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  RELATIVE IMPACT

  Max Kane Series #3

  by

  Trevor Scott

  United States of America

  Also by Trevor Scott

  Max Kane Series

  Truth or Justice (#1)

  Stolen Honor (#2)

  Relative Impact (#3)

  Karl Adams Espionage Thriller Series

  The Man From Murmansk (#1)

  Siberian Protocol (#2)

  Jake Adams International Espionage Thriller Series

  Fatal Network (#1)

  Extreme Faction (#2)

  The Dolomite Solution (#3)

  Vital Force (#4)

  Rise of the Order (#5)

  The Cold Edge (#6)

  Without Options (#7)

  The Stone of Archimedes (#8)

  Lethal Force (#9)

  Rising Tiger (#10)

  Counter Caliphate (#11)

  Gates of Dawn (#12)

  Counter Terror (#13)

  Covert Network (#14)

  Shadow Warrior (#15)

  Sedition (#16)

  The Tony Caruso Mystery Series

  Boom Town (#1)

  Burst of Sound (#2)

  Running Game (#3)

  The Chad Hunter Espionage Thriller Series

  Hypershot (#1)

  Global Shot (#2)

  Cyber Shot (#3)

  The Keenan Fitzpatrick Mystery Series

  Isolated (#1)

  Burning Down the House (#2)

  Witness to Murder (#3)

  Other Mysteries and Thrillers

  Cold War Short Stories: Jake Adams International Espionage Prequels

  Cantina Valley

  Edge of Delirium

  Strong Conviction

  Fractured State (A Novella)

  The Nature of Man

  Discernment

  Way of the Sword

  Drifting Back

  The Dawn of Midnight

  The Hobgoblin of the Redwoods

  Duluthians: A Collection of Short Stories

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and not intended to represent real people or places. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author.

  RELATIVE IMPACT

  Copyright © 2018 by Trevor Scott

  United States of America

  trevorscott.com

  Cover images:

  Background mansion by BlackQuetzal, and silhouette of shooter by ysbrandcosijn

  Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  1

  Max Kane weaved his way through the Reno casino, the lights and bells of hundreds of slot machines testing his patience. Occasionally he would catch a glimpse of himself in the mirrors behind bars, and he’d question his reason for being here. He had let his hair grow a little longer than how he had worn it for twenty years in the military. But he had maintained his muscle tone and guessed he could still pass any PT tests.

  Usually he took on cases with his sister Robin, but this was a simple missing person with a high probability of quick success. A 50-year-old Iranian man from Portland with a shady past had hired him to find and return his 20-year-old daughter to him. Now, Max was all about personal responsibility and liberty. He told this Iranian that when he found the girl, and she told him she didn’t want to come back, he would respect her wishes. After all, she was an adult.

  That was three days ago. Max had tracked Firuzeh first to Medford, Oregon, before getting a lead to the Bay Area of California and then to Reno, Nevada, his home state. Reno and Vegas were places where young men and women could start over and reinvent themselves. Jobs in the casinos were almost always available, since turnover could be quite high. It was a place to get lost.

  He had gotten word from a friend that Firuzeh Gilani had changed her name to Destiny and was using the social security number of a five-year-old child from Carson City. Max guessed the little girl wouldn’t need the number for a few years. In the meantime, Firuzeh would add to the little girl’s benefit that might never be available by the time she retired.

  He caught up with Destiny in a high-end slot section a short distance from the craps tables. First, he sat at a machine and had the young lady bring him a free beer. He gave her a couple of bucks for her effort. Firuzeh was wearing a skimpy black outfit that accented her fine body from top to bottom. He figured she could have used the name Destiny like all the other girls in Nevada, and she could have stripped for a living. But cocktail waitresses could easily make six figures in the better casinos. All they had to do was endure leering eyes and the occasional lewd comments. Management didn’t put up with physical contact, so the young ladies were relatively safe while on the premises.

  When the young woman came around again, Max engaged her in conversation.

  “You would think they would let you wear practical shoes on the job instead of those high heels.”

  “I know,” she said. “I’m just glad for the job.”

  He handed her a five dollar bill this time, and she thanked him profusely.

  Before she went away, Max said, “Your father sent me to find you.”

  Her eyes got wide and she started to bolt away. But Max caught her arm and said, “I’m not here to hurt you or bring you back to him.”

  “My father is a pig,” she said. “Please let go. Security will come.”

  “Then answer one question.”

  She looked down at his hand holding her wrist. “Alright.”

  “Do you want to go back to Portland?”

  “Hell, no!” she said with conviction.

  “He will send someone else if you don’t resolve this with your father.”

  Before she could say anything else, a man wearing a red polo shirt that said Security in black rushed over toward them.

  “Talk to me,” Max said. “I can help you.” He let the young woman go just as the security guy got within a few feet.

  “Don’t touch the women,” security said.

  That was security’s smart move. The wrong move was when security tried to grab Max’s arm. Max caught the young man’s wrist, twisted it to the point where the man’s arm might pop out of the socket at the shoulder, taking the man to his knees in pain, and begging for release.

  “Please don’t,” Firuzeh pled.

  “If I let you go, will you be a good boy and go back to your office?” Max asked.

  The young security officer nodded his head. Max let him go.

  “We were just having a conversation,” Max said. “I wasn’t hitting on a girl half my age.”

  Security tried to shake the pain from his right arm and shoulder. “Is that right?” he asked Firuzeh.

  “Yes,” she said. “He was looking for someone who looked like me. But I’m not her.”

  Two more security officers approached. Max squared up to all three, knowing the worst they could do to him was use pepper spray or a Taser. He had been exposed to both during his special forces training, and he had learned to overcome the pain to endure. Max also knew that casinos would only deploy these measures if they were certain their words to leave the premises would not be followed. It wasn’t good for business to zap or pepper spray
unruly customers. It kind of put a damper on the festive nature of losing all that money.

  Max decided it was best not to embarrass more security guards. So, he left the casino, went to his Ford truck, and called his current client.

  Saeed Gilani was a Portland businessman of diverse endeavors, from car dealerships to high-tech communications equipment sales. And those were his on-the-books businesses. Max had traveled from his home in Northern Nevada to Portland days ago, meeting with Gilani in his mansion in the hills overlooking the downtown of the Rose City. The opulence of the place had gotten Max to dig further into Saeed Gilani. He had found out the father had moved to the U.S. with his parents at a young age in 1979, during the fall of the Shah and the country drifting back to the Dark Ages. That told Max nearly everything he needed to know about the man. His father had to have been one of the rich and famous in that country, since only those with influence had gotten out with anything more than their lives and a suitcase.

  “You found her,” the Iranian father said.

  “I will soon,” Max said. “But, as I told you, if she doesn’t want to come back to Portland, I’m not dragging her kicking and screaming. I could be charged with unlawful detention and kidnapping across state lines. Both federal felonies.”

  Heavy sigh. “I understand. But you need to make sure she knows that we will cut off her inheritance if she doesn’t return.”

  Max guessed that Firuzeh didn’t give a crap about her father’s money. “When I find her, I’ll make sure she knows.”

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  Hesitating for a second, Max said, “The Bay Area.”

  “You could make sure she gets on a plane to Portland.”

  This guy wasn’t getting it, and Max was about to tell the Iranian that he was done. “Give me a couple of days. I’ll talk with Firuzeh and see what she says.”

  “Thank you. You will get a bonus for your quick work.”

  Max didn’t need incentives. He needed the truth. He hung up and checked his watch. He had already found out when Firuzeh got off work, and that she didn’t own a car yet. So, she was either getting a ride to work with a friend, taking the bus, or one of those online ride shares.

  He waited in his truck for an hour until her shift ended, and he almost missed her coming out of the casino, since she was wearing normal street clothes. She went directly to a bus stop across from the casino.

  Max approached her cautiously, knowing she would probably freak out when she saw him. Which she nearly did, pulling pepper spray from her purse.

  “I will use this,” Firuzeh said.

  He raised both hands and said, “And it wouldn’t be the first time. Trust me, I’m not the enemy. If your father sends some unscrupulous assholes to get you, they’ll throw you in their trunk and haul you back to Portland. I just want to talk. There’s a coffee shop right across the street. A lot of people for witnesses.”

  She put her hand back in her purse, but she kept the pepper spray in her grasp. “A cup of coffee. You can expense it to my father.”

  “Deal,” Max said.

  They crossed the street, went into the café, and sat at a booth in front of a large window. Neither of them said a word until their coffee mugs were filled.

  “My father is a piece of crap,” Firuzeh said. “He’s all about controlling women. My younger brother is lucky. At least he has the right equipment for our family.”

  “What about your mother?” he asked, knowing the answer.

  “She killed herself in Portland two years ago. Stepped in front of the light rail train in Beaverton. Killed instantly.”

  Max had read the newspaper report before taking the case. “I’m so sorry. I lost both of my parents in accidents.”

  “Hers was no accident,” Firuzeh assured Max. “She was escaping my father.”

  “I only met him for a moment,” Max said. “So, I can’t make a proper assessment.” This wasn’t entirely true. Max’s first impression was that of nearly-complete disdain. Perhaps he should have said no to finding this young woman. But he was a sucker for lost causes.

  “Do you know why he wants me to come back?”

  Max shook his head.

  “He plans to force me to have my genitals mutilated. Then I am to marry a man who is forty-five.”

  “I turn forty soon,” Max said.

  “Really? But at least you’re hot and in great shape. This man is a bald, fat pig. You wouldn’t have to cut off my clitoris to make sure I won’t enjoy sex with that man. I would never enjoy it.”

  He liked this beautiful young woman. “I have a job to do,” Max said. “But I told your father I will not force you to come back.”

  “Are you a man of your word?” she asked.

  “I’m retired military. All I have now is my word. If you lose your integrity, you can never get it back.”

  She touched his hand and said, “Thank you, sir. For your service and for your honor.”

  “I will not tell your father you are here in Reno. I told him you’re in the Bay Area. But there’s a good possibility he’ll send someone else after you. And I can’t guarantee the next guy will act with integrity. Like I said, you might end up in the trunk of a car. Pepper spray is a good first step. But you might consider buying a gun. After all, this is America.”

  “And Nevada.” She smiled at him.

  “You can make a lot of money at the casinos, but it might not be the final answer for you.”

  “I know. I’m going to UNR next fall.”

  “Good for you.” He got up, put money on the table for the coffee, and started to leave. “I could give you a lift to your place, but it might be better if I didn’t know where you lived.” This was the only lie he had told her, since he already had the address to her apartment.

  “I’m fine with the bus,” she said. “I’m buying a car next week. A used, beat-up Toyota from a co-worker.”

  “Oh. One more thing. Your father said that if you don’t come back, he’ll cut you out of his estate.”

  “I want nothing from him,” she said.

  “That’s what I thought. I’ll let him know you’ll be staying in the Bay Area.” He smiled and left her alone in the café.

  He got back to his truck and decided not to call the Iranian for a couple of days. Better to keep that man in the dark for a while.

  Max got into his truck and started driving. Once he got onto Interstate 80, it would be 330 miles to his place in Wells, Nevada. The way he drove he could be there in about four hours, or sometime just after midnight.

  Two hours later, he pulled in for gas in Winnemucca. He guessed he finally got cell service, since a number of messages came through. They were all from his sister, Robin. She didn’t normally call or text this often, so something must have been up with her. But she didn’t leave a message. Only texts saying to call when he could.

  Before he got back on I-80, he called Robin.

  “What’s up, sis?” he asked.

  “Where are you?”

  “Winnemucca. On my way home. Why?”

  She let out a heavy sigh. “Are you working on something?”

  “I was. It’s done now. Do we have a case?”

  “You could say that. Is there any way you can come to Salt Lake?”

  During his twenty years in the Air Force, he had not really been there for his sister. Since then, he tried to help her in any way he could. They were twins. Had a connection. And, after the death of both of their parents, they had no other family. They only had each other.

  He checked his watch. “I’m guessing I’m about five hours from Salt Lake. But I should stop by my house to get some clothes.”

  “It’s not that urgent,” she said. “Get some rest tonight and try to get here by noon. I’ll take you out to lunch at my favorite Thai restaurant.”

  She knew that he worked for curry. Nice ploy, sis.

  He agreed and started heading east again. She was awfully cryptic, he thought. That was strange for her. Robin was
usually very straightforward with him.

  2

  Robin Kane couldn’t sleep all night. Finally, at about five a.m., she got out of bed and drank some coffee. When she finally got sick of that, she switched to diet coke to keep her mind moving. What was eating at her? The results she had gotten from her DNA test.

  Growing up in the small northeast town of Wells, Nevada, her parents had told her that they were the last of the Kane clan. Her grandparents were long gone, and neither of her parents had siblings. There were no great holiday dinners with raucous crowds of adults drinking too much and screaming children. It had always been just Robin, her twin brother Max, and her parents. When her father died in a mining accident, Robin was only sixteen. Two years later, her mother died in a car accident on Interstate 80. For the past twenty-two years, it had only been Robin and her brother.

  Now, she glanced at the computer screen at her DNA results. She only took the test because she knew so little about her heritage. Robin had been told that they were mutts—mostly German and Irish. But, as far as she knew, DNA did not lie. Yesterday, before she called her brother, she had even called the DNA testing facility to verify that she had gotten the right results. They assured her the results were all hers.

  She was Irish. About twenty percent. German? Yes, but only twenty percent. The majority showed up as southern Italian. There was also about five percent Jewish. But that wasn’t the biggest revelation for her.

  Her brother showed up a little before eleven a.m. Considering all the driving he had done the night before and that morning, he looked more refreshed than her.

  She gave him a big hug and let him into her condo. Robin was living on the tenth floor of a downtown Salt Lake condo complex, with a nice view of the Wasatch Mountains. She liked living in her condo. There was a gym and swimming pool on the sixth floor, and the building had twenty-four-hour security. Plus, she wasn’t much of a green thumb, and she had never been into yard work.

  “Wait. How did you get into the building?” she asked Max.

  “The woman at the front desk buzzed me in,” he said. “I guess I have an honest face.”