found “Boss” in the address function. I wondered if that was supposed to be funny for him. Eeew. What a nasty little jerk-off he was.

I hit “call,” and waited. It buzzed five times before he picked up.

“Rachelle,” Boer said. “You were explicitly instructed not to bother me. By now you’ve seen what happens to people who don’t follow orders. Why are you calling?”

I tried to reply, but my throat was quivering too hard. I swallowed, tried again. What a cruel, self-important butthead. Bullying a bereaved woman whose husband he’d just murdered.

Boer made an impatient sound in his throat. “I have things to do Rachelle. If you have something to say, spit it out.”

“I’m not Rachelle,” I said.

A brief, startled pause. “Interesting,” Boer said. “Freya Masters, is it? Did you kill that useless bitch Rachelle? I hoped you’d be with Clearwater when he came to Grifo’s place. Cutting him into pieces won’t be nearly as much fun without you watching.”

“Don’t,” I said, involuntarily. “Don’t hurt him. Please.”

Boer waited, and laughed softly “Or…?” he taunted. “Or what? That’s not how this works, sweetheart. You have to offer me something I want.”

“SmokeScreen,” I said. “I can offer you that. If you let Jed go.”

“I’ll be damned. I wouldn’t have expected you to have any real intel. I thought you were just an empty-headed fucktoy. So? How shall we do this?”

“Let him go,” I said. “And I’ll open the algorithm for you.”

Boer clucked his tongue. “Oh, come on. Don’t insult my intelligence.”

“Will you let him go? If I do?” I let my voice quaver as much as it wanted to. It was important that he took me for an airhead.

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