Hidden Threat

by Anthony Tata

  “Hey,” Amanda said as she slowly walked into the room.

  Brianna turned her head and looked at her. “I’m so sorry.”

  “About what?” She stopped when she saw the bruises on Brianna’s face and neck. She gasped. “He hit you?”

  Brianna turned away and nodded.

  Amanda placed her hand on Brianna’s shoulder. “I’m the one who should be sorry. You’re my best friend, and I never even cared enough about you to realize what was happening. I was just too wrapped up in me, you know?”

  Amanda sat on the bed next to her and brushed back Brianna’s hair. She thought to herself about maturity and how in the last two weeks she had transformed herself from an immature, selfish brat to a caring, concerned friend. She made a mental note that if the transition was this fast, then perhaps this might be who she really wanted to become, or even had been all along.

  “You got a raw deal, bitch,” Brianna said, wiping a tear from her eyes as she sat up in her bed. She pulled her knees up to her chest and clasped her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees as she turned her eyes toward Amanda.

  “Not any worse than having to be with Dagus.”

  Brianna shuddered and closed her eyes so tight that wrinkles formed around her young face. “Is he really dead?”

  “I watched him put a bullet in his head. Hard to get any deader than that.”

  Brianna put her forehead on her knees, and Amanda could tell she was crying, so she put her hand on her friend’s back and made slow circling motions as she spoke. “It’s okay, Bree. I never knew.”

  Brianna kept her forehead on her knees and shook it left to right as if to indicate “no.”

  “Come on, Bree. I know about almost everything. How much was she going to pay you?”

  Brianna turned her head to look at Amanda and said weakly, “You don’t know everything.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “What difference does it make, Amanda? You’ll go on with your life. You’ve got your half million, and what have I got?”

  “I’m not taking all of the money, Bree. I’ve decided to do something else with it. I can’t say what, but just trust me on this, okay?”

  Brianna seemed to consider Amanda’s comment. She was now resting her head sideways on her knees, not looking at Amanda, but staring at no particular spot on the far wall.

  “Nina made me do it. She promised me some of the insurance money. Ten thousand. Screw him five times. What’s the big deal, you know? My mother has been struggling lately, and I thought some quick money would help. Plus, you know, we’d all wanted to be with Dagus at one point in time.”

  Amanda considered the comment and decided to ignore it. Though she had never made the transition to wanting to be with her teacher in that way, the very thought, particularly now, was especially revolting.

  “That’s why your mom agreed to help me so fast when I stopped by a little while ago?” It was a question phrased as a comment.

  “That’s right. She was really mad.”

  “Like I said, I’m sorry.”

  “Well, if I hadn’t done this, maybe he would have never written that article.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for that. You were just a down payment. They’ve been doing that to me for years. You know all those doctor appointments?”

  “I always wondered about that. You sure went to the doctor a lot for being the healthiest person I know.”

  “Jake and I were in my dad’s house, and we saw all these records of how my mom cheated three different insurance companies. She was making money on me by taking me to the doctor.”

  “Why didn’t anyone do anything?”

  “In his notes he talks about having tried, but it was only like twenty thousand dollars or something, and there were million-dollar corporate cases out there.”

  The two friends sat for a while on the bed without saying anything. Amanda continued to absently rub Brianna’s back as she was now leaning into her, shoulder to shoulder.

  “What about Nina? What are you going to do?”

  “I’ve got a plan for her,” Amanda replied. “But can I ask you why you didn’t say no to her?” Amanda believed she understood why, but wanted to be sure.

  Brianna rocked against her for a moment and said, “I think you know, but here goes.” She paused, sniffed once, and continued. “Your grandmother, you know I don’t even feel right calling her by that fake name, ‘Nina,’ anymore.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Anyway, two years ago when you were told your dad was dead the first time, she came to my mom one day asking if she could help out with any expenses. You know, mom had gotten laid off from her job, and, well, you know I’ve never really had a dad. We were hurting, and the swimming, well, that was all I really had.”

  “But you couldn’t afford it anymore?”

  “Anymore? Try ever. My mom even tried sleeping with the swimming coach, but that didn’t work out for long.”

  “Jesus. I’m sorry, Bree.”

  “Don’t be. But you know, your grandmother sees a lot, and I think she saw that. We were getting free lessons for a while, but that dried up when my mom and the coach broke up. All of this happened about the same time. So your grandmother either started paying the lessons or worked a connection. I think it was a connection, but I’m not sure. All I knew was, I got to keep swimming and to hang out with you.”

  “So you owed her one?”

  “That’s right. Thinking about it now, I think she was probably planning for something like this way back then. But then there was no insurance money, I heard.”

  “That’s another thing; there was some money, and my mother got it. She lied to me.”

  Brianna slowly shook her head and then looked at her for the first time in awhile. “I’m so sorry, Amanda. All I ever wanted was for us to be best friends, you know.”

  Amanda wiped a tear from her own eyes and laughed. “We’ve got to quit saying ‘I’m sorry,’ you know?” Then she shoved her with her shoulder. “We came out okay, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I think we’ll be okay.”

  Amanda prayed that they would be.

  “I still can’t believe Dagus burned down my dad’s house. . . .”

  “When did he do that?”

  “Right after we were there the other day.”

  “The day you went to North Carolina? He couldn’t have. He was at the lake with me. He got totally sunburned.”

  “But what about his arms and chest? The hair was gone. I just assumed he had burned himself.”

  Brianna looked down, embarrassed.

  “He made me shave him. Amanda, he didn’t burn down your dad’s house. He wasn’t there. He’s a sick freak, but he didn’t do that.”

  “If he didn’t do it, then who did?”

  A wave of panic rushed over her as she considered the possibilities.

  CHAPTER 79

  Bagram Air Base, Afghanistan

  Monday Evening

  “What’s your deal, man?”

  Matt was, at best, foggy on where he was and who was talking to him, though it sounded like Hobart. He sensed he was on his back and in a bed. The last thing he could remember was . . . well he wasn’t sure.

  The Database Is Always There.

  The hard drives. Mullah Rahman’s house. The hand grenade.

  It was coming back to him slowly, like a vintage car driving a winding mountain road.

  The hand grenade.

  Since he generally had no feeling or sensation in any part of his body, he wondered if he had survived, and, if so, how well.

  “I’m serious, dude. You backhanded that bitch like you were A-Rod or some shit.”

  Matt opened his eyes and saw Hobart standing over him, hair disheveled, face unshaven, uniform dirty.

  “Van Dreeves?” The hard drives were all Matt could think about.

  “He’s fine,” Hobart smiled.

  Matt managed a weak smile and said, “The hard dr
ives?”

  Hobart nodded his head.

  “The. Entire. Database.”

  “Can we crosscheck against Yemen and Dubai?”

  “Already have.”

  “And?”

  “And aren’t you even remotely interested in your own condition?”

  Matt coughed, felt a pain in his ribs. “Only if there’s something worth going after.”

  “Listen, dude,” Hobart began. He grabbed and held up both of Matt’s hands. “You’ve got all your limbs. You can breathe. And you’re going to be ok. That’s what counts.”

  Matt nodded.

  “What counts is starting with Yemen and Dubai and then going after the rest of that list.”

  “Mission for Dubai is tonight. We’re sending a bunker buster in there. Going to explode it from the inside out,” Hobart said.

  “And Yemen?”

  “We’re watching it. Developing patterns of life.” Hobart hesitated.

  “And?”

  “And maybe waiting for you to be ready.”

  Matt smiled.

  “Was it a three second or five second fuse?”

  Hobart laughed.

  “Four. That bitch flew past my face, got into the other room and exploded, killing the dude shooting at us.”

  Van Dreeves came walking in.

  “How’s A-Rod?”

  “Bite me, VD,” Matt said. “Rahman?”

  “Got away. That was his detachment left in contact. Son of a bitch is slicker than snot on a doorknob,” Hobart said.

  “But we’ve got a bead on him,” Van Dreeves said. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Fatwa still out on Zach?”

  “Five million.”

  “We’ve got to capture that dude, get him to retract it and then . . .”

  “Right, and then . . .”

  Matt sat up, stiff, and looked at himself in the mirror of his hospital room. His face was lacerated and bandaged in different areas. His hair was matted with what he figured to be blood. “Where the hell am I?”

  “Bagram. Air Force had a new hospital built. It’s like the Taj,” Hobart said.

  “Injuries?”

  “Nah, we’re okay,” Hobart smiled.

  “I’m talking about mine, dickweed.”

  “Just jacking with you. You took some shrapnel to the face, which improved things quite a bit, by the way. And then some in the legs.”

  “And you have no penis,” Van Dreeves added.

  For a brief moment Matt considered the possibility, as evidenced by the stricken look on his face, and then realized Van Dreeves was joking.

  “Just kidding, dude. Still got that little thing.”

  Matt smiled and looked out of a small window that gave him a view of the Bagram runway. He could see the MH-47s huddled at the south end like hulking beasts, resting, awaiting their call. The heat waves made it seem almost as if the machines were breathing.

  Next to them he saw a C-17 Globemaster aircraft.

  “When do we go get Rahman?”

  “We’re working that now. We think we’ve got him pegged in Quetta in a small village. If we get a confirmation, we’ll move.”

  Matt nodded. “C-17s don’t usually park at the special ops end of the ramp.”

  Hobart looked at Van Dreeves.

  “They do when we are about to jump into Yemen.”

  “So tell me. What precisely does the database say is in Yemen?”

  “The top of the list.”

  CHAPTER 80

  Spartanburg, South Carolina

  Monday Morning (Eastern Time)

  Nina Hastings sat on the leather davenport in the den of her daughter’s home, steaming coffee cup in one hand. The news played silently in the background as she wondered exactly where Melanie might be. Nina had watched the live reporting from last night, but lost track of time as she fell asleep on the sofa.

  She had to admire how Amanda had engineered things. Though she did not know the particulars, she would soon find out. As Kryponite was to Superman, she chuckled, she was to Amanda.

  Nina fashioned herself an expert at creating the insecurity and then filling that void with her own version of love and affection. Sometimes it even felt real. She had learned long ago that one got out of life what one took. Nobody gave you anything, and it was survival of the fittest. Her operating premise was to assume everyone was lying to her, question everything, and, above all, strike first, even if she wasn’t certain. When she struck, she was convinced, it had to be hard and from a totally unpredictable direction.

  This was usually done best by having better information than anyone else. Say what you would about Nina Hastings, there were few that had more tentacles in more places around the greater Charlotte metro area. She built bridges as fast as she burned them, maybe faster. Dr. Homer Jones and Judge Bart Holbrook were just two of her many sources.

  Lenard Dagus was a perfect example. Within five minutes of meeting him she could see that he was a lecherous man. She had actually caught him staring at Amanda one time. Having taken notice, she had logged the information away where it might be useful one day.

  When Nina had been dating Judge Holbrook in the Charlotte Circuit Court, he had with hesitation told her about the sealed Emily Wilkinson case, where Lenard Dagus had sex with a fourteen-year-old girl when he was nineteen. Nina and Melanie had thrown a Christmas party where both had been invited. Late in the evening, after the judge had spent a considerable amount of time talking to Dagus, he had asked Nina to have a word. He’d had a few drinks and so his judgment was impaired, yet the judge had pardoned his own ethical break by rationalizing that he was trying to protect Gabrielle’s granddaughter. He was doing her a favor. That he did.

  That pearl of intelligence had been her leverage to keep Dagus from going nationwide about having uncovered Del Dangurs’ bogus article on Colonel Zach Garrett. He had come to them in earnest, telling Melanie and Nina that he had discovered who Del Dangurs really was and could expose him for using bogus sources and participating in yellow journalism. Sometimes things just worked out, Nina thought, and smiled to herself.

  She looked over at Del Dangurs. He was lying on the sofa shirtless. His bare chest was smooth, hairless. His sandy brown hair was tossed haphazardly. Nina had been able to seduce him one final time.

  “Well, Del Dangurs, I think you’ve done enough,” she said with a wicked smile.

  He was running a hand along his chest. He smiled at his lover. Though he was initially surprised that she had been good in bed, and that he enjoyed it, he now wondered if he could stop. At the spry age of fifty-nine, Nina Hastings had turned out to be quite masterful at the art of seduction.

  “What do you mean? The house, the woman. I did all of that for you, Gabrielle,” he protested. He had been her submissive slave both in the bedroom and outside. Her directions to him had been to burn the house and to kill the woman. Additionally, he was to try and frame Dagus or Jake, whichever was easier.

  “One question,” she asked. “How did you pin it on Dagus? The house, I mean?”

  “Well, when the cops show up at his house today, they will find a digital camera memory chip of the house, the interior, and the gas can. It’s right there on his desk. But of course no one has helped us more than Amanda. I don’t think I could have pulled a manipulation like that.”

  Nina nodded in approval, perhaps pride. This was all good. Very good.

  “And you’re sure no one saw you in Sanford?”

  Del thought of the Asian, Julie Nguyen. Their hookup had been so quick. It had to be, as he had to return and take care of Riley Dwyer in time to make it look like Jake Devereaux had done the job. But Julie had been too much to resist.

  “I’m sure, Gabrielle.”

  Nina stared at him a moment, and he shook his head. “None.”

  Nina nodded in approval.

  Burning the house to destroy the physical memories had been phase one. Killing the psychiatrist to deny Amanda access to living memories had been
phase two. There he had not succeeded, but had done well enough. Framing Jake for both the arson and the murder was the most they could do to separate Amanda from his strength of character. Lastly, offering Brianna to Dagus to not go public about Dangurs’ fictional news article was a perfect fit. Brianna needed the money, and she knew Dagus would not be able to resist.

  It was a simple fix. He gets Brianna, Brianna gets $10,000, and the article sealing the fate of Amanda’s father endures for all eternity unchallenged. End of mission. And it was to be paid for with Zach’s insurance money.

  “We’re done, Del. I told you that from the beginning. We all serve a purpose, and you’ve served yours. I’ll pay you when we get things all sorted out.”

  She watched him pull his shirt over his muscular frame. There was a part of her that would miss the sex, but not a large part. He was okay, a means to an end.

  The best part? Nina Hastings’s fingerprints were nowhere on this thing except on the $100,000 check she had written out of her daughter’s checkbook. Melanie had been so absorbed in the rapid closing of the house, she hadn’t noticed Nina pull out her checkbook and sign her daughter’s name. Melanie wasn’t the only one who could forge a signature.

  “I’ll take my money now, if you don’t mind,” Del said, interrupting her train of thought.

  “You’ll get your money tomorrow, maybe later today. Like I said. I need to go to the bank. This all happened a day or two more quickly than I thought.”

  He stood in front of her, still seated on the sofa. She locked eyes with him and seemed to telepathically move him to the door. Transmitting her will through her gaze, he understood that he needed to leave now.

  “I’ve got more to do today, Del. Thank you for your efforts.” She was a businesswoman thanking a salesperson for spending some time with her. Thank you and have a nice day. Next.

  She turned her head as she watched him leave. She felt no emotion. She would pay him to keep him quiet, not for the job he’d done. Besides, he had not completed the Dwyer job, now that she thought about it.