Duty Bound (1995)

by Leonard B Scott

  She stepped out of her shoes and quickly caught up. "I'm not sure what you mean."

  "When you buy pants you find a little piece of paper in the pocket that says 'Inspected by Number Four.' Are you Inspector Four?"

  Sarah gave him a side glance. "You might call me that.

  Do you mind if I walk with you?"

  Eli shook his head as he lowered his arms to his sides.

  They walked in silence for a long moment before Sarah gave him another glance. "Do you think you're ready to be released?"

  "Sure do, Doc."

  "Please, call me Sarah."

  "Doc, I was ready to be released two weeks ago. Whatever you want to ask me, get on with it."

  "Do you think we've treated you unfairly?"

  "You people have a job to do, and I understand that.

  You're worried that I might have problems. I don't think I have any problems other than my being here. You want to make sure I'm all right, and I want to convince you I am.

  I've taken tests, been asked a zillion questions, and I've tried to answer all of them honestly. Have I been treated unfairly? No. Am I ready to go? Hell yeah."

  "Do you think about the men you killed?" Sarah asked as she stepped over a dead jellyfish.

  "Not much."

  "Does it bother you when you think about it?"

  "Nope."

  "Did you have to kill them? Couldn't you have wounded them instead?"

  Eli stopped and faced her. "Doc, have you ever killed an animal?"

  Sarah looked at him with a blank expression. "Not on purpose; I hit a dog once while driving."

  "Well, Doc, ya have to understand humans are one of the hardest animals there is to kill. In the movies a guy shoots another guy and he goes down and just lies there. That's not what really happens. When bullets start flying, most people aren't even hit, but those that are are usually wounded, and they can still shoot back. Humans don't want to die; they fight to live and are very dangerous when hit. In Nam the ratio was one to nine. One killed for every nine wounded.

  Does that tell you something? It should tell you that if you're facing more than one armed assailant who intends on doing you bodily harm, you shoot them in the face or heart to make sure they stay down. It's a matter of survival."

  "You killed five men and wounded two," she said matter-of-factly.

  "My mistake on the two. I thought I killed them."

  "Do you like killing, Agent Tanner?"

  "No, Doc." Eli looked into her eyes. "I felt guilt and remorse the first time I killed a man. It was in Vietnam. I agonized over it because that North Vietnamese trooper was just like me, a soldier doing his duty. I felt for him because I knew it could have just as well been me lying there. But I don't agonize over the armed assailants I've had to shoot, Doc. They're not like me. I don't feel anything for them. Do I like killing them? The answer is no. I don't like being in a situation where I might end up dead."

  Sarah kept her gaze on him. "How do you cope with it?"

  "I don't live in the past," he said as he started walking again. "I look ahead, not back."

  "What about your son?"

  Eli came to a halt with a pained frown and faced her again. "You don't play fair, Doc."

  "I'm sorry, Agent Tanner, but I had to know if you were really that callous. Tell me about him."

  "There's nothing to say. I haven't been able to see him. I wish I could say something. I really wish I could."

  "Is it because you almost died that you want to see him?"

  "I've always wanted to see him, Doc. But to answer your question honestly, I wasn't willing to beg his mother to let me see him before. I am now. I'm getting older, Doctor, and the job doesn't seem as important to me as it did before. It'd be nice to get things right again. I'd really like to have a chance to be with my son, do father things, let him know I care."

  Sarah saw that the special agent's eyes were misting and lowered her head. "Agent Tanner, you'll be released in two days. I'm sorry it can't be sooner but it will take that long to brief my findings to those who were concerned."

  Eli looked out at the ocean and closed his eyes. "So it's finally over."

  Sarah turned to retrace her steps but stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. "I'll recommend you receive another week's leave, Agent Tanner. Perhaps it will give you time to make things right. Good-bye."

  Eli nodded in silence as he stared out at the ocean. Make things right, he repeated to himself.

  Chapter 2.

  Hartsfield International Airport, Atlanta.

  Glenn Henderson nervously scratched his bearded chin as the passengers from Miami walked by. He shifted his feet as he waited. Come on, Teddy, where are you, damnit? You call and say meet me, we have to talk, then you hang up. Why'd you do that to me?

  Glenn sighed when his best friend finally exited. He forced a smile and raised his hand in greeting. "Hiya, Teddy, how was the trip?"

  Ted Faircloud nodded toward the well-dressed man as he kept walking. "I got our crew . . . and I got an added mission from Gee."

  Henderson quickly caught up and walked alongside his friend. "What do you mean, 'added mission'?"

  "We're going to take out Mendez after we make the score," Ted whispered.

  Shocked, Glenn came to a halt. "Jesus, Ted, are you serious?"

  "I'm dead serious. Come on, keep walkin'. You gotta drop me by a used-car lot so I can get me a car."

  "What's wrong with your pickup?"

  "I've gotta play like I'm a RI.; gotta see a woman Gee says is goin' to help us."

  Again Glenn stopped. "A woman? What's going on?"

  "Gee and his people are out of it. They can't be fingered.

  They've given the broad all the info on the score and she knows all about Mendez."

  "Slow down. Jesus, Ted. What do you mean, she knows all about Mendez?"

  "She's been bangin' him the past year; she was his sweet thing."

  "My God, that means we've really got a chance to get him."

  "Damn straight we do. And there's somethin' else, Glenn-- we get to keep all the score."

  "All six million? Gee doesn't want his half?"

  "We get all of it--'course, we have to give the new guys and the broad their split, but that still leaves us plenty to get us new equipment and start that construction company we've been dreamin' about. The main thing, though, is we get Mendez. It's finally payback time."

  "About damn time."

  Ted pulled off the lake road into a private drive and came to a stop in front of a large ornate metal gate. A small box attached to a pole suddenly blurted, "State your business!"

  Ted rolled down his window and spoke into the box. "I'm Ted Wilson, the private investigator working for the lady. I called. She's expectin' me."

  "Drive in when the gate opens. Park in the circular drive by the cabin. I'll meet'cha."

  The gate started rolling back and Ted put his '92 Lincoln Town Car into gear. He drove four hundred yards down a winding tree-lined asphalt road and did a double take when he saw the massive three-story log mansion sitting on a finger of land jutting out into the lake. A cabin? The guy calls that a cabin? Chrisea'mighty, the logs alone cost a couple million. Looks like a ski resort.

  Ted parked in the drive and got out of the white Lincoln.

  The massive front door opened and a thin, balding man walked out wearing jeans, cowboy boots, and a leather shoulder holster holding a nickel-plated .357 Magnum. "You carrying, Mr. Wilson?" he asked. "The lady don't want anybody comin' inside who's packin'."

  Ted lifted his arms and nodded toward the house. "Naw, I ain't carryin' anything. You the one who called this thing a cabin?"

  The man approached and paned Ted down. "Rich folks up here call 'em cabins; I just call it big. The lady is waitin' in the great room for ya. Mrs. White will show you in--and Wilson, I'd keep an eye on that damned dog the lady has, if I were you; he'll eat your ass up."

  An old black woman appeared in the doorway. "He the dic
k, Duwane?"

  "Yeah, Halley, it's Mr. Wilson. You can take him on in."

  The tiny gray-haired woman looked Ted up and down as he walked toward the door. "Wipe yo' feet 'fo' ya come in here."

  "Yes, ma'am," Ted said, wiping his feet on the mat. He noticed the little woman had snuff packed under her lower lip.

  The old woman spat toward the driveway before motioning him inside. "Come on, I'se take ya to Mrs. Stone. Mind her dog now, ya hear? It one of them clanged ol' foreign dogs.

  Meaner than a snake. Seen it eat up the cable man the other day. I warned him, yes, sir, I warned him, meaner than a snake."

  Ted entered the foyer and came to an abrupt halt. Man, the thin guy was right; it is big. Gotta be an old lodge or something.

  "You comin' or ain't ya?" the old woman said.

  Ted strode across the spacious pine-floored foyer to catch up to his escort and glanced up at the exposed log beams.

  How the hell they heat and cool such a big place? It had to be forty feet up to the wood ceiling. All that wasted space had to cost a bundle to heat and cool. Jesus, and the furniture. How the hell you supposed to get comfortable on log and willow furniture? Damn decorator must have been a Cherokee or something. There were Indian blankets, feathered things, cow skulls, and Indian pictures everywhere.

  The old woman halted in the hallway and gestured ahead.

  "She's just down there workin' on that machine a'hers.

  Lordy, like she need to be worryin' about her weight. Go on, just mind that dog."

  Directly in front of Ted three steps led down into the enormous sunken great room where four huge windows gave him a spectacular view of the lake fifty yards away. He was about to step down but heard a growl. Ted saw the dog and froze.

  A voice said, "Come to mama, Baby. You Ted?"

  "Yeah, I'm Ted." He looked in the direction the voice had come from. All he could see was an eight-foot partition covered with a colorful Indian blanket.

  "Come on down. Baby won't bother you now," the voice said.

  Thinking about the "ate up" cable man, Ted didn't move until the big, golden dog with the little head moved slowly toward the partition and disappeared behind it. Ted walked down the steps onto the Persian carpet and scanned the room, stopping when he saw the huge stone fireplace. Jesus, you can walk into that thing. He heard heavy breathing, turned, and froze again. Ten feet away, partly hidden behind the partition, a tall, glistening, deeply tanned blonde was working a StairMaster, her legs going up and down like pistons. Her back was to him and he couldn't see her face, but that didn't matter. What he could see made him immediately break out into a sweat. She was wearing a skintight white spandex exercise outfit.

  Not looking at him, the blonde spoke over her shoulder.

  "Hand me a towel, will you?" The woman raised a hand from the bar and motioned to her right. "The towel is over here on the chair. Baby won't bother you."

  What the hell, I'll just kick the stuffing outta the mutt if it makes a move on me, Ted thought. He walked over and picked up the towel. Taking in a breath, he stepped closer, turned his head away from the woman, and held out the towel. "Here ya go."

  She took the towel as she kept pumping her legs, tossed it around her neck and looked him over. "So you're him, huh?

  You're not exactly what I expected."

  Still keeping his head turned, Ted shrugged, having Picked up the disappointment in her voice. "Yeah, well, you're not what I expected, either."

  "What, you thought I'd be the Miss Chiquita Banana type?"

  "The thought entered my mind, yeah."

  "I have a degree in business. Well, almost . . . I only need seven more credit hours. Just because I was Carlos's friend doesn't make me a bimbo or a whore."

  Ted looked out the window toward the lake, thinking, This flaky dyed blonde is going to help me? Yeah, right. He sighed, then said, "Why don't ya stop doin' that and put somethin' on. We've got business to discuss."

  "I only have another minute to do. Why don't you get yourself something to drink. The bar is by the fireplace."

  Ted walked back into the main room and stopped at another window, wondering how fast Genesse could find him somebody else who knew computers. Something touched his leg. He looked down. Ohhh, shit! The dog was sniffing his trouser legs. Taking another step closer, the animal started sniffing higher. Thinking of the cable man, Ted didn't move a muscle until the dog got to his crotch. That's it! "Down, dog!"

  Ted snapped.

  To his surprise, the animal sat on his haunches and looked up at him as if saying Huh?

  Ted pointed to the partition. "Get on back to your master."

  The dog immediately hurried behind the wall, but came back seconds later wagging its tail. There was a worn tennis ball in its mouth.

  "He wants to play," the woman said as she followed the animal.

  Ted gulped. Big bust, narrow waist, wide hips, and long legs--all sheathed in see-through spandex. Ms. Rogers looked like a Las Vegas showgirl on her break.

  The woman frowned. "You're staring at me like I'm lunch."

  Embarrassed, Ted lowered his eyes to the carpet. "Put somethin' on, will ya?"

  "You don't get out much, do you? This isn't any more revealing than what women athletes wore during the Olympics."

  Ted raised his head, looking into her big hazel eyes. "I get out plenty, lady. You want to wear that thing to talk business in, that's fine." He leaned over, took the ball from the dog's mouth, and tossed it across the room. The dog became a blur.

  The woman shook her head. "You started something.

  Baby loves chasing that nasty ball. You'll have to throw it a hundred times before he poops out."

  As if making her point, Baby scampered back with the ball and dropped it at Ted's feet. He picked it up and gave it another toss. "What kind of dog is he?" Ted asked, just to say something and give himself time to get used to looking at the half-naked woman.

  "He's a Rhodesian Ridgeback. They're originally from Africa and were bred to hunt lions. See the hair on the top of his back? It grows in the opposite direction from the rest of the hair on him. It's kind of like a giant cowlick. I'm Bonita Rogers, by the way."

  Now genuinely interested in the animal, Ted dipped his chin toward the dog. "You call a lion-hunting dog Baby?

  That doesn't seem right."

  "I thought you said you wanted to talk business?"

  "Sure has a small head, doesn't he? How could he bring down a lion with such a little jaw?"

  "Ask the cable man who came a couple of days ago,"

  Bonita said as she walked to the coffee table. She leaned over and started to put on the jewelry she'd taken off prior to her workout.

  Ted tossed the ball again and glanced at the mound of what looked like a small treasure. "Those the benefits of shacking up with Mendez?" he asked.

  Bonita slipped on a four-carat diamond ring. "Look, Faircloud, you wouldn't understand, but I was a queen. I got everything I ever dreamed of having, okay?"

  Ted nodded as if in understanding. "Yeah, and did your king give ya that busted lip, too?"

  Bonita unconsciously raised her hand, touching the still puffy lip. "He didn't do this. . . . I got it from Simon before I escaped."

  Ted nodded again. "You escaped with your lion hunter and jewelry but no clothes, huh?"

  "I got out alive, okay?"

  Ted stared at her. "No, it's not okay. Ya see, I'm standin' here tryin' to figure out how a yacht queen gets away from her king. I mean, it's one thing doin' a swan dive off his boat and makin' a swim for it ... but it's another when ya have time to take your dog and your benefits. I'm just a dumb ex-squid who doesn't have a degree in business, ya understand? How about you humoring me and tell me how you pulled off this escape of yours."

  "What is it with the questions--you don't trust me?"

  "I wanna hear your story, Miss Rogers." Ted gave her his best don't mess with me look.

  Bonita took a step back. "It wasn't what you thi
nk. I had my own life. I was going to school and working part-time at KNJP, Channel 24, in Miami. I was a researcher for their newsroom. . . . I was doing so well they were about to promote me and--"

  "Get to the escape part," Ted said.

  "Okay, okay. I'd get beeped when he wanted me to come out to the boat or his place. His people would come and pick me up. Carlos was good to me, but then he started getting weird. I can take a lot of things, but I'm not into weird. I saw the handwriting on the wall, so when I got back to my place I started packing. But the servants called Carlos's people. One of his bodyguards, Simon, came over and asked where I thought I was going. I told him I was going to see my sick mother, and he says 'Sure,' then he hits me. That's how I got this. I thought he was going to kill me, so I shot him.. . . I had a pistol in my purse. He looked so stunned ... like he just couldn't believe I would do it. He stood there, gasping like a goldfish out of water, bleeding on my white carpet, staring at me. I left him there, still standing and holding his stomach, afraid to move. Baby and most of my valuables and things were already in the car, so I ran out and left. That's what happened . . . it's the truth."