“Who’s the source of the information, sir?” Zeke asked. “Can we trust it?”
“I can’t reveal too much, but an agent who’s gone deep cover has gotten in touch with his handler to say that every criminal gang on the East Coast has been contacted with the hit request.” He sighed. “I wish I could say that our source was unreliable, but he’s not. The intel is good.”
“What does this mean for me, exactly?” Goldie asked. “Do I have to go into the Witness Protection Program until this all blows over?”
“You’re not a witness,” Zeke said. “So you don’t meet the criteria.”
Karl nodded. “Technically, that’s true, but the program will usually accommodate members of law enforcement who have a price on their head. Thankfully, this situation doesn’t happen often, but the rules can be bent to protect our own.”
“So what are we waiting for, sir?” Zeke asked. “Can we get her into a safe house right away?”
“Under normal circumstances, I’d already be organizing a safe house for her, but these are not normal circumstances. Christina has confirmed that Marsha had some inside help today.”
“There’s a mole?” Goldie was shocked. “In the Bureau?”
“Classified information was found in Marsha’s pocket when we searched the body,” Karl replied. “She had the FBI’s Volto case schedule for the day, complete with the names of the agents assigned to the case, your cell numbers and what time you’d be arriving. She obviously had the old schedule because she assumed that Zeke was David McQueen when she watched Officer Diaz let him into the house. She then incapacitated Diaz, assumed his identity and waited for you to arrive.”
“Could she have stolen that information from Officer Diaz himself?” Goldie asked.
“The police officers assigned to the Volto case are provided with limited details,” Karl said. “The FBI is trying to maintain a very tight circle on this case.” He shook his head. “Diaz doesn’t have high-level clearance, so that schedule was either stolen or leaked from further up the chain. It wasn’t a particularly serious breach in terms of information, but it could signal worse leaks to come.”
“I should’ve realized something was wrong when Marsha seemed eager to come inside,” Goldie chastised herself. “I can’t believe she fooled me so easily.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Zeke said. “We’re all human and we all make mistakes.”
Goldie avoided looking directly at him, not wanting to challenge him on his own mistakes and subsequent failure to apologize. Zeke’s face had filled out over the years, his jaw now squarer and his mousy blond hair a little grayer in places, but his eyes remained unchanged, almost transparent blue. Those eyes had the power to transport her back in time, all the way back to Glenside, when she believed that her future was preordained, destined to be shared with the boy of her dreams. How fragile her dream turned out to be, and how simply it shattered. And now Zeke stubbornly and steadfastly refused to acknowledge his part in its downfall.
“We don’t know where Marsha got her information,” Karl said, bringing her back to the present. “It could’ve come from the FBI or the Philly police force, but it means that Christina wants to be supercautious about sourcing a safe house that could easily be compromised. She needs time to find the leak and shut it down.”
“So I just stay here?” Goldie asked. “And make it easy for the hit men to find me?”
“Remaining in this house is the best option for now, especially considering there’s a panic room for emergencies,” Karl said. “It’s just a temporary solution while we make a long-term plan, but we’ll be leaking a fake story internally about you going into hiding in New Mexico. We’re hoping to throw the bounty hunters off your scent.”
Goldie’s heart sank. “That means I’ll have to stay inside and out of sight at all times?”
Karl nodded. “As much as possible, yes. Zeke too. I want him to shadow you.”
Her heart now sank even further, right into her sneakers. “I can take care of myself, sir. I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“He’s not a bodyguard,” Karl said. “He’s your partner. Having a second pair of eyes and ears is the best way to spot any signs of danger.”
“If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d rather that Zeke wasn’t up in my business. That scenario’s not gonna work for me.”
She slid her eyes across to Zeke’s and saw unbridled concern. He was deeply worried.
“This is serious,” he said. “Two million dollars is a huge reward, and it’ll encourage all the sleazebags and lowlifes to hunt you down. Let me help. I’ll be there for you.”
She snorted. “Yeah, cause you did such a good job of being there for me last time, huh?”
“You’re being unreasonable,” he shot back. “I was only seventeen, Goldie, just a kid. What was I supposed to do when you just vanished?”
She couldn’t stop her voice from rising. “Maybe you could’ve intercepted the mailman and picked up my letters before your parents had a chance to destroy them?”
“I had no idea you were even writing me.” He stood up. “This is ridiculous. We literally just agreed to be professional.”
“This sure isn’t professional behavior,” Karl said, switching his gaze between them. “I didn’t realize that you two had such a complicated history, but whatever’s bugging you, let it go. I want to see you working together.” He brought the tips of both index fingers together. “Teamwork, okay?”
Goldie was shamefaced at having lashed out. She was so full of fury and bitterness, and Zeke was bearing the brunt because she had to allocate blame somewhere. And his shoulders seemed like a good fit, especially considering that her father’s shoulders had shrugged off any kind of responsibility.
“I’m sorry for my outburst, sir,” she said, hanging her head. “It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” Karl stood. “Mrs. Volto says she’ll allow you to stay here for the next few days, but she wants her lawyer to negotiate a compensation package with us.” He rolled his eyes. “That shady lawyer sure does love squeezing money out of the FBI.”
“But Goldie’s worth every penny, right, sir?” Zeke said.
“You’re absolutely correct, Agent Miller,” Karl replied. “We’ll spare no expense to keep her out of harm’s way, I can assure you of that.” His cell rang in his pocket, and he headed for the kitchen. “Excuse me, guys, I need to take this.”
Goldie sat silently on the sofa, wondering exactly how much money she would be costing the Bureau. Not only was Mrs. Volto demanding compensation for providing a secure hiding place, but also two new agents were being drafted onto the assignment. The cost would surely run into thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of extra dollars. And contrary to Zeke’s assessment of her value, Goldie knew she wasn’t worth it. Why would she place a high value on herself when God clearly didn’t?
Zeke seemed to read her thoughts. “You are worth it, Goldie. Whatever’s going on between the two of us, you’re still worth fighting for.”
She shook her head. “Stop it.” Kindness always brought her tears to the surface. “I know what I’m worth, and it’s not this huge amount of money.”
She stood up, smoothed down her T-shirt, took a deep breath and added one more brick to the wall. With her emotions running amok after Zeke’s shock arrival into her life, she would have to make herself invincible.
* * *
Zeke sat next to Louisa Volto at the kitchen table while her lawyer, Willy Murphy, sat at her other side. Willy was a shrewd character, well-known in law-enforcement circles by his nickname of “The Mafia Whisperer.” He’d represented many unsavory characters within the criminal underworld, and often successfully fought off charges of murder, extortion, fraud and tax evasion. As a lawyer, he was quite brilliant. As a human being, he was sadly lacking in moral fiber.
Opposite Louisa around
the oval table were Karl and Christina. The special agent in charge of the Philadelphia office didn’t often make field visits, but Willy had insisted on dealing only with the top brass. Christina was clearly irritated at being dragged away from her desk and wanted to deal with the matter promptly.
“I’m sure we’re all incredibly busy,” she said, glancing at her watch. “So let’s get straight down to business, shall we? The Bureau has agreed to a compensation package of ten thousand dollars per day to host Agent Simmons, until we find an alternative solution.”
Goldie gasped, turning quickly on the balls of her feet, red curls bouncing. She was standing in the corner of the kitchen, as if trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. Since learning of the price on her head, she had been quiet and withdrawn.
“That’s a fortune,” she said, joining them at the table. “Mrs. Volto, how can you justify charging the taxpayers such a huge sum simply for letting me stay in your home?”
Louisa smoothed her expensively cut brunette bob and reached for the hand of her lawyer beneath the table, seemingly deferring the question to the expert negotiator.
“Mrs. Volto is taking an enormous risk by allowing you to remain here,” Willy said sharply. “And let’s not forget that she’s helping the FBI to bring down one of the most powerful Mafia families in America. Once the trial is over, she’ll need enough financial capital to employ bodyguards for the rest of her life. This will never be over for her.”
“Or for you, Willy,” Goldie suggested. “You’re a Mafia traitor too, right? What’s in it for you?”
“That’s none of your business.” He turned his head toward Christina. “Ten thousand dollars seems a little low, Agent Phillips. How about we make it twenty?”
Goldie let out a groan of irritation. “Don’t let him railroad you, ma’am,” she said. “You can’t possibly spend that kind of money on me.”
Zeke frowned. There it was again—Goldie’s insinuation that her life wasn’t worth a high cost. He remembered her as someone who was far more certain of her value and place in the world. What had happened to her self-esteem? It seemed to have evaporated.
Christina held out a manicured hand to Willy. “If we can agree to call it fifteen, you got yourself a deal, Mr. Murphy.”
Willy leaned across the table and shook her hand. “I’ll draw up a legal contract today and get it on your desk by 5:00 p.m.”
Goldie sighed. “I think it’s crazy.”
“As I’ve already explained to you, Agent Simmons, witness protection is a very expensive business,” Willy said. “That’s why Mrs. Volto negotiated a settlement whereby she keeps this beautiful house and a sizable sum in the bank. It’s her security.”
“Might I remind you that the FBI offered Mrs. Volto the opportunity to enter the Witness Protection Program,” Christina said. “We could’ve provided all the security that she and her unborn child require.”
Willy let out a snorting laugh. A small man with a mop of baby curls and delicate features, his soft appearance belied his true and ruthless nature.
“Mrs. Volto doesn’t want to end up living on a dusty old plain in Idaho. She’s used to a high standard, and I see no reason why she should give it up.”
Mrs. Volto herself now decided to speak up. “From what I’ve been led to understand, Agent Phillips,” she said crisply to Christina, “the reason that Agent Simmons needs to stay here is because of a mole within law enforcement. Marsha had help in gaining access to my home today, and that fault is on you. Why would I possibly consider entering the Witness Protection Program when you don’t even trust it enough to put one of your own agents in a safe house?”
Christina swallowed and dropped her gaze to the table, apparently unable to deny these truths.
“I admit we’ve identified a weak link somewhere in the chain,” she said diplomatically. “And we’re working very hard to track down the source, but I can assure you that the Witness Protection Program has a strong record of success.” She smiled curtly. “And we don’t resettle clients on dusty plains in Idaho unless they really love potatoes.”
“Well, I want to stay right here in Gladwyne,” Mrs. Volto said. “And I would appreciate receiving payments on a daily basis for Goldie’s room and board. I expect the first one by midnight tonight.”
Christina nodded. “I’ll personally see to it.”
“Let’s go, Willy.” Mrs. Volto stood, still holding her lawyer’s hand. “I have some personal matters to discuss with you in the conservatory.”
Christina began to gather her paperwork. “I should be leaving too. There’s a ton of stuff to do at the office.” She smiled at Goldie. “I’m working on your situation, Agent Simmons. The Witness Protection Program has approved our request, so as soon as it’s safe, we’ll get you moved.”
“But witness protection is only temporary, right?” Goldie asked. “Just until this all blows over?”
“Let’s take it one day at a time,” Christina replied. “And see how things develop.”
“I can’t believe I’m costing the Bureau fifteen grand for every day I stay here,” Goldie said sadly. “And that’s only a fraction of the total cost, I’m sure.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Christina tapped across the tiled floor in her patent heels, accompanied by Karl. “Not only is it vital that we keep you safe, it’s important that we keep Mrs. Volto happy. She takes the stand in two days’ time, and she’s seven months pregnant. The money isn’t important.”
“It’s true,” Zeke said, sliding across to take the seat next to her. “Why do you place such a low value on yourself? Your life is precious, Goldie, and don’t forget it.”
She stared at her hands, fingers intertwined on the table. “I used to think that way too, but I don’t know what changed. I just don’t see myself as important anymore.”
“Why?”
She took a deep breath. “I guess I figured that if God Himself didn’t listen to my prayers, then why should anybody else care about me? I tried to hold on to my faith for a long time, Zeke, I really did, but I could feel it slipping away every day.” She shrugged. “And now it’s gone.”
“I wish I could help.” He took a risk by placing a hand on her shoulder. “That’s gotta be rough.”
She let out a strangled laugh. “Ironically, my lack of faith helped a lot when I was in the army because I turned really reckless and gung ho. I became known as fearless, but it was because I didn’t care about my safety. In the end, I knew I had to leave the military because I’d end up getting myself killed. And since joining the FBI I managed to build up some self-esteem. I was doing really well until...”
He finished her sentence. “Until I showed up.”
“Yeah. You remind me of the dark times I went through. I feel bad about myself again, like I’m not worthy of affection or attention or fifteen thousand dollars a day.”
“You know that I would spend every cent I own on your well-being, right?”
She shook her head almost imperceptibly. “I can’t forgive you, Zeke.”
He clenched his jaw. There was nothing he needed to be forgiven for, because he had done nothing wrong.
“Can’t you just pretend to be sorry?” she asked. “For my sake? Throughout my whole life, nobody’s ever given me an apology for what I’ve been through.”
“Not even your father?”
She snorted a laugh. “Especially not my father. He was released from prison eight years ago and I gave him one last chance to say sorry for his mistakes. Do you know what he said?”
“What?”
“He said he only embezzled the money to give me and my sister a good life. He said I was ungrateful for his sacrifice.”
Zeke was silent for a moment. “He’s a real jerk.”
“Yeah. That’s why I cut him out of my life.”
Zeke could see why his apology matt
ered so much to Goldie. It was about giving her closure on the past, an acknowledgment that she was wronged and treated badly. But it was unfair to focus that negative energy on him.
“I’m not your father, Goldie,” he said. “I’m a good man.”
“Then why can’t you apologize for hurting me?”
“It would be a hollow apology,” he said. “I’ve given a hollow apology once before and it didn’t help anybody, least of all the person who received it.”
As far as he was concerned, Susan had gone unpunished, free of the consequences of her wrongdoing and free to remain an active and respected member of the church. But her sin would surely be eating away at her. He often wondered if he should’ve refused the pastor’s request and dug in his heels instead. But he had chosen the easy path, one that maintained a peaceful congregation.
He would not sacrifice his principles for the sake of harmony again. He was hurt and mad just like Goldie, mostly by her ridiculous assertion that he could’ve done more to track her down after she vanished. Zeke was just a teenager at the time, in the days before social media, with no idea where to start in tracing a missing person. He deserved sympathy too.
If Goldie thought he was going to take the blame for the tragedies of the past, she was sorely mistaken. This time he would plant his feet firmly on the side of truth.
* * *
Goldie stared at the enormous TV screen fixed to the wall in the living room, transfixed by the news report. A reporter was standing at the end of the street, Mrs. Volto’s house visible in the background, police tape closing off the road to vehicles. A heavy police presence was still in the area.
“The wife of alleged mobster Joseph Volto was gunned down by an FBI agent inside this home earlier today,” the reporter said into her microphone.
Hunted by the Mob Page 3
