“Okay,” she whispered.
Walter soaked one of the washcloths from the bathroom in cold water and went back to her. He gently began to wipe away the blood. She gritted her teeth, obviously in pain, but did not cry out. He finished up and set the washcloth to the side.
“The leg’s quite swollen and that tear looks awful nasty, but … I don’t think you have a bullet in there. Looks like it just grazed you. A damn good graze. Probably tore up some muscle tissue. Since I’m not a doctor this is all speculation”
She looked up at him. “Thank you, Walter. I really appreciate your help. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Well.” He smiled. “Don’t thank me yet. I’ve still got to apply the antibiotic cream and wrap the wound. Some of it might hurt.”
She smiled back. It was a tenuous smile that she struggled to maintain. “Would you do me one more favor?”
“Sure, if I can. What is it?”
“Cut the legs off my jeans so I’ll have some shorts to wear. I’m not comfortable lying around here in my underwear. Especially with our guest here.”
“Our guest, huh?” He looked over at Stone who seemed to be asleep. “Sure, I can do that.”
He applied the ointment as gingerly as he could then wrapped the bandage around her leg. The bandage was extra wide with adhesive strips on each side of it. When he finally looked over at her minutes later, she was sound asleep. He hoped that was a good sign.
He gently slipped a light cover over her.
Walter looked over at Stone. He was still out. He stepped over to the one window and gazed out, half expecting to see FBI vehicles pulling up into the driveway. Instead, the only movements he saw in the parking lot was the steady rain splashing on the asphalt and in the puddles.
After a couple of minutes, he pulled out his pocketknife and began to turn her pants into shorts. They would have to be short shorts considering that the injury had been to her thigh. He guessed that would be okay for now.
He wasn’t ready for sleep like the others and he didn’t want to disturb them by switching on the television. Instead, he decided that he would check out the vending machines to see what kind of snacks they had to offer.
He bought himself a sixteen-ounce bottle of Coke and a couple packs of peanut butter cookies, then returned to the room.
While he sat in the armchair eating his cookies and sipping on his drink, he wondered what had transpired with Candace and this stranger that had come along with her. What was this case she was involved in? Why would her own people try to kill her? He suddenly felt powerless and anxious. He wished that she would wake up and tell him the rest of the story.
He looked over at the young man. What was his involvement in all this? It suddenly hit him. He thought he knew where he had seen him. He looked like the guy who had knocked down the policeman at the restaurant then bolted across the expressway. If so, he was the one all the cops were looking for. The number one suspect in the deaths of the two men at the restaurant. He couldn’t be certain, though. He only saw him at a distance.
Stone was lying on his back at the edge of the bed. His left arm was hanging off. His shirt was torn exposing a portion of his skin. There seemed to be a deep laceration near the inside of his elbow. He should have been bleeding from it, but the cut was dry.
Curious Walter walked over to Stone and knelt beside him. He lifted the shirt back to get a better look. The laceration was indeed deep, but again he saw no blood, nor indication that it had ever been bleeding. He touched the cut, looking up at Stone as he did to see if there would be a response. There was none.
It didn’t seem right. His arm should be soaked in blood. He moved his finger down the cut and felt the skin move. He looked at Stone’s face once more to see if it showed any sign of pain. Nothing. With his fingers, he spread the skin open slightly. What he saw was not muscle tissue, nor blood, nor even bone. Underneath the skin was something gray, solid, and metallic.
Walter stood up quickly and backed away. He sat down heavily in the armchair. It had been a long, strange day.
CHAPTER 14
When Walter first woke his neck felt as stiff as a two by four. He looked about rubbing at his neck letting last night events flow slowly back to him. He glanced at his watch. It was seven in the morning. He had slept longer than he thought he would. He hadn’t realized how tired he had been.
He looked over at Candace a few feet to his right. She was stirring in the bed trying to wake up. After a minute her eyes opened. She looked around till her eyes settled on Walter.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Okay, I guess. My leg is a little numb.” She pulled the cover down and threw them to the side.
Walter picked up her newly made shorts and handed them to her. “It looks like the swelling might have come down a bit.”
“Yeah, and by tonight I’ll be ready to go dancing.”
He laughed. “You must be feeling better. I see that humor of yours is back.”
She smiled and reached a hand out to him. As he placed his hand in hers, she pulled him to her. They passionately kissed.
She slowly pulled away. “Again, thanks for helping me, eh, us.”
“That’s okay. I needed a little excitement.”
She began the arduous task of putting her pants on. “I think I’ve gotten enough excitement to last me a lifetime.”
“I can only imagine.”
She frowned. “I no longer know what I’m involved in, Walter.”
“What do you mean? What happened out there?”
“I can’t talk about the investigation itself. That’s classified. About all I can tell you is that I was under orders to bring a woman named Mira in for questioning. It seemed like an easy enough job. In fact, the stop itself was made without incident. I thought this was going to be a rather smooth operation. Then my own people turned on me and tried to kill me.”
“Why? Do you know?”
“I don’t know for sure.” She took a deep breath. “Apparently these agents—whom I’ve only been with for a couple of weeks—have some kind of relationship with Mira. Maybe they work for her, or for somebody who has some stake in keeping Mira from being questioned. I could speculate on the who, but I should probably keep it to myself. Right now, I think I need to talk to someone in the agency I can trust.” She slid her cell phone out of her pocket.
“I think I’ll take a walk while you make your phone call,” he said. “I don’t want to hear something I shouldn’t.”
“You won’t. I wouldn’t use a cell phone if this was going to be a confidential conversation.”
“Still, I need to stretch my fat limbs a bit.” He leaned down and kissed her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He stood up and with a slight wave of his hand left the motel room.
Candace pushed herself up to a sitting position. She clamped her teeth suddenly as a searing pain coruscated through her leg. At once she felt lightheaded. She clenched her teeth fighting against the effect. After several tense moments, the lightheadedness began to fade and her pain began to gradually subside, though not completely. Her eyes wandered over to Stone. He was on his back, eyes closed, breathing softly. She was at once envious over his apparent restful state.
After a couple more minutes she pecked in Horace’s cell phone number. After a few rings, she got the same message as yesterday. She hung up and called his office. She got transferred twice before someone would talk to her.
“Special Agent James Tarter speaking,” said the voice on the other end of the line, “how may I help you?” She wasn’t familiar with the name.
“I’m trying to get hold of Director Bloomhauser,” she said.
“Eh … may I ask who is calling?”
She hesitated, suddenly suspicious. She considered using a false name, but then abruptly decided that it wouldn’t accomplish anything and might cause more problems.
“This is Agent Candace Caine. Mr. Bloomhauser is my supervisor.”
For
a few seconds there was silence on the line. “Agent Caine I’m really sorry to have to tell you this, but … Mister Bloomhauser passed away last night.”
“What!?” she blurted out. “You can’t be serious. How?”
“He was killed in a house fire. The initial reports say that it was a gas leak that caused it. I am truly sorry.”
“Gas leak?” She shook her head not wanting to believe what she just heard. “How?”
“I haven’t got all the details yet agent Caine. If you’ll swing by here a little later, I should have more to tell you.”
“Sure,” she said softly, feeling numb from this tragic news. “I’ll drop by a little later.”
“Can I ask where you’re staying?”
“I’m … I’m at home.” She wasn’t sure why she lied, but it seemed suspicious that he should ask where she was staying.
“One more thing,” he said. “Due to the unfortunate accident, I’ve been appointed to take over Mister Bloomhauser’s cases. With that in mind, I’d like to sit down and discuss the case you’re on when you get here. So, before you leave the house you might want to give me a call to make sure I’m at the office.”
“You got put in charge? That was awfully quick.”
“Yes, I know. It’s a long story. We’ll talk about it when you get here. Okay?”
“Sure,” she answered.
He said goodbye and hung up.
It didn’t feel right. This Agent Tarter sounded pleasant enough, but there was something ominous in his voice. There was a waver like he was trying not to say too much.
He hadn’t asked about what happened to her yesterday evening. Was it possible that the news had not yet reached him?
Other questions came to mind. Had the agents who turned on her acted independently, or was this something that ran deep into the heart of the agency? Was the death of Horace really an accident, or just an extension of some malevolent scheme? An accident seemed like too much of a coincidence.
She was angry. First that she had almost been killed, and second that she couldn’t figure out all the what’s and the why’s.
“You finished with your call?” Walter asked as he stuck his head into the room.
“Yes. I’m through. Come on in.”
He came in and sat in the seat next to her. “Tell me some good news.”
She didn’t speak for a few moments. “My boss is dead,” she finally said.
“What!? What happened?”
“I was told there was a gas leak at his house, which apparently caused a fire.”
He heard the skepticism in her voice. “But you don’t believe it?”
“I believe he died, and that gas was involved, but I’m having trouble believing that it was an accident.” She eased back against the headboard. “I’m supposed to report to headquarters sometime later today.”
“Okay. Whenever you’re ready I can drive you down there.”
She sighed. “Sure, but before we go, I think I owe you a few more details. I think someone else should know this in case something should happen to me and the FBI should somehow lose what information they have.”
“Sounds like you’re talking conspiracy.”
“Just trying to cover myself. Keep in mind that what I’m about to tell you is confidential. If I’m being a little paranoid I could be in trouble with the bureau.”
“I can keep my mouth shut when I need to.”
She smiled then took a big breath. “About a year and a half, maybe two years ago, my boss, Horace Bloomhauser, received a phone call from an old army buddy of his named Sam Ryker. He was mayor of Nexus. He asked Mr. Bloomhauser to investigate a Byron Jensen who is now the current mayor of Nexus. Mister Ryker had some concerns about a sudden population shift in the town. It seemed like a lot of people were leaving, but at least as many new people were moving in and taking their place. He believed that somehow Byron Jensen was responsible. Apparently for nefarious reasons.”
“Mister Ryker was already gone when I moved back here, but to me, I don’t see a real threat,” Walter said.
“Yeah, Well, Mr. Bloomhauser didn’t take it too seriously either. He just shrugged it off as a bit of paranoia and maybe a lot of Mr. Ryker’s fear that he was going to lose his job as mayor. But the mayor was persistent so Mister Bloomhauser, Horace, said that he would check it out. Horace who is … was … a great guy, spent his own money to enlist the help of a private investigator that he knew. He asked that he just make a cursory investigation to maybe allay the fears that his former army buddy might have regarding the character of Byron Jensen.”
“And this detective must have uncovered something. Something incriminating.”
“Let’s just say that more serious questions were raised.”
“Okay.”
“But before Horace could inform the mayor of what they had uncovered Mister Ryker was killed in a single-vehicle accident. It was ruled an accident but under the circumstances, Horace became very suspicious and, coupled with the information from the private investigator, he decided that it was time to bring the FBI in on it.”
“I can see where the timing of that accident would raise some flags. What was in the information that the private dick uncovered?”
“About five years ago a man named Darius Paulding started a furniture business in Baltimore Maryland. The building he rented was probably of medium size for a furniture store. It was a single story with a basement. Like so many retail businesses the basement was used for storage while the upper level was used for sales. It seemed to be a rather innocuous business with modest sales. It didn’t draw much attention.”
Candace shifted her injured leg over a bit. The leg felt as if it were stiffening up. She grimaced at the shock of pain that came with the movement.
“You okay?” Walter asked.
“I will be in a minute. I had to get a little more comfortable.” She took a big breath. “Anyway, about six months after the business started up bogus fifty and hundred-dollar bills started surfacing around Baltimore and in neighboring states. Investigators at first thought it curious that Baltimore itself hadn’t been hit. Instead of ignoring Baltimore as perhaps the forgers thought law enforcement honed in on the city. With that in mind, the bills origin was eventually traced to the city of Baltimore and specifically to the furniture store. There were two suspects listed. There is video showing the two passing the counterfeit bills. The problem is the picture is not that good. The two people cannot be definitely identified. They do, however, have a canny resemblance to Mayor Jensen and Mira Capilano. Keep in mind that Mister Bloomhauser had just come across this information a few months ago. With this new evidence, a formal investigation was opened.”
“What about the owner of this furniture store, was he ever charged?”
“No. Unfortunately, a massive explosion leveled the store taking out Darius Paulding, and two employees, just a day before a raid was scheduled. The explosion was so great that two houses across the street from the store caught fire and several houses down the block suffered broken windows. When it was all over there was just one giant rectangular hole where the store had sunk into the basement. A basement that was later found to be approximately twice as big as when they had first moved in.”
“How? Are you saying the explosion increased the size of the basement?
“No, of course not. Apparently, the renters decided that they needed a lot more space than what they had. But, for whatever reason, they neglected to receive permission from the landlord or get the necessary building permits.”
“I assume that the reasons for not getting the permissions to add on was that this extra space was to be used for illegal purposes? But I wouldn’t think you’d need a lot of space for your counterfeiting equipment.”
“According to what I was briefed only some of it was used for counterfeiting. What fragments were able to be identified were from the type of equipment needed in producing counterfeit currency. But there were a lot of unidentified fragments that no
one can agree as to what they came off of. Some speculate that there had been some type of industrial machinery installed down there.”
“I assume the owner of the building was questioned.”
“Yes. He claims to know nothing about it.”
“Okay. So back to the explosion. What caused it?”
“That’s another one of those mysteries. Most of the experts assigned to this investigation agreed that it had to have been some type of highly explosive gas, but none could agree on what type nor how it was ignited.” She paused. It was apparent she was tired of talking.
“Relax a minute,” Walter said.
“I’m okay,” she said. “I need to finish this.”
“Just take your time.”
“There was something else they found,” she said, continuing almost right away. “There were at least six more bodies found under the rubble. I say at least six because there may have been more. The explosion didn’t leave much more than ashes in its wake.”
“That must have been some explosion.”
“Indeed. If the explosion would have occurred above ground it probably would have taken out an entire block.”
“Wait a minute. I thought you said that only two employees were killed in the explosion?”
“Yes. Only two were listed on documents. Whether the other bodies were that of employees or customers is not known.”
“Is there any connection between the mayor and the explosion?”
“Nothing concrete, though, according to reports that I received, several people living nearby have reported seeing someone who looked like the mayor and Mira hanging around the furniture store.”
“I assume the investigation was to find out if the two of them were involved in the counterfeiting and possibly the explosion of the store.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“What prompted the FBI to decide to question Mira at this time?”
“We bugged the mayor’s office. Actually, that was done before I was put on the case. Anyway, over time we got enough conversation about Baltimore, and Darius Paulding to warrant questioning one or both of them, but not enough for a solid case against them. It was decided that Mira would be best to start with. We hoped that with what we had recorded we could scare her into talking. Perhaps offering her a deal in exchange for information we could use against the mayor.”
The Nexus Page 10
