Duty With Honor Book Five: An Unexpected Pause

by Jordan Bollinger

  Elizabeth wasn't at all sure this was a wise move. It seemed to agitate Marks even more. His color had moved on to a livid purple and he was almost panting in frustration. But, his hands, although a bit loose, were still cuffed together by nylon zip line. So, she turned back to Petrie again.

  She barely noticed the car pulling into the driveway. She didn't think Jack or Andrew had heard it at all. Suddenly, Helen came and set a tray with coffee and tea on the cocktail table, and left again. She came bustling back with another tray stacked high with plates and napkins, a handful of forks and a short, serrated knife, and set it on the desk near a window.

  John followed carrying four large pizza boxes. There was a large sack on the top one, and he carried another grocery bag with large bottles of several kinds of soda. He set the pile on the still empty end of the desk, and returned to the kitchen. Meanwhile, Helen was unwrapping grinders, cutting them again into quarters, and piling them on a platter. She balled up the wax paper and foil and started opening the pizza boxes.

  "What would you like, Miss Beth?"

  "You know what I want -- a couple of pieces of the sausage and mushroom pizza." She grinned and added, "At least for a start."

  Helen handed her a plate with the large slices hanging over the edges, napkin, and a fork before she turned to Jack. But, Jack told her, "Fix this guy something to drink, please. His blood pressure is on the rise. He needs to cool down."

  "Right away, Mr. Jack." Helen looked at the man and asked, "Coke? 7up? What would you like?"

  "Just water, thank you," Marks, said, grudgingly.

  Helen headed for the kitchen while Jack perused the desk, selecting several slices of pizza, and a couple pieces of sandwich. He set his plate down and asked Andrew, "What would you like, buddy? I'll hand it to you."

  "That's all right, Jack. I'm going to wait for a while. You and Beth enjoy it."

  "I'm sorry, Drew."

  "Don't be silly," he said to Beth, smiling. "I know you've been looking forward to your pizza." He gave her a funny little look and added, "Just like I look forward to my curry."

  "Oh no, Andrew. Don't even try to make me feel guilty. I asked you on our honeymoon if the ban on curry and lamb was going to be a deal buster. And you said no." She leaned forward, batted her eye lashes at him, and asked, "Which do you want more, Andrew? Me? Or curry?"

  Jack burst out laughing and said, "Ooh, Andy. You got burned!"

  "Nonsense. Elizabeth is only teasing. She knows perfectly well what I'd choose." He fixed himself a cup of tea, gestured for Petrie to continue, and said, "Pay no attention to us. We're an old married couple. We banter all the time. Just keep telling us what happened. The sooner you finish your story, the sooner you can have something to eat and drink, and be a little more comfortable."

  "Marks," Petrie continued, "told me how to waylay their monies. It wasn't easy, because I had to bluster my way into other departments, pretending to be different people. But, I managed to get the check. Our records showed the organizations had been paid their money. The organization's records showed they'd received their funds. But they hadn't. I'd intercepted it, and then passed it to Marks. And he, in turn, donated it to some horrible, radical group -- but under the old-fashioned values group's name. Then he leaked a list of contributors to the press. For all I know he could have donated monies in other groups’ names to cause a scandal."

  "Okay, now how did you get involved with the strangling of women?"

  "I'd met the woman at Marks home one afternoon. He'd introduced her as Mrs. White -- someone who did 'special jobs' for him. I should have realized what he was implying then. But I didn't. I was stupid, but I didn't."

  "Okay, so you'd met her. How did you get to New Orleans?"

  "Marks called me one evening. He said that Burton-Smythe had lost the fountain pen, and she'd gone to get it back. But after chasing the woman across two continents and killing half a dozen wrong women, she still hadn't retrieved the pen. Initially, he'd sent Burton-Smythe to meet her in New Orleans. But after he hadn't identified the woman after a few days, Marks said we had to go to make sure everything was taken care of correctly."

  "So you just went?" Beth asked. "Why?"

  "Because he'd obtained video tapes of me in departments I had no business in, rummaging through desks I had no legitimate reason to be looking in. I don't know how he got them."

  "Did you see them?"

  "No, not the entire thing. He would only show me the very first few seconds."

  Jack shook his head, saying, "You're right, you were stupid. I bet you anything, he doesn't have any taped evidence. He used your own guilty conscience against you." He gulped down his coffee, muttering, "Amateurs..."

  Jarvis Burton-Smythe cleared his throat, and when they turned to him, he asked, "Can I get some food now?"

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Burton-Smythe, I thought you had some. Please, go ahead and help yourself," Beth told him in a soft voice.

  Andrew frowned, and got up, ostensively to get himself some food, but really to supervise Burton-Smythe's movements. He could feel Beth's disapproval. In an attempt to appease her, he slipped another piece of the sausage and mushroom pizza onto her plate and grinned.

  Meanwhile, Mr. Burton-Smythe placed a couple pieces of grinder on a plate, grabbed a napkin and fork, and returned to his chair. His eyes darted around the room, as if he was unsure he was actually to be allowed to eat. But, after several minutes, he appeared to relax and started eating.

  She stood up, and said, "I think Mr. Petrie has told us all he can, Drew. Why don't you let him switch places with Mr. Marks? Mr. Petrie, what can I get for you to eat?"

  Jack stood up, pulled out his jack knife and cut the zip tie binding Petrie's wrists. Then he dropped the jack knife on the coffee tray, as he poured himself another mug of coffee. But, as he supervised Mr. Petrie's trip to the food table, he did sneak bits of sausage off of pizza, and crammed a large piece of a veal parmesan grinder in his mouth.

  Marks was unceremoniously placed in the 'interrogation chair'. Helen refilled his water glass, while Jack returned to the chair slightly behind him.

  "So, Mr. Marks," Andrew began, "you took it upon yourself to save us all from ourselves. How very charitable of you. And, just what gave you the idea we wanted you to?"

  "I'm a visionary. I'm the future. You all had better start listening to me, or you won't have a future."

  "Why don't you just tell us where all the money came from?" Beth asked.

  "People donated it. I got it from all kinds of people -- from all over."

  "I see," Beth told him, "but did these people know they were donating money to you and your cause?"

  "Well," he answered, hesitantly, "some of them. The problem is that most people don't know what's going on. They don't have any idea what our governments are doing. If they did, they'd never go along with it. It's a lot of work educating people about their world. It wastes a lot of time and energy that can be better used elsewhere."

  "So, basically," Jack said, "what you're saying is 'no'. Which means you're stealing money from the very people you claim to be trying to make the world better for."

  "Stealing is such a harsh word," Marks crooned.

  "Okay, let's move on to where you got those pellets and the injector. That's not something you could just pick up on a trip through Harrods'. Where did it come from?"

  "I acquired it. Well, really Mrs. White acquired it for me. She was a rare find -- a gem. She was brought up in a family of smugglers. So she not only learned about 'importing and exporting' business, but met a lot of interesting people. People that brought some very unusual and interesting items across her path."

  "So your strangler 'acquired' the ricin pellets and pen for you? And you have no idea where or from whom? Is that what you're telling us?"

  "I'm telling you what I'm telling you!"

  Drew looked both confused and annoyed by Marks' last statement, but when he didn't say anything, the old man began ranting again, "I'm a visiona
ry. I'm the wave of the future. You had better listen to me. Take notice of me. I get people to get things for me...to do things for me, because I'm such a leader. I don't have to know the little details -- the minutia of running my organization."

  "Are you kidding me? I mean, do you seriously think we'll believe that?" Andrew snapped. He turned from the man in disgust and went to pour himself another cup of coffee.

  Then Marks seemed to snap as well. He lurched forward, and began spewing out a stream of curses and other unintelligible statements. For a moment, Beth thought he'd become so agitated, that he was falling from his chair. She was concerned that he'd hit the floor, because, although they were loosely tied, his hands were still bound by the zip tie. Too late, she saw he reached forward and grabbed Jack's knife.

  Ruth remained where she was -- silent, sitting absolutely rigid -- her face frozen in horror.

  Petrie suddenly cried out, drawing Jack's attention to him. But it took him a moment to see Petrie wasn't trying to do mischief, but alerting him to Marks' actions.

  So, it was Mr. Burton-Smythe who threw himself in front of Elizabeth, as Marks lunged forward at her with Jack's knife.

  "Beth!" Andrew cried out, as she and Jarvis fell to the floor, with Marks on top of them. He thrust the knife again and again, as he swore awful, insulting slurs. Blood gushed over his hands and dripped onto the floor forming an ever-growing scarlet puddle.

  Andrew snatched the knife from him, before he chopped the back of Marks' neck. Then, as he collapsed, Drew caught him and pulled him back. Jack zip tied his wrists again -- tightly, as Andrew lifted Burton-Smythe up, so he could reach Beth.

  Blood soaked both of their clothes, and for a moment, no one could tell whether it was Beth's or Jarvis' blood. Ruth came to her senses and jumped up to help get Beth onto the couch. She began examining Beth, as Drew and Jack fought to lift Burton-Smythe into a chair. But, he had become heavy, and slippery with blood, so they just stretched him out on the floor.

  "She has a cut on her collarbone that doesn't look very deep, Andrew. But there's a slash on her forearm that might need stitching."

  "Burton-Smythe took as many of the hits he could for her," Drew said, almost to himself. "He realized Marks was unstable. I think he expected Marks to do something and was watching him. So he saw Marks go for the weapon." Still, he was stunned that the man had thrown himself in front on Beth. "He saved her life."

  "Andrew," Elizabeth said in a hoarse voice. "Is Jarvis all right? Ruth, call 911 -- you have to ask for an ambulance."

  "Bethy..." Andrew whispered, as he bent over her, "We're calling for an ambulance -- but for you. You have a bad cut on your arm. It's too close to the vein for me to just bandage it."

  "But what about Jarvis, Drew? Is he all right?"

  "No, Beth. He's not. I'm sorry, but he's been stabbed in the throat several times. I can't put a tourniquet around his neck. The paramedics won't get here in time. They won't arrive before he bleeds out."

  "Let me up, Drew!" Beth cried out, as she fought Ruth and Andrew as she slid off the couch to the floor, and crawled to get over to the dying man. She crouched beside him on the floor, grasped his hand, and spoke to him softly, "Mr. Burton-Smythe... Jarvis... You saved me. You gave your life for mine."

  "I had to, my dear. I had to..."

  "Remember what you told me?" she implored him. "About how our loved ones want us to go on -- go on to be the best we can be. Mary knows. She knows what you did. She knows you saved me -- twice."

  "Twice?"

  "Yes, first when you didn't identify me to that woman, and just now. She'll know it."

  "I hope you're right. I want to believe she'll be waiting for me," he said, coughing up blood. "Once I met you, and spoke with you, I didn't want to hurt you. But, when I read that letter you left for your son, I knew I couldn't hurt anyone. It was as if you and Mary had conspired against me -- or, at least, against my foolishness." He tried to lift himself up so he could look at her better, "Don't feel sorry for me, my dear. Believe me, this is the best way. Now, no one has to know how low I stooped."

  Beth bent over closer so she could press her cheek against his, when a low, rasping breath rattled through him and then he was still.

  Andrew picked her up and returned her to the couch, where Helen was already waiting with a basin of water to clean some of the blood off her. Then he and Jack carefully picked up Mr. Burton-Smythe and laid him out on the foyer floor, and Ruth covered him with an afghan.

  Petrie was sitting, with his mouth hanging open. He obviously had no experience with violence and was in shock. John brought him a brandy, and held it up to his mouth so he was able to sip some. He was clammy and chalk white, and Andrew was afraid he might be having a heart attack.

  "I hope that ambulance is on its way, Helen. Petrie might need it more that Beth."

  Ruth, always calm and efficient, had returned from covering Jarvis, and promptly crumpled into a chair, shaking. Beth knew from her own experiences that part of Ruth's anxiety was that she didn't understand what was happening to her. She went to her friend, hugged her, and whispered, "Everything's all right, Ruth. I know. Part of what you feel is shock, and the other panic." She waved to Helen, asking, "Are those Valium still in the kitchen?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Then get them and some water, please."

  "Right away, ma'am."

  Jack had pulled her up, and then down on the sofa, with her in his lap. And there, he cradled her like a sick child, and crooned. "It's all right, honey. Everything is going to be all right. I know... I know... Just take the pills Helen's giving you. You'll feel much calmer in a few minutes. Everything is going to be all right, I promise."

  Marks stirred in the corner of the living room floor, where they'd thrown him, but they ignored him. Jack had hog tied him, so he couldn't make any more trouble. In fact, he could barely even breathe.

  Beth sobbed softly on Drew's good shoulder. He knew she had liked the man -- felt sorry for him. And, that was before he'd put himself in harm's way to save her.

  Jarvis was supposed to have killed Beth. Yet, in the end, he'd saved her life.

  Once Ruth had taken the pills, Jack carried her to the study, where she could lie down in privacy and quiet, to rest. Andrew put Elizabeth on the living room sofa, to allow Helen to clean more of Jarvis' blood off her, and make sure they hadn't overlooked any other wounds.

  A police or ambulance siren could be heard growing louder in the distance, and Andrew decided to just leave the front door open for them. They weren't going to get away without co-operating with the local authorities this time.

  Although, he did go to the door between the kitchen and the foyer and called, "Jack, you better make a quick call, because the State Police are on their way."

  "I'm already on it, Andy," Jack answered, as he emerged from the study. "Ruth's quieted down now. I think she'll fall asleep -- at least for a while." Then he went back into the study, dialing his phone.

  Helen entered the kitchen, carrying the basin of bloody water and cloths. "Miss Beth is asking for you, Mr. Drew. I didn't find anything more than a few scratches, but the arm is worse than I thought. She's going to need stitches, I'm almost positive. You go out with her. But," she said, turning from the sink and reaching for Drew's arm, "I think that other man -- the one John's fussing over -- he may need to be seen first. If anything, he's worse."

  "All right, Helen. I'll take care of it. And, I hate to ask, after all you've done the last few days, but--"

  "I'm already planning to put another batch of muffins in the oven and then make fresh coffee and tea. But...I'm not sure what to do about the food on the desk."

  "What?"

  "It's...it's not as if there was blood over everything, but...I mean with everything that happened..."

  "Give the dogs the food that's left in there. But, fix a little bowl for Elvis, as well. Then place another order -- better add to it -- I'm sure we're going to have some extra visitors. The ambulance will be he
re before John needs to leave to pick it up."

  "Just let me get my batch of muffins in the oven, and I'll order the food."

  Andrew returned to the living room, where John was still holding a glass of brandy to Petrie's lips, which had taken on a disturbing gray -blue color. Helen was right, he didn't look well. But, Elizabeth was more important, so he went to her.

  "Bethy, Helen thinks you're going to need stitches, so I don't want to give you a scotch. I can get you a little water, or soda, or something else, though. And, if you hang on a few minutes, Helen will have fresh pots of coffee and tea."

  "Andrew," Beth answered, as she tried to sit up, despite him holding her down. "What about the other man, Petrie?"

  "We'll have the paramedics check him, as well. I just want you to try and relax. So, lie back down for me. They'll be here very soon." He bent down and kissed her nose, and whispered, "Especially since I think we're going to need you to work your charm on Officer Johnson, because if he's one of the responders we're all in for trouble -- forget about just poor Jack."

  "I wouldn't worry about Officer Johnson. I think he understands things better now. But, I'll bone up on all my charm techniques while I'm lying here."

  "He was right, you know," Drew told her. And when she looked at him quizzically, he added, "Mr. Burton-Smythe, I mean. His dying was the best thing that could happen -- at least, for him. He was already writhing in shame, Beth. He would never be able to take prison, or even a trial. He was a prime candidate for suicide. This is more honorable. Noble."

  "I know, Andrew. And, so very British. But, I was thinking..."

  "That we see if we can do something for someone in his name?"

  "Yes," she said, smiling up at him. Then she added, "Thank you for understanding me so well, Mr. Oliver."

  "You know, Mrs. Oliver, on some levels, I hope I never fully understand you.

  Duty With Honor Book Six: Bad Moon on the Rise

  Coming February 2015