by F J messina
“Yes, and the entrance they walked through is right here.” She pointed at the center of the screen.
“And that’s the same entrance the truck backs into?”
“Uh huh.”
Now it was Brad pointing. “Do you see this electronic gear on the roof?”
Sonia squinted at the image. “Yeah.”
“That’s pretty damn high-tech for satellite TV. I’m guessing they have a very sophisticated communications system in that house.” He looked at her. “Are there any outlying buildings on the property?”
“I don’t know.” Sonia was a little embarrassed that she hadn’t asked herself that question. Then she realized she hadn’t needed to. She was only there to watch Marcos Torres.
“That’s all right. We’ll check Google Maps.” Brad checked his rearview mirror.
She looked at him. “Okay, but that’s not always totally up to date, is it?”
Brad checked his side mirror. “The version I check is.” He put the car in gear. “Okay, let’s go. I got what I needed.”
Sonia looked away. You mean what we needed. She remained silent.
They took off down Pisgah Pike. Sonia couldn’t resist. “So, you have your own personal version of Google Maps?” She was caught between being in awe and just plain pissed.
“Not really, just access to a version that most of the public doesn’t have.”
Sonia waited for more, but nothing came. Her foot started tapping. Finally, she asked, “And that’s possible how?”
He shrugged. “Some old acquaintances.” He turned left at the castle.
Sonia tipped her head and turned toward Brad. Okay Mr. Hotshot, you want to play this game again? “And who would those old acquaintances be?”
“Just some guys I used to work with.”
“I thought you said you just got out of the Marines.”
“That’s true.” His eyes remained on the road.
“So, you had, what, a part-time job on the side?” Her foot tapped faster.
“No, ma’am.”
“So exactly when did you work with these guys?”
He checked his mirrors. “While I was in the Marines.”
“So, they were in the Marines too?”
“No, ma’am, they weren’t.”
She took a deep breath. “So, you were in the Marines, but you worked with guys who were not in the Marines?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
This “ma’am” crap was driving her crazy. Both feet were going now. “So, who the hell were these guys?”
“NCIS ma’am.”
“NCIS? Like in the TV show?” Her feet were playing conga on the floorboard.
“No, ma’am. NCIS. Like for real.”
“So, you were in the Marines, and they were in NCIS, and they just gave you access to things that they use? Why would they do that?” She heard the snarky tone of her voice and didn’t care. She was looking right at him.
“Because I was NCIS as well.”
“What?” Her feet stopped. “I thought you were in the Marines?”
“I was ma’am.”
Sonia stomped her foot on the floor. “Explain yourself, Marine!”
There were several moments of silence before Brad relented. His voice was calm and a bit demeaning. “Listen, the Marines are technically part of the Navy. NCIS stands for Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Most of the folks with NCIS are not in the military, but there were two hundred or so of us who were in the Navy or Marines and assigned to NCIS.
“I told you I was in combat in Iraq. After we’d completed our mission, I was very disturbed by what happened next. We were the best fighting force the world had ever seen, but with all the constraints on us, and given the impossible mission of trying to turn modern-day tribal warfare into a democracy, we had no chance of succeeding. Eventually, I asked for a transfer. I had a background in electrical engineering, that’s what I studied at UK. Somehow that all came together and I was transferred to NCIS.”
“Your background in electrical engineering got you into NCIS?” Her voice sounded somehow accusatory.
Brad looked at her for a moment, then turned back to his driving. “Listen, when someone says, ‘Gain access to that facility,’ and so on, that usually means someone has to override a security system. Nowadays that can usually be done by hacking into it with a computer. When I first joined NCIS, we were still doing that by getting in there and messing with it manually. Knowing how electrical systems worked came in very handy. It still can.”
By then they were back on East Main and approaching Magee’s parking lot. Sonia’s brain was swimming. He was a Marine. He was NCIS. He was hot and apparently pretty damn well off. And sometimes─he was a total jerk. Sonia crossed her arms. Damn, I need a cup of coffee . . . or maybe something stronger.
Brad turned the car into Magee’s parking lot, interrupting her thoughts. “I’ll pick you at zero three hundred hours. Be dressed for walking through a field or two.”
“When? Why?”
Brad turned those bright blue eyes on her. “Three AM, dear. We’re going to place some additional surveillance devices on the farm, and it usually works best to do it while no one is watching.” He let out a snarky sigh of frustration.
Sonia climbed out of the car. She wanted to kick his damn tires. Jerk. Still, that was real progress. She had to keep herself focused on the goal, finding out what happened to John Abbott Hensley.
“Three,” she said, before closing the door─still reluctant to accept being told what to do. “Where shall we meet?”
“I’ll pick you up at your place.”
“But I haven’t told you where I live.”
Brad just looked at her with those eyes.
“Got it. Three AM.” She closed the door.
17
By four thirty-eight in the afternoon, Sonia had made it up the steps to the BCI offices. It had already been a hell of a day. As she pushed the door open and walked in, she saw Jet sitting at her desk.
Jet looked up and waved Sonia into her office. “Well, if it isn’t Amelia Earhart, back from the dead. Where have you been all day?”
Sonia blew a wisp of hair out of her face. She studied Jet, looking for signs that she might have accepted Sonia’s choice to engage Brad Dunham in her search for the truth─Sonia certainly hoped she had. After a close inspection of Jet’s expression, she didn’t see the hurt that she’d seen on her partner’s face the other day. Hmm. I think she’s over it. Sonia sat down in Jet’s red chair and relived the day for Jet, starting with the pretty amazing meeting with Brad Dunham. She felt herself getting a little emotional as she shared the stories of Brad’s dad and mom losing their lives and how it shaped his moral compass─“doing the right thing.”
Sonia then told Jet about going into Magee’s for coffee and the surprise visit from Detective Sergeant Johnny Adams. Finally, she recounted the trip to Dahlia farm, the Corvette, the cameras, and the revelation that Brad had spent all those years with NCIS.
Jet tipped her head. “NCIS? Like the TV show?”
“NCIS. Like for real,” Sonia answered, mimicking Brad’s answer to the same question. She glanced at the concealed carry license hanging on Jet’s wall, next to the picture of both them at the range. She tried to sound matter-of-fact. “He’s going to pick me up at zero three hundred hours to go put surveillance devices on the farm . . . and I’ve got to be dressed for field work.”
Jet had listened intently the whole time. Now, however, a smile broke out on her face. “GI Joe is gonna take you on a late-night recon mission, at, what was it, zero alpha delta bogie hour?” She laughed.
Sonia ignored Jet’s comment. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I guess the military time thing is just an old habit for him. Still, you really do get the feeling this guy knows what he’s doing. And the car? With the cameras? Dang, he’s into the latest stuff. You should see the equipment he has in his office.”
Jet’s chin dipped downward and she looked over her imaginary gl
asses. “Yeah, but what does he have in his brain?”
“Oh, he’s smart. He’s really smart. And his heart? Did you hear what I told you about his ‘doing the right thing?’ ”
Jet pushed her chair back from her desk, letting it roll freely a few inches. “Heart, schmart. You’re leaving something out. I can tell. I want the deets, spill it.”
Sonia’s mind drifted back to her first meeting with Brad. He’d been hard and sharp, like a rock; yet he could be soft and sensitive─the proverbial iron fist in the velvet glove. And those eyes . . . . “Well, he does have the most intense blue eyes you’ve ever seen. And the rest?” She made a big circle with her finger. “Yeah, it’s pretty intense too. I’ve got to tell you that when he was sharing that story about his dad, and then his mom, I just wanted to hold him . . . and I’m not sure it was entirely for altruistic reasons.”
“Oh, do tell.” Jet sat up straighter and scooted her chair back to her desk. “He’s pretty delicious, is that what you’re saying?”
“Oh, trust me, I’d take him over one of Magee’s almond croissants any day.”
They both broke out into full-throated laughter. Shortly, Sonia shook her head. “But he can be a real jerk too. The way he ran me through the wringer in his office . . . his assumption that only he could drive us out to the farm─although he is the one with the cameras mounted in his car. And then, as I was trying to understand how he got his hands on all that stuff, all I could get was, ‘Yes, ma’am,’ ‘No, ma’am,’ ‘Yes, ma’am.’ He was driving me crazy.”
“Well, honey,” Jet’s voice was all maple syrupy, “you’ve got to take the good with the bad. And it sounds to me like there’s plenty-o-good to go around there.”
“True, true.” Sonia began absently straightening a pile of papers on Jet’s desk.
Jet reached out and put her hand on Sonia’s. “Now what’s the deal with this Detective Sergeant Johnny Adams? Are you getting any vibes from him?”
“Oh, yes, but not so much about the case.” Sonia slipped her hand out from under Jet’s. “The biggest vibe I get from him is that he wants to jump my bones.”
Jet’s eyebrows went up. “No shit. Go on.”
Sonia ran her hand through her hair. “Well, like I said before, he came into Magee’s to,” she wiggled her fingers in the air, “ ‘sit and enjoy a cup of coffee.’ Then within a millisecond, he’s walking toward me like I’ve got a ‘Sailors Welcome’ sign hanging around my neck.
“And?”
“And what?”
“Don’t hold back on me, girl. You wishin’ you had a ‘Sailors Welcome’ sign handy?”
Sonia’s smile was coy. “Well, I do have to say, he’s no sack-a-potatoes. He’s tall, thin, has a nice smile. He’s attractive but not rugged, more clean-cut than anything. And quiet. Quiet and unassuming. Yeah, he’s nice. But I’m not sure I trust him either. That stuff, when he came to the office and wouldn’t answer my questions? And then he shows up at the press conference and ‘warns’ me,” Sonia made quotation marks in the air with her fingers, “ ‘so I won’t get in trouble.’ I don’t know; it’s all just a bit confusing.”
“Well, well, well. Looks like my partner’s drought is over, one man after another pouring life-giving rain down upon her wilting blossoms, trying to get next to her. And meanwhile,” Jet’s voice became airy and sad, “I’m left here alone.” She paused, then leaned back in her chair, elbows on the armrests. Her voice strengthened. “You know, we’ve got three other clients and I’m dealing with them all by myself. And that doesn’t even count Marcos Torres and Bob Dylan.” She turned her palms upward as if pleading for an answer. “Are you ever going to be able to get enough time away from your admirers to help me? Any chance we could make this business something like a profitable endeavor? Are we ever going to wrap up the Torres and Dylan cases?”
Sonia felt a pang of guilt though she knew Jet was half-kidding. She had gotten so involved with the John Hensley case, not that it was really a case, that she had stopped working on everything else. “I’m so sorry. I promise. After tonight I’ll get back to work that pays. It’s not fair, you having to do all the work that actually brings in money.”
“Don’t worry about it, really.” Jet smiled at her and flipped her hand across her face. “Look, it wasn’t your fault that you were sitting out there when Hensley bought it. We said the other day that you can’t just let this go. Maybe you should give yourself a break and follow Mr. Hotshot’s mantra: just do the right thing. Ol’ Jet will keep the home fires burning. Yes, she will.”
Sonia stood up. She needed some rest before her 3:00 AM mission. “I’ve got to get home and get a little sleep. I need to straighten up the place, too.” She stopped. She could clearly hear her Italian mother asking her if the place was ready for company. Really? Am I that woman? She walked out the door and down the steps. This has turned into one crazy mess.
18
Sonia lived in a one-bedroom carriage-house apartment over a garage on Central Avenue, just blocks away from Magee’s. At 2:55 AM she was standing outside at the curb. It was cold, but she had come dressed in warm clothing, all black, a black quilted vest, and comfortable shoes, ready for “field work.” She had a travel cup of hot coffee in her hand. At precisely 3:00 AM, Brad Dunham, Mr. Semper Fi, ex-Marine, ex-NCIS, Mr. Hotshot, pulled up in his new Corvette. It was such a deep, dark blue that it looked black in the half-moon night.
“Hop in, agent.” He took off while the door was still closing.
Sonia didn’t know if he were just teasing her, or if he had slipped into his professional personae. Does he really think of me as an agent on his team? “I assume you have everything we need?” She regretted the comment immediately. Of course he has everything he needs. She’d just had the need to say something and that’s what came out. Just keep your damn mouth shut.
Brad never said a word as they drove, and his silence was certainly increasing her apprehension about this evening’s plan. Sonia furrowed her brows. Maybe that’s exactly why professionals operate this way. It’s a form of psyching yourself up for a difficult challenge.By then they were at the castle and Brad was turning onto the road that would lead them directly to Dahlia Farm. “ETA one minute,” he said quietly and without emotion. Sonia felt a chill run down her spine.
Brad drove past the farm and turned into the pull-off that Sonia had been using for her stakeouts. He reached into the tiny space behind Sonia’s seat and pulled out a leather bag. Taking out a tin marked “Camouflage Face Paint,” he handed it to Sonia. “Put this on your hands and face.”
Sonia recoiled. “You’re kidding, aren’t you? We don’t really need to put this stuff on, do we?”
Brad’s look was serious, his voice terse. “Do you have any idea how the human face reflects light, even on a night like this? If they have any kind of sophisticated cameras at all, they’ll see you from three hundred yards out. You’ve got to cover up. Just get that stuff on and let’s get moving.”
Sonia’s heart rate rocketed into high gear. Ho-ly shit. This is no place for . . . I don’t want to do this. Crap!
“Get a move on!” Brad whispered with sudden authority. “But be careful with that stuff. If you get it on the leather, I’ll never get it out.”
Without thinking further, Sonia opened the tin and started applying the camouflage paint to her face. It felt slick and smelled like old bacon grease. Soon she was done. “Now what?”
“Your hands. Do the tops of your hands as well.”
She didn’t even ask. She rubbed the greasy stuff all over the tops of her hand, but was totally lost as to where to wipe them. She struggled, just barely managing to put the lid back on the tin. “I think I’m ready.”
Brad reached over and took the tin. He started, in his most serious whisper, “Listen, I need you to get out of the car here. It’s only about a half click to the back of the barn—”
“Click?”
“Kilometer.” He let out a small sigh. “About a half mile.�
� He pointed into the darkness. “It’s straight through that field. I can’t afford for them to confront you if you approach the barn straight on with me. When you’ve made your way to the barn, if you haven’t encountered any alarms or lights, I want you to work your way to the front. Come around on the side away from the house.”
Sonia was almost panicked. She wanted to write these instructions down somehow. What if I forget? What if I don’t know if there’s an alarm or not?
“When you get there, I’ll be waiting by the front door to the barn. Now, if I’m not there, you wait three minutes. If I still don’t show, then something’s gone wrong. Just get the hell out of there. Head for the road first, then turn left and come to the car. I’ll leave the fob in the car, so all you have to do is put your foot on the brake and push the start button. Then drive like hell. Go directly to police headquarters and tell them what’s happened. You got that?”
Sonia nodded her head. She couldn’t speak.
“Really, do you have those instructions? I’ve got to know you’re clear on everything.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ve got it.” She didn’t believe herself.
“Okay then, out you go.” His voice was soft but husky. “I’ll meet you at the barn just after zero-three-thirty. Now go!”
Brad reached across her and unlatched the door. Sonia opened it with her elbow and carefully climbed out, closing the door gently with her hip. Swallowing her fear, urging herself forward, she crawled through one of the horse farm fences, out into the field. Fortunately, the wind was relatively calm. Still, at three-fifteen in the morning, in early spring, it was pretty damn cold. There was no snow on the ground, but the grass crunched beneath her feet. At the same time, her feet sank into the not quite frozen ground. All in all, it made for difficult walking, even in comfortable shoes.
As Sonia slogged on, her mind raced. Go to the barn. Look for alarms. No alarms, walk around to the front. Come on the side opposite the house. Not there, wait three minutes. Still not there, get the hell out. Go to the car. Drive to the police. Sonia was glad that she did, at least know how to drive a stick-shift car. Still, her mind was swimming.
