by K. T. Tomb
“Mom sent a couple of guys: Huber and Selig. They said they were going to take me to you. They also said they were C.I.A. agents. I learned later that they lied. I seem to be getting a lot of that lately. I’m getting really tired of being treated like a little girl. I would love someone…anyone to be honest with me! I guess I knew that the Spear wouldn’t be back in Nuremberg.”
“Interesting, squirt…uh…Phoe. Now that’s how you get information out of someone!”
“Uh…Eric. You didn’t give me any information.”
“Exactly.”
Chapter Thirteen
Phoe and Eric arrived at Simon’s jet. Phoe sensed that something was off.
Eric was preoccupied with how they would get to Portland. “Are you shitting me, squirt? A jet? Damn, girl! If I had known you were hooked up like this, I would have said hello a long time ago!”
Phoe remained silent as she walked up the stairs to the open door of the jet. She stopped and looked at the bullet holes riddled all around the door.
She rushed inside, drawing her newly acquired gun. Eric waited outside as Phoe crouched down behind the curtain that led to the flight attendant’s area.
She took a deep breath.
Just as she was about to see what was behind curtain number one…her phone rang.
Phoe was startled and angry at Simon’s continuous bad timing.
She was about to shut off the ringer when Captain Sampras rushed out from behind the curtain with his Glock drawn.
Phoe froze as Sampras relaxed. “What the hell happened here, Captain?”
“That, my dear, is on a need-to-know basis.” The voice came from behind her.
She turned to see Simon Kessler standing there as confident as ever in his sixty-thousand-dollar suit.
He smiled as he usually did. He found that a simple smile could put even the tensest person at ease. Eric had boarded and was now standing behind him. He couldn’t help but move away from the strong odor that emanated from Eric.
“Hello, Phoe,” Simon said calmly. “I know you have a lot of questions. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”
Eric chuckled as Simon continued, “All will be answered in due time. I had to make sure I knew who all of the players were before I joined the party. I’m afraid that I do know now. We will all go to Portland together. I would very much like to talk to your mother. You see, I believe that she is also after the Spear of Destiny. I also believe that she knows where it is. As for that little matter of Lukas Mueller…it is being taken care of.”
Eric stopped chuckling.
* * *
The jet ride to Portland, Oregon seemed longer than any flight Phoe had ever been on. Eric sat at one of the seats with the computer.
He looked like a kid in a candy store. She walked by him every once in a while to make sure he wasn’t on any porn sites.
She slapped him on the back of the head when she caught him.
She slapped him a lot.
Simon was going through a file with the name Lukas Mueller on it. She was apprehensive when she approached him.
Phoe forced a smile. “Since you’re tagging along to Portland…does this change our deal?”
Simon had on a pair of reading glasses with thin frames. They were positioned at the end of his nose. He glanced up at Phoe. “What do you think, Phoe? Do you believe me to be a man who goes back on his word in his business dealings?”
She wasn’t sure how to answer.
“Don’t get in my way,” Phoe snapped.
That didn’t sound right.
She had his full attention. He took off his glasses and sat up. He made direct eye contact. His trademarked smile was nowhere in the vicinity of his face. “Don’t worry, Phoe. I won’t.”
He put his glasses on and continued to study his file. Their conversation continued for several more minutes, before Phoe stood.
She was apparently exhausted from their verbal exchange.
Neither Phoe nor Simon noticed that Eric had tried to listen in on their conversation. All he caught were the bits and pieces of their argument. He smiled and went back to his porn.
Phoe sat down at the other computer and pulled out the postcard nonchalantly, so as not to arouse unwanted attention. She placed it on her lap and started to tap furiously on the keyboard.
* * *
“We are on the approach to Portland International Airport. It’s 65 degrees with a slight breeze out of the southwest at 5 to 10 miles per hour,” Captain Sampras announced.
Simon looked at his watch. 11:36 a.m. He put away his reading glasses, stood, and picked up a carry-on bag near his seat. The seatbelt light was flashing.
“Simon?” Phoe asked. “We’re in Portland. Seatbelts are usually required for landings.”
Her sarcasm was tiresome. He went into the bathroom.
The landing was smooth, as always. It didn’t take long for the jet to come to a complete stop.
Pam was about to open the door when Simon walked out dressed in a sweatshirt and sweat pants. He put his cell phone in his sweatpants pocket.
Pam and Phoe’s mouths dropped in unison. They had never seen their employer dressed so casually. He headed off Pam.
“It’s all right, Pam. I’ll do it,” said Simon calmly. “Could you go tell Captain Sampras that I need to talk to him?”
Pam shrugged her shoulders and headed toward the cockpit.
Phoe and Eric unbuckled their seatbelts and stood.
As soon as Pam got to the curtain, right before the cockpit, she stopped.
She remembered Captain Sampras telling her in Nuremberg that Simon called him just before they were attacked.
Why didn’t he just call Alan or go himself?
Pam had a look of horror as she ran back to the passenger area. She had arrived just in time to see Simon open the door.
“Simon! No!” Pam screamed.
Eric and Phoe immediately looked toward Pam and then at Simon.
Simon smiled at Phoe. “I won’t get in your way, Phoe.”
As he opened the door completely, the cabin was riddled with bullets. Everyone except for Simon hit the floor. Simon’s abdomen and chest took the brunt of the barrage as he stumbled backward.
Pam, Eric, and Phoe froze in shock as their benefactor fell limp to the cabin floor. There was a sound of a vehicle’s wheels screeching outside.
Phoe ran to Simon and checked his pulse. He was miraculously still alive. She then ran to the door and pulled out her guns. As she looked outside, she saw a beige Mini Cooper speeding away. An ambulance drove up with the siren blaring as the car left.
Phoe jumped down to the tarmac and headed for a third vehicle. A limo.
There was no one around the limo…not even a driver.
She sat in the driver’s seat. The keys were in it. The passenger side door opened as Eric got in. “You don’t expect me to miss this. Do you?”
Phoe started the limo. She didn’t look back at the jet.
If Eric feared for his life because of the way she drove, he didn’t show it. She pressed the gas pedal to the floor.
“Phoe. I know you’re upset, but killing us won’t solve anything. You already freaked me out when you threw that guy off the tower in Germany. You’re definitely not the little girl I left.”
Without looking toward him, Phoe responded, “You’re right. You don’t know me, Eric. You haven’t seen anything yet.”
Chapter Fourteen
The Mini Cooper sped down Airport Way and was followed closely by the limo. They were headed for War Veterans Memorial Freeway. Phoe set up some coordinates in the GPS.
If Phoe didn’t catch the vehicle by then, she could lose it.
That was, if she was chasing the Mini Cooper.
The Mini Cooper turned toward the freeway as Phoe veered off toward Portland’s east side. She slowed down to the speed limit.
Eric watched the Mini Cooper get away. He looked puzzled. “Uh…Phoe. Not to sound cliché, but they went that way!”
Phoe’s expression didn’t change. “We’re not going after them, Eric. They will be caught, but not by me. Not to sound cliché, but we have bigger fish to fry.”
She liked mocking him.
“What the hell, Phoe?” He was irritated and she knew it.
That was her plan.
He panicked, because he was no longer in charge. It was easier when he pulled the strings. All of a sudden, he felt he had to prove himself to her.
He grabbed his hair from the top of his head. His long matted hair was just a wig. It came off with a bit of difficulty to reveal short brown hair.
His beard was next. As he pulled on it, it made almost a suction sound as it came off in pieces. The mustache went with it. There was nothing left but a sticky residue.
Eric then reached inside of his jacket and pulled out a plastic bag with something that was brownish-gray in it. There were rubber bands tightly wrapped around it. It smelled similar to intense body odor.
Whatever it was, it looked squishy.
Eric rolled down the window and threw the bag out. He started to smell a lot better.
Phoe glanced over at him as she drove. She was disgusted with his lies. “Nice,” she said sarcastically. “I can’t believe that you would try to con me! Your flesh and blood! I haven’t seen you in years, Eric! I expected a better reunion!”
“Come on, Phoe! How the hell did I know that you were my sister? You punched me! For all I knew, you were with Mueller! Not only that, but you’re a pretty good con man…uh…woman, yourself. It’s no coincidence that there was no driver near the limo.”
Phoe ignored him as she pulled the limo into the parking lot of a small store named Matzah Mania. She got out of the limo and pulled the postcard out of her fanny pack. Eric got out as well and held the store’s door open for her.
She ran her hand across his jaw and inspected every detail. “You look better clean shaven, bro.”
His narcissism was undeniable. “I know. Right? So, what are we doing here?”
“We’re going shopping,” she replied.
* * *
It was a quaint store in the Jewish community of Portland’s east side. The store only had about 9,000 square feet of shopping area.
Phoe had a small basket that contained a cutlery set and a bottle of Red Regent wine.
“So, why do you think that this is the store to buy all that crap from?” Eric queried.
“While you were watching porn on Simon’s jet, I was finding out what store in Portland carried everything on the list from the postcard. You actually gave me the idea, Eric. Well, in a roundabout way. You may have been right on the money about Mom sending the postcard. Since we were coming here, I figured I should search the internet for any stores that carried all of the items. I found this one. It makes sense that it’s here, in the Jewish community. And since it’s a shopping list, I just assumed we would go shopping.”
“Well, yeah. You’re a chick and you like shopping. Big surprise there, Phoe! But what about all that shit from the plane?”
“Jet,” Phoe corrected.
Eric could tell that Phoe was her mother’s daughter. He was distraught. “Whatever! What about Simon and Mueller?”
Phoe stopped shopping and glared at her brother. “First of all, Simon had to find out more about Mueller. He had to lure him out into the open, so he spread the word that the girl who screwed up his plans in Germany was coming to Portland. Add that to the fact that Mueller really wants you and voilà. Simon knew that Mueller had a wide reach and would have people here waiting for us. They already knew what the jet looked like, because they shot it up in Nuremberg. Do you get it now, Eric?”
Eric felt stupid. “So, that’s why Simon dressed up…or down? Because he knew there would be a welcoming party and he didn’t want his expensive threads ruined. Wow, Phoe. This is some crazy shit!”
Phoe smiled as she said, “So, you’re getting used to calling me Phoe now. Good. Also, about Simon, he didn’t want anyone else to know what was going on, so he could get a natural reaction from Pam when she saw him gunned down. Simon’s okay…I hope, but not after he spills the beans to Pam. Ha-ha!”
Eric turned serious. “Where does Mom fit into all of this?”
“I don’t know. Simon said that she’s after the Spear, too. I hope he’s wrong, Eric.”
She saw a bottle of varnish and the Armor All in the same aisle. “Sweet! Just one more item!”
Eric looked at the postcard. “Where the hell are you going to find unleavened bread nowadays?” He realized what he had just said. “We’re in a Jewish store. Okay. I’m stupid!”
Phoe and Eric walked down the baked goods aisle.
She rushed to where the matzah bread was located and picked up a flat loaf. “We did it! We completed the shopping list!”
“That’s great, but now what?” he asked.
Phoe placed the matzah in her basket and looked puzzled. “I guess we pay for it.”
* * *
Phoe and Eric waited at the lone cash register. There was no one around, but there was a bell on the counter. Eric rang the bell four times and then looked around. After a few moments, a man of about 65 to 70 came to the counter.
He had a long white beard and matching mustache. On his head, he wore a dark-blue kippah which matched the color of his long robe. He wore thin-framed glasses and walked slowly with his hands clasped.
He smiled at Phoe and Eric. “Shalom Aleichem!” His voice was rough and raspy. He placed his hand to his mouth as he coughed.
Phoe looked at Eric and then at the Jewish man. “Shalom to you, sir. We would like to purchase these items.” She glared at the items on the counter, as if that would force the old man to reveal something to them.
The old man squinted at Phoe. “You are new to our neighborhood. So, where do you live? Are you Andrew Gershwin’s daughter?”
Eric did not even try to control his laughter.
Phoe grimaced. “No, sir. As much as I am honored by your assumption that I am Jewish, I am Greek.”
“Forgive me,” he said. “So, what did you find today in our market?” He rang each item separately. “My name is Rabbi Abel, by the way. I own Matzah Mania. If there’s anything else you need, please don’t hesitate to…”
The rabbi stopped and looked at his register. After he swiped the last item through the scanner, the register froze. Instead of a final price, the L.E.D. display read, “SPEAR.”
Rabbi Abel grabbed his chest and looked at the siblings, shocked. He then walked as fast as he could to the front door and locked it. He flipped the Open sign around so that it read Closed to any potential customers.
He went back to the cash register. He hit a distinct combination of keys. The cash drawer popped open.
Another drawer under the cash register popped open as well.
He pulled out an old rusty, metal key from the second drawer and closed both drawers. His smile faded as he walked to the back of the store. “Follow me, please.”
His voice was firmer and less friendly.
Phoe and Eric followed the rabbi into the back room and down some stairs.
They reached the dirt floor of the basement. It was dark in spite of a dim light hanging from the ceiling. The basement was damp and had a musky odor.
There were boxes stacked to one side and the furnace was visible from the corner. The rabbi went to the wall immediately before the furnace. There was mold covering it. He started to pull it down in clumps.
Eric tried to help the rabbi, who gave him a stern look.
Phoe and Eric didn’t have any clue what to expect next. Eric had an epiphany and pulled Phoe to the side. “Phoe, I just thought of something. I mean, I’m not the sharpest tool and all that, but something didn’t make sense to me about Mueller shooting up the plane.”
Phoe shook her head. “Jet. What is it? I explained everything.”
“Yeah, well, not everything.” He looked nervous. “Something doesn’t fit. I understand that
Mueller shot up the pla…jet, here in Portland. You also said that he was responsible for shooting up the jet in Germany, too.”
Phoe was losing patience with her brother. “Yes, yes. I was there. I know what I said.”
“Look, Phoe, I know you’re disappointed in me after all this time, but if Mueller did shoot up the jet in Germany…how did he know? How did he know that particular jet carried the girl who would find her brother? Why would he shoot up that jet? He didn’t know I was connected to it, because I wasn’t, until you brought me back to it. I’ve been playing that back in my mind a lot.”
Phoe realized something horrible. “Someone told Mueller about the jet, before you became involved. They were after…me.”
“Yeah, Phoe. Someone told Mueller. From where I stand, that’s a short list of about two people.”
It was either Simon Kessler or Angelica Phoenix.
Chapter Fifteen
Rabbi Abel finished clearing away most of the mold. He then started to knock on different areas of the wall. It was all solid rock until he hit one area that sounded different.
It sounded hollow.
He looked at Eric. “Now would be a good time to help. That is, if you’re still interested.”
Eric looked around until he found an old piece of pipe. He joined the rabbi at the wall.
Phoe sat down in the dirt, oblivious to everything around her, except her own thoughts. The possibility that her mother or Simon had betrayed her was one thing, but to think that one of them might want her dead was quite another.
The sound of pipe hitting brick was deafening. It also made her realize that she had to handle one thing at a time.
Eric dropped the pipe and rubbed his hands. The rabbi was excited as he placed the old key into the newly exposed keyhole in the wall.
He was shaking as he glanced from Eric to Phoe and then back to the key. “Here goes nothing.”
As he turned the key, the sound of several gears moving could be heard. Gears that moved behind the wall for the first time in generations.
