The Connection (The Claudia Belle Series Book 3)

by C. S Luis

  Fuck.

  I continued reading anyways. A few reports revealed slight insights and a strong level of presences indicated around Dr. Edwards.

  Project X? Even then? What the fuck?

  But this was in Chicago, right about the same time Dr. Edwards was there.

  Fucking shit.

  I choked back disbelief; this had been going on long before I had become aware of it, but now it was obvious that it seemed to go on way past my career. Sources indicated presence in Oregon, New York, Kentucky, and then Texas.

  I dropped down into my chair; the rest of the reports were not there. What was saved into the computer database, what Jason had been able to send me, was not even half of the story. The rest was blacked out and confidential, and not even a tech like Jason could assess it. It was all surprising, mainly because I had never really taken much of an interest in such, but for some reason I couldn’t understand or explain to myself why I was intrigued for the first time.

  Claudia. Who else would put that interest in a man, a weak man like me?

  If Claudia was anything like her grandfather Dr. Edwards, then…

  Fuck no.

  I didn't want to believe it; if Dr. Edwards was the source, then why did Project X remain? No, I didn’t believe it. It couldn’t have a connection with Claudia. It just couldn’t.

  She was in danger. The Company couldn’t find out about her.

  Bryce needs to know, John.

  No he fucking doesn’t, not about her. Not Claudia. I couldn’t do that to her. She trusts me; she trusts John Slater.

  I didn't want to consider it, but yes, it was now swirling in my mind. Fuck

  Fuck, why didn't I see it before?

  No, it had been impossible to see it until the whole thing surfaced. It was obvious what had happened. Dr. Neil Edwards had discovered Christian; he connected everything, did his own investigating, and realized Christian or this person pretending to be Christian was using his social security and papers to get benefits and other things.

  Dr. Edwards discovered this and added onto his will that even if any living relatives were found that they would not have claims to Claudia’s wealth, and that only Michael would be responsible for her and her wealth. He had to have known. Why else had he not mentioned him to Michael? He must have known. For he knew that if this person discovered that Claudia had inherited a vast fortune, he would use the name Christian and pretend to be her uncle.

  Dr. Edwards knew this. It was only after he died that Cortez was able to come forward and pretend, but Dr. Edwards had placed it in his will that even if there were any living relatives they wouldn’t have claims.

  But, then, how had he, this impostor, had the nerve to…unless he and Mr. West schemed a plot to change the will so that Cortez could have a steak at Claudia’s money. If that was the case, to him it seemed he had hit the jackpot! It seemed far-fetched but likely what had occurred. There was only one way of finding that out.

  No John, we have no time for this.

  Yes, I would have to pay Mr. West a visit.

  I closed the laptop and held the flash drive in my hand and then slipped it under the bottom of the desk, hidden there for now. I didn’t want to get caught with it, just in case; I had to be ready for anything. But I was certain I had to give this to Michael. If anything happened, he had to know, just in case that bastard dared to show his face around here again.

  John, you’re a fool.

  I would have to pay Mr. West a very personal visit; that I was sure of. I looked at my watch again and noticed I was running late. I was getting up, drawing my hand from under the desk to secure the flash drive, when a man I recognized appeared at my office door, glaring at me.

  I slowly pulled my hand away so that he wouldn’t see what I had been trying to do. I sat up as he walked very slowly into the office, just a step or two away from the entrance. The smile upon his face spread wide from each side of his mouth. He lowered the shades as he narrowed his blue eyes over at me. He was dressed in a Houston police uniform, and he was much better built than most Texan officers. He worked for The Company, and like all, had to be fit for the job always.

  “John,” the man dressed like a cop said. His name was Roberts, and he was a field man, part of the retrieval team. I didn’t like him, and the feeling was mutual. It was mere jealousy I suspected, because he was still doing fieldwork and because The Man in White had taken me under his guidance. He was always trying to impress him.

  “Roberts,” I uttered, sitting up as he stood but a few steps from my desk. He held a motorcycle helmet under his arm and was wearing a great, big, black belt that held his gun.

  “Working late?” I barely grinned. “I hear Nicholson wasn’t very happy with you this morning.” Of course he would bring that up. He liked it when I messed up, which wasn’t often, and so when I did, he liked to rub it in.

  “You’re not losing your nerve, are you, John? It would be a shame.”

  I tried to return a smirk. He would like that, wouldn’t he? I’d lose it so he could come along and take my place.

  “I have something for you,” he said, lifting a vial from his uniformed pocket, and then he tossed it to me. I caught it, realizing what it was once I was examining the tiny vial.

  “Use it wisely,” Roberts said, grinning. Just what was he talking about? He smiled, realizing I was asking myself that very question; he liked to see the confusion upon my face. Until his eyes revealed the obvious weakness and confusion that were well plastered all over my face.

  He came forward and put two others on the top of my desk. Now I had a clear view of him and that smirk on his face. He was a blond, pasty motherfucker. He could be confused for The Man in White’s double, a younger copy of him. Yet, not as handsome. A vain motherfucker as well, not that the Man in White wasn’t, but he wasn’t so quite damn obvious about it.

  “And just who does the Director wish you sedating? Is it that pretty little thing I saw coming into the building with the old man?” He smiled. God, I hated his smile.

  I blinked. He saw her? Claudia?

  He grinned. “She's a pretty thing, just your type. I’d tear into that too if I were you.”

  I rose at once, coming around the desk and nearly tackling him, launching forward. “Watch your mouth!” I said.

  He didn't say anything, only smirked. I pulled away, suddenly realizing what he meant. Realizing what Bryce wanted me to do.

  “He asked I deliver them personally, he wants her out of your head.” He took the bottles from the desk, and put them in my pocket before I could stop him. I gripped his hand tightly.

  “It's not like that,” I uttered in my defense.

  “Oh, it isn't? I can see it’s far more than that,” he simply stated, not surprised by my reaction. “And so can the Director.” Prying my hand from his, I returned behind the desk

  I didn't want to look at him. I was afraid he'd see it in my face and have a little nice chat with Bryce; although, I already knew The Man in White was aware of my distraction no matter how I had attempted to conceal it from him.

  “I can't blame you; she's a hot little piece of ass,” he again said, now walking back to the door; he stood for a mere moment and glanced back. “She’s a little too young for you, but I suppose that doesn’t matter.” He smirked, and I glared over at him.

  “That’ll do the trick. She won’t be able to resist you; she’ll do everything you ask, everything. One dose will last you for a while. Like I said, use it wisely.” He grinned.

  “Get the fuck out!” I snarled back at him.

  He laughed, taking a step out of the door, and then he turned again. He knew just as I; she had gotten under my skin.

  “Get her out of your system John, and get your shit together, Nicholson’s orders. Have fun.”

  He winked before he put back on the shades and disappeared from the entrance. I heard the door as he went out into the hallway, and then he was gone.

  I pulled the vials from my pocket and star
ed at the yellow liquid for a mere moment, and then I dropped them into the nearby wastebasket.

  Fuck.

  They had seen my weakness, I couldn’t hide it, and I could see that in their faces as I walked into the building. The fact that they had seen Michael and Claudia earlier made me slightly nervous. Bryce was willing to allow me this for his fucking project! He was willing to destroy anyone to get what he wanted, no matter what.

  Bastard.

  Satisfied the flash drive was secure, I left my laptop and hurried out the door, locking my office as I stepped into the hallway and then proceeded into the parking lot. The night air greeted me as I came to the Shelby and opened the door. I looked up at Milton, perhaps wondering if I would ever see it again. What would stop me from leaving now in order to protect her? Nicholson’s perverted orders had left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I felt like fleeing instead and never coming back. But that sure would not stop the Man in White, and that’s what now kept me pinned here.

  Find what he wants. And he’ll forget this place, as we intend to do.

  I climbed in, glancing at the items in the front seat and turning on the car engine. I noticed the retrieval team was now long gone, and only the hole and I were alone, staring at one another. Its depth was undetermined by me. It didn’t look by merely a glance like a deep hole because it certainly wasn’t a wide one at all. It was perhaps wide enough to get a few cars inside of it, but it wasn’t very dangerous, just a scheme to get everyone out of the building. It had worked. The building was deserted.

  Work would follow.

  Not now, but soon.

  Then I realized I hadn’t even thought about Mr. Claypool and Mr. Vasquez once or whether they had returned or for that matter planned to. I guess if they didn’t plan to return tomorrow they would notify me. Why they had even crossed my mind, I hadn’t the slightest clue. Instead of my assignment, I was thinking of them. Bryce was right; I was taking this job literally.

  I put the car into gear and sped off out of the parking lot. I had a lot to consider. My first thought was of Claudia and, of course, my plans to see Mr. West very soon. I wanted to make sure all of those parts were taken care of in case I had to leave quickly. Perhaps I couldn’t stop thinking of what Roberts had said, regarding Bryce’s orders. If I left, the mission would end. I could walk away from it. But would she be safe if I did?

  Find what he wants. And he’ll forget this place, as we intend to do.

  Of course she wouldn’t be safe. Bryce would still destroy the building; he would simply do it to get what he wanted. And if there was people there, it wouldn’t matter to him. I knew that. I couldn’t just walk away from this. Not anymore.

  At the red light I pulled out the crystal. I needed to protect her and in order to end this I needed to find it, I told myself.

  Find what he wants. And he’ll forget this place...

  I tried not to think about it anymore and instead tried to imagine the smile that had greeted me when I had left Michael’s house. I couldn’t wait to see it again. I practically sped towards Michael’s house, arriving and jumping out of the driver’s seat and grabbing the wine and daisies from the car seat. I must say I was ready with my nice, clean, black suit and tie and my dark red shirt. Flowers in hand, wine in hand, grin in place, and I was ready to go.

  I walked down the tiny path up to the house, noticing a few cars parked on the driveway but thinking nothing of it. I rang the bell; I had the flowers pulled out in front of me, ready to hand them to Claudia when she came to the door. I could already see her beautiful smile greet me. You’d think I was picking her up for our date. My bottle of wine was in the other hand, and then the door opened, and my mouth dropped. I was not expecting to see her standing there, smiling back at me instead of Claudia. Her short bleached-blonde hair was neatly curled and styled very beautifully, and she was wearing a red, tight sleeveless dress.

  “Karen?” I uttered in my confusion. Had I come to the wrong house? She liked to see me like that; the look on my face of course was priceless.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to swallow and pulling back my hand holding the flowers.

  “Oh, are those for me? John, you shouldn’t have. Are you trying to make up for earlier?” She asked, ignoring my questions. I made a motion to pull the flowers back, but she took them from my hand before I could do so.

  “You brought wine, too.” She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. Then she made a silly face, putting a hand over her mouth as though she had made a mistake.

  “I guess I shouldn’t do that. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about us. I know it makes you unconformable.” Again my question remained lingering. What the hell was she doing here?

  She pulled me in with her by the hand like a confused little boy; I looked into the living room looking for Claudia, looking to see if I was really in the right house.

  “Michael invited me,” Karen suddenly said, finally answering the confusion on my face. “He said it was your idea, so stop pretending you have no clue.”

  He did? Why the hell had he done that? Did he think I was actually going out with her? John Slater didn’t date.

  Michael appeared suddenly. “John I’m so glad to see you. I hope you don’t mind that I invited a few other people.” He winked, looking slightly over at Ms. Stephens and smiling like he had done me a great favor.

  “No, of course not, Michael,” I disappointedly tried to say.

  “Get comfortable, please. I’ll be in the kitchen getting things ready for our dinner. Oh, by the way, Mr. Vasquez and Mr. Claypool are also here in the living room.”

  A dinner for three had somehow turned into a full house. My only question now was where was Claudia, but before I could ask, Michael walked away towards the kitchen.

  “I think he knows about us,” Karen whispered into my ear and winked. About us? There was no ‘us’ I wanted to say, but of course didn’t. I tried my best to smile, standing there like I had been left at the altar.

  “Thanks for the flowers,” she said. “But I’ve never been one for daisies.” She brought them up to her nose. Well they weren’t for you, I wanted to say, but of course I didn’t.

  “Wow, you look nice; for someone who’s so surprised to see me you sure got all dolled up. You know you didn’t have to get all dressed up for me,” she said, straightening my tie; her lips were as red as her dress.

  She looked beautiful, and you’d think I would have been happy to see her and more happy knowing she wanted to be with me. But for some reason I couldn’t concentrate on her. Bryce’s threats and Robert’s visit had left me troubled more than usual. It was odd for someone like me to be troubled because I usually knew how to handle such things. Now I felt like a victim of them. I was a mess, and I knew why. Bryce knew why, and Roberts knew why. But they didn’t know everything, only part of why. If Bryce knew my queer or peculiar connection I feared what he’d do. I myself wasn’t sure what to make of it. That CAT scan was calling.

  “Well, you know me,” I tried to say with a hard smile.

  Karen grabbed the wine from my hand. “Oh, Concannon, Crimson & Clover. I’ve never had this before; let me get something to open this up for us.”

  She walked away into the other direction where the kitchen was. As I watched her I thought of following but instead staggered in the other direction just as confused and looking for her.

  I stumbled into the living room where I found Mr. Vasquez and Mr. Claypool seated at the couch watching what appeared to be a basketball game. They were drinking beers. I myself was not much of a beer man; I’d have whisky once in a while but nothing else.

  Mr. Claypool immediately caught sight of me and stood up to greet me. “Dr. Black, sir, how are you? It’s nice to see you. Michael said you would be joining us.”

  He put down his beer. He was dressed in a causal shirt and jeans. He appeared very relaxed, yet out of place; perhaps I was overdressed. I was just not the type for jeans and causal shirts. I was more of a b
utton-up silk shirt, suit, and tie sort of person. I always had been and would never change.

  Mr. Vasquez followed. He was dressed in the same manner but with an ugly green collared shirt. Did this guy like green or what?

  “Mr. Claypool, I wasn’t expecting to see you or Mr. Vasquez this evening, but it’s a pleasure,” I tried to say politely as I shook hands with both of them. Of course I had hoped it would have been just the three of us or less.

  “Please, sir, call me James; everyone else does,” he politely said. “Well, Michael called us and asked us if we wanted to join them for dinner. He said he had invited you and Ms. Stephens,” Mr. Claypool said with a big grin. Did he also know? Did everyone think we were dating?

  “And I said sure, anything for a free meal,” Mr. Vasquez volunteered with a grin. I tried to smile back.

  “So, here we are.” I folded a lip back and nodded. “So, would you like to join us? I was just about to head into the kitchen for another drink. You want us to get you a beer?” Mr. Vasquez politely asked.

  I smiled but waved away his offer. “No, I’m fine. I don’t drink beer,” I said, trying not to sound like a snob.

  “No, of course you don’t, sir,” Mr. Claypool tried to say in response, eyeballing Mr. Vasquez like what he had said was just the worse thing to say to me. These guys were trying really hard to please me.

  “I’m just not a beer drinker, gentlemen.”

  They both nodded but didn’t seem to understand; perhaps they thought I just didn’t drink. I think that’s what everyone thought about me, that I was this professional well-mannered fellow, which of course I was, but I wasn’t trying to make it an obvious issue.

  “Dr. Black only drinks wine, red wine,” a voice said from behind. I turned to find Claudia; she was standing at the entrance of the living room looking in.

  My heart just about stopped. She was dressed in a pretty, dark maroon dress, and it matched my shirt perfectly. In fact, it seemed to be the same dress she was wearing in the picture I had received from Bryce where her family was attending the function. You’d think we were going to prom together. Instead of dress shoes she was wearing a pair of black Doc Martens, and her hair was loosely draped upon her slender back and pushed back with a dark red band. This time there was no makeup on her face, and, God, she looked beautiful. She came forward into the living room, and the smile on my face spread, and I exhaled.