Never Tempt Danger

by Denise Robbins

  “Whoa,” the man said in a shaky voice, his hands held up in the air palm side out.

  “Who are you?” Gilly demanded to know.

  “I…uh, I…” He swallowed, licking his lips. “I’m the owner.” He pointed at the boarded up restaurant.

  “You have ID?”

  “Sure,” he answered in a quiet almost soothing manner.

  “Slowly,” she warned as the man reached into his back pocket with one hand. Then he brought his wallet forward and held it out to her.

  “Open it.”

  With a flick of his wrist, the leather bi-fold opened. He flipped the wallet around so she could see his driver’s license.

  Gilly read the name, Louis Jardin. “I’m sorry,” she told him, lowering her 9-millimeter and tucked it back into her pants. “Go ahead and drop your hands.” She pressed the air in a downward motion.

  “You a cop?”

  “Not really.”

  The lopsided grin the older gentleman gave her put her at ease. “Anyway, I better get going. Sorry to have scared you.”

  “You’re too pretty to scare me. What’s scary is that shooting that happened here.” He aimed a finger at the toppled table. “Right where you’re standing.” He shook his head. “Such a shame. Nice young man was proposing to his girl that night.”

  Her head snapped up. “You knew Jimmy?”

  “You were his fiancée.”

  Gilly arched a brow. She confirmed his statement with a nod.

  “I thought so.”

  “He loved you very much you know, Maureen.”

  How? “Jimmy told you my name?”

  “Yes. We had a cake ready that night wishing you two a happy future.” He stuck out his hand. “Let me properly introduce myself. I’m Louis Jardin.”

  Gilly eyed Louis and then his outstretched hand. For a moment she considered not taking it then let better manners replace skepticism. She clasped his age-worn hand in hers and she breathed an audible sigh of relief when nothing happened, no bullets flew past their heads, no spooky visions flooded her mind.

  “Maureen, but you already know that.” Offering Louis a warm smile, she asked, “What else did Jimmy tell you?”

  “Oh, you know us men.”

  “Tight-lipped.”

  Louis gave a hearty, deep, belly laugh. If he weren’t so thin Gilly would have sworn the man was Santa Claus, of course, without the white hair and beard.

  “Did Jimmy seem nervous at all when he was here? Mention anything that seemed odd or off to you?”

  “The last day I saw and spoke with Jimmy, besides that evening was a few days before that when he came in to make all the arrangements.” Louis leaned to one side, propped an elbow up with one hand, and rubbed his chin with his other, thinking.

  He lowered his hands to his sides again. “It seems to me he mentioned having an appointment to get his will updated that same day. That seemed more than a little odd. I mean, who would talk about getting married on the same day as preparing for death?”

  “Did he say why he wanted to change his will?”

  “No. That was none of my business.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “After seeing how pretty you are, I can see why he wanted to make certain everything for your future was in order.”

  He beamed at her and Gilly had to return the grin. “Thank you.”

  “Can I buy you a drink? I know the owner of this place,” he said pointing a wrinkled finger at his own restaurant. “We can sneak in and help ourselves.” He gave her a wink.

  Gilly laughed. “Thank you, Mr. Jardin, but I really should be going.” She had already been there much too long. “Another time perhaps.”

  “Louis,” he told her with an incline of his head. “Another time. You take care.”

  She nodded. “You do the same.”

  Louis gave her a two-fingered salute and walked toward the alley between his restaurant and the shoe store next door. Nice man, she thought, and started back up toward the Bronco.

  As soon as she opened the door, her cell phone rang. Without thinking, Gilly picked up her cellular and answered. As soon as she pressed it to her ear, she knew she made a mistake.

  “Garinion?”

  Damn! Just what she needed, her grandfather. She should have known, would have known if she had just not grabbed the phone and answered immediately.

  “Seanathair.”

  “Do not take that tone with me young lady.”

  Gilly opened her mouth to dispute her grandfather’s accusation then snapped it shut again. Let him have his say.

  “What are you doing? You have everyone scared and looking for you.”

  “No one needs to. I’m fine and I’m taking care of what I need to take care of so everyone will be safe.”

  “Tsk, tsk.” He clucked his tongue against his teeth. “I thought you trusted Lucas again.”

  “How?” She rolled her eyes heavenward and shook her head. “Never mind.”

  “Where are you?”

  Gilly glanced over at the restaurant. “I don’t think so.”

  “Give me the phone, Frank.” She heard Jake instructing her grandfather in the background.

  “No, you pain in the… Gilly, honey—”

  “I’ve got to go, Pops.” She turned the key in the ignition. “Please don’t call me again. I’ll be home when it’s all over.”

  “Gilly!” She heard him yell before she flipped the phone closed.

  “I love you too,” she whispered, “but I have to do this on my own.”

  After giving the restaurant one last look, she turned the wheel to pull out into oncoming traffic, and then slammed her foot on the brake. She ignored the incessant ringing of her cell phone as the memory crystallized in her mind.

  Gilly shook her head and pressed the heel of her palms into her eye sockets. “This could not be.” What the heck was wrong with her? She had sensed the killer. OH—MY—GOSH! Somehow, she didn’t know how, she knew Jimmy’s murderer. She had sensed the killer.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “We need to step back and look at this from the beginning,” Lucas told Mickey and Waldo. Her job done, Charley took off for another assignment. “What do we know?”

  “We know Troy did not kill anyone.”

  Lucas nodded his agreement. “Whoever the killer is does not want Gilly dead, presumably because he needs her.”

  “At least for a period of time,” Waldo said.

  The very idea that someone would use and then lethally dispose of Gilly chilled Lucas to his bones. He would not let that happen. “Why does this person need her? According to Gilly, anyone with some training could eventually control the robots with the neural network.”

  “But she didn’t need the visor or helmet to make it work,” Mickey reminded him.

  Lucas held up a finger. “There is one other thing that makes Gilly stand out. Only Jimmy, Daniel, and Maureen knew how to build the robot.”

  Waldo sucked in a sharp breath.

  “It has to be someone who worked on or around the DARPA project. There is no other explanation.”

  He thumped his forehead with the palm of his hand. “It has to be someone with that project because she sensed, saw, whatever it’s called, the shooter.”

  “What? How do you know that?”

  “It was the way she explained the evening Jimmy died to me and the vision she had. Something in the words she chose to describe it made me believe she felt the killer’s presence, not felt something going to happen to Jimmy.”

  “How many more people are left on her team?” asked Mickey.

  “Three. Mark, Allen, and Tim.”

  “Okay, we’ll start with chasing them down and finding out what they know.” Mickey stood and opened the door. “In the meantime, you need to get some rest. You look like crap.”

  Lucas shook his head. “I can’t rest and you need the help.”

  The lopsided grin Mickey gave him told Lucas that Mickey did not intend to run down the other team memb
ers by himself. He would use his fiancée, Ruby.

  “He’s got me too,” Waldo added.

  They started to step out of the office when Lucas said, “Wait. We’re forgetting another set of players that are involved.”

  Mickey’s brow knit. “Who?”

  “DARPA. Who in DARPA is working on this project?”

  “To be honest, I don’t even know the name of the project. Do you?”

  “No, Gilly never mentioned it. The only other thing she told me about the work was that she dealt with a program manager.”

  “No name?”

  Lucas shook his head. “We need that information.” He snapped his fingers and reached for his cellular. The phone rang before he could jerk it out of his pocket.

  He answered. “Danger.”

  “She went back to the restaurant where Jimmy was shot,” Gilly’s grandfather said without preamble.

  “Frank?”

  “Yes.”

  “What? Why? How do you know?”

  “Lucas, just go find my granddaughter and keep her safe or you will answer to me.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “Goodbye.”

  “Wait,” he shouted. “Do you know the name of the project Gilly was working on for DARPA?”

  “Aigh robo,” Frank mumbled in his Irish lilt. “Robo, uh, ceimiceach. Chembot.”

  The phone went dead before he could say another word.

  “I’ve got a lead on Gilly.” He shoved the cellular in his pocket. “I need a car.”

  Mickey tossed him the keys to his Porsche. “It’s parked on the far side, back row.”

  Lucas snatched the keys from the air and took off. “Jardin’s Bistro where Jimmy was shot,” he yelled over his shoulder. “And find out who is in charge of the Chembot project at DARPA.” He ran.

  * * * *

  Someone she knew wanted the robot and to hurt everyone she loved. It was time to finish DANGR and deliver it. The sooner the better. Gilly picked up her cell phone from the car seat next to her, flipped it open, and hit a speed-dial number.

  “Mitchell Zakin’s office,” his secretary answered. “Nancy speaking.”

  “Hi, Nancy. This is Maureen Gillman.”

  “Oh, hi, Maureen. I am so sorry to hear about Jimmy,” she said lowering her voice to a whisper. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

  “You just let me know if there is anything I can do.”

  “I…I will. Thanks. Is Mitchell available to talk for a few minutes?”

  “Sorry, but he left for the day and won’t be back until Monday morning just in time for the final submissions and demos for the Chembot project.” Nancy clucked her tongue. “Don’t tell me you aren’t going to make it. Oh, Maureen.”

  “No, that’s not it. I’m ready.” Or she would be as soon as she had a solid hour to sit tight some place and make a few tweaks to DANGR.

  “Did you need to speak with him before Monday?”

  “Yes, I really do.”

  “Well, hold on a second.”

  Sweet Home Alabama played in Gilly’s ear as she waited on hold. A couple of minutes later, Nancy returned.

  “The boss has company, but Mitchell said to just stop by his place after eight tonight and he would see you.”

  “Oh.” Gilly chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Nonsense, if Mr. Zakin didn’t want you there he would not have extended the invitation. Now, let me give you his address and directions. You have a pen and paper?”

  “Hold on.” Gilly pulled to the shoulder and located paper and pen in her purse. “Okay, shoot.” She jotted down the address and the directions, thanked Nancy for her help, and hung up. Checking her watch, Gilly noted the hour and calculated the time she had to finish her work on the robot, get cleaned up, and make it to Fairfax by eight o’clock.

  “Just barely,” she muttered and pulled out onto the road. After a quick U-turn, she was headed in the right direction.

  * * * *

  Lucas parked Mickey’s black Porsche outside the restaurant. Shit! He saw no sign of Gilly or her vehicle. He alighted from the sports car and strode across the street. He just stepped up onto the sidewalk when he noticed the disaster. A bolt of fear struck him. His heart beat faster and his gut turned as he realized what Gilly had survived. Covering his mouth with his hand, he suppressed the bile that rose in his throat. The photographs had spared him from the reality of her nightmare.

  Standing there amongst the toppled tables and chairs, the blood-splattered ground, he could picture the whole scene. With his eyes closed, he imagined a strolling violinist, white tablecloth, sparkling china, and Gilly, her copper hair shining in the candle light smiling at the man sitting across from her.

  Then BAM! He imagined an explosion of bullets and squealing tires, followed by blood, lots of blood and brain matter. She would have felt it all. All of it would have hit her, in the face, the body. The shock would have sent any other person over the edge.

  Guilt and jealousy assailed him. If he had not walked out on Gilly in the first place, none of this would have happened. She would have been with him. She would have been safe. “I’m sorry,” he murmured running fingers across the back of a chair.

  Lucas spun, weapon drawn. The creaking sound of the red door to the bistro opening pulled him from his trance. An older man with silver hair stepped out.

  “You missed her.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Maureen. You missed her.”

  “How do you know Maureen?” he asked with a lift of one brow.

  “After she pulled a mean looking 9-millimeter on me much like yours, we spoke for a few minutes.”

  Lucas’s lips curved up on one side. He tucked the weapon back in its holster.

  “Did she say anything? Give you a hint as to where she was headed?”

  “No. She asked a few questions that I answered and then she left.”

  “Would you mind sharing with me what you two discussed?”

  The older man, who introduced himself as Louis Jardin told him everything he knew which wasn’t much.

  “I got the impression Maureen wanted to recreate that horrific night in her mind, replay it, and understand why and how it happened.” The man paused then spoke again. “Much the same as you were doing.”

  Is that what he was doing? Lucas glanced back at the table and chairs, the blood. Yeah, in his mind, that night seemed too clear and too real.

  His cell rang. “Thank you, Mr. Jardin. I have to go.” He shook the older man’s hand and turned to leave. He fished out the phone and answered it as he unlocked the car.

  “Danger.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Just leaving the restaurant,” he told Mickey as he climbed behind the wheel of the Porsche. “I can’t wait for Ruby to dig up a name. I’m heading to the DARPA office now.” He should have gone there first.

  “Ruby got the name.”

  Something in his boss’s tone warned him he was about to hear something he would not like. “Who?”

  When he heard the name, the blood in his veins seemed to chill. He dropped the cell phone and switched the ignition. Without looking for oncoming traffic, he jerked the wheel and gunned the car into the flow of traffic.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Gilly showered first then wrapped in a hotel robe, did some last minute programming tweaks on her robot. Inside the small hotel room, she tested DANGR as well as she could. Once again, she put the transforming android through its paces. She watched in astonishment and pride as DANGR discovered the layout of the room so it only ran into the dresser and the bedposts once. It also learned to morph into the various shapes she had programmed depending on what it wanted to do. She even filled the tub up with water in order to test its ability to switch to an octopus.

  The biggest and best test was when Gilly hid the blue velvet box she had pocketed from outside Louis Jardin’s restaurant. She secreted it away inside the
closet so DANGER would have to morph to its smallest scale. Then she gave the robot the instructions to locate and verbally report the location of the package.

  Even now, standing in front of the mirror blow-drying her hair, Gilly could not help the smile that slid across her face as she thought of the tiny chembot puppy shape shifted into a caterpillar and inched its way under the closet door. Two seconds later, its mechanical voice echoed behind the closed door. “Target found.” At that point, she used the neural network without the use of the sensor visor and mentally instructed the robot to return to base.

  In her opinion, she had achieved the goal of the program, plus what Jimmy had set out to accomplish. She developed a payload-carrying soft robotics platform that could be used in military operations to access denied territory through small openings and perform functions.

  “Okay, DANGR,” she said tucking the robot into its crate, “let’s get this show on the road.”

  With one firm snap of the case, she grabbed the handle, her purse, and headed out. Her belly flip-flopped as she crawled in behind the wheel of the Bronco and started the engine. She was nervous.

  The closer she drew to her destination, the worse her stomach felt. It was as if she were going out on her first date all over again. What a disaster that had been!

  Craig Zeller, with his dark hair and dark eyes, and superior brain, picked her up in his 1970 something shit brown Maverick to take her to dinner and a movie. “Ha!” She laughed. To this day, that was still the ugliest car she had ever ridden in. The dinner had gone well, not that he could go too wrong with pizza and soda. Heck, even now that was a major staple in her diet. It was at the movie when the evening took a deep nosedive. Up until the lights dimmed in the theatre, Craig had been a perfect gentleman. “For a snake.”

  Gilly took the exit ramp off the highway and continued to recall that ill-fated date. Craig bought them a big tub of buttered popcorn and a large cola to share then found the perfect seats away from the rest of the audience. Halfway through the film, he slipped his arm behind her and pulled her closer so her shoulder touched his, what she supposed, was his manly chest.