Angel's Breath: The Second Book of Fallen Angels

by Valmore Daniels

  Chuck opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, but then closed it again.

  I said, “Oh, and you’re coming with me. Or no deal.”

  He blinked at that, but then nodded. “All right.”

  Spinning in his chair, he grabbed the energy drink can beside his monitor and guzzled it down. Finishing it, he tossed the empty can into an already overflowing recycle bin beside his desk.

  “I’ll get the client to put the fee into my escrow service, and then I’ll get dressed.”

  Chapter Eight

  At a quarter to six, we jumped into my car and headed for Kingsway Airfield. Before we got within sight of the main gate, I pulled over and got out of the car.

  “You drive the rest of the way,” I said to Chuck.

  “Me?” he asked, looking at me with a puzzled expression.

  “Yeah. Just trust me.”

  He shrugged and got out of the car to trade places with me. After adjusting the seat—he was quite a bit shorter than I was—he put the vehicle into gear.

  “All right,” I said as we neared. “Pull up to the main gate. Let me do the talking.”

  “Whatever you say. It’s your show.”

  He did as I asked, and stopped the car in front of the gate.

  Jorge Menendez, the night guard employed by Kingsway Airfield rather than any individual company, stepped out of the gate house and approached the car.

  Chuck rolled down the window. I leaned over and smiled.

  “Good morning, Mr. Riley,” Jorge said.

  I nodded. “Morning, Jorge. How’s Maria?”

  “Big as a house,” he said. “And as hungry as a lion.”

  “Should be any day, now, right?”

  He nodded and laughed. “Due date is next Tuesday.”

  “Hope you’re taking some time off.”

  “You know it,” he said. Then he gave me an apologetic look. “I’m afraid I can’t let you in, Mr. Riley. They gave me very explicit orders.”

  “Oh, I know,” I said. “I was just hoping you could call someone from the shop and get them to bring me my wallet. I left it in my locker yesterday.”

  “No one is here, yet,” he said. “Carl usually shows up around seven or seven-fifteen. You want to come back then?”

  I let my face show disappointment. “I can’t. I have to be at my PO’s office by seven-thirty. He’s on the other side of the city. I can’t drive without my license.” I pointed to Chuck. “And he’s already going to be late for work.”

  Chuck, picking up on my plan, turned to me. “I can still call my sister. I’m sure she’d give you lift.”

  “No.” I made a face. “By the time we went back there, it’d be too late anyway,” I said, and looked around as if I could spot another solution by doing so.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jorge was weighing his decision.

  “Say, Jorge,” I said. “If I gave you my key card, maybe you could lock the gate for a few minutes and go get my wallet—it’s in the admin building. Like you said, no one will show up for an hour. We’ll stay here in case anyone does come, let them know you’ll be right back. You have no idea how much I would appreciate that.”

  Jorge looked at the Worldwind Avionics administration building, which seemed a lot smaller than it was from this distance. I narrowed my eyes, but didn’t see any cars in the parking lot.

  “I can’t leave my post,” he said, drawing out his words. He sighed, as if resolving himself to his decision. “You promise you’ll be quick?”

  “Ten minutes, tops,” I said, smiling. “In and out before anyone knows better.”

  Jorge reached inside the guard shack and pressed the gate release. It slowly opened with a mechanical whirl.

  “Thanks, Jorge,” I said as Chuck put the car in drive. “You just saved my bacon.”

  With a nod, he waved us through.

  After we were out of hearing range, Chuck made a gasping sound. “Ten minutes!”

  “I thought you were some kind of hacker or something.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not like I wave a magic wand and we’re in.”

  I made a face. “Sorry. I guess I’ve seen too many movies. How long do you need?”

  “There’s no way to tell. If he has a login password, I have a program to remove it on this flash drive. We should be able to access his email and data folders, but finding what we need could take a while.”

  I frowned. “Won’t he notice he doesn’t have a password anymore?”

  “Only if he’s one of those people who restarts their computer often. With any luck, he won’t notice until after the press release.”

  It was only as we parked in front of the admin doors that I felt the first nagging doubt about this hit-and-run plan of mine. I wished I’d had more time to think it over.

  Of course, it wasn’t as if I had any other choices at this point.

  * * *

  This early in the morning, we were the only car there, and I prayed no one would arrive before we had a chance to finish our job.

  I drew my mother’s card out of my pants pocket, and paused before getting out of the car.

  “What’s the matter?” Chuck asked.

  “Are you sure the information we need is in there?” I asked.

  “What, are you getting cold feet?”

  Yes, I was, in fact. But I shot Chuck a look of annoyance. “Just give me the stick,” I said.

  Chuck handed the flash drive to me, along with a cell phone. I didn’t own one, but Chuck had an older prepaid phone which he had reactivated a few hours ago.

  I took a deep breath. “I’ll call you when I’m in his office,” I said, and stepped out of the car.

  The main entrance to the admin building had two full pane glass doors. To one side was a black electronic lock with a slot to swipe a magnetic key card.

  Using my mother’s card, I ran it through the lock, and the small red light on top of the device turned green. I opened the door and walked inside as if I had every right to be there.

  As I had hoped, no one was in the main reception area. I didn’t expect to encounter anyone while I made my way down the hall to the stairs. The night cleaning staff were usually gone by midnight or shortly thereafter.

  The admin building was two stories. David Matheson’s office was on the northwest corner, facing the hangars.

  I reached the top of the stairs and a second set of doors, which also required me to swipe the key card. I hesitated before doing so, feeling an abrupt pang of guilt.

  In all the time I had worked for Worldwind, David Matheson had never shown me anything other than kindness. Perhaps it was just an extension of his working relationship with my mother, and he was simply being polite and professional.

  Here I was breaking into his office to steal information that would give an unfair advantage to another company, who was obviously unscrupulous. My actions could—and probably would—do harm to David. My anger was because of his father, and his summary decision to fire me. My revenge, however, would affect everyone else in the company. My mother was already having troubles with the other workers because of me, but did their actions justify what I was going to do?

  It was my emotional reaction to yesterday, coupled with a noted lack of sleep, that had brought me to this point, but now that I was here, I was losing my resolve.

  I hadn’t even thought about how my mother would react when she found out what I did. How would I explain it to her? How would I explain it to Stacy?

  I still faced a desperate situation. I wasn’t about to turn myself in to my parole officer; that much was certain. But if I didn’t go through with this plan to steal the information, my only other choice was to run, but that would leave the people I cared about in my wake to clean up the mess.

  No matter what I did, people were going to get hurt.

  When it came down to it, I knew I couldn’t go through with the theft. I wasn’t a criminal. I was just an unlucky loser.

  I didn’t turn around
and leave, however. I stood rooted to the spot. I still had a problem. I wouldn’t go back to jail, and I couldn’t run and abandon my mother or my new relationship with Stacy. I had too much to lose.

  There was one possibility. If I could speak with David Matheson, tell him the accident wasn’t my fault, maybe he would extend me the benefit of the doubt; if not for me, then for my mother. Yesterday morning I saw that, though he and his father might not see eye to eye, he didn’t have any reservations standing up to him.

  It was a long shot, but I needed to take it.

  I remembered Chuck. He wouldn’t sit outside in the car for long without getting anxious, and Jorge would get suspicious if we didn’t return to the gate before everyone else started to arrive for work. If I left now, though, I knew I would never be able to get back into the building.

  I pulled out the cell phone and hit the speed dial for Chuck’s number.

  It rang once, and Chuck came on. “You inside?”

  “No,” I said. “Not yet. I’m on the second floor, down the hall from his office.”

  “What’s the hold up?”

  “I need you to do me a favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  I tried to keep my voice as even as possible. “I want you to head back to the gate. Tell Jorge I can’t get into my locker, and I’m going to wait for Carl, my supervisor, to show up. Then you leave.”

  “I knew it!” Chuck said, his voice cracking. “You’re chickening out.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just can’t—” The phone went dead when Chuck hung up.

  I sighed and slipped the phone back in my pocket. Chuck wouldn’t say anything to Stacy; she didn’t know about what he did for a living, and I got the sense that he didn’t want her to know.

  Somehow, I would make things right with him later … if I managed to keep myself out of jail.

  David Matheson usually didn’t show up for work until eight o’clock or so. I had an hour and a half to kill, and I couldn’t just stand in the middle of the stairs. My best bet was to wait in his office.

  I swiped the card and stepped onto the second floor, then walked to the end of the hall, all the while feeling the depressing weight of my situation pressing down on me. I didn’t want to get back to that place in my life where I felt sorry for myself. I had to take ownership of my decisions and my life, and make better choices.

  At the vice-president’s office door, I pulled my mother’s key card out again and swiped it in the lock. A click sounded as the door unlocked, and I turned the knob.

  The moment I stepped inside, I knew something was terribly wrong:

  David Matheson sat behind his desk, staring directly at me.

  Chapter Nine

  My first impression was that he was expecting me. Then his eyes widened in surprise when he recognized who I was. He was expecting someone, but not me.

  “Richard?” It was more a demand than a question.

  It was then that I realized that I was holding my breath. I had to force myself to inhale and exhale.

  “Uh,” I said, my mind racing to make up an excuse why I had broken into his office.

  “What’s he doing here?” asked another voice. I jerked my head to the right and saw Terence Matheson and Al.

  David’s father was sitting in an overstuffed leather chair, his driver standing behind him dutifully. Both men had dark frowns.

  “Is this why you had me come in so early this morning?” Terence asked his son. “I told you, I fired him for good reason, and I stand by that. I won’t have my decisions second-guessed. I seriously think you have your priorities mixed up, David.”

  He stood and adjusted his suit jacket; a clear sign that he had made his point and the meeting was concluded.

  “I was waiting for someone,” David said, his eyes scouring me for an answer to an unspoken question. “But not you. What are you doing here, Richard?”

  “Uh,” I said again, cursing myself for being so thick. I wanted to say that I had come to beg for my job, but I couldn’t get the words out.

  Cocking his head, David pointed to my hand. “Is that your mother’s key card?”

  “Yes,” I said, and I could feel the heat rush to my face.

  “Were you here looking for something, Richard? Some information?”

  In all the times I had spoken with David, he had been personable, charming, and approachable. My mother never had a harsh word to say about him.

  Now, however, there was a sharp, calculating expression on his face: the look of a hunter who spotted his prey. I suddenly felt a cold chill go up my spine as I understood the meaning behind his words.

  He knew about the espionage attempt. That’s why he was here: to foil the plan. But … it didn’t make sense to me. Why wouldn’t he have the police on hand to make an arrest?

  “What the hell is going on?” Terence demanded, clearly growing angrier at his ignorance about the situation. Al watched on, the calmness of his demeanor a sharp contrast to his employer’s.

  David, keeping his focus on me, answered his father. “What’s going on is that I set out some bait, but caught something unexpected.”

  “Enough riddles,” Terence said, glaring at his son.

  “A week ago,” David said, not taking his eyes off me, “one of my network security protocols picked up someone sniffing around our computers. My techs couldn’t trace him—he covered his tracks pretty well—but they could trace a few of his online posts. It looked like an info-trader.”

  Terence interrupted. “What is that?”

  “Insider trading, using computer hacking,” David said. “So I dangled a big fat carrot: news of a corporate merger stored on a clean computer. And then I posted a reward for confirmation on the merger.”

  “We’re not merging with anyone,” Terence said, looking confused.

  “Our hacker didn’t know that.” David narrowed his eyes at me. “A few hours ago, I received a notice that someone took the job, and would have the information by midmorning.”

  Terence gestured toward me. “Him? This is your hacker? This incompetent little punk?”

  “No,” David said. “He’s just the second-story man. Obviously, there’s someone else involved. We’ll just have to get his name from Richard.”

  While the plot unfolded, I realized just how deep a hole I had dug for myself. There was no getting out now. I was caught red-handed, and no matter that I had changed my mind about going through with the plan, David had me dead to rights. Even if I tried to explain myself, he would still feel betrayed. After all, he had given me a break and taken a chance on hiring a felon. I wouldn’t blame him if he called the cops and pressed charges.

  At that moment, I felt I only had two choices. Give up and wait quietly for the authorities to show up and arrest me, or run.

  As if he knew what I was going to do before I did it, Al extended his arm toward me. In his gloved hand, he held a handgun.

  “Seriously,” he said, “don’t.”

  I put my hands up, palms out. I hoped no one noticed my knees shaking. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

  Looking back and forth between Al, his son and me, Terence said, “Well, this is all very interesting, but I fail to see why you wanted me here, David. You should have just called the police.”

  “No,” David answered. “We can’t have the police involved … just yet.”

  “I’ve about had enough of your games, David,” Terence said. “I should never have let you into the family business. I knew you didn’t have any sense as a child, and you have even less as an adult. Instead of focusing on business, you’re spending your time setting up little scenarios like this to play out. It’s clear to me that you are completely ill-equipped to run my company.”

  When he finished his tirade, Terence waited for David to respond. The seconds ticked by, and for a fleeting moment, I had hoped they had forgotten about me, and I could slip out unnoticed. Al, however, kept his gun trained on me.

  Finally, David repli
ed; his tone calm and assured. “There’s just one more little scenario to play out…”

  There was something peculiar about the way he spoke those words. My stomach tightened. Deep down, my instinct for self-preservation told me to run and take my chances. Maybe Al wouldn’t fire, or his aim would be off. Unfortunately, it felt like my feet were encased in concrete; I couldn’t move.

  “I’m tired of asking the same question,” Terence said, exasperated. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about your power.” David stood up from his chair. “You’ve been keeping it from me. You’ve selfishly kept it for yourself. You’re either too stingy or too afraid to use it the way it was meant to be used.”

  I had no idea what David was referring to, but the ashen pallor that fell over his father’s face told me that he did. “How did you—?”

  “Trust me. I know your secret, Father. Did you think no one ever followed you on your monthly ‘retreats’? It was only a matter of doing my homework to fill in the blanks.” He gestured to his computer.

  “David,” Terence said. His voice was hollow and desperate. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s too much for you to handle. It’s too much for anyone.”

  “Oh, I understand it, and I know why you’ve been trying to push me out of the company.”

  “I was only trying to protect you.”

  David sneered. “Don’t give me that. You knew what would happen if I found out. And now that I have, it’s time for me to collect my inheritance.”

  With a careful motion, David opened the top drawer of his desk and reached inside. When he pulled his hand out, he had a gun in it—a match for Al’s—and he pointed it at his father.

  While I was still struggling to put the pieces together, the senior Mr. Matheson must have already figured out the plan.

  “Don’t do this, David.” He turned to his driver. “Al, stop him.”

  Al stepped away from his boss, though his gun remained pointed at me, unwavering. “Sorry, Mr. Matheson. I’m afraid I no longer work for you.”

  I had no idea what the underlying conflict between father and son was about, but the one thing I knew deep in my bones was why I was here.