They drove around the back of a long, high-roofed metal building and past a series of shut loading docks to one where the overhead door was just rising. A stout ramp was in place against the dock.
Vincente drove up the ramp and into a large, airy space that held a machine tool-and-die business. The door lowered behind them.
He parked in front of a short, burly guy in a welding smock. Graying hair, late forties, he had huge forearms and puffed on an unfiltered cigarette while squinting at them suspiciously.
Butler climbed out and noticed the oily smell in the air immediately. “Francois.”
Francois ripped the cigarette from his lips, spat a bit of tobacco on the concrete floor, and said in a thick accent, “It is done?”
“It is done.”
The Frenchman nodded. A smile came slowly to his lips and then he threw his head back and laughed with gusto, shaking his hands and the cigarette at the ceiling. After that, he came at Butler and bear-hugged him so hard, the rest of his team started chuckling.
“Thank you!” Francois said, beaming as he pulled back. He gestured to the others. “From the bottom of my heart, all of you, thank you.”
“Our pleasure,” Vincente said as he ripped off one of the decals from the right side of the van. “Anyone who would do something like that to a man’s daughter deserves punishment.”
Purdy ran her fingers through her close-cropped hair. “No matter how rich the son of a bitch is.”
Francois looked at Butler, his eyes glistening. “There is nothing I can ever do to repay you for this.”
Butler smiled. “You can take this van apart by morning.”
Cortland set a long canvas duffel at the Frenchman’s feet. “The guns are already broken down into parts. I’d say melt them quick.”
Francois gazed at the duffel a few long moments, nodded, and threw his arms wide. “Yes, of course, all of it! And strip off your coveralls. I will burn them in the blast furnace for you. It will be as if you were never here.”
“Just the way we like it,” Vincente said.
Butler removed his coverall and dressed in the casual clothes he’d stored at the shop hours earlier. After that, he grabbed a black carry-on along with his passport, wallet, and cell phone. When he turned it on, it almost immediately pinged, alerting him to a text: Call Maestro.
He was about to do so when Francois came up to him. “The Land Rover is waiting for you outside whenever you are ready.”
“Thank you.”
The burly Frenchman put his hand on his heart. “And if you happen to talk to M, tell him a grateful father sends his sincere regards.”
Chapter
42
Washington, DC
In the intensive care unit at GWU Hospital, John Sampson groggily opened his eyes to see his young daughter, Willow, standing at his bedside grinning at him through tears of joy.
Overwhelming relief filled Sampson. He had been spared. He was still alive for his little girl.
Before he could say anything, a bolt of pain shot through his gut. He gritted his teeth and moaned but kept his smile alive for Willow until the agony passed. Then he shifted his right leg and felt another spasm of pain go through his thigh.
“Hi, baby,” Sampson said in a croak when the spasm passed.
“Hi, Daddy,” she said, still crying. “The doctor said don’t move much.”
“Just figured that out,” he said, noticing that Nana Mama, Jannie, and Ali were also in the hospital room. “What day is it?”
Jannie said, “July first. You were stabbed last night, right around this time.”
“Been out ever since,” Nana Mama said. “You gave us a fright, John.”
Willow said, “I have never been so scared in my life, Daddy.”
Ali, who looked tired, said, “She wouldn’t go to sleep last night because she didn’t want to wake up an orphan.”
“You kept trying to leave the room,” Willow said.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
Jannie said, “Anyways, Willow’s been here all day, waiting.”
Sampson’s daughter took her eyes off Ali and said, “I wanted to be here when you woke up, Daddy. I wanted to be the first thing you saw.”
John felt such exploding love, his head swam. It took several moments for him to say, “And you were, baby. Thank God, you were.”
A big force of nature named Juanita Alvarez chugged through the open door behind them wearing hospital scrubs and a stethoscope around her neck.
“Too many people,” the nurse said in a singsong voice. “Who let you all in here?”