Deadly Lode (Trace Brandon Book 1) (40 page)

C
hapter
3
9

A
l
Pantelli
walked down to his brother
’
s office in
their French Quarter office building.

“
Pino,
”
Al said,
“
we
got us a
nother
damn
problem.
”

“
What
now
,
brother
?
”

“
I just got off the phone with one
of
the Outfit
’
s
c
apos
in Vancouver
.
”

“
Yeah
?
”
Pino replied, now paying full attention to his brother.

“
Yeah. He
’
s got a local detective on the pad. You know the reason we ain
’
t heard nothing from the Chemist?
”

“
No, but I
’
ve been wondering what
’
s taking him so damn long.
”

“
He
’
s dead
. T
hat
’
s why we ain
’
t heard nothing about the hit on Trueblood.
”

“
Trueblood killed him?
”
Pino asked
,
in disbelief.

“
Hell
,
no. There was some kind of f
oul
-
up with the poison he was going to use. He accidently killed himself.
”

“
Jesus
.
”

“
Uh-huh, and it gets worse. The crazy bastard wrote out some kind of note as he was croaking. According to the detective
,
there were
just two words
on the note
, two names
.
Trueblood
’
s and ours.
”

“
Holy crap. Why in the hell would
Manetti
do something that
damned
stupid?
”

“
Beats the shit out of me. But he sure as hell implicated us
,
a
nd according to the
detective,
the FBI is involved.
”

“
Damn,
it
just gets better and better.
”

“
We need to give this situation some serious
friggin
’
thought,
”
Al said,
pulling his
vibrating
cell phone from his shirt pocket.
“
Excuse me just a sec
,
Pino
. I
t
’
s Cyrus
on the horn
. Maybe he
’
ll have some thoughts on
this
situation
.
”

“
Cyrus,
g
ood
-
timing
. W
e were just talking about our mutual friend
,
Mr. Trueblood.
”

“
Exactly
why I
’
m calling
,
Al. I
’
ve had a long talk with Malcolm
,
and he
’
s seen the light. I
’
m going to pull him out of Vancouver and put him in the Caymans
. He can do some work for me with Carib International. I
’
ll keep him offshore until the heat fades.
”

“
You know he
’
s a f
reakin
’
rat? He tried to cut a deal with us to blackmail you and force you to sell us your Montana Creek Mining shares
,
on the cheap.
”

“
Yeah, I know all that. He
screwed
up, thought he
’
d be a player in the big leagues. But I
’
ve straightened his ass out. If you agree, I
’
ll take care of this.
”

“
Give me a sec to run this by Pino
. H
e
’
s sitting right here.
”

“
Sure, no problem.
”

In a couple of minutes Al was back on the line.

“
Okay, Cyrus
. B
ecause you and
me
go way back
,
Trueblood gets a pass. This one time only
.
Capisce
?
”

“
Thanks, Al. It
’
s for the best all the way around.
”

“
I want that SOB offshore
,
yesterday.
”

“
Not a problem
, Al.
Malcolm
’
s a pilot and
flies his own plane. I
’
ll have him packed up
,
airborne,
and
en route
to the Caymans
in
twenty
-
four hours
.
”

“
What about his family?
”
Al
asked
, glancing over at his brother.

“
His wife was killed years ago. A train hit her car and killed her instantly. They had no kids.
I think he has a girlfriend
,
b
ut that
’
s about it.
”

“
Okay, perfect.
Y
ou tell the little
prick
we
’
d better not hear so much as a loud fart out of him
,
or he
’
ll be off the board
.
”

“
Understood,
and
thanks, Al. I owe you one.
”

“
No
,
you don
’
t
,
Cyrus. But Trueblood does.
”

Al hung up and looked at his brother
.
“
W
hat
’
d ya think?
”

Pino rubbed his chin with his right hand
.

“
M
ixed feelings, Al. Getting Trueblood offshore is a good move. But
,
he
’
ll always be a threat to both
of
us and to our investment in Montana Creek Mining. We had a face
-
to
-
face with
him,
and then we tried to whack him. Sooner or later, if they dig hard enough, the FBI is going to connect the dots. And sooner or later Trueblood is going to get antsy sitting on
his ass on
that
damn
island.
”

“
Agreed.
W
e hit him
, b
ut this time it has to look like a
n
accident
.
”

CHAPTER
40

M
alcolm
Trueblood
had flown single
-
engine aircraft for more than fifteen years. He was instrument rated and had flown
in
to remote mining camps all over Canada, Alaska
,
and
M
exico. Now
,
on Cyrus
’
s
instructions
,
he was preparing to fly from Vancouver to
George Town on Grand Cayman Island.

He planned to
stop in Denver long enough to eat a bite
,
refuel
his
TurboAire
,
and then
overnight in Houston
.
On the second day,
h
e
’
d
fly
from Houston
to George Town. It would be
a
985
-
nautical
-
mile
hop
from Houston to George Town
,
w
ell within
the
TurboAire
’
s
1,300
nautical
-
mile maximum range.

So far, the hardest part of
his
trip
had been
convincing Chief Constable Peter Rand of Vancouver
’
s finest to let him leave British Columbia. But
since
Malcolm was not an actual witness to
the
purported
attempt on his life or the death of the assassin
,
or
t
he police officer, there was little Inspector Rand could do.

In a way, Inspector Rand was glad to be rid of Malcolm Trueblood. He already had Thorn
ton
’
s
death, Rosenburg
’
s subsequent murder, a dead hit man
,
and a dead police officer to deal with.
G
ood riddance
, he
’
d l
et the Cayman authorities worry about
Malcolm
.

Malcolm shoved the last of his gear into the
TurboAire
. He
’
d be living in Cyrus
’
s
town
house
but
would continue to keep his house in North Vancouver. His girlfriend, wh
om
he
’
d been visiting the night of the attempt on his life, would keep an eye on his place
till he
returned
.

Malcolm completed his
pre
-
flight
check
-
list and
taxied the plane out to the main runway of the small
municipal
airport.
The
TurboAire
is a kit
-
built
,
high
-
performance aircraft.
He
’
d
purchased the
single
-
engine aircraft f
rom a former U
.
S
.
Navy pilot
, who was
now working for Boeing
in
Seattle.
Malcolm
had
paid over four hundred grand
,
and
felt it was worth every penny.

The plane
was
built of a
carbon composite with
retractable gear
and
was
pressurized to a maximum ceiling of
thirty thousand
feet.
The
five-hundred
cubic
-
inch
,
turbo-piston engine develop
ed
three hundred fifty
horsepower.
The
plane
could c
ruis
e at
over
three hundred
miles per hour at
twenty-five thousand
feet. A
very
fast
mama jama
,
an
d a cocaine smuggler
’
s wet dream
.

A low-level Vancouver mobster duly noted
Malcolm
’
s take
off
.
Once Malcolm was airborne,
the
man
placed a call
to Al
Pantelli
in New Orleans.

Al took down the flight information and hung up.

“
We
’
ll make our move at Houston Hobby,
”
Al said, looking over at his brother.