Justified Means (Book One) (The Agency Files)

by Chautona Havig

  “Ok, put it this way. You wake up in the middle of the night, and some strange man tapes your mouth, ties you up, and carries you out of your home. You drive for a long time, maybe fly somewhere, and then end up in a remote place—sometimes alone with the guy. What happens if he doesn’t chain your ankle to the floor or hold a gun on you?”

  “I run the first minute he goes to the bathroom.”

  “Assuming he goes.”

  “What do you mean?” Claire frowned at the scenarios that ran through her mind. Surely he didn’t mean—

  “Well, in one place, Anthony couldn’t go outside and it was a one room place.”

  “Tell me it was a man.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Kelly had to hold up blankets and sing to give everyone privacy. I hear it was hilarious.”

  “That’s gross.” The job didn’t seem as exciting and glamorous anymore. Seriously? No bathroom? Disgusting. “How often does that kind of thing happen?”

  “Not often. The abductions are relatively uncommon—primarily because they’re usually pro bono. It’s harder to hear of them when people aren’t asking for help, y’know?”

  “I guess. Still, this is pretty boring stuff. We just sit here and watch for something to happen.” She hated to hear his laughter, but Claire had to admit to herself that she probably did sound very foolish.

  “Well, usually, we like boring. It means people stay alive.”

  “Have you ever had to run?”

  “On almost every case, we have to run. About half or a little more are just drills, but you just don’t know it is until it’s over.”

  Drills sounded both exciting and juvenile. The word reminded her of grade school and tornado and fire drills. “So, we’ll get a call to evacuate? Why? I mean, if no one knows we’re here, why move and expose ourselves?”

  “Because moving before they think you know they are there means that you surprise them. Moving keeps you from being a stationary target. If we go before we’re found, it cuts the danger by a factor of ten or more.”

  “When do you think they’ll call? We’ve been here four days already.”

  Keith jumped and caught a lizard before it scurried out of reach. “We never know. I’ve gotten the call an hour after settling and the day we expected to go home. Mark keeps it varied, but we’re usually in place for a minimum of three to five days.”

  Claire glanced back at the house where she knew John Frielich clicked away on his laptop, hacking into accounting databases and downloading the files he needed to prove his boss guilty of criminal activity. “How long will this take him?”

  Even as she asked, she knew he wasn’t likely to tell her. She could see the hesitation in his eyes and almost begged, but she resisted. If he shouldn’t tell her, she needed to learn to accept that. Keith stroked the head of the lizard, offered it to her, and then let it go when she shook her head.

  “Every hour it takes him means two more he’ll have to work to finish. Every minute he spends trying to retrieve the necessary information means that much time his boss has to have someone putting safeguards in place to protect it.”

  “Is John that good with a computer?”

  Keith shook his head. “He’s better than most, sure, but Mark is getting us a hacker. My guess is we’ll get the call to move and the hacker will be at the new location.”

  Claire’s eyes widened. “Then the drill will be soon.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Sometimes she couldn’t tell if his questions were intended to make her think or if he just really thought she was that stupid. “Because, you said that every hour John works means two more he’ll have to work to finish. Mark is going to want that hacker on the job fast.”

  “Exactly.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Once again, Erika stood at the corner of her bed, reliving the night she’d awakened to find her mouth taped and Keith wrapping her body in rope. She tried to resurrect the indignant protest and the fear she’d felt, but with her knowledge in retrospect, she couldn’t do it. Keith hadn’t been the terrifying man she’d assumed, and they hadn’t done unspeakable things to her. The memory of the heroin injection still riled her but not as deeply as it had at the time.

  For days she’d relived each moment, trying to discover the cause of her reluctance to blame Keith, Karen, and even Corey for the enforced interruption to her life. She’d been kidnapped, for crying out loud! Why wasn’t she ready to move mountains to have them arrested? Why was she, instead of holding media conferences to demand that that kind of thing be stopped, justifying their behavior and wondering if they were ok? Was Corey getting the medical attention she obviously needed? Did Karen have post-traumatic stress syndrome or anything like that? Was Keith protecting someone else now? Was it voluntary? Did he scowl all the time?

  She’d found the return to work easy. Despite her doubts, she’d walked into the coffee shop, sat down at the desk, looked over the scheduling, checked inventory, placed a few orders, and been on the floor ready to greet the customers the moment the doors opened. It was as if she had never left. The second day back, she could have sworn she saw Keith walk past, but of course, it couldn’t be him.

  They’d kept their word. Her car waited for her at the airport, her bills were paid, her bank account reflected spending all over the country, and yet not a dime was missing. There were no unusual deposits to make up for things, but after a while, she found that the deposits from the last six months had been altered. How did they change things like that?

  Her house phone rang, making her squeal like a girlie girl. “Hey, Helen, what’s up?”

  “Just making sure you’re all right? I called a couple of times but you were never home.”

  “I was busy, but everything’s good. Sorry about not calling you back. I’ll have to check the answering machine.”

  “I’ll have them add voice mail to the phone. There’s no reason you should have to fight those stupid machines. I should have done it years ago.” Helen sounded annoyed.

  “Hey, Helen, I’m really sorry. I would have called if I’d gotten a message.”

  “Yeah, I know. I just thought I might be coming back early and had left a few messages about it.”

  “Early?” Warning bells, from where she couldn’t imagine, buzzed in Erika’s mind.

  “Yeah. I was thinking about making some renovations, so I thought I’d wrap stuff up early this year, but I can’t. I was just calling to tell you that you didn’t have to worry about moving out early after all.”

  “Oh.” Her nerves settled once again. The past weeks seemed to have made her skittish over the most ridiculous things. “Well, if you decide to do it, I can be out in just a couple of days. I’ve gotten good at living here as if it was mine while not taking over the space.”

  “Well, I just don’t see how it’ll work. I was afraid you were ticked off at my messages and ignoring me. I should have known better. You’ve never played those kinds of games before.”

  “Nah. Just didn’t get them. Sorry, though. That must have been really annoying.”

  Helen rambled about kitchen renovation plans, a new deck around the swimming pool, and asked what Erika thought of radiant heat in the master bath. The questions made no sense. Why should Erika care? It was Helen’s house. Ever since she’d taken the housesitting job, Helen had made it very clear; she was an employee and had no rights regarding the house. If something broke, get it fixed.

  “Look, Helen, I’m on my way out with some friends, so if that’s all…”

  “Um, yeah. Sure. I’ll be in touch. I might have a few guys come out to give me some estimates, so I’ll have to touch base to see when you’ll be around to let them in.”

  Great. Just what she needed. “That’s fine. I’ll email you my work schedule for whatever week you want to plan for. Talk to you later. Bye.”

  Erika reached into her drawer for her favorite lounge pants and hesitated. She’d said she was going out, but she hadn’t actually planned t
o go. Suddenly, it seemed almost imperative that she leave as she’d claimed. Some of the girls from her college dorm had planned a get together at Club Retro, but she hadn’t planned to go. With lounge pants in one hand and her best fitting skinny jeans in the other, Erika deliberated.

  Disgusted with herself, she tossed the lounge pants on the bed and unzipped her uniform pants. “I blame you, Keith Auger. It’s your fault. I wouldn’t be going if you hadn’t—” She paused, mid-thought. Keith Auger. Was that really his name? Surely it couldn’t be. Her eyes glanced at her laptop, but the clock next to it told her if she expected to make it on time, she’d better hurry.

  The cell phone slid shut, as Helen played with it, lost in thought. She scribbled a note to have voice mail installed, but her mind was lost in calculating exactly how early she could return without her call seeming out of place. Erika was so gullible. Several messages on an answering machine—all mysteriously lost. Come on, what kind of idiot did she have living in her house, anyway?

  Maybe the girl could live. As gullible as she’d been, Erika was the perfect house sitter. She worked hard, was reliable and dependable, and didn’t throw parties. Yet irrational anger had welled up in Helen when Erika hadn’t mentioned being away from home. After all, the point of the job was to be at the house, not take off for three weeks, but then, it wasn’t as if the girl had a choice. Still, she could have lied about it. The way she’d spoken, it sounded as if she’d never been any farther away than the coffee shop.

  Helen had hired her because of her degree. Anyone crazy enough to get a degree in anthropology seemed intelligent enough to make sound decisions, but enough of a rebel not to let neighbors walk all over her. Once the girl had saved enough to pay for grad school, she’d probably lose her.

  Well, maybe not… The moment that thought entered her mind, Helen sighed. She’d lose Erika all right, but not when she returned to grad school. Erika would be dead inside of a month. Then came the hassle of finding someone new. “Ugh, I hate it when things get complicated.”

  She dug through her USB drives and found the red one. Color coordination might make her look like an OCD freak, but it sure saved on hassles when it came time to look for things. She plugged it into her laptop and pulled up her files on “hospice care.” The irony of it always amused her. Timing was everything. She needed to pick someone patient but good. Even twenty-four hours could make a hit look like it was coming from the wrong direction, and Mark Cho would catch an anomaly like that faster than she could cover it. She needed him in her court. She needed to be the victim. Without that, her business would crumble.

  Ainsley. Ted Ainsley was the right guy. He’d never muffed a job yet, and he had the patience. Helen frowned as she hovered over his email address. Ted hated jobs involving women or children. He often didn’t accept them, but she really needed him to agree. Maybe if she offered enough money…

  Another name caught her attention. Ben. Helen didn’t know his last name. All payments went to an account in the name of Coralie Westbury. There were only two Coralie Westburys that she considered reasonable options. One was a patient on a mental ward; the other was a city council member in a town in Illinois. Either way, it was weird. But Ben had one thing in his favor. He had no conscience. Infant, old lady, or puppies, if she wanted them gone, they died. He was patient in everything except payment. That might create an issue, but she’d work with it.

  “Well, Erika. It’s been nice knowing you. I hope you’re having fun with your friends. Your last couple of weeks might as well be good ones.”

  Despite Claire’s confidence, the next day proved to be just as long a wait as the last. While John Frielich worked nearly all day, trying to gather what information he could, Claire tried to keep the children from screeching and keeping Keith from sleep. Brian, who had arrived during the night to replace Liz, shrugged as she tossed him apologetic glances every time the decibel level jumped dramatically. Katie Frielich was a screecher. That fact alone nearly prompted Claire to vow she’d never have children.

  As each hour passed, her fidgeting grew worse until even Jordan noticed and commented. “Do you miss cigarettes?”

  “Cig—no! I don’t smoke. Never have. It’s a nasty habit.”

  “My mom used to smoke and she got all jumpy like you when she was quitting. That’s all.”

  “I’m just new at this. I have to learn to be patient and enjoy the quiet.”

  “Well, I don’t have to like it, and I don’t. It’s stupid. If he wasn’t such a freak about work, he wouldn’t have gotten us into this.”

  Even as the boy spoke, Claire saw the droop in John’s shoulders. “Hush. Your father is a hero. He’s going to help put a stop to criminals. Without him, people would get away with hurting lots of people. You should be proud.”

  “We’re hiding out because of him,” the boy insisted, not even attempting to keep his voice quiet. “Mom and Katie are scared; we’re all stuck in this stupid little house in the middle of nowhere, and for what? Stupid computer stuff.”

  At a loss for words, Claire struggled to speak, but couldn’t. She’d never heard such venom spewed toward anyone in family from such a small person. Just as she started to assure him he’d think differently as an adult, Keith’s voice from the corner interrupted. “Jordan, do you know any kids at school who don’t have a lot of money?”

  “Yeah. There’s some.”

  “What would you do if one of those kids hung their only jacket up on the hook in the classroom and another kid, a very wealthy one, took it knowing that it was the only thing keeping the kid warm?”

  “I’d tell the teacher.”

  “What if that meant you had to stay after school and tell the story to the principal. Wouldn’t your parents be mad that they had to wait?”

  “No. They’d be proud of me because I—” He flushed. “Oh.”

  “That’s right, Jordan. It’s an inconvenience, but your father is protecting innocent people from losing their money. He’s doing a very good thing that he couldn’t have done—he couldn’t have helped anyone—if he hadn’t been such a dedicated employee while trying to provide for his family. Remember what we talked about?”

  The boy nodded, but still looked surly. Brian tossed his magazine and stood. “Want to take a walk with me? Maybe we’ll find a lizard or something.”

  Claire’s eyes followed them out the door, across the short dirt drive, and into the scrubby brush that seemed to stretch endlessly. Her mind felt numbed by hours of inactivity, her body visibly twitching as if demanding action of some kind. Keith’s voice startled her again. “Do push-ups, wall push-ups, squats, stretches, or something. You have to keep fit, so you might as well take advantage of the time you have.”

  “Shut up and go to sleep.”

  “I’ll sleep. I know what I’m doing. Just move. You don’t have to sit there and stare at the door or the phone.”

  So, whenever she was awake, she played tea party with Katie, helped Jordan with his thousand piece puzzle, and gave herself the best workout she could within the “four walls” of a thirteen hundred square foot house in the middle of nowhere. Melissa Frielich held herself aloof, and no matter how much she tried, Claire couldn’t get the woman to relax and chat. John, she ignored.

  Day turned into night so slowly that she hardly noticed until Keith demanded that she try to sleep. As much as she thought it’d help, it didn’t. Every sound jarred her awake. Each snore, shuffle, howl of a nearby coyote, each gentle click of the lock in the door as Keith did a survey around the perimeter woke her from her fitful sleep. He’d promised that she’d adjust, but Claire didn’t think so.

  By day three, all her theories seemed shattered. As she picked at scrambled eggs, again, she grumbled that every logical thing seemed overlooked by Mark and his team. “We’re wasting precious time here while they twiddle their thumbs. They have a hacker; we need him. Why are we just sitting here?”

  Brian’s voice, clipped and short as always, answered her before Keith cou
ld say a word. “Logic equals death.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He means,” Keith interrupted, sending a warning look at their colleague, “that if it is clearly logical, then it’s exactly what we’re expected to do. We have to think outside that box but not so much that our unexpected is expected too.”

  “Deliberate randomness?” It made perfect sense, but didn’t at the same time.

  “Exactly.” Brian nearly beamed as if she’d answered the million-dollar question rather than asked one.

  “We’ve been here five days! All that time, the hacker—”

  “Worked.” At her stunned expression, Brian rolled his eyes. “You thought otherwise? Come on.”

  “Back down, Brian. She’s working it out just like we both did.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No you’re not, but thanks anyway.” Claire shot her cousin a grateful look and went to scrape the rest of her eggs into the garbage disposal. She couldn’t eat another egg—

  At the buzz of Brian’s phone, Keith turned. One look at Brian’s face was all he needed. While Claire rushed to read the one word message on the screen, “GO,” Keith began throwing everything not in bags into them. “Children in the van with Melissa, John in the Jeep. Claire, you’ll go with Brian, I will take John, you two take the rest.”

  The Frielichs all stared at the three “Agency” workers, terrified. “I want to go with my family.” John tried to sound assertive, but fear shook his hands and left the faintest tremor in his voice.

  “Remember, this may be a drill. We have to take it seriously, but let’s go. You’ll go exactly as I’ve said. We have a contract. Go.”

  Children whimpered, Jordan protesting as Brian swept his puzzle into the box without regard for the work he’d put into it. Claire dumped canned goods into boxes and piled the bread and chips on top. The refrigerated goods went into the oversized ice chest, and into the van. She barely had time to grab toothbrushes from the medicine cabinet before Brian pushed her out the door. “You’re taking too long.”