by Bryan Koepke
“So that call you got from Haisley this morning. You seemed pretty upbeat afterward. What did he have to say?” Marie said.
“Oh, not too much. We were just catching up.”
“So, you’re telling me that just catching up with your friend after a few days was enough to change your mood so much,” she said.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Stop dancing around the facts, Reece. It’s obvious there’s more to the story. What did Haisley find out about my ex-husband?”
Reece wondered where this demanding side had come from. Up until now she had shown nothing but British charm in this cat and mouse game they’d been playing.
“To answer your question. He didn’t find anything out about Karl other than what your ex-husband alluded. It’s easy to know what he believes in, what motivates the man. What my friend has found is that someone has been hacking into Mr. Rhodes’ computers, both at home and at work. They’ve also gotten into Billington’s computer and by doing so have used it to make anyone other than an expert believe that Karl’s computer was hacked by Thomas Billington.”
“Oh, it’s true then what Karl said. How could I not have seen it? I was so busy being angry with him that I ignored what he was saying,” Marie said on her way into the kitchen.
Reece carried in the empty wine bottle and dropped it into the wastebasket by the sink. “What did Karl say?”
Marie started rinsing their dishes and shoving plates into the dishwasher. “That someone at Draecon has it out for him.”
“Possibly, or whoever is behind the murder is up to something much bigger. They’re investing a good amount of time to cover their tracks, and somehow implicate your ex-husband.”
Marie stopped short, facing the sink. Reece began rubbing the tops of her shoulders. “I know all of this must be very hard for you.”
She turned and put her head on his chest. “It has been hard. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along.”
Reece looked down at Marie, as he felt her grip around his waist tighten. Their lips met and he kissed her softly, tasting what he’d been dreaming about since first laying eyes on her.
Soon their passion built and the kissing quickened to a serious pace. Her hands were on his back, in his hair, and his shirt. It all felt so good. Then he felt her hand in his. She was pulling him away from the kitchen counter. She led him out of the kitchen and down the hallway toward her bedroom.
In the distance they both heard the multi-tone ringing of the doorbell. She pulled away, as though caught in the act, and started back toward the front of the home.
“Leave it. Maybe they’ll go away,” he said, still savoring their last kiss.
“It could be important. No one ever rings the bell unless it’s urgent.”
“What could possible be important in Tarbert?” he said, tugging her arm to urge her back the way they were going. The bell rang a second time, followed by insistent knocking. Reece groaned as he let go of her hand.
*
The next morning, Reece woke to birds chirping outside the second-story window. He realized his friend Haisley was snoring in the second twin bed just a few feet away. He rose from the covers, slipped into the blue jeans he’d worn the day before, and tiptoed out of the bedroom, hoping to spend some time alone with Marie before the older man got up.
The wooden steps were cold on his feet as he descended the staircase, and they creaked with each step. Once he’d made his way into the den he saw Marie standing at the fireplace with a tall cup of coffee in her hand. They exchanged a conspiratorial smile. She looked like she’d been deep in thought. He wondered what she’d been thinking about.
“How’d you sleep?”
“Good, and you?” he said.
“Okay, but it would have been much better if we hadn’t been interrupted,” she said, flashing a coy smile. “Did he tell you what was so important? I can’t believe he drove all the way here from London just to talk to you,” Marie said.
“Yes, he really gets into this kind of detective work. It’s what he did back in St. Louis.”
“Yeah, back when he and your father were partners,” she said, wrapping her arms around Reece and planting her lips on his. They kissed softly. The warmth of the small fire crackling within the hearth wasn’t nearly as warm as her touch. He could smell the scent of her perfume and the strawberry shampoo she’d used earlier.
Reece imagined standing next to Marie in the glass shower of the master bedroom as he moved his hand down her waist. He wondered if she’d go there with him now while his friend Haisley was still upstairs sleeping.
The sound of the upstairs toilet flushing wrecked that idea. Just as quickly as she’d started kissing him, Marie pulled away.
“Would you like some coffee? I made a pot,” she said.
Reece wanted something, but it wasn’t coffee.
He heard the phone ringing from somewhere within the large house.
“I better get that. It could be Elise,” Marie said, heading for the kitchen.
He watched her go. He could definitely get used to that backside.
*
Reece and Haisley sat in the truck at a park on the outskirts of Tarbert. Large drops of rain splashed against the windshield.
“So, this flash drive has all of the drawings you found on Billington’s computer?” Reece said.
“Yeah, I’d be curious what you think they’re for,” Haisley said.
“From what you said, they sound like engineering drawings. Did you want to hang around at the house today while I look at them?” Reece said.
“No, I better drop you off and head back down to London. I have more work to do there.”
“Have you questioned Rhodes about the breach?” Reece said.
“No, he’s a hard guy to get time with. I mean, he let me into his apartment and showed me to his office where he keeps his computer, and then he went to go run some errands.”
“You think he’s involved in the murder?” Reece said.
“It’s hard to tell. Someone obviously hacked into his home and office computers, but that could be just a trick to make it look like he’s a victim in all of this. Speaking of victims, have you been hitting that?”
“Hitting?” Reece said, playing dumb.
“Yeah, you and Marie Rhodes all alone in that big house drinking wine together,” Haisley said.
“No, I haven’t been hitting that. Not yet, anyway,” Reece said.
“So you intend to?”
“If you were me, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah, you got me there,” Haisley said. “But I have to warn you. She could be behind Billington’s murder.”
“That thought has crossed my mind.”
Chapter 30
Inspector Daren Dixon sat across from Karl Rhodes in an interview room in Scotland Yard.
“So take me back through what you’d said earlier about Ian Drae,” Dixon said.
“It’s been that way ever since Ian first started getting ill. He’s been trying to keep it a secret, but everyone knows,” Karl said.
“Ok, so Mr. Drae had been trying to keep his health problems a secret,” Dixon said, consulting his notes. “And Mr. James. You’d said he seemed to think Mr. Drae would name him as his successor.”
“Yes, that was more Candice’s idea,” Karl said.
“Okay, Candice Carlyle, Draecon’s chief council. Are you and Ms. Carlyle close?” Dixon said.
“Well, as close as you get when you travel a lot on business,” Karl said, bending the truth. He wanted to be helpful, but he wasn’t going to say anything that could be misconstrued.
“Okay, then. You know the ranks within Draecon. Who would stand to gain by this sort of thing? Dixon said.
“I can’t believe she’s dead. Poor Margaret,” Karl said, showing his emotions.
“Mr. Rhodes, answer my question,” Dixon said.
“I have no idea who would do such a thing.”
“Okay, Mr.
Rhodes, if I could have your attention, I’d like to show you something.” Dixon pulled a laptop computer out of a case and set it on the steel table between them. The device booted up and soon a video started playing. Margaret Charles was shown in a dimly lit room. She was standing in front of a wall safe in what looked like one of the executive offices at Draecon.
She emptied the contents of the safe, loading out large stacks of currency, file folders, and other documents. Karl’s eyes went wide as Margaret pulled a gun out of the safe and turned it from side to side, as if looking it over. Then she pointed at the wall as if aiming and smiled. Karl was shocked. The tip of the gun was pointed at a larger framed picture containing the executive staff of Draecon International.
“Mr. Rhodes, what do you suppose she was looking for?” Dixon said.
“I have no idea,” Karl said, raising his voice in agitation.
“Does it seem like this video was taken during normal business hours?” Dixon said.
“It’s hard to tell. If it was Ian’s office he liked to keep it dark. See the curtains over to the left. He didn’t like direct sunshine. I’d always thought it had something to do with his health,” Karl said.
“Okay, then. How about the video? Who do you think took it? How would they have taken it without Ms. Charles knowing they were in the room?” Dixon said.
“I have no idea. Unless it was a camera Ian had installed in his office for security,” Karl said.
“Security?” Dixon said.
“Yes, ever since the break in at the Glasgow Research Facility, Mr. Drae had been on a security kick,” Karl said.
“A security kick?” Dixon said.
“Yeah, he even went so far as to have our business phones replaced,” Karl said, shifting in his seat. “Are we done here? I’ve got to get back to the office. I have meetings to attend.”
“What can you tell me about your computer being hacked,” Dixon persisted.
“Not much,” Karl said.
“Let’s see here. You’ve hired an outside consultant,” Dixon said.
“How do you know that?” Karl said.
“I’m asking the questions here. Now tell me about your computer. Did this consultant determine who got into your computer? Was anything taken off your hard drive?” Dixon said.
“He hasn’t gotten that far yet.”
“Does he have a name?” Dixon said.
Karl reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a leather checkbook. “Here this is Haisley’s card. You can reach him on his cell phone.”
“This doesn’t look like a local number,” Dixon said.
“It’s not. Okay, like I said earlier. I have a meeting to attend at Draecon. Are we done?”
“We’re close. One more question. Mr. Rhodes,” Dixon said as he pulled a file folder out of his briefcase. He slid the file across the table toward Karl and then opened it.
“What do you make of this?”
Karl started paging through several documents that looked like they had gotten wet and then been dried.
On one yellowed piece of stationery he recognized the old logo for Draecon. It was a symbol he’d seen often as a child when his father worked for the company.
“Read it,” Dixon said.
Karl pulled a pair of black reading glasses from his jacket. “The senior members of the Draecon International Board of Directors are in agreement that the defense sector could be sold to a competitor to leverage funds for the upcoming expansion into North American markets.”
“So, Mr. Rhodes, you’re the chief of strategy at Draecon,” Dixon said. “Does this memo mean anything to you?”
“No, this is news to me, but I’m not always around to attend board meetings,” Karl said.
“I wasn’t aware that Draecon International had a defense sector,” Dixon said. “I mean, I looked your company up and the description on the Internet doesn’t mention defense.”
“It’s a branch left over from the Second World War. To tell you the truth this is the first I’ve heard of it in years,” Karl said. “It makes sense that they’d want to liquidate an unused portion of the company.”
“I have to ask you one more question.” Inspector Dixon paused, letting the surprise value build. “Did you have Margaret Charles murdered?”
Chapter 31
Julian Cross strolled into the front entrance of the posh London nightclub after palming the bouncer two £50 notes. It felt good bypassing the line of patrons, but he knew if that hadn’t worked, he could have picked the lock on one of the other entrances to gain access. He always had a backup plan. He was on his game. This was it, one more job, and he’d be free to move on.
He pushed down a narrow hallway filled with people and spilled out into a large open room. The beat of the dance music was so loud it resonated in his chest. On a large dance floor a sea of bodies gyrated to the deep bass tones. Lots of young women in micro dresses were showing their wares. The bar was lined with men, some with greased-back hair and shiny black leather jackets, along with others looking like London’s junior executives in finely pressed pinstripe suits with bright shoes. To Julian the music sounded futuristic, a type he’d never heard, but with each passing minute a flavor he liked.
He pushed forward, grazing past tightly packed bodies in the muted light. Once he’d arrived at the bar he raised a hand, but the bartenders were much too busy to notice. After a few minutes of waiting he spotted a gap where two women had just taken their martinis. They stepped away from the black vinyl rail and Julian quickly filled the space they’d left behind. A young woman with bright yellow hair and a low-cut blouse came to him, pointed, and smiled.
“Stoli rocks,” he yelled. Julian wasn’t here to drink, but the wait demanded something worth his time.
Earlier he’d scoped out the alley behind the club. It was dark and lonely, the perfect place for an accident. He reached inside his brown leather jacket and felt the Sig Sauer P226 MK25 he’d brought. Just making sure, he told himself.
He spotted two women, a tall brunette and a shorter dishwater blonde dancing together. Their closeness suggested a fondness greater than female friendship. The heavy beat felt good to Julian and he considered returning to the club to pick up the pair after finishing his job out back. There was something about these two women. One, the brunette, glanced over and smiled at Julian. She was somehow familiar.
Julian searched his memory, but neither of them came to mind. Had he seen them in London at a restaurant or somewhere else in the past couple of weeks? No, I don’t think so.
The more he watched, the more he got the feeling that they wanted him to approach. It had been way too long since he’d dated. The calls back home had helped on some level, but he needed more.
Julian spotted Alex James standing at the bar, sipping a martini with three blue cheese olives. It looked like he was with a blond woman in a white pantsuit, but he couldn’t be sure. He spotted an open table and made tracks toward it. Once seated, he pushed the other chair, a short round green vinyl seat, away from the table. The last thing he wanted right now was company.
A waitress came and bent down to ask if he wanted anything. Julian couldn’t help but look at the young woman’s cleavage. Nice firm breasts a few inches from his face. She made eye contact with him, smiled, and then Julian followed her as she walked back across the room, passing the spot where he’d seen Alex James at the bar. The young exec was gone.
Julian surveyed the large room and he spotted Alex out on the dance floor. This could take all night. He leaned back against a rail on the wall and watched Alex dance. The man was wearing black designer dress pants and a deep blue dress shirt that was untucked. His clothing looked expensive and James looked fit, but almost too skinny for a man in his forties. The woman he was with was tall, about five-eight, with long blond hair. She was fit and looked five to ten years younger.
Julian had a devious thought about the woman dancing with James and then dismissed it. He wasn’t here for anything more than ending t
his rich prick’s life. He’d be paid for it like he’d been paid for the others. He thought about the man who hired him and wondered when he’d get the rest of what he was owed.
Alex James was heading quickly toward the back door. The blonde he’d been dancing with was still on the floor, shaking to the beat. Julian snapped to attention and followed, pushing his way through the bevy of drunken revelers.
He stepped out the back door and let it clank shut. James was almost running now as he hustled across the dark lot out behind the club. Julian reached into his coat and pulled out the Sig Sauer. He sprinted for a ways and then slowed. He brought the pistol up, intending to put it against the right temple of his victim. There were voices to his left.
Damn it, witnesses. Oh no, cops.
Instead Julian brought the weapon in against James’s ribs. This was risky with the police nearby, but they had their own trouble, a couple of drunks whacking away at each other, to deal with. With the gun pressed to Alex’s frame, Julian leaned in.
“We’re walking to that silver truck on the far side of the limo. You see it, right?” Julian said.
Alex turned toward Julian, facing him eye to eye.
“I was wondering when you’d show up. I know I’m on that list. What am I number three, or is it four? I have an idea who you’re working for,” Alex said, grinning. “I don’t care who it is, but I’ve got something you should see.”
Julian wondered if he should break off and take James out the way he’d taken out Thomas Billington. From long distance, the way he’d been trained, the easy way. He hated this up close and personal stuff.
A blunt object collided with the base of Julian’s skull. It wasn’t a punch. It was solid steel. It took three seconds as he let what was happening register. He knew it was the snout of a revolver. Julian turned slightly, still holding his own gun against the right side of Alex James’s body. Ready to fire. With the suppressor, he could pull the trigger and run before the body hit the street.
