“Any self-respecting...female...Yes, I know where you live. Near the Potomac, by Georgetown.”
“Yes. In an hour?”
The date set, Etta swiveled her hips on her way out, cinching the affair.
On his way home, Erik felt conflicted. He did his best not to think beyond the eve ahead and Lishan all in the same breath. Organic spinach and field greens, olive oil and vinegar, a six-year-old Cabernet. Follow with wholegrain pasta, select herbs, roasted red peppers, and grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, finished with a fine chocolate mini-cake in a pool of raspberry sauce. Then….
Etta wore a loose-fitting white silk top with nothing underneath. Her drawstring pale green silk pants rode low on her hips.
It was all too much for Erik to contain. Twenty minutes later, the room was filled with the scent of sweat.
As they wound their way back into the living room, Etta did a quick scan of various photos in the apartment. “Who’s that babe?”
“Lishan. She was a student of mine.” He turned to face Etta. “She lives in the building. We are friends.”
“Good friends?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Suppose? Hmm.” Then she dropped it, or had at least intended to. “Why the red heart on the thirteenth?”
Erik’s glanced at the kitchen wall calendar. “It’s...”
“It’s what?” She wasn’t going to let it go.
“Just a date.”
“Just? With a red heart?”
Erik wasn’t fast enough with an alibi.
“Let’s try ten questions. Does it regard Lishan?”
“Why ten questions?”
“It’s my way of getting to the heart of the matter. Lishan?”
“Yes.”
“Birthday?” she said.
“Do you want some pasta?” Erik attempted to contain his anger. “Listen. Yes, she’s special to me.”
“Then why am I here?”
“To get an ‘A.’ That’s why you’re here.”
Etta smiled, thinking of a reply. “Yes, that’s true. What’s wrong with that? Besides, I like the illicit side of this affair, holding something over you.”
“I think you should go.”
Etta stood, glaring at Erik. In her best haughty voice, she said, “Now that you’ve had your rocks—if that’s how you Americans say it. I see.” Etta gathered her things, heading to the door. With a contemptuous grin, she added, “Don’t forget that ‘A.’”
Not ten feet from Erik’s door, Lishan halted as she saw his door open. Chris had agreed to wait at the end of the hall, with the odds and ends and the disguise Lishan had gathered. He knew Lishan needed a moment with this fella. Lishan pretended to fumble with a key at another door as the tall, hot, olive-skinned woman flew past her, pausing just long enough with an inquisitive look at Lishan, then a glare.
Erik thought he heard Etta say ‘tramp’ as she headed down the hall.
47
Niesha put the phone’s ear bud in place, then decided against it, opting instead for the speakerphone.
“Mazzini,” the voice was now familiar to Niesha.
“I’m glad you’ve made it this far,” she offered.
There was a moment’s pause. Niesha imagined him finishing genuflecting to his God. “That’s kind of you,” he offered, allowing himself to be touched by her generosity. “You, too, apparently.”
He paused, but continued. “I’m assuming you would like to meet today. Is that correct?” Mazzini sounded even, though tired. “There’s a café within walking distance of my room. I believe it’s safe enough to meet there.”
Niesha held the air for a moment before speaking. “Mazzini, though I know this might not sound the best to you, I believe you would be safest if taken into custody. I have a great deal of pull within the system, so I won’t let anyone mistreat you. I suggest you agree." Niesha had to use all of her restraint to keep from lashing out about the poisonings. There will be time, she thought to herself.
His silence was palpable, though not unexpected. The idea of being behind bars was nearly unimaginable to him, given the experiences that brought him in contact with convicts, lockdowns, bailiffs, the clank of solid boundaries between freedom and the lack of it.
Niesha imagined the thoughts that had to be streaming through Mazzini’s mind; the time had come to face the karma he knew one day would catch up with him.
“Yes.” Silence again.
When Lishan opened the door to Maya’s office, Niesha just issued the shhh finger sign. There was an unspoken agreement that Niesha would appear solo in this call, not wanting Mazzini to feel ganged-up on.
Lishan tried to feel compassion for Mazzini in that moment, wishing to be completely respectful of the pain this man was no doubt undergoing—the prospect, the likelihood, of prison. But she was losing. Thoughts of the young student’s family and the life cut short obliterated any kindness she tried to muster.
“How can you ensure that I won’t end up in the jurisdiction of a corrupt cop, one on Conner’s payroll? I could easily be shot under the guise of attempting escape.”
Niesha spoke up: “We have an adjunct witness protection program comprised of hand-picked, trusted men and women. In fact, the lodging is quite nice—better than the digs I lived in in my early twenties.” She glanced at Lishan, who had given her an odd look when she used the word “digs.” Niesha just shrugged.
She continued. “I’ll do all I can. Truly.” She took a breath, giving her thoughts a chance to gather. “I should meet with you and have an unmarked police car take you in. I’ll be with you to ensure you get proper treatment. If you don’t mind, my niece Lishan will be with us.”
Again, “Yes…it’s…it’s all just fine.” Then, in a timid voice Niesha hadn’t yet heard in him, he asked, “Is it safe to tell you where I am? Not you, but rather, now, over the phone.”
“Is this your first call from this location?”
“Yes.”
“So, if they’re tracking your calls, they’re just now learning your whereabouts.”
“Likely.”
“Then change locations now. We will be in your vicinity in half an hour.”
“Make it an hour and a half. I have an errand. I’ll meet you out on Highway 97.”
Niesha decided against arguing. “If you must. I’m hoping you can stay relatively unnoticed during your errand.”
“No concern of yours.”
“Then call us from wherever you land—preferably a public place, somewhere close to where you are now. And don’t delay leaving where you are. Be gone within one to two minutes. Can you do that?”
“Va bene,” Mazzini said in his native Italian tongue.
Niesha used Lishan’s cell phone to call the witness protection office. Within twenty minutes, an undercover agent picked up Niesha and Lishan, and then they waited for Mazzini’s call.
Mazzini called a taxi. As he waited outside, he could tell he just didn’t want to think anymore—about anything. His life, his income, his future. He decided to take the taxi to where his car was parked in the garage. He wanted to drive to his next destination. None of it matters were the only words in his head.
- - -
“Mr. Mazzini, how are you this lovely day?” The reception nurse was pleasant, always happy to see this reliable visitor. Mazzini hadn’t missed a day in the three years she knew him.
“Just fine, Mrs. Maxwell. And you?”
“How could I not be doing well with elders like your mother? Such joys to watch over.”
Ridgeview Heights was the finest rest home Mazzini could find for his mother. At ninety-three, perky and alive, she just needed company, with only occasional assistance—medications, mostly. This was nothing like the homes where the ratio of staff to residents was pitifully low, where these stately seniors had been reduced to chores in the minds of many of the underpaid help. Mazzini had made that mistake only once—a previous home where he was given the kind of promises he needed for his mother,
but, sadly, promises that were only lip service. That home was no longer in business. Mazzini didn’t take kindly to falsehoods.
He knew the staff, the spacious rooms, and all of the residents of Ridgeview well. His mother was not going to be stuck anywhere with anyone where he perceived the slightest risk to her emotional and physical well-being.
“Hi, Mother.” Mazzini hung his hat on a bedpost. Then he sat down on the single bed after giving her a kiss on her forehead.
“Hello, son. You should have seen what happened to that pretty, young pregnant girl on Lost today. If I were on that island—it’s an island, isn’t it?—I would have seen to her welfare.” She looked up. “How are you? You look weary.”
Mazzini did his utmost to keep the strains on his life from his mother’s view.
“I just didn’t sleep well.” A truth blended with omission. “Mother?”
She sat up straight. “Something is wrong, isn’t it?”
“No, truly.” He delivered the lie he had practiced on the drive over. “I’ve been sleeping poorly. I’ve enrolled in a sleep clinic for the next few days, and I’m afraid I may not be able to visit. That’s all.”
“Oh, I’m so relieved.” Her held breath expelled, allowing her to lean back into her comfort. “That’s okay, son. No other resident has a daily visitor. I’m fortunate.”
They spent the next half an hour talking about nothing in particular—a routine they had settled into, one in which she seemed to find the most comfort.
As he was leaving, Mrs. Maxwell also asked if he was all right. She could see a twinge of moisture in his eyes, something she had yet to experience with this apparently mild-mannered, loving man.
“Yes, Mrs. Maxwell. I’m just tired today.” He stopped, thinking he should alert her of his likely absence. “I have been having trouble sleeping and have checked into a program for the next few days, one that will help me sleep. I doubt I can visit. I’m sorry.”
“Now, don’t you worry. We’ll take good care of your mother. You know we will.”
Mazzini nodded, delivering a weak smile on his way through the double doors as he headed back toward the Highway 97 Motel to meet his fate.
48
“Tom, you’ve got a problem.” Ferrali didn’t waste any time calling Conner’s top counsel, Tom Danforth, after the call from Maya’s assistant.
“I’m listening.” Tom said curtly, mimicking his boss’ nastiness whenever he could.
“I just got a call from a trustworthy employee who said she was instructed to send out a U.S. marshal with a warrant for Jack Conner’s arrest—apparently for murders he has ordered, for starters.” Ferrali chose his language carefully, covering any tracks that might implicate himself as interfering with justice.
“You’ve got to be kidding. And you can’t stop it? Why are you calling me?”
“You know best how to advise Jack. You call him, if you feel that’s the right thing to do.”
“Dammit, Nathan. You’re putting me in a bind. And, you didn’t answer my first question.”
“I’m working on it, but the Criminal Division Chief is no slouch. Her assistant, Leana, could only delay the order for a short time. We are fortunate that Leana is loyal to me—we have some, shall we say, history. Listen, Tom, this is serious. I wanted you to know ASAP.”
Silence filled the conversation. They both knew Jack Conner was not accustomed to real threats. He had been subpoenaed before, but never faced an outright arrest warrant.
“Let me know how I can help.” Or not. “I’ve gotta run, Tom.” Ferrali hung up.
He did a slow blink, after which his thoughts turned to Maya.
Maya saw the incoming phone call from her boss, but she knew her next conversation with him would be about the warrant for Conner’s arrest. He can wait, she thought. Tomorrow is soon enough.
49
As the evening advanced, Niesha felt it was time to call Mazzini. No answer. She tried again, with the same result.
“I’m worried,” she said.
Lishan, from the backseat, and Jason, the driver, just nodded. They knew the possibilities.
Niesha tried several times over the next five minutes. Niesha tried calling Mazzini again.
“Mazzini here.”
Niesha sighed. “I thought something had happened to you. Where are you?”
“I’m pulling into a BP gas station a few miles south of the Highway 97 Motel, where I thought I would meet you.”
Jason heard just enough of the call to put the car in gear and gun it. They were on 97, near the motel, thinking that is where he may have spent the night.
“Why didn’t you answer my earlier calls?” Niesha let her irritation ring through.
Unperturbed, Mazzini responded evenly. “I went to visit my mother. I wanted her to know I love her—especially if she never sees me again.”
Niesha softened. “At least those are points in your favor. Are you there yet?”
“Yes. I’m getting out of my car, to get a soda.” There was no sound for a couple of seconds.
“I knew you’d find me,” was all she heard.
Then she gasped as two rapid gunshots followed. “No! Mazzini. Mazzini!” Then a strange voice came on the line.
“Go to hell.”
The line went flat. The blood drained from Niesha’s cheeks.
Minutes later, as the gas station came into view, Jason patted the firearm under his jacket. Niesha and Lishan were diligently watching every speck of the well-lit station. As Jason put the mobile flashing light up, coming to a halt ten yards from what was suspected as Mazzini’s car, the station attendant came rushing out.
He was flushed, nearly unintelligible. “This guy…this guy, he just came right over to this dude—this dead guy.” He pointed at Mazzini lying in the driver’s seat. “I was watching close, like we always do after dark. Then, this guy, he just pulls a gun and shoots him. He looked up to see if anyone saw him, but I ducked. Then he drove off.”
“Which way? Make and model of his car?” Jason wasted no time.
“That way.” The attendant pointed north. “It was a Yellow Cab.”
“Just fine. That narrows it down.” Jason’s sarcasm hung in the air.
A call to the taxi dispatcher proved worthless—their computer system was down.
50
Niesha and Lishan considered one another, an unspoken what to do next on their collective minds.
“What about his testimony?” Lishan looked defeated. “Wasn’t it key?”
Niesha put her hand on Lishan’s shoulder. “Yes and no. It would have helped, but I have recordings of his confessions, a stack of email that incriminates Conner, and Fatima’s documents and bio-chem friend’s testimony. The Internet service provider will corroborate the validity of those emails, showing that they were the originals.”
Lishan looked down at Mazzini. A mixture of relief and fear crossed the face of the young reporter. She knew that with the faction she was dealing with, the body on the ground could just as easily have been her own.
“We need to establish our hiding place.” Niesha said.
Lishan raised her head, taking in the beautiful sage before her. She wanted to sequester herself away with this woman she so admired, but she couldn’t.
“I can’t just disappear. I have too much work to do.”
Niesha took in Lishan’s tone. She knew there was no point in countering her on this issue.
“I have a place to stay,” Lishan said in a whisper. They had no reason to mistrust Jason, but he was new to them. “No one knows about it. He’s a friend of Erik’s. But what about you? I can’t just leave you by yourself. You could stay there, too, but you’re safer far away from me.”
“What do you mean—safer?” Niesha’s eyes gave away her concern.
Lishan took in her error. “It’s just that it’s not that far from where I lived. But I’ll remain as obscure as possible—don’t you worry.”
“I will.”
“I k
now. But what about you?”
Niesha smiled. “I’ll stay at the Gonk for a day or two—longer if need be. Are you comfortable with that?”
Lishan nodded.
After a policewoman and an ambulance arrived, Jason took Niesha and Lishan back to town.
“Back to the office?” he questioned.
“Yes, that’s fine,” Niesha answered.
They were mostly silent during the return trip. “I feel disillusioned when someone like Mazzini turns the leaf, then the opportunity to realize it is taken from him.” Niesha had a far-away look.
As Maya’s building came into view, Lishan and Niesha made their last-minute arrangements. “Thanks,” they chimed to Jason.
The two women had agreed to walk a block or two from Maya’s office, then taxi it from there.
“Niesha, can you get a new phone? No link to your name and addresses. Promise me.”
“Promise.”
“Then call me on my temporary cell when you know your next step. I love you, Auntie. Let’s talk in the morning. On second thought, call me when you get settled in tonight, after you have a new phone to use until we’re all safe.”
51
Lishan grabbed the next non-Yellow taxi after Niesha was safely whisked away. She straightened her stance and collected her thoughts, then pulled out her cell phone.
“Antoine, hi. This is Lishan—Erik’s friend.”
“Hi. Oh, I know who you are. I know all about you.” His tone was playful. “I was a little concerned when you didn’t show up yesterday. Are you all right?”
“Yes. Can I tell you in a few minutes? I’m en route.”
Before ten minutes had passed, Lishan had navigated a careful route, arriving at Antoine’s door.
“Entre.” Antoine was friendly, quick, and all smiles. He gave Lishan an immediate hug. “Some of your goods—stuff, as you Americans like to say—are here.” He gave her the once-over and said, “I didn’t recognize you. Erik showed me a photo of you. You seem different.”
Lishan laughed. “I’m disguised, for my safety. Makeup and thirty pounds,” she said, as she poked the padding. It bothered her when Antoine reached over and squeezed the padding, right below her breasts. She tucked away a reminder to be careful around him.
Silence Her Page 27
