Maximus: A Harvey Nolan Thriller #1 (Harvey Nolan Thrillers)

by Abbey, S. C.

  Maybe I should have just rejected it.

  Deep in his thoughts, Harvey didn’t noticed that someone had spoken to him until he almost walked into her.

  “Professor Nolan! I’ve been trying to look for you. I even tried contacting you on your cell,” cried Shia, the administrative officer for the department. She wore a slim fitting light green blouse which complemented her slender frame and dark complexion. Her neck spotted a red on white large polka dotted scarf in a Half-Bow Epaulette knot. She looked stunning as usual.

  Harvey’s look of surprise quickly turned into a warm smile. “Haven’t seen you for a while, what’s going on, Shia?”

  “Two men claiming they are from the FBI is here to see you. They wanted to take a look in your office but I sent them to the meeting room, told them they could wait there till you’re back,” said Shia as she lowered her voice, as if she was sharing a secret with Harvey.

  Harvey lowered his eyes, a puzzled look started to form on his face. “The FBI? Thank you Shia, I’ll take it from here.”

  Why would the FBI be looking for me? Harvey asked no one in particular as he walked down the corridor toward the meeting room. He past his office and look a quick look into it through the partially covered windows out of habit. The door which was usually left ajar was held shut in its frame – someone had been into his office. He hoped that this wasn’t about that Harvard Professor case – that was years ago.

  “Professor Harvey Nolan?” Detective Frost asked as Harvey entered the brightly lit meeting room. The harsh fluorescent light hid no flaws on one’s appearance.

  “Guilty as charged. Pun intended. How do you do?” Harvey said in an attempt to lighten the tense mood he had walked into.

  Detective Frost ignored Harvey’s humor attempt. “Please, have a sit.” Frost commanded as if Harvey was the one paying him a visit, “I am Detective Garett Frost and this is my colleague, Special Agent Darrow, we are here today to ask you a few questions about Christina Jenson.”

  “Sure, no problem. What’s this about anyway? Is Christina alright?” Asked Harvey. His voice softened with concern, hoping his friend was alright.

  “That is precisely what we are trying to find out Professor Nolan. Are you aware that Miss Jenson has been reported missing by her family yesterday and as of today, has not been contactable for the past 72 hours? May I know, when was the last time you met her?” Said Frost. His eyes looked up from the folder on the table to Harvey.

  Not Christina.

  “That would be six days ago, last week on Wednesday. We had lunch down the street. At Harlem Tavern on Frederick Douglass Boulevard,” Harvey replied, as he tried to answer the detective’s questions and hypothesize the possible scenarios Christina might get herself into in his mind.

  “Was she acting unusual in any way?” Asked Frost as he scribbled some notes in a small brown leather-back notepad he held on his right palm.

  “Not that I remembered, no. She has been through a lot in the past month, losing her husband to that horrible car accident. You should have seen her at the Mort, we had to drag her out before she fainted. And they were only married for eleven months. In fact, they had just gotten back from a long overdue honeymoon in Belgium. Dreadful accident, she didn’t deserve it.” Harvey commented. “I have been trying to meet her at least once a week after the accident to make sure she’s okay. In fact, we are supposed to meet tomorrow.”

  Detective Frost took a moment to let the information sink in before he retorted, “What did you all talked about that day?”

  “The usual. She hadn’t been much of a talker after her husband’s demise. Most of the time it was me talking, asking her about her life, talking about mine even though she would clearly not be interested. I didn’t want to leave her alone, you know. She would just nod and say she’s fine, and not to worry about her,” answered Harvey as he recalled the lunch meetings.

  “How would you describe your relationship with Miss Jenson?” Frost inquired, seemingly more interested in Harvey than Christina.

  “We were colleagues back when she was working in the same department as I am – an administrative officer – I believe you met her replacement, Shia. We got along pretty well, because we were – are – roughly the same age and had similar interests in Criminology. She was taking her J.D. part-time and I would help her out as much as I could,” Harvey replied, “after she got married, she applied for a transfer to the Chemistry department, where her husband worked as a Lab Technician, to work with him. Quite a waste of talent.”

  “Do you fancy Miss Jenson, Professor Nolan?” Asked Frost. If he thought his question was inappropriate, his face did not betray him.

  “No, no we weren’t like that. I treat her purely as a friend, a sister I never had – I mean me growing up as an orphan, I don’t have family, well at least not anymore,” said Harvey, the last few words barely audible.

  “Is there anything else you wish to tell me that can help me with my investigations? Any interests of Miss Jenson’s? Usual haunts?” said Frost.

  Could it be anything to do with that man?

  Harvey closed his eyes and ran through the images of his memory with Christina. “No detective, I’m afraid there is nothing crucial I can think of right now. There is a café round about 118th street which Christina used to frequent every morning for her latte but I hardly think she has patronized it for the past three weeks. You can try your luck over there. I will contact you if I think of something.”

  Detective Frost recognized the dismissal as he stood up and shook Harvey’s hand, “Thank you for your time then. Professor Nolan. Have a good evening.” He headed toward the door and waited for Agent Darrow to open it. He took a long side glance at Harvey’s back before leaving the meeting room.

  Chapter 4

  DETECTIVE GARETT FROST walked out of Columbia University’s Department of Law building, and contemplated the conversation he just had with Professor Harvey Nolan. He turned right when he hit the street, subconsciously following Agent Darrow.

  “Darrow, where do you think you are going?” Asked Frost as he realized they were not heading toward their car.

  Agent Darrow spoke in rapid Spanish to the Mexican street vendor and turned around to reply, “I’m getting another hotdog, would you like one sir?”

  “No thanks,” said Frost, his concentration on the matter of greater importance suppressing the need to snap at Darrow this instant, “Darrow, what do you think of this?”

  “This hotdog is amazing. The relish is to die for. I would recommend extra mustard on it, really brings out the flavors.” Darrow said. His mouth full as he attempted to swallow half the hotdog in a single bite.

  “What? The case you idiot, not the hotdog,” barked Frost, his patience running thin.

  “Oh that. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the Prof, he seems like quite a nice guy, looking out for a poor widow, treating her like a real friend, the world could do more of such men–” answered Darrow as he finished the last of his hotdog. The look of enjoyment proofed the unawareness of his superior’s annoyance toward him.

  Detective Frost did not know why he bothered asking Agent Darrow about the case. He did not know why he bothered asking him anything. It is as though he wanted a reckless non-opinionated opinion to prove that he was the smarter one in the room. As if there was a need to. “If there is one thing I have learned from being an FBI detective for the past 8 years, is that kindness is overrated, and there is no such thing as a coincidence.”

  “That’s two things sir,” replied Darrow. He eyed the hotdog stand, genuinely contemplating whether he should get another one to go.

  “Shut up,” roared Frost. “Besides, remember the report you gave me? It was stated on the report that the last phone call out of Christina’s cell was to one Harvey Nolan but he made no mention of that.”

  “Uh huh–” Said Darrow. Frost’s observation clearly fell on deaf ears.

  He looked up at the street signs to confirm his bearings. F
rost spotted the traffic green sign he was looking for and headed toward the direction of the café Harvey mentioned as Agent Darrow trailed behind him.

  “Darrow, listen. I need you to dig as much information about Harvey Nolan as possible right now. Talk to his friends, find out the places he frequent, and find out his past. I need you to follow him. It seems like our professor isn’t as simple as you think he is.”

  Chapter 5

  HARVEY IN DEEP contemplation in his office alone, the sounds of peak hour traffic muffled by the thick glass windows, audible but undistracting. A mug of Godiva hot chocolate held comfortably in his lap, perfuming the room with smells of cocoa and spice. It was given to him by Christina as a gift from her honeymoon in Belgium. He felt a little sad thinking about it. The determined evening sun shone through his blinds covered windows, leaking an array of red and orange rays through the gaps of the partially turned down blinds. His office looked more like the living space of a cozy countryside home than a proper teacher’s office. An L-shaped full leather couch laid against the far side of the room. A larger than usual glass surface coffee table finished the look in the middle with piles of research reports, latest crime bulletins and a potted snake plant. His laptop laid closed beside the plant – he hardly used it. On the opposite side of the room, a teak showcase filled the entire wall, with academic awards and commemorative plaques – evidence of the ingenuity of the man that sat on the couch this evening. A single photo frame sat in the middle of them all. His eyes stared nonchalantly at the setting sun’s rays but his mind was nowhere in this room.

  “Where is Christina?”

  He thought out loud – the only living thing in the room indifferent to the affairs of man made no move to reply. How cruel of it, considering it had known her too. Harvey had met Christina in this very office in the presence of this plant three years ago, when he still wasn’t a full professor. He remembered the day as vivid as yesterday. Christina Jenson had walked into Harvey’s office, lost and in need of directions – it was her first day at work and Patty, the then Administrative Officer had walked away for a moment and wasn’t at her desk. She had thought Harvey was a student mysteriously lurking in a Professor Harvey Nolan’s office and demanded Harvey to tell her his real name – she did not believed him when he did. The heavy metal ringtone that followed on Harvey’s phone did not helped his case. It was only till Patty appeared did she managed to convince Christina that Harvey was indeed – Harvey. Christina had not had a more embarrassing day, but they did laughed it off in good humor. They quickly became good friends after that day.

  He picked up his phone and tried dialing Christina’s cellphone but he already knew he would reach no one. It didn’t.

  Taking a huge gulp from his mug, he thought about his last conversation with Christina as the bittersweet chocolate flavors danced in his mouth. It happened the day she went missing, in the late afternoon. She had called him to ask for advice – as she had put it – she had clearly just wanted to be consoled. She had wondered if life would ever be the same again without John – the man she had come to conveniently plan her whole life around. She would still woke up in the middle of the night hoping that it was all a nightmare, but her bed was always empty besides herself. It had been one of those rare moments where she was vulnerable enough to speak to Harvey about her feelings after the accident. He could tell she had been drinking but he did not see it fit to judge except to just be there for her.

  What was it about that man she was saying?

  Somewhere along talking about John and her life without him, Christina had mentioned that she had been occupying herself with some charity work at a local orphanage and it had been keeping her mind from straying too much. She really felt happy being able to help these kids and make a difference in their lives. She felt that they shared something in common – having lost the connection with a loved one. She had also come to be acquainted with this man – a fellow volunteer – who had been very supportive and kind to her ever since she shared her story with him. She hadn’t said much about him but Harvey could tell that she was pretty fond of him. She was planning to meet him that night for dinner but in a moment of loneliness, turned to alcohol – a regular companion these days. Toward the end of the phone conversation, Christina had sobered up enough and thanked Harvey for being the good friend he had been. She was bordering a little cheeriness – considering it was her – when they ended the call.

  Harvey stood up as the final glimpse of the evening red sun dipped below the horizon. The lack of lights from the window of his office room by the corridor proved that he was the last person in the office – even Shia had left for the day. He put on his navy checked wool coat and headed straight for the door. He knew what he had to do.

  Where are you, Christina?

  Chapter 6

  THE CLANGING SOUND of the metal plate against the concrete floor woke her. She sat up from the floor abruptly from a bad dream and found herself waking up to a worse one. Her heart sank every time she awoke to the nightmare she was in, unsure what to think of it. Too many questions were left unanswered for her to decide how to feel about it. One thing was for sure – fear was slowly simmering to unbashful anger. She was used to the cold for now, although her muscles still ached from the uncompromising surface of the wooden bench. She wrapped the thin woven blanket around her shoulders, the only comfort she was allowed, and walked toward the side of the cell where a small metal tap protruded from the cement wall. She turned the handle of the tap and a sorry stream of water dripped out from the sprout of the tap. She washed the sleep off her face and drank a few handfuls of water. She turned to her left where Samantha was and took a long look at her cellmate.

  Samantha proved to be quite a pleasant companion, considering the circumstances, but she wasn’t much of a talker. She mostly kept to herself – spent long periods of time staring out of the cell through the iron bars or just looking at her hands at god knows what. It seemed that 7 months of unexplained solitary confinement had really broken the poor woman. Christina was not yet prepared to become like her.

  Christina walked to the entrance of the cell after her feeble attempt at a wash up and found two metal trays of boiled potatoes and raw carrots at her feet. To be exact, it was three potatoes and one carrot per tray. She picked up the two trays and headed back to her bench on the left side of the cell where it doubled up as a bed. She passed a tray in Samantha’s direction, and Samantha took it without a word.

  “Don’t you ever feel hungry with the amount of food they feed us?” Asked Christina. “I’m practically starving all the time. When are they giving us any real food? What’s the point of kidnapping me and then starving me to death, I don’t get it.”

  “You’ll get used to it after a while. Count yourself lucky you are getting carrots today. I have not seen carrots in a week. Once a month, you might get lucky with a piece of fruit, oranges are my favorite.” Whimpered Samantha. Her slow vocal projection sounded of a person who have given up on life. Her arms were bone thin, and her cheeks hollow and sunken. She looked like a walking science laboratory skeleton. She had been the longest in here after all, Christina had managed to find out. There were 3 more girls in the other cells who were abducted at various intervals of time. Christina concluded that whoever it was who abducted her, regularly kidnapped pleasant looking women. Once in a while, the hideous bald man would come for one of them for hours on end, but they always return and get thrown back into the cell.

  “Do we ever get to shower? My scalp is starting to itch and I think I’m getting rashes on my thighs,” Christina complained, “it has been 4 days since I woke up in this cell and yet no one has come to speak to me at all. I’m really starting to wonder what all this is about.”

  “Christina, you do not want to be asked to take a shower. Trust me,” Samantha replied, “that is the last thing you would want from them.”

  Christina felt odd at the way the sentence sounded but did not questioned Samantha further. She seemed to lik
e to answer in riddles anyway. She quickly finished her meal and placed the metal tray where she had found them, knowing that they would be gone when she awoke. Samantha had just started on her food as she laid down on her bench and thought about John, though she knew John would not be here to save her.

  Not this time, not ever.

  He was dead and cold in his grave. A tear leaked from the side of her eye as she closed them to try and forget where she was. Sleep came to her eventually–

  “Wake up!” Demanded a rough voice. A sorry excuse for a smile of broken yellow teeth appeared on the face of its owner. “Wake up now, time to take a shower.”

  Christina sat up from her bench as the hideous bald man fiddled with his keys to open the gate to the cell. He approached her and tried to grab her left arm, she naturally flinched from the touch as she smelled the tobacco from his breath. He took out a smaller ring of keys where he picked a specific one and unlocked Christina’s metal cuffs on her wrist and her ankle. He held Christina arm tightly and dragged her out of the cell, his grip strong and brutal, she felt too weak to resist. The bald man led her on through the dungeon, her feet scraped against an occasional pebble in the sandy ground, and reached a flight of stairs at the end of it. They climbed the short flight of stairs and stopped short when it seemed like the stairs led to nowhere, she could see nothing above her from the lack of light. The bald man pushed hard against what it seemed like the ceiling and a door flunked open upward and they climbed out into the fresher night air.

  “Where are you taking me to?” Christina asked. “How about the other girls? Don’t they get to shower?”