Without another word, she finished the pizza and the second beer Waldo had brought her. They left the restaurant together.
* * * *
After a quick stop by Waldo’s apartment upstairs from the restaurant, they reached her condominium and instead of heading straight inside, Waldo went to her car. Sure enough, his little bug sweeper device located a micro-voice recorder inside the car under the passenger seat. He did to it what he did to the one that had been in her phone. He squashed it like a bug with the heel of his shoe.
Wiping his hands together, he said, “Let’s go see what else needs exterminating.”
Amazingly, Waldo found three more bugs that Charley had missed. Instead of squishing those, he flushed them down the toilet. “Now, little girl, what else did this sicko leave behind?”
Just as methodically as she had, maybe more so, Waldo set about lifting every cushion, opening every drawer, even sifted through her unmentionables without a blink of an eye. He found nothing else.
An hour after they arrived at her place, Waldo declared it bug free. They sat at her kitchen table. “I need something to drink. What can I get you?”
“Whatever you’ve got.”
Charley went to the cupboard and pulled down two glasses then opened the freezer for ice and her heart froze in her chest. Her vision blurred. She reached out to steady herself and the glass tumbled to the ground, shattering at her feet.
“K–Kyle.” Kyle, his dark brown hair lying in a pool of blood against a gray concrete floor, a single bullet hole in his forehead, his arms and legs bound.
The whistle between his teeth caught her attention. She hadn’t heard him move but Waldo was at her side, tugging her back and gently but forcibly setting her down in a chair. “My gosh, Waldo. Wh–who? What?”
Grabbing a paper towel, Waldo used it to lift the Polaroid from the freezer and place it on the table. “It’s Kyle.”
Unable to speak, Charley nodded.
Waldo leaned over the table, put his face inches from the photo and stared. “What do you see?”
Kyle dead, that’s what she saw. She didn’t need to look again. “Kyle with a hole in his head.”
“What else?”
Again, she answered Waldo from memory. “His legs and hands bound, and a metal chair in the background, cement slab floor.”
“Uh huh. What else?”
She swallowed, inhaled through her nose, trying to keep from throwing up. “My father’s Purple Heart, pinned to his chest.”
TWO
How he hated prisons. He hated any kind of prison, but in particular foreign military prisons. They were always filthy and undermanned. In this case, the undermanned made it much easier for Jake to do his job, saving some wimpy-assed, oil mongering, businessman slash politician from his own big mouth. Actually, he could care less why or how the guy landed himself in the three-story penitentiary, he cared about how to get him out.
Even though Yerevan, Armenia gained its independence from the former Soviet Union in 1991, the Russians were too close for his comfort. The only good part was that Jake spoke Russian and could communicate with a small population within Armenia. That was how he located James Giffen, oil monger.
He made fast friends with Agalaya, a local bakery owner in downtown Yerevan who made the best Russian Tea Cakes. She let slip about some American stolen away in the middle of the night. A few more cookies and a promise to return before he left and Jake had the not-so-secret location of the prison holding James Giffen.
Two days later, dressed in a black hood and army fatigues, an AK-47 slung over his shoulder, and a Glock strapped to his military belt, he slipped through the prison as if he were a guard. Because the sentries all wore black hoods, it was easier to infiltrate the concrete building than Swiss cheese. Good for him, Jake thought.
Now all he had to do was locate Giffen’s cell. It would have been simpler during the day, but more guards were on duty, and the cloak of night gave him added cover.
He walked down the corridor as if he belonged and nodded once to the only other guard he had seen on the second floor. Finally, he came to the room marked with the number twenty-two on a small whiteboard that hung on the outside of the door.
Looking over his shoulder both ways, Jake slid the key into the lock then slipped into the room without making a sound. Before the sleeping man could react to his presence, he covered James Giffen’s mouth with his gloved hand.
“Don’t move. Don’t fight.” Jake whispered the commands very close to the man’s ear. “Are you James Giffen?” He felt the hesitation in the man’s muscles. “Nod if the answer is yes.”
He nodded once.
“We’re getting out of here.”
“Who are you? Where are you taking me? I’m a diplomat. My government—”
Once again, Jake slapped his hand over the man’s mouth and spoke low and slow. The man was sweating profusely from his face. “Be quiet before you alert the other guards. I’m getting you out of here.”
Jake removed his hand, moved to the door, and peeked out the tiny window. No one. Thank goodness the blathering idiot had not caused the other men to come running.
“You can’t hurt me. My government will pay—”
Shit. Didn’t the guy learn. In two strides, he stood beside the sitting man and shoved a hard fist into his square jaw. Jake wiped his gloved hands. That ought to do the trick.
Knowing the guy couldn’t hear him, Jake still answered. “Your government doesn’t give a rat’s ass about you. We don’t negotiate with terrorists. Being an oil-mongering diplomat, you should be aware of that. Shut up if you want to go home in one piece.”
Now his escape was going to be a little more challenging. Jake shrugged. Good thing he was in excellent shape. He picked the man up and swung him over his shoulders in a firefighter’s carry.
At the cell door, he used the light to check his watch. Five minutes left. He would have to haul ass but he could make it. Noiselessly, he opened the cell door, checked both ways, then exited the room, shutting the door behind him and went left toward what he hoped was an empty stairwell. Having done reconnaissance the day before, he knew there was no video surveillance but that in four minutes a guard would be making his way down the stairs as part of his rounds.
He hit the exit door for the stairs, hefted the heavier man higher on his shoulders, and hurried. When he reached the last set of stairs, he heard the upper floor door open, telling him to move.
* * * *
Jake rounded her, touched, stroked, and ran fingers over every sleek curve. Certain that she was in tip-top shape, he licked his lips in anticipation and boarded her. Inside, he pushed and with the roar of a lady tiger, she came to life. “I love you too, Shugar.”
As his Cessna rose off the runway at Dulles International Airport, Jake’s only thought was of getting home to some rest and relaxation, peace and quiet. He had his fill of diplomats for quite some time to come. “Bunch of brown nosing bureaucrats.”
Unfortunately, he had the misfortune of going overseas and scooping up some idiotic business bureaucrat in Armenia who got his balls in a vice when his money and his mouth landed him in a place where he could not get out. Nor, could or would the US Government negotiate his safe return. That is where Jake came in.
Mickey, his boss, sent him to pick up the little turd and return him safely to his home country, the United States. Jake did his job, swiftly and without finesse. Actually, the one high point was when he shoved his fist into the man’s weak jaw. Jake smiled to himself. Maybe he did not have to do it, but it seemed expedient and it beat getting caught or killed.
Having delivered James Giffen to a group of diplomats, bureaucrats, and any other ‘ats’, followed by several hours of debriefing, Jake was on his plane and flying home. “Ah.”
A short hour and a half flight and he would touch down at Manchester Airport in New Hampshire. Thirty minutes after that, he would pull his Jeep into his driveway. Five minutes later, he would be sitting
on his farmer’s porch in his Adirondack chair, a cold beer in hand. Then he and whatever spring creatures decided to join him would watch the sunset and howl at the moon. He was officially off duty and did not have an assignment any time soon. His job was to relax.
THREE
“You’re moving out!” Waldo ordered her an hour ago. “Tonight!” Then it had taken him another hour to convince her it was the right thing to do. She had been compromised and whoever did it meant business. Otherwise, why leave a calling card in the picture of her dead ex-boyfriend.
“I will not find you in the next picture,” he told her, aiming one meaty finger at her. “Pack only what you need.” His brown-eyed gaze swept the room in search of something. “Where’s your weapon?”
Charley reached behind her back and pulled out the Sig-Sauer, held it for his inspection. To her utter surprise, he took it and checked to see that it was loaded.
“Waldo, I’m not inexperienced.”
He shoved the magazine back in and handed her the weapon. “I know. I am just worried. Before you take anything out of this house, I want to sweep it for any tag-alongs. I need thirty minutes to go back to my place and get a device that will do that and make a couple of phone calls.”
“But …”
“Don’t worry about a thing. I have a longtime trusted friend who has an old place for sale. You will go there. Actually, I wanted to tell you about it anyway. You will need another car.”
Charley sat back with her arms crossed over her chest and watched Waldo zoom from topic to topic, barking out orders. Yeah, she could see the military man in him.
“Waldo, I can’t just disappear off the face of the planet. I still have a job to do. I need to find out what happened to Kyle.”
“He’s dead.”
Her head snapped back at his sharp, blunt response. “I want to know who and why.”
Waldo shook his balding head. “Nope. Nuh-uh. Not going to happen. You need to let it drop before you find yourself in that same predicament.”
Staring at the picture, her hands trembled. “Why kill him?” She spoke aloud. “What did he do? And why my father’s Purple Heart?” Her own heart jumped into her throat and lodged there. She blinked and tried to breathe.
“It was because of me,” she murmured then whipped her head up, her gaze meeting Waldo’s.
He nodded once, confirming her suspicion. “Now, please go pack. Keep your weapon handy. I’ll be back in thirty minutes or less.”
Waldo pulled her to her feet, planted his beefy hands on her shoulders and waited for her to acknowledge him.
“You are not responsible for what happened to Kyle. The only person or persons responsible for Kyle are the ones who pulled the trigger. Do you hear me?”
She swallowed hard the lump that waited to choke the breath out of her, but she understood. “Yes.”
“Good. Lock the door behind me.”
Then he was gone.
Realizing Waldo was right, Charley pulled herself together. She put the photo of Kyle into a plastic bag to preserve any evidence then placed it in her laptop case. After that, she went about packing just the necessities. Everything was replaceable. The only things she cared about were mementos and memories. The other stuff was just stuff.
In thirty minutes as promised, Waldo returned with a new SUV courtesy of another longtime friend of his who owned a car dealership. Waldo gave her the paperwork and told her she could send it in once she settled in at her new home.
“No worries. He owes me a favor so he is okay for at least a month. If you need longer just let me know and I’ll take care of it.”
Flabbergasted, Charley stared at the keys he handed her. How could she ever repay him for saving her life?
Waldo touched her chin, lifted it so she gazed into his round face. “Don’t worry. I’ve taken care of everything.”
“I know, but…”
“Nothing. You do not owe me a thing. Friends take care of friends. The real estate agent that is taking care of your new place will take care of getting rid of your condominium for you. No one will know anything. Believe it or not, former military has its privileges and one of them is a terrific network of people. We look out for each other.”
“I’m not former military.”
Waldo’s bright white teeth sparkled in his smile. “No. You’re a friend of one and that’s all that counts.” He cleared his throat. “Now, there’s a GPS in the car already programmed with your new address. Just follow the directions and it will take you straight to Dan Green’s place.”
“Who is Dan Green?”
“Former military mechanic. The man is a genius with automobiles, but even better with planes.” Waldo winked at her. “I should know.”
She hugged him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Charley held on tight until the tears that pushed behind her eyes receded. “Thank you, Waldo.”
Waldo patted her back then held her at a distance. Tears gleamed in his eyes, but like her, he would not let them fall. “Get on out of here. I will expect to see you next Friday for dinner as usual.”
Charley grinned. “Yes, sir.” She saluted him. “I’ll call if I end up being out of town.”
“Git.” He shooed her out of her own house.
* * * *
Driving her new X5 BMW SUV to her new home, Charley realized she had to call Grayson. Waldo would disagree. He would tell her not to but he was her boss after all and he had to have a way to get in touch with her. Shoot! She had no phone. Waldo had crushed her cell phone. She would have to stop for a new one.
Charley located a small wireless shop on her drive, made a quick stop, and walked out with a brand new HTC PDA. It did everything but make coffee. It was a phone, music player, and calendar. It could even send emails and text messages.
She checked her watch. It was not quite nine o’clock. Taking a deep breath, she dialed Grayson’s home number.
“Grayson.”
“It’s Charley.”
There was a heartbeat of silence before he spoke again. “This isn’t your phone number.”
“No. My other phone kind of had an accident. This is a new one with a new number.”
“You didn’t have to get a new number, just the…”
“No,” she interrupted. “I had no choice.”
Again, there was a hush.
“What’s going on, Charley?” His voice seemed gruff to her. She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. Could Grayson be involved? Think, Charley. Think.
“I’m moving.”
“What? When?”
“Now.”
“That seems sudden.”
“Kind of. However, I found a perfect place and I’m moving right now. Following procedure, I am informing you of my immediate change so when you need me you can contact me.”
“How nice.”
“Not really, but I don’t have a choice,” she muttered.
“In the middle of the night? Without any forewarning? That’s not like you.”
The middle of the night? It was only nine. Charley’s eyebrows rose. Had she interrupted something? Someone? On the other hand, maybe Grayson just went to bed. For the briefest of seconds, she felt a pang of guilt about not telling Grayson, her mentor and friend the truth, but Waldo was right. Who could she trust?
“Sorry. It was a last minute opportunity for a wonderful farmhouse and I couldn’t pass it up.” Gnawing her lower lip, she hoped that didn’t sound too over the top.
“Charley?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you going to tell me what is really going on?”
“Nothing.” Her voice pitched up but she got it back under control before she spoke again. “Nothing, Grayson. A friend of mine told me about this house, I fell in love with it at first sight and had to move quickly.”
“So you’re just out buying a new phone and moving on a Friday night.”
“Yup,” she lied with great bravado.
“Enjoy your weekend.”
“Actually, the real reason I called is to request a vacation. Starting now.”
“Vacation? Impossible! Things are heating up in Georgia, I may want you.”
“If you really need me, I’ll be accessible but if someone else can do the jobs, call them. Please, Grayson. It has been forever since I took a vacation and I really would like to move and not live out of boxes for months. Is that too much to ask?” Could she beg or what?
A long sigh came across the phone line. “Fine.”
Ha! He agreed. Yes. Charley did a mental happy dance.
“Thank you. Good night, Grayson.”
Her response was dead air. She shrugged and tossed the phone on the passenger seat. Next stop. Home.
* * * *
Following the directions the GPS spoke to her, Charley made a left hand turn then slid to the right, hit a bump and couldn’t move. She pressed her foot against the accelerator and all that managed to do was make the tire spin and spit up mud.
“Stuck!” She slammed her fist against the steering wheel.
Like she needed this. First, somebody breaks into her condominium, and then she discovered someone had bugged it. Heck, her place had been infested with bugs. Then, breathing through her nose trying to keep from vomiting, she found the photo of Kyle, murdered. She shivered just thinking about it.
For the last thirty minutes, she contended with dark clouds pouring buckets of rain and the rapid swishing of wipers just so she could see out the SUV’s window. Off the major roads, the only illuminating lights were the glow of her headlamps and the intermittent lightning strikes.
Now, thanks to the combination of rain making mud on dirt roads and poor visibility, her tires spun and refused to take hold. In defeat, she laid her head against the wheel and turned off the ignition. Too afraid to call anyone for help, she sat up and readied herself to go out in the pouring rain and see what she could do to get unstuck.
Just as she reached for the door handle, headlights whipped up behind her. She braced her arms against the steering column and waited for the car to crash into her. It didn’t. No sooner had she exhaled a relieved breath than Charley saw someone getting out of the car. Her eyes flared wide. Without looking, she stretched out her right arm and felt her way along the passenger seat until her hand encountered her Sig-Sauer.
Connect the Dots Page 2
