by John Sneeden
“Well, I’m not sure how much you’ve been told. Has anyone told you about Dad’s money problems?”
Zane wasn’t sure how much he should tell the girl about what he knew, but he answered truthfully. “Yes, the London police told us he had some financial struggles. Your father’s employer implied that it might have had something to do with his death.”
“It all started with Mom’s cancer. Dad had good insurance through his job at NASA, but the chemo didn’t seem to be working. Mom just got worse and worse. She handled it by growing stronger in her faith. The closer she got to death, the closer she got to God. On the other hand, Dad was never a spiritual man at all… and, well he turned to alternative medicine. He took her to two different clinics that specialized in unorthodox treatments. Mom died shortly after checking out of the second one.” She paused as the painful memories began flooding back into her mind. “And Dad’s financial comfort died along with her.”
“Something tells me those treatments weren’t cheap.”
“No, they weren’t. I was young and he never told me exactly, but I’ve heard from others that the treatments cost a couple of hundred thousand dollars.”
“Wow. Not hard to imagine how that would lead someone to financial ruin pretty quickly.”
“Yes, and in the aftermath of Mom’s death, Dad made bad decisions with his money, and things spiraled out of control. Which was odd, because he was very conservative before Mom’s illness. Anyway, there's nothing I can do now.” Amanda took a deep breath and looked out across the Thames at St. Paul’s Cathedral. “But at least he had the fortitude to take out a large insurance policy.”
Zane raised an eyebrow. “Really? When did he do that?”
“To be honest, I’m not exactly sure. My aunt in North Carolina is the executor of his estate, and she told me he took it out after taking the job over here. If you need to know, I'll ask her at the memorial service on Monday.”
“No, that’s fine,” he replied. Realizing it was time to get to the heart of the matter, he said, “I’m told you received a letter from your father. Is that correct?”
“I did. It was delivered to me in Israel.”
“Did you bring that letter with you?”
“Yes,” she replied. She looked quickly around before taking her purse off the table. After searching for a moment, she finally pulled out two folded sheets of paper and pushed them across the table.
Zane glanced back into the interior of the pub as he picked up the sheets. He still couldn’t see either of the two men. Perhaps he had been concerned for nothing, although his internal alarm system was generally reliable. “Is this your father’s handwriting?”
Amanda laughed. “Absolutely. I’d recognize that chicken scratch anywhere.”
Zane’s brow furrowed as he began to read.
Dearest Amanda,
I hope this letter finds you well. How is the dig? I’m so sorry that I haven’t been in touch with you as much as I should have. Maybe one of these days I can come out and watch you do your thing. What a fascinating way to earn a living! And please pass along my best to James if you will. I’m so happy that you’re working under such a fine man. I have fond memories of him.
You’re probably wondering why someone has delivered a letter to you out in the middle of the desert. Due to a change in circumstances, I felt it was the safest way to get in touch with you. Please don’t be overly alarmed, but I recently submitted my resignation to the organization I’d been working for. The resignation was probably not well received, and you can see from the return address that I am no longer in Switzerland. A former colleague was kind enough to let me stay in an apartment he owns here in Vienna.
I don’t feel at liberty to fill in all of the details of my resignation just yet, but suffice it to say these people were not who they represented themselves to be. Yes, I’m mindful of your warnings when this all began, and kudos to you for sensing this wasn’t in my best interest. You were spot on, and I’m proud of my daughter for having such intuition. Perhaps it’s your faith in God. Whatever the case, you were right to challenge me when this all began.
Knowing you as I do, I can be sure that you have a lot of questions about what specifically went on in my job and what caused me to write this letter. Unfortunately I don’t dare speak of those things right now. There is a reason for my silence, and there is a reason that I’m here in Vienna and not at home in the States.
You’re also probably wondering why a set of keys was included in my correspondence. The larger one is a spare key to the apartment I’m living in now. If for whatever reason you don’t hear back from me, or if you learn that something has happened to me, I wanted that in your hands. That key will lead you to more information. You are such a smart girl, and even though that doesn’t give you much, I know you’ll be able to follow my trail of information.
But let me end on a happy note. Often our greatest fears never come to pass, so my plan is to go visit an old colleague I haven’t seen in a while – Rupert Sterling. You may have heard me mention Rupert when I spoke of my time in London many years ago. He is a brilliant man, and I’d like to get his input on where I should go from here. Unfortunately, it’s not as easy as picking up the phone and calling the authorities.
Whatever you do, please do not call my cell phone. I fear it may be monitored, but I have no proof of that. For now, I don’t want you brought into this mess. I know how driven you can be when you sense something needs to be done, Amanda, so if you find you can’t resist the urge to reach out, then please contact Rupert Sterling. I’ll write his number on the back of this page.
My darling, I realize I haven’t been a good father. I’ve been wanting to say that for a very long time, and I want to do so without making any excuses. But I also want to say this… When I return to the States, I promise you things will be different. This situation has changed me, and I’m going to let it in turn change my life for the better. Item one on my agenda will be a visit to the great state of Texas to find out more about my lovely daughter and her work. And please tell James that I’ll look forward to sharing a pipe and cigar on his back porch again!
Please know that I love you more than life itself, and am so proud of you and all you’ve come to be.
Love,
Dad
P.S. Your mother would be so proud of you as well. I remember the cute little gift she gave you as a child. It turned out to be the key to your career and the key to the future! If only she could see you now!
Zane frowned as he read over both pages two or three times. Then he removed his cell phone, quickly took pictures of each sheet, and typed in Sterling’s number.
“Have you contacted Rupert Sterling?” he asked without looking up.
“No. I’ve told your people that two or three times. I know you guys may find this hard to believe, but I’m actually someone who can be trusted. You’re the only ones I’ve talked to about this letter and the circumstances surrounding my father’s death.”
“Of course. And you may find this hard to believe, Amanda, but I do trust you. It’s part of my job to know who to trust and who not to trust. You’ve passed with flying colors.” Amanda blushed and Zane continued, “I know you told Dr. Ross you hadn’t been in touch with anyone, but I think that was a day or two ago. I was simply trying to make sure you hadn’t reached out to Sterling since then. And by the way, I think you were wise to come to us first.”
“Thank you. I’m not sure what it was. Call it premonition or a gut feeling or whatever you’d like, but I just felt like from day one I shouldn’t go to the London police.”
Zane nodded in agreement. “Do you have the keys your father referred to?”
“Yes, would you like to see them?”
“Please.”
As Amanda dug through her purse, Zane glanced back into the pub once again. He thought for a brief moment that he saw the bald man leaning against the bar and, for an instant, turning in their direction. Just as Zane had tried to make confir
mation, an older man in a business suit walked up to a table near the window and began to flirt with the women seated there, his heavy frame completely blocking the view of the bald man.
Zane’s jaw clenched in frustration. If it was the same man, that would make it the second time he had been looking in their direction. Once was probably happenstance. Two was worthy of attention. A third time would mean they had a problem. He thought of standing up for a better look but then realized that would draw undue attention. He might need to take a trip to the restroom later, although he was reluctant to leave Amanda sitting by herself.
“Here they are,” she said, fishing the keys out of the purse and handing them to him.
Zane studied each one carefully, flipping them over and reading both sides. “I noticed your dad didn’t say anything about the smaller key.”
“Exactly. I’m not sure why. I’m thinking it must be the key to one of the interior rooms, perhaps a storage room of some sort.”
“I don’t think so,” Zane replied. “It doesn’t look like that kind of key. It looks like one of those little ones you’d use for a safe deposit box or a mailbox. Just strange that he wouldn’t mention it in the letter. We’ll try to find out what type of key it is.”
Zane lifted his cell phone, took a picture of the smaller key, and then saved it into his photos.
“Do you guys have access to a database of keys?”
“We do. Unfortunately, we’re only going to be able to tell what type of key it is and perhaps where it was manufactured. We’ll have no way of knowing where the key was being used, but maybe we can find a clue in your father’s apartment.”
“So you’re going there to look around?”
“Of course. I’m going to look into a couple more things while I’m in London, but searching your father’s apartment in Vienna is next on our agenda. He gave you the keys and stated in no uncertain terms you’d find something helpful there.”
“Mr.—”
“Zane.”
Amanda blushed again. “Zane, I really want to go with you to look at Dad’s apartment. That letter was sent to me. I might be the only one who—”
“I’m very sorry, but that’s not possible. For one, there are liability issues—for us and potentially for the US government—if we were to allow you to become involved. Two, this is dangerous work. You read your father’s letter. He was scared to death of these people, so much so that he was reluctant to even go to the authorities. That should tell you a lot about who we’re dealing with.”
Amanda looked disappointed, but Zane also noted an air of confidence written on her face. “I realize you don’t know me very well,” she said, “but I’m not your average twenty-something.”
“I know you aren’t—”
“No, please let me finish. I told you what happened in the years following my mother’s death. There aren’t many things in life I fear. I almost feel as though finding my father’s killer is a calling that I can't refuse.”
Zane paused for a moment, measuring his words carefully. “My years in this business have given me this ability to size people up. Some have said it was my training, and others say I was born with the gift. And I will say this: within moments of meeting you, I knew that you were someone I could trust—truthful and reliable.
“All that said, the work we do goes beyond simply having a partner we can trust. We’re involved in dangerous work.” He lowered his voice. “Right now, I’m carrying a weapon in my front pocket. It’s the type of weapon that I’ve had to use a number of times in my career. The people we run up against are like the person or people who killed your father. They’re professionals, and they won’t hesitate to end your life if you stand in their way or if they feel you have information that could expose them.”
“I guess you just don’t understand. You telling me that my life could be in danger doesn’t faze me one bit. I—”
“I believe you. I truly do. But there is no reason to unnecessarily put you in harm’s way. In the end, you need to trust us to do our job. We know what we’re doing, and if there are clues in Vienna, we can find them. It’s what we do.” Zane stopped speaking for a moment in order to let those words sink in. “Besides, I have your number. I can always call if I think you can help.”
“I just feel like I’m going to be out of the loop. It’s going to drive me crazy not knowing where things stand. I mean, I don’t even truly know who you are or which part of the government you work for. Heck, I don’t even know if you work for the government. All I know is that the government told me I was to meet with you and tell you everything I know.”
“And I thank you again for coming here to meet with me. How about this? How about I promise to keep you updated as things move along? It’s probably a violation of protocol, but I’m willing to do that if it will help you get on board with how this thing has to work.”
Amanda sat perfectly still and locked eyes with him. Her expression softened. “Well, if that’s the only way.”
“Unfortunately, it is.” Zane reached across the table and squeezed her arm. She looked up at him and smiled.
“And you know what else… Zane?”
“What’s that?”
“I trust you too. The only person that I’ve ever truly looked up to and relied upon is the man I work for now. He’s like the dad I never had. He makes me feel like I have a family.” She dabbed her eye with her coat sleeve again and then laughed. “See, I can get emotional too. Anyway, it’s hard to explain, but ever since I arrived tonight, I’ve felt safe. Just like you, I can sense things in people. I trust you, and I know you would keep me safe if I were allowed to go to Vienna.”
“I’m flattered. I know how you must feel not being able to take part in the investigation, particularly when your father seemed to pass that responsibility on to you. But please trust me to find out who did this horrible thing. We’re good at what we do, and we will bring them to justice.”
Amanda stood up abruptly. “Okay. Here is my girlie side coming out. Do you mind if I give you a hug?”
“Not at all.”
She walked over and threw her arms around his neck. Zane patted her on the back and drew in the scent of her perfume. She even smelled good.
“By the way, what are your plans over the next few days?” Zane asked, pulling back.
“Well, I’m flying back to the States tomorrow because Dad’s memorial service is being held in North Carolina on Monday. It’s going to be simple. We don’t have a very big family.”
“Is there someone special who you can spend some time with?”
Amanda gave a nervous laugh. “No, no boyfriends, if that’s what you mean. My work doesn’t give me much time for that.”
“Believe me when I say I can sympathize with that.”
“I’m sure you can, Mr. Mystery Investigator.”
Zane laughed and then drained the rest of his ale. Remembering the unfinished business inside the pub, he dropped a few pound notes on the table and gestured toward the street. “Let’s get you a cab. I’ll bet you need some sleep.”
It only took a few moments for them to procure a cab on Hopton Street. Before entering the rear of the car, Amanda turned to face Zane. “Thank you again. You don’t know how much this means to me and my little family.”
“It’s my pleasure,” he replied. Her eyes began to tear up again, so she gave Zane one final smile before ducking into the back seat.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE SECOND STALL in the men’s room at the Whitehorse Tavern was closed and locked. However, its occupant, a man with wavy blond hair and a black leather jacket, was not engaged in any bodily functions. Instead, he sat on the toilet seat with his pants still on, a cell phone in his left hand.
After a few moments of silence, Sergei bent down to make sure there were no shoes visible in any of the other stalls. Seeing nothing, he dialed a number and pressed the phone to his ear. After a deep voice answered on the other end, he spoke softly in Russian. “When she arrived, sh
e went directly to an outside table and sat down with a man.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” said the voice. There was a long pause before he asked, “Could you hear anything?”
“There were no open tables near them so we’ve been watching them from inside.”
“Well, what were they doing?” The voice sounded irritated.
“Mostly they just talked, but a couple of times it looked like she handed him something.”
“What was it?”
“We couldn’t see from where we were standing,” said Sergei.
“Have you ever seen the man before?”
“No, never.”
“What did he look like?”
“It was hard to see because of the reflection—” Sergei began.
“I said, what did he look like?”
“Yes, sir. He had long brown hair. That is all we could see.”
“Did you get a picture of him?” asked the voice.
“No, Dmitry was going to try a couple of times, but the man kept looking inside, like he was looking for someone. Maybe us. This man… his movements and the way he carried himself… I think he’s a professional. Maybe British police.”
“That’s doubtful,” the voice declared. “Not if his hair was long. Keep watching them, and call me back in exactly thirty minutes. I’m a little troubled that the two of you aren’t getting me better information. If he's a professional, we must know who he is. Figure it out. Is that understood?”
“I understand, sir.”
“And by the way, please don’t make me send Jorg back to London to clean up your mess.”
The line went dead. The man then stood up, flushed the toilet, and exited the stall.
*
When he entered the pub to look for the two men, Zane was reminded of how Londoners enjoyed beer. The crowd inside had increased fourfold since he had arrived an hour earlier, perhaps because of the dropping temperatures outside. All of the tables were full, and the bar was encircled by a seemingly impenetrable mass of humanity.
