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Synopsis
Business is war.
And Luke Tanner is about to be its latest casualty. He's overheard
men conspiring to gain control of a $1 billion piece of business
by using a unique strategy - the murder of the two CEO's who control
it.
The conspirators discover that Luke has overheard
them and try to kill him. But he gets away. To silence him, they
kidnap his girlfriend, pediatrician Dr. Jenna Johannson.
When the kidnappers try to kill them,
Luke and Jenna manage to escape, only to discover that the $1
billion business - a massive worldwide automotive advertising
account - is his. Luke also discovers that it's too late to save
the lives of his CEO and client - because at that very moment,
the two men are in the Yucatan Peninsula, unreachable by phone
and about to walk into the assassins' trap.
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Today
was Wednesday.
And the police had nothing to go
on. No personal names. No company names. No clues. Unless, Luke
wondered, the men left something on their table. A cup with fingerprints.
A matchbook. A crumpled note...
* * *
Two levels above him, the three
men stepped off the elevator and walked along the balcony, circling
behind the alcove tables below.
Mason Bennett was pleased. Despite
the Mexican's absurd request for a larger fee, things were progressing
exactly as planned. And they would. Bennett wasn't about to fail
on this assignment. He had a reputation to maintain. He delivered.
The Siamese Twins would suffer a most unfortunate snakebite accident
and die in the jungle, which would make him a wealthy man. And
he had a secret plan to make this assignment--his most lucrative
ever--even more lucrative.
He glanced at his watch. Time to
update Klug.
Suddenly, something caught his eye
on the lower level.
Quickly, he jerked the two Mexicans,
Carlos and Paco, over to the balcony and pointed down at a tall,
chestnut-haired man getting up from a table next to theirs. He's
been sitting there, Bennett realized. The man walked around the
wall, carefully inspected their table and the surrounding area,
then hurried toward the elevators.
Mason Bennett squeezed a waste-bin
lid, turning the plastic white.
"Think he hear us?" asked
Carlos, the taller Mexican.
"Fuck yes, he heard us,"
Bennett whispered. "He checked our table for clues, then
rushed to the elevators."
Bennett watched the man waiting
for the elevator. The guy looked anxious, worried. He had heard.
Bennett turned to the Mexicans. "Wait in your car. I'll phone
you there."
"Why you wan' us to wait?"
Carlos asked.
"You may have another assignment."
"What?"
"Him."
The two men nodded and left.
Bennett turned and studied the man.
Casual, but expensive clothes. Beige leather folder. Seemed to
know the Ren Cen. The man stepped into a 400 Tower elevator going
up. He probably worked here.
Bennett saw the old waiter clear
a coffee cup from the man's table. Perhaps the old guy knew him.
He took the escalator down to the tables, walked over to the waiter
and pointed. "My old friend was just sitting here. When I
came down to see him, he'd left. His first name escapes me."
The waiter smiled. "That'd
be Luke. Luke Tanner. Nice fella."
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