Helius Legacy

by S Alexander O'keefe

  “Why didn’t you shoot him?”

  Caine could hear the anger in her voice. He spread his hands out on the tablecloth in front of him.

  “He was already pulling you down the stairs when I came out of the apartment. I looked for a shot, but he was all over you. At that range, the nine-millimeter shell would have punched through him and hit you as well. I couldn’t take the chance. When I caught up with you in the garage, he was holding you right in front of him. That’s why I had to get closer, but he attacked before I could pull the Browning.”

  Andrea looked away from him. Her right hand was gripping her left forearm so hard Caine could see the whites of her knuckles.

  “Andrea, why don’t we leave it alone for a while?” Caine said in a quiet voice.

  “What happened when we were leaving the garage?” Andrea asked, ignoring his suggestion.

  When Caine didn’t answer right away, Andrea continued, her voice demanding an answer.

  “You saw someone, didn’t you? There was this sound, just as we ran out of the garage—what was it?”

  “Someone else was coming in the front door of the garage. He was probably backup for the other Neanderthal, so I grabbed you and ran.”

  “But the noise, what was that noise against the door?”

  “Bullets—three shots. We didn’t hear much of a report, because the gun had a suppressor,” Caine answered reluctantly.

  “A suppressor? You mean like some kind of silencer?”

  “Yes.”

  “But that means they were there to kill us.”

  Caine glanced at the front of the restaurant before answering. Andrea’s eyes followed his glance. He could see the fear in her eyes.

  “Andrea, I can’t say one way or another whether they were there to capture us or kill us.” Caine reached over and put his hand on her forearm. “Going over what happened won’t—”

  “I have to talk about it. I have to figure it out. I want my life back.”

  An elderly couple was sitting two tables away. The woman turned and looked over at Andrea, concern on her face. Andrea saw the woman’s look and realized how loudly she was talking. She stood up and walked toward the door near the rear of the restaurant.

  “Andrea,” Caine said quietly and followed her out the door. “Wait, please.”

  Andrea stopped outside the door and placed her hands over her face. Her shoulders slumped and she started to cry quietly.

  “What are we going to do? What are we going to—”

  Caine put his hands on her shoulders.

  “We’re going to see your friend Michael. He’s going to get us out of this thing.”

  Caine didn’t believe that, but he knew that she needed something to hold on to.

  “I’m sorry,” Andrea said, gaining control of herself.

  “There’s no need to apologize. The last forty-eight hours have been crazy. Texas has become a lot more exciting since I left.”

  Andrea laughed in spite of her tears.

  “Can we eat? I’m starving,” Caine said.

  “Me, too,” Andrea said with a small, tired smile, and they walked back into the restaurant.

  Caine kept the conversation away from the crisis during most of the dinner, but Andrea interrupted him in the middle of a question, after they ordered coffee.

  “John, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt.”

  “Please, go ahead.”

  “Yesterday, you told me that you were a native Texan. Where did you grow up?”

  “I lived in Waco until I was eighteen.”

  “You also said you were an orphan. Did you live with another family member?”

  “No. I did it the old fashioned way. I grew up in an orphanage.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, they still exist. The orphanage where I lived was a converted ranch just outside of town. It was a run by the Jesuits.”

  Caine noticed Andrea’s look of sympathy.

  “St. Michael’s wasn’t a bad place. We worked and studied hard, but we played hard, too. The brothers were strict but fair. I really can’t complain, but then I had nothing to compare it to. I don’t remember any life before that. I was taken in when I was four.”

  “You don’t remember anything?”

  “Vague images at most, and I couldn’t tell you whether those are real or just dreams.”

  “Is there someone at the orphanage that might remember you? Someone who might have some information about your family, or the property Richie mentioned?

  “I don’t think so, but I’m willing to give them a call in the morning.”

  “It can’t … I’m sorry, my phone has been vibrating nonstop. Would you mind if I checked my messages?”

  “No. Go right ahead,” Caine said.

  Andrea pulled out her cell phone and looked at the screen. She had five voice mails. She punched up the voice mail screen and looked at the numbers. All five were from Jill, her secretary, which reminded her, it was Monday. She’d missed a day of work and failed to check her calendar.

  “What I am doing! I have to call in. I’m sorry. This will only take a minute.”

  Andrea punched in the speed dial number for her secretary.

  “Andrea Marenna’s desk.”

  “Jill, it’s Andrea.”

  “Playing hooky, are we? Well, good for you, but you might have told me. Then I would have had something intelligent to say when people called.”

  “Sorry, it’s been … a confusing day. Are there any crises that won’t wait?”

  “Not really. The stipulation in the Barredo matter was entered. So the status conference tomorrow is off calendar. That was the only court hearing you had this week, but you should check your voicemails.”

  “Anything in the mail I should worry about?”

  “No, nothing urgent that I can see. I thought you had a FedEx package, but apparently it was a mistake.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Megan logged in a package for you up front, but two minutes later the FedEx guy came back and took it away. He said it was for Anderson & Black upstairs.”

  Twenty-four hours ago, Andrea would have ignored the incident, but her world had changed.

  “Jill, can you call up to Megan and see if she logged in who the package was from? I’ll wait.”

  “Sure.”

  There was a minute of silence and Jill picked up again.

  “Megan crossed out the name on the log, but it looks like R. Steinman.”

  Andrea’s hand tightened on the phone. They were watching her office as well as her house, and somehow they had known that she would be getting a package from Richie. How? How could they know that?

  “Andrea, is everything okay?” Jill asked.

  “Yes … yes. Jill please send an e-mail around letting everyone know that I will be out on vacation for the next two days. If something critical comes up, call me on my cell.”

  “Done. Are you—”

  “I’m okay, Jill. I’ll call tomorrow. Thanks.”

  “Good night, Andrea.”

  Caine saw the look on Andrea’s face when she hung up.

  “What is it?” Caine asked.

  “Richie sent me a package. After it was delivered, the FedEx man returned and took it back. He told the receptionist it was for another law firm upstairs. John, how could they have known it was coming, and how could they get to the delivery guy? We’ve had the same delivery guy for years.”

  “My guess is someone else picked up the package. He might have had the right uniform, but he wasn’t FedEx. As for how they knew, they must have searched Steinman’s apartment or car, and found a copy of the transmittal.”

  Andrea stared at the fire for a long moment and then looked back at Caine.

  “I guess this tells us two things. Richie is definitely the focal point of whatever they’re after. Second, we know they’re still looking for whatever it is.”

  “You’re … Hold on a minute, Andrea. I have a call on my cell.”r />
  Caine recognized the number. It was Jaq.

  “I have to take this call. This is someone who’s trying to help us.”

  “Jaq,” Caine said.

  “Of course it’s Jaq. Where have you been? You’re supposed to stay in contact.”

  “Sorry, buddy. It’s been busy here. Did anything come up on the radar screen in France?”

  “I spoke with the Colonel. He made a few calls to some of his friends at the Quay D’Orsay. They all came back negative. There are no known threats to the unit. Have you had any more problems?”

  Jaq had switched to French when he asked the last question and Caine did as well.

  “A few.”

  “Tell me.”

  “It’s complicated, Jaq.”

  “Good. Educate your simple friend.”

  “From what we—”

  “We?”

  “Like I said, it’s complicated. A reporter here in Austin left me a phone message last Friday. His name was Richard Steinman. The message was cryptic. Steinman said that I owned some land in Texas and that this ownership could put me in danger. He left me a call-back number, but told me to call a friend of his, Andrea Marenna, if I couldn’t reach him. That’s the ‘we.’ She’s sitting right across from me.”

  “Is she good-looking?” Jaq said, a smile in his voice.

  “Jaq … yes, as a matter of fact, she is,” Caine answered, looking over at Andrea for a moment, who was staring at him.

  “Okay. Now finish your complicated story,” Jaq said.

  “I didn’t get Steinman’s voice mail until the morning after the helo assault that I told you about. I called the paper where he works on Sunday and they told me that he was killed Friday night. So I called Andrea. She had no idea what I was talking about, but after talking with her, I decided to come down and do some investigating—”

  “And you should have invited me along to look after you,” Jaq interrupted.

  “I got it, Jaq,” Caine said and continued his story. “I tracked Andrea to a lodge outside of Austin last night. When I showed up, someone was trying to kidnap her. I took her away from the bad guys, but they wouldn’t leave it there. They chased us. I took out their transport and we escaped.”

  “This is getting out of control. Go on,” Jaq said, frustration in his voice.

  “Today we went to check out Steinman’s apartment to do some digging and bingo, we ran into the bad guys again.”

  “What happened?” Jaq said.

  “They tried to take us out. We escaped. End of story,” Caine said.

  “End of story. This is not a story, man. It’s a running battle! Is your mind broken? You cannot do this alone. You must go to ground until we can get there,” Jaq’s said. His voice was so loud that Caine held the phone away from his ear.

  “Jaq, this is not your fight. It has something to do with whatever Steinman dredged up.”

  “I don’t believe it. The enemy has too many resources. It has to be related to the unit. As soon as they’ve eliminated you, they’ll come after the rest of us. We must fight this together,” Jaq said.

  A tired smile played across Caine’s face.

  “Thanks, Jaq. Thanks more than you can know. Look, we’re going to try one more option. Then we’ll find a hiding place. I’ll call you from there.”

  Caine realized his mistake as soon as he finished.

  “What option?” Jaq demanded.

  “We’re … we’re meeting with a local prosecutor. He’s a friend of Andrea’s. She’s convinced that he can help us, no questions asked. The meet is in one hour.”

  “A prosecutor? That’s a mistake.”

  “Jaq, I have to do it. As soon as we’re done with the meet, we’ll go to ground and I’ll contact you.”

  Jaq expelled a frustrated breath.

  “I won’t argue with you now. Stay safe, my friend. We’re coming.”

  “Good night, buddy.”

  Caine smiled to himself. Jaq must be mellowing in his old age. Fifteen years ago, he would have raged at him in three different languages. When he looked up from the call, there was a questioning look on Andrea’s face.

  “Who was that and why did you speak in French?

  “That was a member of my old unit, Jaq. All Legionnaires speak French. It’s the language we use in the field. It wasn’t meant to keep you in the dark.”

  “It didn’t. I speak French.”

  Caine colored slightly and gave her a small smile. “Touché.”

  Austin, Texas

  December 6, 1999 / Monday / 5:00 p.m.

  Paquin, Severino, Vargas, and Anders were in the operations center standing around a large table with a detailed street map of downtown Austin when Paquin’s cell rang.

  “Paquin.”

  “This is Wire 2. We have contact from the girl.”

  It took Paquin a second to place Wire 2. It was the team outside the offices of Kelly & White, the law firm where the Marenna woman worked. They had a tap on Marenna’s direct extension.

  “What do you have?” Paquin said.

  “She just called in. I sent you the recording via e-mail.”

  “Good.”

  Paquin walked into the next room that served as his office in Austin and sat down in front of the laptop in the middle of the desk. He listened to the recording of the call several times. The woman was getting smarter, or she was learning from John Caine. The reference to voicemail in the call generated a red flag. What if Steinman had left her a voicemail? That could blow the disaster into the open. They had to wipe the system at her law firm.

  Paquin picked up the phone on his desk. “Mehrdad, it’s Paquin. I need you to get into a voicemail system and erase all communications received within the last three days.”

  Mehrdad ran a small phone and computer consulting firm in Austin. He was considered an expert’s expert, and many of the big phone companies used him on their more complicated install jobs. If there was a way to get the system wiped, Merhdad would get it done.

  After the call, Paquin returned to the table where the map was laid out. The team that he’d assembled for the ambush had been reviewing the plan for over an hour. It wasn’t complicated, but it had to be executed in a downtown square, with a guaranteed police presence. There was no room for error.

  “Okay, let’s go over it again.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Austin, Texas

  December 6, 1999 / Monday / 6:45 p.m.

  The cab that the maître’d called was waiting when Caine and Andrea came out of the restaurant.

  “Where’re you going?” the cabbie asked.

  “Downtown, to the Marian House,” Andrea said.

  “I can do that,” the cabbie said.

  Andrea remembered Jill’s reminder about her voicemails when the cab pulled away from the curb. She dialed into Kelly & White’s voice mail system and began to work her way through the fifteen messages in her box. The cab was almost downtown when the fourteenth message started. It was from Richard Steinman.

  Richie was on his cell phone. The noise in the background made it difficult to hear his voice. It sounded as if he was in a car race.

  “Andrea, it’s Richie. I need help … with a story. Look, I know this isn’t fair, but I’m really in a bad spot. I need you to call a guy. His name is John Caine. He lives … he lives in Hesperia, California. Look, I know this sounds crazy, but I think this guy owns—”

  Kelly & White’s message software cut in and said, “Message continued.”

  Then Richie’s frantic voice came back on.

  “Andrea … shit … Please call this guy. Helius may want to kill him to prevent him from getting his … shit! Don’t pull out, you frigging idiot! Andrea, he may be the last one. I don’t know the guy, but I need him to call me. I’m going to try to send you a package … Amelia Teatro. She has the—”

  The voicemail software voice cut in again. “Message ended.”

  Andrea held the phone in front of her
and pressed the redial button. Caine had to hear the message. She heard Caine direct the cabbie to pull over in front of the park down the street from the Marian House. The cab pulled over just past a city bus stop, near the front entrance to the park.

  When her voicemail came on again, Andrea turned to Caine and said, “John, I’ve got it. It’s Richie! He’s explaining—”

  The screech of tires behind the cab cut her off. She turned around in the seat and looked out the back window. An Austin police car had just skidded to a stop twenty yards from the cab’s rear bumper. Two officers jumped out. Their revolvers were drawn and pointed at the rear of the cab. The officer standing on the driver’s side of the police car called out in a loud voice, emphasizing each word.

  “This is the Austin police. Do not move! Put your hands on your head and step out of the car. All of you.”

  A fraction of a second later, the front windshield of the police car shattered, and the two officers dropped behind the car doors for cover. The strobe light on the roof of the car exploded a second later, and glass shards rained down on the crouching officers.

  Caine shoved open the car door next to the sidewalk, grabbed Andrea’s arm, and pulled her out of the car.

  “Stay down! It’s a setup. We have to get out of here.”

  Caine dropped to his knees and crab-walked the length of the cab, pulling Andrea behind him. He stopped at the front bumper and looked up and down the sidewalk. Cars were parked along the curb almost all the way to the restaurant. The cab was the last one in the line.

  Caine pointed to the four-foot brick wall along the edge of the park.

  “They probably have a shooter in the park. If we stay below the top of the wall, he won’t have a shot. When we get to the end of the wall, we can run down the alley beside the restaurant.”

  Andrea looked at him and nodded, her face a mask of fear and confusion.

  “On three we go for the wall: one, two, three!”

  When they reached the wall, they ran alongside it, staying in a crouch. Andrea looked down the street and saw a stocky figure just outside the entrance to the Marian House dressed in a suit. She recognized him right away. It was Michael. For a second he didn’t recognize her, but then he called out.