Cat Refuge

by Liza O'Connor

  Jason shook his head. “I don’t know a Dr. Taylor. Perhaps you would like to enlighten me.”

  “Why bother? I’ve no credibility. I’m the suspect, although what crime I’m suspected of committing remains unclear.”

  “The Immigration Department…”

  Tiburon shook his head. “You and I both know it’s bullshit. The Immigration Department doesn’t care about me anymore than the FBI does. The man running the show is Taylor.”

  “Then tell me why you’re considered such a dangerous man in Taylor’s mind,” Jason countered.

  Tiburon studied the agent. He liked what he saw. “Someday I might. You impress me, Connors. You question everything. You believe nothing on face value. Dr. Taylor chose the wrong man. I hope, for both our sakes, he doesn’t discover that.”

  “So Dr. Taylor thought I was a stupid or gullible man?”

  “No. He thought you were intelligent. He needs that. He knows destroying me will require intelligence and finesse. The mistake he has made is that he discounted the importance you hold for honor and justice. Since Taylor has no such qualities, he assumes they belong only to the stupid and the weak. It never occurred to him an intelligent man could also be an honorable one.”

  Jason didn’t like how this was playing out. Truth was, he didn’t trust Taylor. That he was pulled into this nonsense without knowing why, set his teeth on edge. Nor did he know who he could trust. “You aren’t trying to flatter me, are you Dr. Tiburon?”

  Tiburon smiled. “Good for you. Never take anything at face value, especially not a compliment. Now unless you have further questions, this is our honeymoon, and my wife and I would prefer to be alone.”

  Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. He locked eyes with Catina as he handed it to her. “If you want to talk, or feel the least bit in danger, give me a call, Ms. Nelson.”

  “Thank you.” She took the card and slipped it into her jean pocket. “But honestly, until this morning, I have always felt perfectly safe up here in my oasis.”

  Jason took her hand in his. “Please accept my apology for this morning. If I have further questions, where can I reach you?”

  “Unless I get called out, I’m usually here tending my cats.”

  Releasing her hand, he held out his hand to Tiburon. “Dr. Tiburon, again my apology for this morning.”

  Never had Jason felt so awkward and out of place. He needed to know more about Dr. Taylor and fast, before the man ruined his career.

  Chapter 10

  On Monday, Connors arrived at work after his morning meeting with the director. He was glad to see the lights on in Cole’s office. The mystery of Dr. Taylor had stolen his peace of mind all weekend. He tapped on Cole’s office window as he passed by. By the time he sat down, Cole was closing the door behind them.

  “What have you got on the good doctor?”

  “His name is Dr. Taylor. Quite a renowned geneticist.” Cole handed him a slender file.

  Jason opened the file and flipped through the report. “Did Carmella do this?”

  “I believe so.”

  “What do you mean you believe so? You know this was important. I asked you to have Carmella do it.”

  “She did it.”

  “Where’s her discrepancy report?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe there weren’t any discrepancies. The guy’s record is clean as a whistle.”

  Jason flipped through the report again. “Send Carmella in here.”

  “Sir?”

  “Carmella. Send her in here.”

  Cole frowned. “If you aren’t happy with her work, I’ll take care of it.”

  It was too early in the morning to have stupid pissing contests! “Send her in here.”

  His second in command cross his arms and widened his stance. A sure sign he was settling in for a long fight. “She reports to me, sir. Any discipline measures should come from me.”

  He stood and leaned forward, his hands pressed on his desk. “Cole, I’m not discussing this. I personally pulled favors to give that woman a chance with the FBI. And now I wish to personally rip her a new asshole. And unless you wish a new asshole as well, you’ll send her in here without making me repeat my request.”

  ***

  “Ginko, in my office now!” Cole snapped as he walked by her desk.

  The petite young black woman looked up in surprise but followed him to his office.

  “The chief wants to see you about your report on Taylor.”

  Carmella nodded. She wasn’t surprised, given all the oddities in it.

  “He is very unhappy.”

  “Sir?” she said in confusion.

  “My advice is to say nothing. Just let him vent. He’s had a very bad morning and unfortunately, your report was the first thing he saw. It sometimes happens. You just have to suck it up and take it. Don’t try to defend your work. Just accept whatever he says as gospel and promise to do better tomorrow. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” Carmella spoke, her voice so tiny she wasn’t sure it was audible.

  “He’s waiting for you. And remember. Don’t speak. Just take your lumps like a man…er… agent.”

  ***

  Carmella knocked on the opened door. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  “Come in and close the door Agent Ginkabo.”

  He watched her as she walked across the room and stood at attention. She only weighed ninety pounds soaking wet with shoes on. She was the tiniest, frailest FBI agent in history of the agency. Her only asset was the brain that resided behind those two pretty doe eyes.

  Jason leaned back and studied her. “How are you feeling, Carmella?”

  “Fine, sir.” Her eyes narrowed as if his question puzzled her.

  “You weren’t sick this weekend?”

  “No.”

  “Family ill?”

  “No sir.” She met his eyes. “May I inquire where this line of questioning is going, sir?”

  Jason almost smiled. She might be small, but she wasn’t a coward. “Yes, you may Agent Ginkabo. As the head of this department, I try to stay apprised of the talents and capabilities of all my agents. And even though I may not speak with each and every one of you on a daily basis, I pride myself in believing I have a good understanding at what level you can perform.” Picking up the Taylor file, he tossed it across the desk at her. “And this is far below your capabilities, Agent Ginkabo.”

  Carmella looked at the file he had tossed. “May I inquire what that is, sir?”

  “It’s your file on Taylor. Since you spent no more than thirty minutes on it, I’m not surprised you don’t recognize it.”

  Carmella picked up the file and opened it. “This isn’t my report, sir.”

  He leaned forward. “Pardon?”

  “Well, it’s part of my report, but only what I pulled down from our database. My report contained substantial field research and a discrepancy report.”

  Jason frowned. “Tell me what is missing.”

  She nodded and then paused. “Page by page, sir?”

  This was the first time he had ever heard Carmella make any reference to her photographic memory. As far as he knew, he was the only person in the entire office who was aware of Carmella’s talent. That talent was one of the reasons he worked so hard to get her on his staff. “How many pages are we talking about?”

  “Four hundred and thirty-three, sir.”

  Jason blinked in shock. “We had better start with the discrepancy. How long is that?”

  “Thirty-eight pages, sir.”

  “Thirty-eight? The president only got sixteen!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Another thing he liked about her was her brevity with words.

  “Provide a summary of the discrepancies, Agent Ginkabo.”

  “I ran our database reports, but they seemed wrong.”

  “How so.”

  “They were too sterile. I mean everyone has a bump or two along the way of life. This guy was cleaner than the A
jax man.”

  “Go on.”

  “Agent Womack said you only needed the basics, but you always seemed to appreciate knowing a little more, so I took the day off…”

  He held up his hand and she silenced at once. “Cole said I only wanted the basics.”

  “Yes sir, file stuff, no detail.”

  Her statement worried him. He had specifically told Cole he wanted to dig deep. “Continue.”

  “Since I was caught up on my work, I asked Agent Womack if I could take the day off to do some shopping in Georgetown, and he said I could. So, I went shopping in Georgetown.”

  He frowned. Did she really think this was the time to share her shopping spree? “Carmella, are we getting somewhere with this?”

  “Shopping for details, sir. Dr. Taylor was born in Georgetown. I went to the library closest to his home and checked to see if he had a library card. The library assistant was very helpful. We located his original application form he had completed when he was eight-years old.”

  Jason smiled. This was more like the relentless tracking of details for which Carmella was famous.

  Carmella tilted her head. “Only thing is, the date said Dr. Taylor was born in 1860. Our files show he was born in 1930. I thought that an odd discrepancy.”

  “Maybe they wrote the date down wrong.”

  “No, the dates on early check outs confirmed the general time.”

  “Maybe it was his father’s library card.”

  “I considered that, but my subsequent search of hospital files showed he was born the illegitimate child of Maria Taylor. He had no father.”

  “Then it has to be a different Dr. Taylor.”

  “He still uses the same library, sir. I tracked his books from eight years on to the present. It’s the same man.”

  “But that would make the man…”

  “One hundred and thirty-eight years old.”

  “The man I saw last night was no more than eighty.”

  “The age did seem wrong sir, so I worked back through his life, thinking someone, along the way might have taken Dr. Taylor’s identity, and the man we know today is not the original Dr. Taylor.”

  Jason nodded his approval. She was a true pit bull when it came to detail.

  “I went through the jobs he held, talking with people who worked with him. Many of them still had photos. Fortunately, I was able to locate them at their labs, even though it was a Saturday. Except for a slight change in dress and hair length, the man appears to look the same as he did forty years ago.” Carmella paused. “There was something very strange, sir…”

  He smiled. “I fail to see how it could be stranger than what you’ve already told me.”

  “He seems to have compacted his life. In the work bios we have on file, he worked at Gentab, after a two-year stint at Chemlink. But when I talked with Gentab employees, one distinctly remembered hiring him from Carlton Technologies. So, I went to Carlton, and while he isn’t in their employee database, there were people who remembered him working at Carlton for many years; the same years he allegedly worked at Chemlink. At Chemlink, again the records only showed him working there two years, but the man he reported to swears that Dr. Taylor was with the company for over ten years. He had seven annual picnic pictures of his group, which included Dr. Taylor. As I kept pushing back, I kept running into the same problem. He really has worked for the companies in his bio, but in all cases, the timing has been compressed and several companies have been deleted entirely. I pushed back to his days as a University Professor. I couldn’t find anyone at the University of Minnesota who actually remembered the professor, but a search of the school’s papers showed him there twenty years before the school records claim. I went to the annuals for those years. The man looks about ten years younger than he does now, but it’s definitely him.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” Jason murmured.

  “No sir, but I kept pushing and I was able to work all the way back to his elementary school days.”

  “And your conclusions, Agent Ginkabo?”

  “I have insufficient facts for a conclusion, sir. However, I did attempt to isolate at what point Dr. Taylor seems to have stopped aging.”

  “And the results?”

  “In 1887, Dr. Taylor went to Africa as a missionary doctor. He remained there for one year. Upon his return, he reported being nearly eaten alive by a tribe of cannibals called Flesh-eaters. My report included several articles written at that time. His photo accompanied the stories. The stories and photos ranged over a six-month period, and I noticed that the doctor actually appeared to grow younger as time progressed.”

  “Are you saying that the doctor discovered an elixir of immortality when he was in Africa? This is a jump. Give me internal thoughts to justify this.”

  “No, sir. I have insufficient evidence to suggest that.” Her face remained serious and stern. “While not mentioned in the original stories, the doctor evidently did bring back a souvenir from his journey. In 1890, his wife filed for a divorce. That was almost unheard of in those times, and her extraordinary attempt made the scandal sheets, so I was able to find the articles in the Georgetown archives. She claimed her husband had brought back a mistress from the Flesh-eater tribe, a woman so hideous that Mrs. Taylor would rather live as an outcast of society than to spend one more night in the same house with her. She described Taylor’s mistress as a spawn of the devil, with skin as black as coal and teeth like daggers. She insisted the woman could turn herself into a panther at will. Dr. Taylor, soon after, had his wife declared insane and placed in a mental institution.”

  Jason snorted. “Given her statement, that should have been relatively simple to do.”

  “I also checked the shipping records archived in the Georgetown Museum, and found the log books of the ship that carried Dr. Taylor home from Africa. It does indicate he returned with several animal species, including a very large panther, but according to the records, no women were on the ship. But then maybe the doctor slipped the recording clerk a few dollars under the table not to record her presence.”

  Jason was particularly intrigued with Carmella’s description of the mistress. “Have you seen a picture of a man called Joseph Tiburon or has anyone described him to you?”

  “No, sir.”

  Jason considered his situation for a moment, then reached into his drawer and pulled the photo he received of Dr. Tiburon. He passed it across to her.

  Carmella studied the photo carefully. “Most extraordinary. What tribe does he come from?”

  “I have been told he is from a tribe called Flesh-eaters.”

  “The hair is especially odd.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Mrs. Taylor also said the demon mistress had raven hair straight and long. I thought it might have been the reporter’s desire to embellish. But the wisps of hairs caught by the wind in this shot, are too silky to be human hair.”

  “Then what is it?” Jason asked.

  “I would need a physical sample to analyze before I could say.”

  “Dr. Taylor made an issue about the hair as well. He also claims the man’s teeth have not been filed, that he was born with those set of canines.”

  Carmella studied the photo, more intrigued than ever. “This photo was probably taken in the sixties. What does the doctor look like now?”

  Jason frowned and leaned forward. “What makes you think this photo is that old?”

  “The car reflected in the window is a 1940 Oldsmobile. Cars tend to run ten to twenty years behind in Africa. Also, there is a paper on the table with a picture of Kennedy being shot, which was in 1963.”

  Jason was annoyed he had not noticed those details. He had accepted the photo as current, because it looked exactly like the man in person. “Excellent work, Agent Ginkabo.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she replied, shyly studying her feet.

  “You, of course, realize I have a very serious security problem on my hands.”

  “Agent Womack?”r />
  “You are certain you handed him the file. You didn’t just lay it on his desk.”

  “No sir, I gave it to him personally.”

  “This will destroy his career. Be certain of what you say.”

  “Sir,” Carmella looked uncomfortable.

  Jason leaned forward, hoping she was going to recant her accusation.

  “Agent Womack called me into his office before I came in here. He instructed me not to say anything in my defense. Just to accept my beating in silence, no matter how unfair. He said it was just part of the job and I should take it like a man.”

  Jason leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a moment. There was no doubt. Someone had bought Cole. His stomach churned in anger. Cole was his right-hand man. He had trusted him completely. He sighed and looked at Carmella, her soft doe-eyes studying him. He could read the compassion in them. Her ability to read people was impressive.

  “When you leave here, Agent Womack is going to ask what happened.”

  “With your permission sir, I’ll tell him I kept my mouth shut and took it like a man.”

  “Make sure you do so convincingly. I cannot remove Womack from his position without alerting certain people he has blown his cover. Thus, I’m going to have to write you up for unacceptable work.”

  Carmella looked up in dismay. “Will that be going in my file, sir?”

  “Yes, but I promise I’ll remove it once this investigation is complete and replace it with the highest of accommodations.” Jason studied her for a moment. “You don’t look convinced…”

  She struggled for several moments before responding. “It’s not that I don’t believe your intent, sir, but I am concerned whether you will have the opportunity to do so.”

  Jason frowned. “Explain that comment, Agent Ginkabo.”

  “Well, sir. Agent Womack was a good agent, but someone has obviously gotten him to bend. I don’t believe he’d do that unless that someone had a lot of power backing him.”