Duty Bound (1995)

by Leonard B Scott

  Please note the room assignments for each team because I propose we break up into our teams and allow the team leaders to further brief you on what your specific duties will be. Staff meetings will be conducted every day at ten A. M. and at three P. M., to exchange progress reports. Thank you in advance for your support. Please adjourn to your team rooms."

  Eli's jaw muscles twitched as he looked at the chart and saw his name below Ashley's, both of them listed as special assistants to Paul Eddings. Yeah, right, Eli thought, now he'd have to watch the two of them play goo-goo eyes and pitty-pat for however long the investigation took. No way, I'm not going to be an REMF for Mr. All-American.

  Ashley poked Eli in the side. "Come on, we have to go to Paul's office."

  Eli slowly collected his notepad and spoke through clenched teeth. "Yeah, I wouldn't want 'Paul' to have to wait."

  She eyed Eli as she swung her purse over her shoulder.

  "Tanner, Paul is like a brother to me. We went through the Academy together, and we helped each other get through the tough times."

  Standing, Eli sniffed the air. "You smell anything different?"

  Red-faced, she turned her back on him and marched toward the door. He nodded to himself and said silently, Yeah, that's what I thought, too. Like a brother, my ass.

  Minutes later Eli walked into the small office of Agent Eddings and saw the ex jock and Ashley seated beside each other, all smiles. Eddings rose and extended his hand.

  "Agent Tanner, Ashley has been saying good things about you. I'm very happy to finally meet you. . . . I know we'll make a great team. We were just about to head out to have a bite of lunch. Please join us and we can all become acquainted and I'll explain how you'll be assisting me with the case."

  Eli wrinkled his brow as he shook the ex--football player's hand. "Agent Eddings, I'm sorry, but I'm not the assistant type. If it's all the same to you, I'd like to fill the open position in Team B that liaisons with the GBI. I have friends in the Georgia State Bureau and I think I can do a lot more good there. And as far as lunch is concerned, I appreciate the offer but it's a little early for me to eat, plus I think it would be better if you two caught up on old times by yourselves."

  Caught off guard by the rejection, Eddings let his smile dissolve. He motioned toward a large folder on his desk. "I should have been honest with you up front. I read your personnel file and saw that you had been assigned to the Miami office and were a member of the organized-crime division. I need your help. I need your expertise in looking into the possibility the Yona Group is connected to organized crime."

  Eli shook his head. "That'd be a waste of time. The way I heard it in the meeting, the group uses local labor with no union connection. If there's no unions involved, then you forget about the wise guys being involved."

  Eddings raised his chin slightly. "I wasn't referring to the mob, Agent Tanner . . . I was referring to the Yona Group possibly being involved with Miami drug players."

  Eli gave Eddings a questioning stare. "What makes you think players are involved?"

  Eddings handed the folder to Eli. "What you heard in the meeting earlier was only part of what we have. I received an anonymous e-mail this morning saying a player was connected with the Yona Group. . . . The message also said this unnamed player was responsible for the killing of Senator Goodnight."

  "Why didn't you mention this in the meeting?" Eli asked.

  "It's on a need-to-know basis, Agent Tanner. The SAC is briefing the deputy on it as we speak. And there's something else that came up recently that could possibly be a connection. That file you're holding is a copy of what our Miami office has on the major drug players. The DEA has the lead on them and provided an update. A couple of weeks ago one of our Miami office C. I.'s told an agent a player was laundering big money here in Georgia."

  "How reliable is this confidential informant?"

  "According to our Miami people, he's very reliable. The information he gave is all there in a report in the file. The SAC assigned me as the case officer to check out the information relating to laundering here in the state, but that was before the senator's murder. The Goodnight case has of course taken priority. I wanted you to assist me by looking at the file and seeing if you thought there might be a possible connection."

  "No, thanks," Eli said, setting the folder back on the desk.

  "I only worked in organized crime for seven months, and that was eight years ago. You've got agents a lot more qualified than me you can pick from to help you. I'll just take the job as the liaison with the GBI."

  Ashley stood. "Tanner, you can't refuse Paul on this. He needs your help."

  Eli shrugged. "Oh yeah, I can. I spent the last three months with the O. C. Division in a Miami hospital. . . . I got shot and lost a partner working a case on a player. Agent Eddings needs the best to help him, and that's not me. I suggest he get the Miami office hotshot O. C. agent to do it."

  Showing his disappointment, Eddings walked behind his desk and let out a sigh. "I'll assign you as the liaison to the GBI, Agent Tanner. And I'll take your advice and request an agent from the Miami office. Thank you."

  Eli turned to Ashley. "Give me the keys to the van so I can get my stuff. I presume you're going to be working with Agent Eddings, so I'll rent myself a car while I'm up here."

  Ashley gave him her best evil glare as she dug in her purse. "You take the van, Tanner. Paul will provide me transportation. I'll get my things out before Paul and I go to lunch, which will be in just a few minutes."

  "Fine," Eli said, taking the keys from her. He dipped his chin to the all-American. "Thanks for letting me take the liaison job."

  Walking out of the office, Eli congratulated himself on how he had managed to escape the assignment. Man, that was close! I could just see me having to put up with watching those two working together. Yeah, gettin' out of that assignment was the best thing I could have done.

  Ashley is going to be happy working with Paul baby, and I'm going to be happy workin' with the state boys. Yeah, now we're both happy. He stopped in front of the elevator doors and pushed the button. Damn her!

  The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside and smashed the ground-floor button. His stomach was rumbling and sending a bad taste up into his throat.

  The elevator door opened on the ground floor, and Eli stepped out into the hallway and immediately knew it was not his day. The large foyer was filled with reporters and cameramen all making their way toward the building's glass double doors. More of them were coming out of the room to his right, and he realized a press conference must have just concluded. One class of people he disliked more than lawyers and car salesmen was the media. In his experience, they were nothing but sharks hunting for something to attack and chew up. Eli stayed on the fringe of the maneaters, willing himself to be patient because they'd be gone in minutes. Then he saw her.

  Eli Tanner knew he had weaknesses, and he'd always tried to face and beat them, but when it came to Stacy Starr, she was a weakness he never minded. And there she was, only ten feet away. Miss Georgia, 1972. He wouldn't have known another Miss Georgia if she'd paraded before him with a sign, but Stacy Starr was different. When he'd been serving in Vietnam, his hometown VFW had sent him a large envelope with a small Georgia flag enclosed, along with letters of support and a signed eight-by-ten color glossy of the new Miss Georgia, Stacy Starr. He had received the VFW packet his fourth month in Nam, while his company was patrolling in the mountains of the Central Highlands. He had not seen a woman in three months, so the picture of the smiling young Miss Georgia in her bathing suit had been a very special treat. There was something about him being young and in a foreign land where people were trying to kill him. He had missed home terribly, and for some reason the picture of Stacy was like being home again--she seemed to represent the girl next door. Something in her smile made him feel special, as if it was just for him. He had fallen completely and absolutely in love with her.

  Eli couldn't help but smile, thinking of
the little blurb on the back of the picture. He had memorized it, repeating it to himself over and over again when he was humping the mountains.

  Miss Georgia, 1972, Stacy Starr, our Georgia peach from Waycross. A former cheerleader at Waycross High School, she received a scholarship to attend the University of Georgia, where she is majoring in journalism. Her hobbies include music, tennis, and staying in shape. Miss Starr plans to become a broadcast news journalist. On behalf of Stacy and the people of Georgia, we salute our boys who serve us so proudly.

  Eli smiled. He still recalled every word. But it was no wonder, he thought. He had put her picture in plastic and kept it in his helmet and slept with her every night in his dreams. After returning from Nam and recovering from his wounds, he'd followed her career in the newspapers. She had achieved her goal and become one of the top broadcast journalists in the state. Later she moved up to work for ABC network news. She had lasted only three years there, but Eli rarely missed a broadcast in all that time. It had been like watching a dream. A messy divorce and the loss of her two girls to her former husband on the grounds that she'd been an unfit mother helped to knock her out of the big leagues, but in Georgia they forgave their own; she returned and won back her old job with Atlanta's Channel 2.

  Eli sighed as he watched her talking to her cameraman.

  On his scale of one to five, she was a seven. Age had only made her more beautiful. Only an inch or so shorter than he was, she looked like Princess Di and had her regal bearing.

  Her skin was milky smooth and her large brown eyes were huge pools that made you want to get naked so you could jump into them and splash around and never leave. Streaks of gray splashed her brunette hair and added elegance, but didn't age her a bit, he thought. Her willowy figure was still intact and she still had that smile that he'd always thought special.

  Eli was about to look away when her eyes slowly moved to him and locked onto his. His heart quit beating for an instant, but suddenly thumped like a snare drum when she began walking toward him. Having made the same mistake already once today, he looked behind him to see if she was looking at someone else, but there was nothing there but the wall.

  "Agent Tanner, I'm happy to see you recovered fully from your wounds," she said, stopping in front of him, her eyes studying the scar on his forehead.

  Eli was dumbfounded. She saw his confusion and smiled as she touched his arm. "I'm sorry, I'm Stacy Starr, Channel 2 news. I covered the story about the terrorists a month ago.

  I was in Washington and was at the hospital when they brought you in. I must tell you that you intrigued me, Agent Tanner. Of course, I received the FBI's version of what happened, but we both know that was bull. I checked you out, Agent Tanner. I managed to secure a file on you. You are a very interesting man."

  Eli wanted her to keep talking even though he wasn't really listening to what she was saying. Watching her expression and the movement of her lips was what he focused on, and he was trying to memorize every detail, putting them all in his imaginary helmet for safekeeping. Realizing she was waiting for a response, he raised an eyebrow. "Ditto, Miss Starr, I know something about you as well. You probably don't remember, but in 1972, when you were Miss Georgia, you signed photos for us Georgia boys in Nam."

  Her eyes seemed to sadden for a moment, then she looked at him in a different way. "It's Eli, isn't it?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Eli, I feel as if I know you. The FBI's files are very informative. . . . Tell me something please, off the record, of course. Did you really kill all five of those terrorists?"

  Eli lowered his head, knowing she couldn't help herself.

  The smile, the pat on the arm, the innocent searching stare, were all calculated moves. She was media. It was always the story to them, and even though she'd said it was off the record, he knew better.

  Eli spoke softly. "Miss Starr, you know I can't comment on the case."

  Her eyes sparkled as she reached out and patted his arm again. "I know what happened, Eli . . . but don't worry; your secret is safe with me. Terrible thing about the senator and his family, isn't it?"

  Now she's getting to it, Eli thought, knowing all the rest had been nothing but foreplay. She wanted the current story, not old history. He nodded. "Yes, Miss Starr, it is terrible."

  "Are you involved in the case?"

  "Miss Starr, you know I can't answer that."

  She gave him a little bit of a smile. "I heard you were involved in the recovery of the bodies. I have my sources, Eli. Do you think the deaths of Matthew Wentzel and Dana Cooper are connected to the Goodnight murders?"

  So much for the media not knowing about the others. He gave her a look that said he couldn't respond.

  She nodded and slightly shrugged her shoulders. "I understand," she said softly.

  Eli motioned to the now clear open doorway and surprised himself when he reached out and took her hand.

  "Miss Starr. It was a genuine pleasure meeting you. I really mean it. I guess I'd better get going now."

  She seemed shocked by his touch and looked at his hand, then up into his eyes. "I'll walk with you, if you don't mind," she said, and turned and rattled to the cameraman, "Have the boys set up outside the entrance for an intro to the piece. I'll be there in a sec."

  Eli tried to tune out the warning bells clanging inside his head as they walked toward the doors together. Her shoulder lightly brushed his and he knew she would try a different tack, but he didn't care. Being with a dream was too good to pass up.

  "You're from Columbus, aren't you?" she asked.

  "Yes, and you're from Waycross. You were a cheerleader and your hobbies were music, tennis, and staying in shape.

  You're still staying in shape, I see."

  "Thanks, Eli. I'll take that as a compliment. I see you're not wearing a ring. Still haven't remarried?"

  "Nope. How about you?" he asked as he opened the glass door for her.

  "No, once was enough . . . but you know about that, too, don't you?"

  "Sure do. But I'm getting older and smarter, Miss Starr.

  I'm beginning to think being alone isn't all that great. I think people really do need other people to be whole."

  She looked at him for a moment before reaching out and taking his arm, bringing him to a halt. "Eli, I know this may sound awfully direct, but do you think we could possibly have dinner this evening?"

  Eli allowed himself a smile he didn't feel. "Miss Starr, I can't do that. We're both working and I'd just disappoint you . . . I wouldn't discuss my work. I do appreciate the offer, though. Under different circumstances I . . . I I. . . hell, it doesn't matter. We both know you wouldn't have asked."

  She stepped closer, looking into his eyes. "No, that's not true, Eli. Ever since I saw you on that stretcher and heard what you had been through that day, I've wanted to meet you. Come on, give me the chance to fulfill a dream. I want to have dinner with a fellow Georgian who in my book happens to be a hero."

  A young man holding a video camera walked up to the couple. "Stacy, ya want to set up here?"

  She ignored the young man and kept her gaze on Eli.

  "What do you say, Eli? Dinner at nine, my place?"

  Eli shook his head. "Sorry, Miss Starr, but it's impossible.

  Like I said, I'd just disappoint you; I'm no hero. Looks like your crew is waiting for you. Good-bye." He turned and walked down the sidewalk, focusing on the parking lot thirty yards ahead of him, but he really wasn't seeing anything.

  Still standing on the sidewalk, in a stupor at finally actually meeting his dream girl, Eli shook his head. Everything suddenly came into focus and sounds and sights assaulted his dulled senses. He realized the parking lot was a madhouse. TV news vans and cars were parked haphazardly behind the office employees' cars in the first two rows, and many workers wanted out to go to lunch. The hungry office workers were bitching at the TV van drivers, who were not listening. TV crew members were shouting to other crew members asking what equipment was needed and a
rguing where their live shots should be conducted. Eli shook his head again, thinking he wasn't the only idiot. The sharks were really at it.

  "Eli, please reconsider."

  He turned as Stacy approached with a look that melted his insides. "Eli, if you can't make it tonight, let's at least exchange telephone numbers . . . maybe we can have dinner some other time."

  Eli saw she was serious, and he was about to respond when over her shoulder he saw Paul Eddings step out the front entrance of the office building with Ashley following a half step behind. His stomach rumbled a warning and he felt himself getting angry all over again, but he told himself to focus. He looked into Stacy's liquid brown eyes and opened his mouth to speak when a loud cracking sound instinctively made him duck. Dropping into a crouch, he pulled a pistol from his back holster. To his horror, he saw Paul Eddings reeling back. Ashley was falling, too, her face and neck showered with blood. Eli spun as another shot was fired and was joined by a rattling staccato of submachine gun fire that drowned out the screams and shouting from the horrified news crews and people exiting the office building.