Climatized

by Sally Fernandez

THE LETTER

  Max clutched her phone to her chest and took a deep breath as she watched the doctor leave the room. She began to feel somewhat human again, as though she had just been given back one of her appendages. Already she resented the ridiculous hospital gown. Being held captive was another problem. And while the flowers were disturbing, at least now her smartphone gave her a link to the outside world. After a long sleep and the anesthesia having finally worn off, she was ready to swing into action. She placed her first call.

  “I’m unavailable at the moment. Leave a message at the beep.”—Beep.

  “Noble, please call.” She sighed and then hit the red Phone app.

  “Hey, this is Jax. You know what to do.”—Beep.

  “Jax, call me!” she grumbled, having finally hit the apex of her frustration.

  The second she ended the call, her smartphone rang. In a flash she hit the green phone icon without bothering to take note of the caller. “Noble!” she sputtered.

  “Max, where are you? It’s Isabelle!” Her voice was frantic.

  “In a hospital. I had a slight accident, but I’ll be fine. What’s happening, Isabelle?”

  “Oh my dear, it’s all my fault.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The letter, Max. They found the letter. Someone broke in and ransacked the house. Nothing was missing except the letter!”

  “Isabelle, why didn’t you destroy it?” Max asked with a measured tone, trying to calm her down.

  It had no effect. In a weepy voice, Isabelle replied, “It was Sherman’s last words before his death. I couldn’t.” The weeping suddenly turned to terror. “Now they know that you’re investigating his murder. And they know about the album. I’m so sorry, Max. Please be careful.”

  It was not a time for recrimination. Max asked evenly, “Did you call the police?”

  “No, I wanted to talk with you first.”

  “Wait ten minutes,” Max instructed, “and then call the Capitol Police Chief Ray Tomson. Tell him everything. He’ll be pissed off, but I’ll take the heat. Okay?”

  “Okay, but please be careful.”

  Chapter 21

  QUID PRO QUO

  Max was not accustomed to working with others outside of the agency, especially when she did not have the overriding authority. But she needed the chief. Their collaboration on cases in the past always paid off. She knew he was the only person who could get the conclusive evidence to prove that Spark had been murdered. She also knew that she would have to offer up some of the evidence she and Jax had uncovered—but not all of it—after all, it was still her case. She placed the call.

  “Hi! May I speak with Chief? It’s Max.”

  “I know it’s you, Max. Let me see if he is available,” the secretary said.

  The silence on the other end of the line seemed endless until she heard an ahem, obviously meant to gain her attention.

  “And to what do I owe the pleasure?” the chief asked.

  “Ray, remember that quid pro quo? I have something for you.”

  “Why am I nervous?”

  She ignored his needling. “Isabelle Spark will be calling you shortly. She’s had a break-in and the thieves found a letter from the late senator to his wife. In the letter, the senator requested that should he die from other than natural causes, I should investigate his death. Ray, over the past few months, three scientists have died. All of them were supposed to testify before a committee Spark co-chaired. So the killer or killers now know I’m involved.”

  “What makes you so sure they were not accidents?”

  “Trust me! There’s a definite connection between the senator’s murder and the death of these three scientists. You need to have the bodies of the scientists autopsied to find the true cause of death.”

  “What! Are you crazy? In any case, Spark’s death was deemed a suicide.”

  “No way! I say he was murdered!” Max ignored his official line. “Ray, what about the scientists?”

  He placated her for the moment. “Okay, tell me what you know about them?”

  “Claus Veunet, a French scientist, died while climbing in Provence in April. A Swiss scientist named Luca Doerfinger died in May in a car crash after leaving the Reagan International Airport in a rented car he had just picked up. And a few days ago, Jonas von Boehmer, a German scientist, died after leaving the Old Europe Restaurant in an ambulance.”

  “Max, I have no jurisdiction. The French government alone would be impossible.”

  “You could at least call the French authorities to see what you can find out. And both Doerfinger and von Boehmer were killed in Washington.”

  “Sit tight, Max.”

  At once elevator music began assaulting her ear. She could forgive the chief for his abruptness as long as he was verifying her information. Several times she checked the wall clock to pacify herself. He had kept her on hold for almost ten minutes. Isabelle would be calling at any second. She needed Ray’s okay first. Max heard a click.

  “Doerfinger’s body was released to the family over five months ago. By now, it’s six feet under Swiss soil.”

  “What about the Hertz rent-a-car?”

  The chief sighed. “I’ll see what I can do to track it down. If so, we still may be able to test the brakes. But von Boehmer’s body is out of the question,” he said adamantly.

  Max wouldn’t let up. It took some cajoling, but Ray finally admitted that the corpse was still at the morgue, waiting for the next of kin to arrive to claim the body.

  “Convince the family that you have evidence to suggest foul play. If I’m right, then we can be sure that Spark was also murdered. And any reasonable person would conclude that Veunet’s climbing accident was staged.”

  Ray knew Max pretty well. Enough that her definitive tone told him she might be actually onto something. And he wanted to know what. “Max, I can’t believe I’m going out on a limb for another one of your wild hunches!”

  “When have I been wrong?”

  “Anything else you want to tell me?”

  “Nothing,” she said with partial honesty. She had no clue as to her next step. And mentioning Sarasota would only complicate matters.

  “Max.”

  She could tell from the tenor of his voice that the chief knew she was holding back—and she was. It was an ideal time to end the call. “Ray, sorry; gotta go.”

  Chapter 22

  DOC ATTACK

  Max checked her smartphone. Still no call from Noble. She tried him again, only to hear the annoying message telling her that he was unavailable. She also needed to speak with Jax but first she had some tough decisions to make. Things were happening too fast, at least in her mind. She needed to slow down the pace. There was a lot at stake and failure was not an option. But a major piece of the puzzle was still missing. Besides, it was apparent that her battered body was not going anywhere anytime soon.

  Surrendering to her new work environment, Max lay in bed in the silly hospital gown and watched her leg suspended in the air. As she attempted to shift slightly in the bed, trying to get comfortable, she caught a glance at the bouquet of edelweiss. Odd thoughts of Sam reappeared. She visualized his piercing eyes staring at her right before they left the restaurant. But it was Sam’s last words that resonated in her ears. She replayed Pliny the Elder’s quote over and over in her mind, struggling to find the significance. Then the image of the wine bottle appeared. Then she recalled hitting the ground. Frustrated, she ran the events through her foggy mind once more.

  “Son of a—!” She grabbed her smartphone and tapped the Chrome app. Hastily, she typed the word Capannelle in the search field and hit the Enter key. Within a nanosecond the screen displayed the website for a wine resort in Gaioli in Chianti, Italy. The name Antonio Maieli immediately flashed into her mind. “That’s what Sam was telling me! Spark must have told him where Antonio was hiding out.”

  “Did you say something?” Yungst asked as he entered the room.

  Max ju
st nodded her head without taking her eyes off her smartphone.

  “Do you feel like having a bite to eat?”

  At the mention of food, her head shot up in Yungst’s direction. “Is starvation part of my therapy?” she asked. “More important when can I get out of here?”

  “Max, give it a few days. I told you we’ll take your leg out of traction and see how you do on the crutches.”

  “I want to try now.” She was adamant.

  “It will hurt like hell. Especially when the blood rushes down to your ankle. Give yourself a little more time to heal.”

  “I guess then it will have to hurt like hell.”

  Yungst smiled as he shook his head. He had quickly figured out that the only way to convince her was to concede. “I’ll have the crutches brought in. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be back to help you.”

  “Thank you,” she said, returning a cocky grin.

  Max leaned back on the pillow, satisfied that she had won the first round. As she stared up at the ceiling she wondered: Noble—Jax—why haven’t you returned my calls?

  Out of nowhere, a man appeared in the doorway, breaking her train of thought. He wasn’t wearing the dark-blue scrubs that everyone else seemed to favor; they were the putrid green you see on the people mopping the corridors.

  Max’s internal alarm went off. “Who are you?” she asked, noting he also did not reach for the latex gloves from the box attached to the wall. Standard protocol.

  “I’m the doctor’s PA and I’m here to give you a shot. It will help you with the healing.”

  “And what’s my doctor’s name?” she challenged.

  The stranger did not respond. He continued to walk toward her fondling a menacing syringe.

  Given the limited options for the moment—Max screamed.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” Yungst shouted, as he reentered the room.

  The stranger instinctually spun around and plunged the syringe into Yungst’s neck as Yungst was about to fight back with the crutches.

  The unknown assailant bolted out of the room.

  Yungst collapsed on the floor.

  Max screamed again for help. In a mad panic, she also pushed the call button.

  One of the nurses rushed in. Seeing the doctor lying on the floor, she immediately hit the code-blue button. In no time, Yungst was rushed out of the room.

  Max lay helplessly in the room alone until fear took over. “I have to get out here now!” She pushed on the call button again. It took several tries until finally a nurse appeared.

  Staving off her uneasiness, she first asked, “How’s the doc?”

  “We got to him in time. Thanks to you, he’ll be okay.”

  Thanks to me he could be dead. “Would you please fetch my bag from the locker?” Max handed the key to the nurse.

  The nurse obliged and went to open the locker but was taken aback. “I’m sorry, but there’s no bag in here, only the clothes you were wearing when you arrived,” she explained, and then asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “No,” Max responded, vaguely hearing the nurse say something as she walked out of the room. Left alone again in the sterile surroundings her mind began to spin as she desperately tried to remember. I remember the taxi driver at the airport asking if I needed help with my carryon luggage. I remember carrying it into a restaurant named Patrick’s. I remember carrying both my shoulder bag and luggage out. I remember— “Sam!” Feverishly, she paged through the recent numbers she had called on her smartphone, looking for the one that started with the area code 941. “There it is.” She hit redial and heard the click. “Sam!”

  The phone went dead

  Max rapidly typed a text message to the same number. All it said was SOS.

  Instantly, her phone vibrated with an incoming message; it read: This number does not accept text messages. “Shit, now what?”

  For the next half hour, it was pandemonium. The police arrived, including Sarasota’s female brass hat, Chief Bernadette DiPino. The hospital administrator also dropped in. And the nurse on duty showed up with drugs, thinking they would help to calm Max’s nerves. Little did she know that Max was about to kick into high gear. Max refused the medication and spirited the nurse out of the room. After the administrator assured her that Dr. Yungst would be fine, he remained standing by to listen in while Sarasota’s finest questioned her.

  “Can you describe the man?” Chief DiPino asked.

  Max complied, giving her a fairly accurate description. Following suit, she answered the rest of her questions wanting to move things along. She had questions of her own that needed answers, none of which would be discovered lying in a hospital bed.

  “A police officer will be posted outside of your room, ma’am,” the chief assured her. “We’re searching the hospital as we speak, but I suspect the assailant has already escaped. I’ll keep you posted.”

  Just then, a familiar face peered into the room.

  “He’s okay. He’s a friend,” Max assured, while taking a deep, thankful breath.

  Based on Max’s okay, her guest was allowed to enter without being searched. But he stood off to the side waiting for the chief to wrap up his questioning. Once everyone had vacated the room, leaving her alone with her visitor, Sam stepped forward.

  “Looking for these?” he asked as he set her carry-on luggage on the floor. He unzipped her shoulder bag and pulled out the corner of the pearly handle of her Browning automatic. Immediately, he slipped the gun back inside and zipped up the bag.

  “Thank God it was you, Sam!”

  “Do you mind telling me what the dickens is going on around here?”

  Max filled Sam in on the second attempt made on her life and on the doctor’s misfortune. “I obviously have to get out of here. Can you help me?”

  “Right now—you’re probably in the safest place on Earth.”

  “Given the fact somebody has already tried to kill me twice in less than forty-eight hours—I doubt it.”

  “Seriously, the president’s in town for a speech and the city’s in lockdown. The security at the airport is tight as a drum. You’re better off staying right here for now,” he insisted.

  “Fantastic!” She turned gleeful without a pause.

  Sam was confused. “Huh?”

  Max caught his expression but ignored him for the moment and hit another one of her speed-dial numbers.

  “Stanton!”

  “Hey, Max what’s up?” He was certainly thrilled, but surprised to hear her voice.

  She hastily filled him on enough details so he would help her get to Italy.

  “Have the local authorities given you any protection?”

  “There’s a cop standing guard outside my room.”

  “Give me about twenty minutes to organize things here. Once the president begins his speech, I’ll be able to break away.”

  “Thanks, Stanton. See you soon.” She hung up. “Problem solved!”

  Sam knew Stanton was the head of the president’s Secret Service detail, and if the president was in Sarasota, so was he. As he stood by listening in on the conversation, he was most thankful that Max had left his name out of the discussion. “You have very interesting friends in rather high places.” Sam flashed a rare smile. “I guess you won’t be needing my services anymore.”

  “You and Pliny have been a great help. Thanks, Sam.”

  “See ya, kid.” He turned and left the room.

  Chapter 23

  ARRIVEDERCI

  “What a mess I’ve gotten myself into!” Max leaned back against her pillow and tried to conjure up more pleasant thoughts and suddenly the image of Stanton appeared. There was no doubt in her mind or her heart that she was deeply in love with Noble, but she still had feelings for Stanton. He would always be a part of her life. Thankfully, Noble understood. He knew they were good friends and he was cool with their relationship. He also knew that Stanton was an honorable guy and would respect Max’s choices. One thing for sure:
Max could always count on Stanton to come to her rescue. But for the time being, she would have to hang tight a bit longer. Stranded for the moment, she decided to try again to reach the guys. First, Noble.

  “I’m unavailable at the moment. Leave a message at the beep.”—Beep.

  “Aargh!” Max muttered. “Noble, call me!” She abruptly ended the call and then tried her luck with Jax.

  “Hey, Max! Where the hell have you been?”

  “Excuse me. Why haven’t you returned any of my calls?”

  “I tried, but your phone has either been turned off or your voicemail box is full.”

  Suddenly, Max realized that during her anesthetic fog she had never thought to check her voicemail, only check her phone app to see if a new message had been received. She just waited for the calls to be returned.

  “Sorry Jax, it’s been a crazy couple of days.” She took it slowly and told him what happened with Sam, about her injury, omitting the gruesome details, and about the doctor. She left out the flowers for the moment. That was one mystery she still wanted to solve on her own. “And I think I know where Antonio Maieli is hiding out—and Jax—the killer may come after the photo album.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Listen.” Max filled him in on her conversation with Isabelle and then cautioned him to watch his back. She noted the total silence on the other end of the phone and could only imagine how Jax was processing all that she had thrown his way. But he had to hear the rest. She spewed the words, “So I’m waiting for Stanton to show up,” and then quickly bit her lip and prepared for Jax’s retort.

  “Stanton! What the hell has he got to do with this?”

  “He’s going to help me get to Italy without raising any flags at the airport.”

  “This is a really bad—” Jax stopped in mid-sentence.

  She waited for him to continue but he remained silent. “Are you still there?” she prodded.

  “Give me a minute—I’m thinking.”

  Max eagerly checked the wall clock, wishing Stanton would arrive.