Deadly Deception

by Tami Kidd

  “Yes, sir.” Reece pocketed his cell, straightened his back, and walked out of the conference room. “Beck, I’m going to be out for a while.”

  “Yes, sir,” the tech said without looking up from her monitor.

  While driving to the Seville Inn, Reece Carter contemplated the mission. Convincing Alex Strange to sit down and talk to Daddy Dearest might prove to be difficult. It might be time to call in the big guns.

  ****

  Only the muted sounds from outside penetrated the walls of the quiet hotel room. The long hot bath and fresh clothes confirmed Mara’s belief in Heaven. Stretched out on the billowy bed, her eyelids fluttered as she neared the precipice of sleep. A loud knock on her door rocked her back to reality. Groaning at the interruption to blissful solitude, she said, “Go away.” Again, the knock sounded, this time with more urgency. Mara flailed her arms and legs like a child in the throes of a temper tantrum.

  “Mrs. Byrne. I’m sorry to disturb you,” Agent Carter’s muffled voice beseeched from the other side of the door. “May I have a few minutes of your time?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Just a few minutes of your time, please.”

  Mara huffed and then rolled off the bed. Shuffling to the door, the large hotel slippers swallowed her feet. She unlocked the deadbolt, removed the chain, and flung the door open in a grand gesture, glaring at the FBI agent standing before her.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Byrne. I’m sorry for the interruption.” Reece entered, his keen eyes scanning the room.

  “Sure. I wasn’t doing anything important. Just resting.”

  “Can we sit?” Reece pointed to the two chairs at the table. “Mrs. Byrne, what I am about to tell you is personal and privileged information. I’m certain that I will probably regret telling you, but I have no choice.”

  Resting her elbows on the table, Mara asked, “Will you stop calling me, Mrs. Byrne?”

  “Of course, sorry.”

  “Now, what’s so important?”

  Reece leaned closer to her as if revealing a dark secret. “Mrs.—sorry, Mara. The man you know as Spencer Duncan is actually someone else.” Reece glanced around the room and said, “He is actually Joseph Strange, Alex Strange’s father.”

  Forgetting about her need for rest, Mara gaped at Reece. “What?”

  “We established a positive ID from his fingerprints. Mr. Strange also identified him from a photo.” Reece leaned back in his chair and exhaled deeply as if relieved to have the burden off his chest.

  Placing her palm on her forehead, Mara said, “My God. What did Alex say about this?”

  “Shocked and angry, naturally, but I’m concerned.”

  “Why? Those seem like normal reactions to me.”

  “True, but his father requested a visit. I understand there’s bad blood between them, so Mr. Strange—Alex—refused to see him, and that concerns me.”

  Tilting her head slightly, Mara asked, “What’s your agenda?”

  “What do you mean by agenda?”

  “I mean, what are you really up to? I know Alex. He’s made peace with the situation regarding his father years ago. If he doesn’t want to speak to him then I’d say that’s that.”

  “His father claims he’s dying, and there’s something else.” Reece hesitated. “We believe he has vital information that could help the investigation immensely.”

  “So, you want me to convince Alex to talk to his father. He said no, and now you’re hoping he’ll do it for me. Is that it?”

  Reece traced the wood patterns in the table with his finger. “Yes. If you would try to convince him to talk to his father, it would be helpful.”

  “Exactly what information are you looking for?”

  “You saw the lab at the compound. There’s no way Dr. Foster performed all her research without a team of scientists and proper facilities. There must be a complete lab and researchers hidden somewhere. We must find them.”

  “You’re wasting your time. The cure doesn’t work. Well, not in the way you think. It does prevent cancer, but the side effects are worse than the disease.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Thomas told me.”

  “That may be true as the drug stands now. It may be more harmful than helpful, but with the proper research, development, and testing it could be the next miracle drug.” Reece stared at Mara, his eyes imploring her. “We have to do whatever it takes. Think of the possibilities a drug like this could present to the world. It could eradicate cancer, and who knows what other disease. It could slow or stop the aging process. The possibilities are endless.”

  “We don’t have the right to play God. What would happen to society? The planet? Doesn’t that scare you?”

  “If you had the ability to prevent one person from suffering the horrors of cancer, wouldn’t you do everything in your power to stop it?”

  Mara looked away, unable to hold his gaze. The thought of her father withering away to a skeleton from cancer flashed before her. The memory of her mother sitting by his side, the sorrow in her eyes percolating, ready to explode, flashed next. Then those damned commercials of the hopeful, smiling faces of bald children, not fully aware of the finality of death that faced them, tugged at Mara’s heart. “Alright, I’ll speak to him, but I want you to understand that if he’s determined not to speak to his father, then the chances of him changing his mind are slim. He can be very adamant.”

  “Understood and thank you.” Reece smiled. “This is a good thing. It could save millions of lives.” He stood and walked toward the door.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Mara said to no one after Reece left.

  Forty-Two

  The drive took Alex less than thirty minutes. Traveling out of Pensacola on Interstate 10 proved to be a cakewalk compared to the 91 Freeway from Riverside to Orange County. On any other day, Alex would have relished the easy drive, but the destination had his stomach flipping flops.

  The detention center, a three-story, redbrick building looked more like an apartment complex than a facility that housed hardened criminals. Alex parked the rental and walked inside. A young woman, who carefully viewed his credentials, greeted him. Satisfied, she picked up her phone to make a call. Minutes later a stone-faced, armed officer appeared. The receptionist pressed an invisible button that buzzed loudly. The officer escorted Alex through the double doors he had just exited to another checkpoint secured by two more guards. These equally apathetic guards instructed Alex to step inside the body scanner and raise his arms. Assured their guest was not carrying contraband or weapons, the guide led Alex deeper into the bowels of the institution. At the end of the long corridor, a rotund man sat behind a desk, waiting for their approach.

  Thick fingers handed Alex a clipboard. “Sign here.”

  Alex signed his name and handed it back.

  Examining it carefully, he said, “Going to see the old man, huh?”

  Stunned, because these were the first words spoken since leaving the young woman, Alex said, “Um, yes. I guess if you’re referring to Spencer Duncan, I mean, Joseph Strange.”

  Holding out a visitor badge, he offered a crooked grin. “Yeah, it’s not often we get the older fellas in here. It’s usually young punks.”

  Accepting the pass, Alex nodded without a word. He heard a buzzing sound and realized that the door next to the desk had been unlocked.

  The rotund guard smiled and winked. “Go ahead. Jack will take you to the visiting area.”

  Jesus, how much farther is it? “Thanks,” Alex said, walking toward the door.

  Through several more doors and hallways, Alex finally entered a large open room with round brightly colored metal tables. Despite the attempt at cheeriness, the room sucked the oxygen from Alex’s lungs, causing a dark sadness to overcome him.

  The escort said, “Take a seat. Your visitor will be in shortly.”

  Alex sat at a green table. A chill ran down his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. In his b
usiness, he visited clients in jail on many occasions, but this time was different. Personal. A visit to the dentist would have been more pleasant; however, Mara had made a valid point when she urged to him to see his father. This was bigger than any personal issues either of them might harbor. So, Alex bit the bullet and agreed to visit Joseph Strange. God, I do not want to be here.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Alex spied an old man in an orange jumpsuit being escorted into the visiting area. He shivered at the sight of Joseph Strange. For seventeen years, he called this man, Dad, but after his mother’s suicide, he never used that name again.

  The bedraggled man shuffled toward him. The chain hitched around his waist, linked his cuffed hands and legs, a set of irons clasping his ankles. The man watched the floor beneath his feet, avoiding Alex’s stare.

  When they reached the table, the guard walked to the back wall and took position. The old man stood as if waiting for an invite.

  “Sit. We might as well get this over with.” Alex pointed to the seat across from him.

  Sliding onto the seat, Joseph Strange swallowed hard and said, “Thank you for coming. I’m grateful.”

  Alex’s frigid blue eyes glared at the old man. “Let’s get one thing straight from the get-go. I’m not here for you. I’m here because the woman I love thought it would be a good idea even after all you put her through. Not to mention what you did to her husband.”

  Licking his lips, he nodded. “Understood. I have no one to blame but myself.”

  “Why did you want to see me?” Alex asked flatly.

  “To tell you I’m sorry for everything that happened with your mother. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

  “Okay, you’ve got that off your chest. Now, I have something I want to ask.”

  “Yes?”

  Alex bit his words as he spoke, “How the hell do you know Jessica Foster? I want the truth. If you even know what that is?”

  The old man inhaled. “Several months ago, she approached me and asked if I wanted to help her with a project. She said she could help me, but I would be expected to carry out some…questionable duties.”

  Nothing new for you. “How could she help you?”

  Pausing to look around the room, as if searching for the words, he said, “When she approached me, I had just been diagnosed with cancer. She claimed she had developed a groundbreaking drug that could cure cancer. She cured herself of breast cancer.”

  “And you believed her?”

  “I was desperate. I didn’t want to die.”

  “No surprise there, it’s always about what you want. Did you stop to think how she knew you had cancer?”

  “I assume she got my medical records somehow.”

  “Did you know of her connection to me and Mara?”

  “No! I promise I didn’t. Not until about a week ago.”

  “But you went through with her plan anyway?”

  “No! As soon as I found out, I planted the note in your pocket about going to the Riverside Inn. I hired a woman to call you. I arranged for the packet with the flight manifest. I knew if I called you, you would have ignored me.”

  “I found papers about the drug in the packet too. At the top, someone wrote it would cure the world of cancer. Was that your doing?”

  “Yes. I wanted to get your attention. Since it listed the author as Dr. Jessica Foster, I knew it would raise a red flag.”

  “Did you know that Mara had been escorted off the plane heading to Little Rock?”

  The man appeared as if he had aged twenty years since the conversation started. “We knew she was removed from the plane. Doyle Fisher made contact with Mara to keep an eye on her. Dr. Foster was furious when he informed us that he had lost her. I’d hoped you would find him. When he called and said you showed up at his house to question him, Dr. Foster instructed Doyle to bring you to the compound.”

  Alex jumped up from the table. “I can’t listen to anymore.” He marched over to the window and stared outside. He could see his father’s reflection in the glass. Joseph Strange sat in silence as his eyes flitted from him to the guard. The pressure in his skull magnified. Alex returned and leaned on the table, jerking it to snare the old man’s attention. “You son of a bitch, you killed people. How can you justify that? Just because you want to live forever?”

  The old man gazed down at his lap, his eyes reddened from unshed tears. “I’m sorry.”

  “You make me sick.” Alex pounded his fist on the table. The guard standing at the door looked up in alarm and took a step forward. Alex waved his hand and said, “Sorry.” The guard nodded. Alex continued, his face inches from his father’s. He growled, “I have one more question to ask, and you’d better give me a straight answer.”

  “I have been straight with you.” The old man looked down at his hands and said, “What do you want to know?”

  “Dr. Foster didn’t conduct her research at that pitiful underground lab in the compound. Where is the base of her operation?”

  Joseph Strange struggled as he rose from his chair and called to the guard. “I’m done. Take me back.”

  Shocked by the abrupt end to their conversation, Alex said, “Stop, asshole. Answer my question.”

  “You don’t understand. Dr. Foster is in custody, but the others aren’t, and they’re much more dangerous than she ever thought of being. For your own safety, I can’t tell you anymore.”

  Alex glared at the approaching guard and held up his hand. “Give us a minute, please.”

  Looking at the prisoner for direction, the guard waited.

  The old man nodded. “It’s okay. Please give us a few more minutes.”

  The guard returned to his post by the door.

  Alex sat and watched his father take a seat. His eyes flared. “Look, you don’t need to worry about my safety. You lost that right years ago.”

  Joseph leaned forward, his eyes nothing more than slits. “You’re still the stubborn little punk you were back then. Your mother let you get by with too much. A good ass-kicking would have done you wonders.” Sitting back, he sneered at his son. “If truth be told, I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about me.” He poked a bony index finger hard against his own chest. “These people are powerful, and if I give them up, they’ll kill me.”

  “So what? You’re dying anyway.” The caustic words dripped from Alex’s mouth like hot lava. “Why don’t you try thinking of someone other than yourself for once in your life? You’ve been nothing but a selfish, egotistical bastard. Is that how you’re going to go out too?” The air between father and son vibrated with so much tension that Alex feared his chest would explode from the pressure.

  After a pause, Joseph said, “If I tell you, I’m signing my own death warrant.”

  Without waiting a beat, Alex said, “Kind of like committing suicide, huh?”

  “Not just mine, but yours and everyone else involved, even that little woman you care so much about.”

  “Let me worry about her.”

  Hoisting himself from his place at the table, Alex’s father turned his back to his son and motioned for the guard. “Boston.”

  “What?”

  “The lab is located in Boston.”

  “Where in Boston?”

  “A facility in Burlington called Methuselah Technologies.”

  “You’re joking?”

  Looking back at Alex, he said, “No, I’m not. They plan on being around forever.”

  When he walked out with the guard, Alex left in the opposite direction. Neither man looked back as they walked out of each other’s lives forever.

  Forty-Three

  Alex left the detention center and drove to the FBI office on W. Romana Street. The modern building, its exterior covered in mirrored panels, stood three stories high. A soothing warm breeze blew off the gulf, taking the edge off Alex’s jagged nerves. The visit with his father affected him more than he cared to admit. Hopefully, his report back to Reece Carter would relea
se him of any further obligations in the situation. Images of Riverside popped into his mind and he smiled. Home called to him. As much as he liked the Pensacola climate, he was forever a west coast boy.

  Glancing at his watch, Alex estimated he could end this meeting with Reece and race back to the hotel in time to take Mara to lunch. They needed to discuss the future. His heart raced when he thought about how much their lives had changed in such a short time. Now that Thomas was back in the picture, their future looked bleak at best. Preparing for the possibility they might not be going back to California as a couple tore his heart apart. First things first.

  From the reception desk, a young man smiled and asked, “May I help you?”

  “I’m here to see Reece Carter.”

  “Your name, sir?”

  “Alex Strange.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll let him know you’re here. Please, have a seat.”

  Ignoring the invitation to sit, Alex stood, watching for the FBI agent to come around the corner. He said a silent prayer of thanks when he heard footsteps approaching.

  Reece Carter rounded the corner. He extended his hand and said, “Mr. Strange, come on back.” He escorted Alex to his modest office. Void of personal effects, his desk and bookshelves gave his office a sterile, impersonal, temporary feel. “Have a seat,” Reece said, pointing at the chairs in front of his desk.

  “I have the information you wanted, but I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”

  “You don’t waste time, do you?”

  “Why waste time? No one benefits by pussyfooting around.” Alex checked his watch.

  Reece raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Good point. So, what did you find out?”

  Feeling anxious, Alex walked over to the window and stared down at the parking lot. “There’s a lab outside Boston, in Burlington. It’s called Methuselah Technologies. According to the old man, Dr. Foster’s accomplices are bad news.” Alex took a seat and crossed his legs. Smoothing the fabric of his jeans, he said, “When can we go home?”

  “I don’t see why you can’t go whenever you’re ready. If I need anything else, I know how to reach you in Riverside. Will Mrs. Byrne be going with you?”