Villains and Vixens

by Charles Dougherty

  "I'm worried, Finn," Mary said, as we waited.

  "Try not to be. It'll come out all right."

  "But what if — "

  "Finn? Mary?" Aaron came back on the line.

  "Yes," we said, in chorus.

  "Bob? Mike?" Aaron asked.

  "Yes," Mike Killington said.

  "Welcome back, Mary," Bob Lawson said.

  Mary swallowed hard. "Thanks, Bob. You sure that welcome's not premature?"

  "Yes. We've already talked that over. Finn wouldn't have made this call with you on the line if things weren't all right."

  Mary looked at me, her face pale, her eyes big and round.

  I muted the microphone on my phone. "Take a deep breath and drive. Trust me. You'll come through this okay."

  When I switched the microphone back on, Mary said, "Thanks. I'm driving, so Finn's going to explain."

  "You're up, Finn," Mike said. "Fill us in."

  "Okay. Here's the overview. Whatever it was they shot Mary up with when they snatched her in Charleston, coupled with the trauma of it all, caused a breakdown. She lost her bearings, knew she was in trouble, and headed for Gainesville. She's been in the care of a psychiatrist here who treated her back when she was a student, and she's recovered, mostly."

  "In a month?" Mike asked. "I'd think you would need to be in therapy longer, Mary."

  "The diagnosis was a brief psychotic disorder," I said. "Typically lasts anywhere from a day to a month, I'm told. But there's more, and that's why we're on the run."

  "You're on the run?" Mike asked. "Why? Somebody's after you?"

  I gave them a brief version of everything that happened this morning. "Given that Lavrov's probably behind this morning's events, we thought it would be best to hit the road."

  "That sounds like the right decision," Mike said. "You have a destination in mind?"

  "No, but we're headed south," I said. "I figured somewhere in the Miami area, for a start. Also, I'm hoping you can fix Mary up with an in-house shrink. Mary's therapist was pushing her to sit down with me and start putting everything back together. And her doc didn't know what we do for a living. It would be good if you can find somebody like we used to have back when I worked for the government."

  "You're in luck on that one," Bob said. "We just brought Jill Hardwick on board. You remember her, Finn?"

  "Yes. She's the one I was thinking of. That's perfect. How are we going to make this happen?"

  "Aaron," Mike asked, "is the lodge usable?"

  "Yes. The renovations are all finished. But there's no staff."

  "That should be all right. For this, we're better off without staff. Finn and Mary and Jill can fend for themselves. Can you get somebody to stock the pantry and get three of the cabins ready for occupancy by tonight?"

  "I can do that."

  "Good," Mike said. "Bob and I will brief Jill and have her meet the three of you there. You don't need to stay once everybody's settled, Aaron. Or you can; suit yourself."

  "I'll stay the night, anyway," Aaron said. "I can play it by ear from there."

  "Anything else?" Mike asked.

  "I have some things I want Aaron to chase down," I said. "Otherwise, nothing else."

  "Okay, I'm going to drop off," Mike said. "Mary, welcome back. We were worried about you. I'll be in touch."

  "Thanks, Mike," Mary said.

  "Yes, thanks," I said.

  There was a click as Mike disconnected, and then Bob spoke. "I'm glad you're back with us, Mary. But I never doubted that you would be. Finish getting well; we've got a backlog of work for the two of you."

  "Sorry if I've held things up," Mary said. "I wouldn't have been of much use, the shape I was in."

  "Understood. We'll talk again soon, you and I. Goodbye for now." Bob disconnected.

  "Okay," Aaron said. "I've got my work cut out to get the lodge ready. What do you need?"

  "We want to know how Lavrov found Sam Peterson," I said. "I didn't go into all the details with Mike and Bob. Mary had trouble coping with her new career after she turned pro a few years ago. Her broker recommended Peterson as somebody who could help. They trusted her, but they cautioned against sharing anything the doctor would be obligated to report to law enforcement."

  "Okay. That's enough to get me started. Maybe this evening you can fill in some blanks if need be. Anything else?"

  "Yes. I want to know how Sam's doing," Mary said.

  "All right. That should be simple enough. I'll want to find out what the police are up to; we need to make sure this is Lavrov's work. Their files will tell us what you want to know, I'm sure. If not, we'll hack the hospital's system. What else?"

  "That's it from our end," I said. "But where is this lodge?"

  "I'll send you a text with a map and GPS coordinates; that's the only way you'll ever find it. What kind of car are you driving?"

  "A rental," I said. "Why?"

  "What kind of rental?"

  "A silver Nissan SUV. Why?"

  "The last few miles are unimproved dirt road through the swamp. I'm not sure how a standard sedan would fare, but you should be fine with an SUV. See you this evening."

  "Bye, Aaron," Mary said.

  "Drive carefully, you two." And with that, Aaron was gone.

  "What do you think?" I asked, putting the phone in the center console.

  "They seemed to take it in stride," Mary said. "But I know I'm not out of the woods, yet."

  "Nobody's ever out of the woods with Mike and Bob," I said. "Comes with the territory."

  "You know what I mean, Finn. I felt somebody walking over my grave when Bob said that."

  "Said what?"

  "'Finn wouldn't have made this call with you on the line if things weren't all right.'"

  She turned and looked at me briefly, her face going pale again. Looking back at the road, she swallowed hard.

  "Don't let that upset you. You're reading more into it than — "

  "No, Finn. You're trying to make me feel better, and I appreciate that. But I need to keep in mind that I'm only alive because you three think I can be redeemed."

  "Don't get yourself worked up over this, Mary. I made my decision about you yesterday when you leveled with me about Charleston."

  "That's just great, Finn," she said, in a sharp tone. "What more could a girl want? The man I love tells me he decided to let me live for a while longer. It doesn't get much better than that."

  "Mary, it wasn't like that. You're — "

  "It was like that. Don't make it worse by trying to sugarcoat it. And don't tell me how I should feel about it, either. I'm the one who determines how I feel. I understand the position you're in, you and Bob and Mike. If I'm off the rails, I'm a big liability to you. That doesn't mean I'm comfortable with it. It's scary as hell."

  "What do you want me to say?"

  "Nothing. I want you to listen to me; you're the only one I can talk to."

  "Okay. Even though I'm scary?"

  "You're not scary. It's this whole mess that's scary. I know what you are; you and I are more alike than different. I can't know what it would be like to be put in the position you were in. But if our roles were reversed and I were told to decide whether to take you out, I can guess how I would feel. A big part of me would be heartbroken, but that wouldn't stop me from killing you if it were necessary. Is that where you are?"

  "Not any longer, but yes. That's an accurate enough picture of where I was."

  "That's so awful, Finn. For you to be put in that position, I mean. And it's my fault. I'm so sorry."

  "It's not your fault, Mary. You didn't choose to get shot up with some drug that induced psychosis. Blame Lavrov. He's the one who put us in this situation."

  "I was careless enough to let them — "

  "Let it go, Mary."

  She gripped her lower lip between her teeth, focusing on the traffic, not saying anything. After a few minutes, she said, "Okay. I'm in control. I've got a grip on myself. Thanks for putting up with me. Guess I
'm still a basket case. But I will get better. I promise."

  "I believe you. You're one tough lady. Scary, even."

  She flicked her eyes toward me for a quick look. Deciding I wasn't mocking her, she asked. "Scary, huh? Really?"

  "Really. I've seen what you can do when you're mad."

  "Mad's the right word," she said. "And I don't mean angry. What I did to those people in Charleston? That was madness at work."

  "'Out, out, damned spot … '" I said.

  She took her hands off the wheel for a moment, pretending to wash them. Returning her left hand to the wheel, she held her right under her nose, sniffing it. "'Here's the smell of the blood still. All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand,'" she said.

  "You know Macbeth. Act V, Scene I, anyway," I said.

  "I told you once before that I minored in theater. Of course I know Macbeth. I even understudied the role of Lady Macbeth for a campus production. I'm surprised you placed my response, though. And why did you toss out that clichéd line, anyway? Everybody's heard that one, but most people don't know where it comes from."

  "It fits. Your madness reaches beyond the killing, just like Lady Macbeth's. I keep telling you, Lavrov and his people put you in that position. You shouldn't … oops. I was about to tell you how to feel, again."

  "It's okay. Finish your thought."

  "Their blood may literally be on your hands, but at the risk of provoking you, I would say you weren't in control when you killed the people aboard Anastasia."

  "I'm working on that, still," she said. "I understand the logic, but accepting that I wasn't responsible for my actions isn't easy. It means I have to admit that I'm not always in control of what I do; that's difficult for me."

  "I can understand that. And you couldn't go into detail about that with Sam, could you?"

  "No. That was awkward. She and I both knew there was something I wasn't telling her. That must have frustrated her, but she never let it show. I gather you know this Jill Hardwick. Is that right?"

  "Yes. I told you I went through periodic psychiatric evaluations when I worked for the government. She was our in-house shrink."

  "Really? There were enough people like you to justify having an in-house psychiatrist?"

  "I never knew how many people like me there were, but this is the government we're talking about, Mary. Efficiency wasn't a big deal; secrecy was. And she worked with others in the group besides the front-line troops like me. She spent a lot of her time consulting with the intelligence group — Aaron's people. I know he used her to predict the behavior of targets."

  "You've discussed kills with her, then? Your kills, I mean?"

  "Yes. Every one of them, at some point along the way."

  "She was there that long?"

  "Yes. My first session with her was when I joined the group."

  "She must be old, then."

  "I don't know, but I'd guess she's in her late 50s, maybe a little older. Rumor was she came from the CIA. She's been around."

  "Will I get along with her okay?"

  "I'm sure you will; she's easy to talk to. That's her job, remember?"

  "Okay. I wonder when Aaron will know something about Sam. I hope she's okay."

  "I'm sure he'll call us as soon as he has anything. Or we'll see him in a few hours. Let me know when you need a break from driving."

  10

  "This place really is in the back of beyond," I said, as Aaron opened Mary's car door. We were parked in a small clearing in the undergrowth, but we were still under a canopy of cypress trees.

  "Have any trouble finding it?" he asked.

  "Not with your directions. But now I see why you didn't just give us the GPS coordinates."

  He laughed as he helped Mary out of the car. "I'm Aaron Sanchez," he said, as he released her hand. "It's nice to meet you in person, finally."

  "Thanks, and yes, it is nice to put a face with your voice. Finn's right. GPS coordinates wouldn't have gotten us through the swamp. What is this place, besides hard to find?"

  "You'll see," Aaron said with a chuckle. "Grab your gear and follow me."

  Mary and I got our duffle bags from the back of the SUV, and Aaron led us along a poorly marked trail through the undergrowth that surrounded us.

  "It's no accident that it's hard to find. We've got another 100 yards along this footpath. In the early 1900s, a bunch of rich guys built the lodge as a getaway, a place where they could come and misbehave with no repercussions. It was a club, I guess, but maybe not that formal. There's still plenty of game, and the fishing's out of this world. We're on the northwest edge of the Everglades, as you probably figured. This is private land. And here we are."

  We left the path as we came into an area clear of undergrowth. There were several wood-frame, one-story structures. The largest, in the center of the clearing, was the size of a small single-family home. The others appeared to be one-room cabins. Aaron led us onto the porch of the largest building.

  "Welcome to the lodge," he said. "This is the main building; there's a kitchen and a dining room, plus a lounge area. The cabins are for sleeping, and they have basic plumbing, since our renovation. There's another building farther back in the sticks. In the old days, it was a dormitory for the hired help. There hasn't been a decision yet as to whether we'll staff this place, but my guess is not. Mike's thinking maybe a caretaker who'll live on the premises — retired military, no doubt. But the idea is that the fewer people who know about the place, the better it'll serve our needs."

  "But aren't there records of the purchase, or something?" Mary asked.

  "No. The property's been in Mike's family for generations. It's owned by an obscure, family-controlled trust. Until we renovated them, the buildings were rotting away and overgrown. You could have walked past them a few feet away and not noticed them. And you've seen how hard it is to get here."

  "How about by water?" I asked.

  "We're a few miles from Dismal Key, up at the north end of Chokoloskee Bay," Aaron said. "You could hike in from a boat, if you were determined enough and the gators weren't hungry. It's tough going, though, and there's no straight-line path. You'd be breaking trail the whole way."

  "What about utilities?" Mary asked.

  Aaron laughed. "We're seriously off the grid. We've got a solar array a good distance from here. It's disguised as a fake cellphone tower. There's a battery bank and inverters there, with underground cable to bring AC power into the lodge and the cabins. Fresh water comes from a cistern. But we do have cellular service. It doesn't seem like it, but we aren't very far from civilization, as the buzzard flies."

  "I didn't see your car," I said.

  "No. I caught a ride out with the provisions. We try to keep the vehicle traffic down. Speaking of that, did you have any trouble with the road?"

  "No," Mary said. "But I engaged four-wheel drive. I think it would be hard for a regular car. You were right about that."

  "Yeah. That's by design. It's getting on toward dinner time. Why don't you drop your stuff in that first cabin and come on back here? I'll rustle up something to eat."

  "Good enough," I said. "See you in a few minutes."

  Mary and I stepped down from the porch and walked to the nearest of the cabins. We found the accommodations clean and comfortable, but basic. We went back to the main lodge and let ourselves in. Aaron was working in the kitchen.

  "What's for dinner?" Mary asked. "Smells good."

  "Our special tonight's prime rib au jus, with roasted mixed vegetables. It'll be ready in about ten minutes. Help yourself to beer or wine from the fridge behind the bar. Or there's an assortment of liquor in the cabinets."

  "Where'd you learn to cook?" I asked.

  Aaron laughed. "I didn't. But we've laid in a supply of prepared meals from a yacht provisioning operation. They're pretty good for dinner. You'll find them in the freezer. This refrigerator's stocked with cold cuts, plus bacon, eggs, and sausage. Oh, and salad makings, too."

 
"Where's Jill Hardwick?" Mary asked.

  "She's arriving in the morning. Her preference is to meet with you alone, to begin with. She wants to get acquainted with you without either of us in the way. I have some stuff to cover with Finn, anyway, while you're talking with her. And I have some information on Samantha Peterson and that whole Gainesville situation. You want to get into that while dinner heats up?"

  "Sure," Mary said. "Mostly, I'm worried about Sam."

  Aaron nodded. "The prognosis is guarded. She was beaten severely; two fingers broken. She hasn't regained consciousness yet, so they're being cautious. There's no skull fracture, no sign of a dangerous head injury. But she's definitely got a serious concussion. The receptionist is okay. She's gone home. She was only out for a couple of minutes, as best they can figure."

  "Bastards," Mary said. "Any word on how they found out she was treating me?"

  "Those two were just muscle. They're clueless. They were told to make her tell them where to find you; they said they were supposed to hold you and call in for further instructions."

  "Call in?" I asked. "Who were they supposed to call?"

  "They wouldn't say. And now they're all lawyered up, but that probably doesn't matter. They're known associates of a big-time drug dealer in Jacksonville. They're street soldiers, though. There would be a few layers of insulation between them and the boss man, so they probably don't know much beyond what the cops got from them already."

  "Who's the boss man, then?" I asked.

  "David Grissom."

  "Is he one of O'Hanlon's bunch?" Mary asked.

  "Well, here's where it gets interesting," Aaron said. "He's not on the list. It seems like he worked for James Stringfellow until a couple of months ago. Remember that name?"

  Mary frowned. "It sounds familiar, but no, I can't place him."

  "Savannah," I said. "Before we got the word to back off, he was our next target after Charleston."

  "Oh, right!" Mary said. "I remember now. So Grissom worked for Stringfellow, but he runs things in Jacksonville?"

  "Both of those statements are true," Aaron said, "But it's doubtful that he still works for Stringfellow. We think he got promoted. O'Hanlon's man in Jacksonville was Joe Waters, but he was killed shortly before Grissom showed up in Jacksonville. And get this: Waters was found sitting behind the desk in his home office, with every bone in his body broken."