Family Ties (John Taylor Book 5)

by Travis Starnes

  Family Ties

  A John Taylor Story

  Travis Starnes

  Table of Contents

  Family Ties

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  About The Author

  Other Books By Travis Starnes

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Family Ties

  A John Taylor Story

  Copyright © 2017 by Travis Starnes

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN 978-0-9968668-9-7

  996866897X

  Signup to get free previews of upcoming books before they’re released at

  http://tstarnes.com/preview-notification-newsletter/

  Chapter 1

  Berlin, Germany

  Frieda Wissler sat in her old, comfortable chair, pushed close to the fireplace, a shawl wrapped tight around her shoulders. Although the fall air had only just started to cool, taking on the crisp scent of the changing of seasons, her weathered frame could not take the fall air like it used to. Fall had always been her favorite season, a time to stroll along the Kurfürstendamm free from the heat of summer. Now the dropping temperature meant aching bones.

  The weather probably was not quite cold enough to really need the fire yet. If she was honest with herself, she probably could have done with just her shawl, but she did not want to. Besides the warmth she got from the flickering flames, she liked the way her apartment looked in the glow of the fire. It cast shadows everywhere, making it easier to pretend she still lived in style. The cracks in the plaster with its fading paint and the stacks of books and papers covering nearly every surface in precarious stacks were hidden by the shadows.

  She knew she had let herself go, especially after Frederick had passed. She had seen the pity in her great grand-nieces eyes that morning when she had visited, looking at the clutter and the mess in its unorganized splendor. Frieda was old, but she was not senile, at least not yet. She recognized the looks. Her niece had heard Frieda’s request and promised to help, but Frieda saw it in her eyes, the mixture concern that a feeble old woman’s mind had turned. Still, the girl had promised to help, and that’s what mattered. She had even taken the documents Frieda had asked her to hold onto, but Frieda was not sure she would actually put any effort into it.

  Frieda sighed and sank lower into the weathered cushions, crumpling in on herself. This was her last shot. She had tried every avenue inside the family, only to be rebuffed. The third time they had warned her to stop making trouble, politely of course. They always observed the niceties, but the message was clear.

  So Frieda went outside the family. Not far outside, but far enough that she knew there would be trouble when they found out. They had left her no choice, though.

  Frieda sighed again. She felt old. She was old, of course, but she felt it more than she remembered. Her whole body ached. She was tired of their secrets and the constant need to protect their legacy. She was tired of having to go to them, hat in hand, a relic of a dying branch of the family. What she really wanted to do is sleep. Just nod off and let her troubles slide away.

  She could not do that, at least not yet. She had promised Fredrick. Not directly, his death had been too quick for that, but she had promised him in her heart. If her grand-niece did not come through, Frieda thought again, she did not know what she would do. She was almost out of options.

  She almost sighed again, until a soft clicking sound behind her caused Frieda to freeze. The apartment was old, still large, and cavernous, but old. The building was prone to the creaks and groans of age. Frieda, however, knew every sound. She had sat in this chair for ten years, listening to the old girl talk to her. This was not one of those sounds.

  A floorboard creaked.

  She turned as a shadow fell over her.

  “Was willst ...” was all she got out before the knife flashed out, sinking into her.

  ♦♦♦

  Georgetown, Virginia

  “What the hell is in this thing?” Taylor asked as he mounted the stairs one step at a time, trying to keep his balance while holding a large box in front of him.

  “It is books. Be careful,” Kara said, watching him from the top of the stairs.

  “You know you’re not supposed to put books all in one box. This thing weighs a ton.”

  “I didn’t put all in one box. I put books in two boxes. There were too many to fit in single box.”

  Taylor groaned as he moved up another step. He did not look forward to going back down and carrying up another one of these damn things. He had paid the doorman’s nephew at their building in Alexandria to help him load all of Kara’s stuff from their apartment, who wisely used a dolly and elevators to move everything. The brownstone Kara was moving into with Mary Jane had no such attendant.

  Mary Jane’s secret service detail, which the families of both major party candidates received, were available but they were did not seem inclined to help a middle-aged man struggle with boxes. Had Whitaker been involved with the move, she would have thought ahead and hired movers at both ends to do the dirty work. He added that to the ever-growing list of reasons why he missed his estranged fiancé.

  “You know you’re only here for the school year, right? You’re not moving in with Mary Jane permanently.”

  “I know. I didn’t take everything, just essentials.”

  “Two boxes of books are the essentials?”

  “Yes,” she said, flipping her red hair as she turned and walked into the open area overlooking the entry hallway downstairs.

  Taylor groaned and took another step.

  “Girls?” a voice called from downstairs.

  “They’re upstairs Senator,” Taylor called down as he finally got close enough to the top floor to set the box down and slide it forward.

  Turning around, he sat on the steps and put a hand to his aching back, as he watched Senator Caldwell walk upstairs towards him. When she lowered herself onto the steps next to him, Taylor had a moment of cultural whiplash. He still had trouble believing that the Republican nominee for President and the front runner, according to the networks, was his friend.

  Yet he had no doubt that she was. Not only had she helped him several times since they got to know each other the previous winter, but she had also once again swooped in when he needed her.

  “I don’t have much time. I have a fundraiser in an hour, but I wanted to make sure the girls got moved in alright.”

  “They’re already plotting everything they’re going to do together. Kara is absolutely ecstatic. I know I’ve said it already, but I really appreciate you putting this together.”

  “Nonsense. You know we love Kara, and I wasn’t comfortable with Mary Jane living on her own yet. She seems over her wild-child phase, but I want to be sure. This seemed an obvious solution to both of our problems. Mary Jane gets someone to help her stay on the straight and narrow and Kara gets to go attend one of the best private high schools in D.C.”

  “The arrangement does work out, but I meant beyond just paying for Kara to be able to live here. With Whitaker out of the country and jobs from the Bureau stacking up, I was at the end of my rope on how to manage everything. Kara’s worked so hard to get caught up on all the school she missed over the ye
ars, and we were still coming up short. I talked to the headmaster yesterday, and he said they’d brought on special tutors for the weekends and developed a personalized curriculum for her to graduate in three years and be ready for college. I was sure there was no way we were going to pull that off, and now I have some hope.”

  “John, you can stop thanking me. When Mary Jane told me what was going on, I couldn’t stand idly by and let you three fall apart. You and Loretta need time and space to get your relationship back together and Kara needs special attention to get caught up on her missed education. Like I said, this is the perfect solution.”

  “This is just, not how I like to deal with things. I took her in and took responsibility for her. Leaving her to be someone else's problem rubs me the wrong way.”

  “You aren’t making her someone else's problem. If I thought you were, I wouldn’t have offered to help. Trust me, when I tell the one skill, anyone, from money, must learn is how to spot the users. You’re not that type. Plus, I know you. You’ll be checking on her all the time. Heck, you’ll probably check on Mary Jane more often than I could if I win this damn thing. Think about it like this, you’ll have to deal with the same thing when she goes to college, it’s just a little early, that’s all. You’re still going to be a great father to her, even if she isn’t under the same roof for part of the year.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Now, how are things with you and Loretta?”

  “Still tense. I talked to her last week when she dropped Kara off and she hasn’t ruled out us getting back together, so, for now, I’m holding out hope. She’s had a tough time with me at the Bureau so much lately. When she got the offer to go to Europe to help out her relative, I think she was glad for the excuse to put some distance between us. We’d been running into each other too much.”

  “You two will work it out.”

  “I don’t know. I stepped over every line she ever put down when I shot Qasim. Worse, she covered for me. Instead of paying for what I did, which I was willing to do, I ended up slapped on newspapers for stopping a terrorist attack and had the Bureau bend over backward to get me to come work for them. I’d tried to put them off. I knew that the FBI bringing me, of all people, in house would really be rubbing salt into the wounds. The fact that they bent over backward to convince me to take the position, just made it worse. The last time we talked, she said she felt like everything, and everyone she thought was important had betrayed her. I offered to not take the job, but she made it clear that wouldn’t make things better, that the damage was already done. She’s mad at me, she’s mad at her boss, and she’s mad at the Bureau. I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive me. I still think I did the right thing putting that monster down, but I think the price might have been too high.”

  “She loves you, John, I can still see it. She’ll come around once the anger fades.”

  “Well,” Taylor said, standing up and then offering the Senator a hand up. “I still appreciate everything you're doing for us.”

  “Damn, look at the time. I have to run. Remember you promised to be at the event tonight. The press still can’t get enough of you.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  The Senator rushed out as Taylor went back to struggling with boxes.

  Hoover Building, Washington D.C.

  Taylor was running late when he left the girls' apartment. He made Kara run down every rule he had put in place before he agreed to this plan. Twice. Even then, he was unsure if this was a good idea. Taylor was not worried about her safety. With Mary Jane living there, the Secret Service would have a presence along with regular checks by Metro PD. She would actually probably be safer than all the times she had stayed at their apartment alone while he was out on the job.

  Besides security, their apartment was barely a block away from her new school. All the way out in Alexandria, it would have been all but impossible to get Kara to school every day, especially when he was out of town. Now, besides being able to walk to school, Mary Jane would be available to give her rides, if she needed it. He did not want to stand in the way of her future and opportunities like this did not come around often.

  Still, he could not help but second guess the idea. Normally, Taylor was not one for worrying over the decisions he had made. Once a decision was made, he moved on to the next problem. The parenting thing, especially by himself, was so far outside of his experience, it was difficult to trust he had made the right call. His best option would have been to talk it over with Whitaker. Despite their estrangement, she had not stepped away from Kara and still communicated with Taylor regularly about their adopted daughter. Her willingness to put up with seeing Taylor regularly to do the right thing by Kara was one more reason he regretted how things had turned out.

  Unfortunately, going over Kara’s new living arrangement was not an option at the moment. She had left for Berlin before the Senator had made her offer, and Kara needed to start the new school next week. She had not left a number he could reach her at, and his relationship with her sister, which had been only acquaintances before Whitaker put a hold on his engagement to her, had become awkward after. The few times he called her house, where Whitaker was staying, she had been extremely cool with him.

  He did not begrudge her the reaction; she was just a good sister. The attitude did, however, make calling her to get a number for Whitaker problematic.

  The time crunch and lack of a direct method to reach Whitaker meant he had to make a decision himself. He weighed the options, worked out as many scenarios as he could think of, just like he had been trained to do with every problem, and this remained the best option. It being his best option still did not mean liked it.

  Taylor pulled into the Hoover Buildings parking garage and was in the elevator headed up to his office. As happened every time he arrived at the Bureau, he felt strange having an office in the building after more than a year of bumping heads constantly with the agency.

  They had created a special position for him, outside of the regular chain of command and answerable to Solomon directly. They used him as a troubleshooter, dealing with situations that required an ability to think laterally but did not require a lot of sensitivity or tact, traits Taylor was admittedly lacking.

  He quickly found that, while the cases he had been assigned so far had their interesting moments, they were mostly fairly routine and did not involve imminent life or death scenarios. He had been working edge cases for so long he had somehow convinced himself that was what working cases was like. Taylor was not bored, but this also was not what he saw himself doing, forever.

  Caldwell had been the deciding factor in convincing him to take the position. He knew having an official position gave him some legitimacy in the eyes of a public that had trouble understanding how an ex-soldier private investigator was friends with someone running for president. A Federal agent, on the other hand, was an easy to understand and respectable job.

  Had Taylor really not wanted the job, he would have been able to say no to the Senator, but there had been enough other factors that he had only needed a nudge over the edge to agree.

  A stack of files waited on his desk when he walked into his office.

  He was just starting to sit down and look at the case on top when an agent who worked on the same floor stuck his head in the door.

  “Joe’s looking for you.”

  “Damn, what did I do now?”

  “Don’t know, but he said to tell you to go up to his office as soon as you got in.”

  Taylor groaned, pushing himself back up. His back had a slight twinge in it from all those boxes he'd lugged up the brownstone’s steps.

  On the elevator ride up to the top floors of the Bureau offices, Taylor tried to think what he could have possibly done to upset Joe now. Not that it was out of the question. While the AG and layers of politicians were throwing themselves to congratulate both himself and Whitaker, Joe had been dead set against letting Taylor into the FBI. The political animal that he was, Joe realized
quickly he was losing that battle and had Taylor assigned to him directly, most likely to minimize any contamination Taylor might cause among the 'real' agents.

  Not that Taylor minded, since he agreed he did not really belong in an organization like this. Even though he understood Joe’s attitude, he was not a fan of the now weekly ass chewings he was getting about violating this or that policy.

  Walking into the entrance way, Solomon’s secretary waved Taylor through. He was surprised to find that Joe was not alone. A man in a very well-tailored suit sat in a chair across from the director.

  “They said you were looking for me?”

  “Yes. This is Kriminalhauptkommissar Torsten Graf of the Bundeskriminalamt. They’re our equivalent in Germany. There’s been an incident, and the Kommissar has requested our help. More specifically, he’s requested your help.”

  “What can I help you with?” he asked, lowing himself into the chair next to the German officer.

  “You are acquainted with an Agent Whitaker, yes?”