Once he got in, it was as if no time had elapsed since their last meeting. He turned the key, the finely tuned engine purred. Gideon leaned back, looking up at the third floor window at the shadowy figure that was watching him. Gideon raised his hand in salute, and then quickly put the car in gear. He took the express out to Kennedy to get his bags before his trip into the Village.
It took a while, but he finally found Bedford. It was one of those short, slanting streets in the Village that went nowhere and ended before it began. Gideon was not happy about the distance from the hospital, but it was all that was available in the way of safe houses, and Gideon was thankful to even have it. But if it was anything like the other places he used, he would not feel at home; he never did. Home had ended for him three years earlier. The safe house was a second story flat that faced the street. When Gideon opened the door, a cold dampness welcomed his arrival. He walked over to the register, turned the dial, and listened as it clanked and clamored while announcing the arrival of heat. Gideon went to the little kitchenette off the corner and opened the door to the fridge to see what his options were. The stench of sour milk reached out to grab him, along with something else he did not care to get too close to. Quickly, he took the carton and poured the curdled contents down the drain. It definitely wasn't one of Bronk's better safe houses, but it did not really matter. He just needed a place to shower and shave.
Gideon checked out the bedroom. The flashing of green neon outside the window would be bothersome in the night, but that was not a concern of his as yet. It was adequate enough in all other respects, giving him only the creature comforts, but nothing more.
He tossed the worn leather bag onto the bed, and then unzipped the flap. There, staring at him, was the picture of his little girls. Gideon picked up the old antique frame he purchased in Brussels a few years back. He set the delicately laced pewter frame on the dresser. Gideon stared at the two lovely girls he had helped bring into the world. Three months, he thought. That had meant he'd missed the last six visitations with them because of work. He had not even had time to call Beth this last time. If Bronk was any indicator, he knew she was mad.
Gideon glanced at his watch. It was still early. He quickly showered and shaved. Once he was dressed, he hopped in the car and drove up to Manhattan.
It was eight when he reached Beth's apartment building. Gideon double-parked, and then slowly got out and glanced up. Beth and the girls lived on the twentieth floor with Beth's new husband, Arthur Chadwich. Arthur was in commodities and came from old money so Gideon knew the girls were well-taken-care of. But the guilt was always there because he was unable to see them as often as he should.
"You here to see someone?" the doorman asked, while standing in front of the entrance, effectively halting Gideon's approach.
The starched blue uniform was perfectly pressed and matched the gold-trimmed hat the young man wore proudly. It was impressive even for that part of town. The brass nametag pinned to his lapel, with Jamieson engraved on it, told Gideon who the young man was. Gideon thought he did not look at all the Jamieson type, more like a Jimmy playing dress-up games.
"I would like to see Beth LaMont.... Chadwich." Gideon corrected.
"Is Mrs. Chadwich expecting you?" Jamieson asked, with emphasis on the Mrs.
"No," Gideon snapped, angry at having to ask a stranger if he could see his ex-wife.
"Please wait out here. I'll call to see if she will receive you." He turned to Gideon, eyed the wrinkled gray suit he wore with the bulge under his left shoulder. "Whom should I say is calling?" Jamieson asked with an air of authority.
"Gideon LaMont, her ex. I really just want to see my daughters."
"It will only take a minute," Jamieson said, indifferent to any explanation Gideon chose to give.
Gideon watched Jamieson reach for the phone and dial the number. He could tell Jamieson was having reservations about announcing his visit. Gideon did not belong with this class of people and was uncomfortable being scrutinized by their watchdog. His trained eyes watched the young man make the call and by the look on Jamieson's face, Gideon knew he was getting an earful. Beth always had a way of drawing people into her circle of pity. When Jamieson finally hung up the phone he turned to Gideon. He stared a moment before strolling lazily back to where Gideon stood.
"She will be down to talk to you," he said, looking at Gideon more cautiously than before.
"Did you tell her I wanted to see the girls?" Gideon asked, but he could tell by the expression on Jamieson's face that he did not care anything about Gideon's reason for being there.
Gideon glanced at his watch. It was late; he should never have come. He stood there for nearly fifteen minutes, waiting for Beth. It was the elevator bell ringing that caused him to turn in time to see the striking blonde figure of his ex-wife stepping out. Even three years after the divorce, Gideon still caught his breath. The young doorman took notice too as he licked his lips.
Beth always liked the finer things in life, and Gideon wondered if she purposely wore the floor-length silver fox to impress him. But it was neither here nor there. What he felt for her died a long time ago through no fault of hers. Gideon took full blame for the breakup of their marriage.
"Thanks, Jamieson," Beth said ever so sweetly, and then turned to Gideon. "I'll talk to you in the alcove."
It was a fancy name for a waiting room. Gideon did not say anything, just played along with her game. He followed her silently. Once they reached the overstuffed furniture in the small room off the lobby, Beth turned to him.
The venom in her eyes was unmistakable. "You missed your weekend visit again," she said sharply under her breath so Jamieson could not hear her tone.
"Something came up."
"It always does," Beth snapped. It was an argument they had on many occasions, one that she always won.
"I came to see the girls, not argue."
"You should have been here Friday. Do you realize it's Monday?" Beth then glanced at her watch. "And might I add, after eight. Tomorrow is a school day."
Gideon's mind was not on Beth or the girls. He should have been back at the hospital. The doctor had long since made his rounds, new men would be on guard outside Delaney's door, and it had been nearly five hours since checking in with Colby last. But Beth had him by the jugular and was not letting go.
"Same old Gideon," she snapped. "I would have thought after the divorce you might have woken up to the truth. Only you can take responsibility for your daughters." Beth stopped suddenly and when Gideon's attention was roused by her abrupt hesitation, she continued. "You have to make the time for them, but you aren't. It's the same old excuses."
"You don't understand," Gideon argued.
"Oh, yes I do. All too well," Beth snapped. Suddenly she did not care if Jamieson or anyone else heard them arguing.
"Are you going to let me see them or lecture me all night?"
Beth glared at Gideon, and then turned to Jamieson, who was watching them intently while waiting to see if Beth needed assistance. Her face was red. Even after three years of divorce Gideon frustrated her to the point of madness. She quickly turned away from both men so neither could see the pain she was in.
"You're looking good, Beth." Gideon said softly as he reached for her. Whatever they'd had cooled a long time ago, but Gideon remembered still how much a compliment meant to her.
Beth turned to him. A smile crossed her sad face. "You always were a smooth talker when you wanted your way."
"Just ten minutes, what harm would that do?"
"Then you'd never follow the court-ordered visitations."
"It's hard, Beth." Gideon rubbed his forehead to take away the pain, but nothing helped.
Beth raised her eyebrows, and then quickly added, "You make time for Colby." She always knew the right moment to drive in the wooden stake.
"That's different." Gideon turned to her. It was the same old argument they had on many other occasions during their married years. He did not want
to listen to her anymore; all he wanted was to run, but he could not.
"Tell me about it," Beth said sharply. She challenged him to answer. Her face was devoid of emotion. It was as if she did not know the man in front of her as she continued. "Gideon, for twelve years I watched you go running off whenever Colby called."
"That isn't true."
"You shouldn't have left me alone with Eddie that night."
Whenever their arguments turned to Eddie, Beth lost her beauty. Her eyes got wild, the corner of her mouth curled, and all the hate that built up through their years of marriage came pouring out.
"That's not fair."
"It isn't?" she snapped. "Never a night goes by, that I don't relive it." Beth pointed an accusing finger at him. Her mouth twitched as she continued spewing the venom. "I didn't want to be alone. But, God forbid, Colby had to talk to you..." She paused as if to get his attention. But she had it, along with everybody else in the lobby that evening. "You left me with a dying boy in a hospital room and no one to turn to."
Eddie was his son, too. He was everything a son should have been. That was up until he turned two, when spinal meningitis struck. Gideon and Beth stayed with him night and day until the evening Colby called. How was he to know his son would not last through the night? By the time he made it back from Langley the hospital staff was stripping down the little crib and scouring out the room.
Gideon had a hard time dealing with his son's death and being there for Beth too. After that his work became an obsession. It was the only time he did not have to face the woman he'd promised to love and cherish in sickness and health, when actually he had deserted her the one time she'd needed him most. It was a hard cross to bear, even for him. Although they'd had two daughters after that, things were never quite the same. The void Eddie left was never filled, and too much bitterness separated the once-innocent love they had shared.
"How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?" Gideon whispered. He looked away as a tear rolled down his cheek.
"That's just it. You think you can say I'm sorry every time and just come waltzing in here as if nothing was wrong."
"What do you want me to do?"
Beth turned to him. "You have to ask?"
Beth walked over to the window, leaving an escape route open for Gideon, but he did not take it. When he did not leave Beth turned to him again. "Did it ever occur to you, that I needed you too?"
"Yes, but I had a job."
"Some job," she snapped. "Tell the girls where you go off to. Why don't you tell them the truth about what you do?"
"Beth, I don't want to go into this again," Gideon said, looking away.
"How many men have you killed for Colby?" Beth asked, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Gideon, look at me!" she yelled.
"Keep your voice down," Gideon whispered as he glanced at Jamieson who was curious about the argument, along with everyone else in the lobby at that moment.
"Why else do you have his private number? What possible reason would he have to call you away from your son's deathbed? And you, Gideon, were fool enough to go to him."
Gideon walked up to Beth, reached for her arm, then quietly asked again, "Are you going to let me see the girls?"
Beth looked up at Gideon, and then snapped her arm from his reach. "What do you think? Visiting hours are Friday through Sunday, every other week. You miss that and you can forget a reprieve."
"So that's how it's going to be."
"You got that right."
Gideon touched Beth's cheek gently, her head leaned into his hand and she felt the shivers go up her spine. Gideon still had an effect on her, even after the bitter divorce. But too much was still unresolved between them and now was not the time or place to set things right.
"I'm sorry I hurt you so," Gideon whispered softly as he looked into the sad eyes of the woman he'd once loved.
Tears continued streaming down her cheeks as they stood there for a moment, neither moving nor saying more. When she did finally speak, her voice was calmer, more in control than before.
"Do you still carry the picture?"
Gideon looked away. He did not have to answer. Beth could see in his face that the picture was still in his wallet.
"Gideon, you can't go on pining over a picture forever. You have to get on with your life."
"Is that why you're having termination papers drawn up?"
"It's Arthur's idea," she lied, but feared Gideon already knew the truth.
"I won't sign them." Gideon shook his head as if to reaffirm to Beth he meant what he said.
"It's for the girls’ sake."
"They are still my little girls."
"Gideon, Cathy is ten and Samantha's eight. They aren't little girls anymore. They need a father and Arthur is willing to be that for them."
"I won't give them up without a fight."
"At this point you have no choice," Beth snapped as she walked away from him.
Gideon could not take his eyes off Beth as she walked toward the elevator. Once she reached the gray metal doors she stopped, then wiped her eyes and turned for one last look at Gideon. But all Gideon could do was manage a weak smile as he walked off toward the door.
Gideon was drained of all energy, had been for days now. The whole sordid affair with Delaney was dredging up old memories and wounds that even time could not heal. He wondered what part Ambassador Wayne played in the information Delaney had, or even if he had a part at all. But then he quickly walked out of the lobby and put that thought out of his head.
Gideon climbed into the little red sports car and put the key in the ignition. He ran the car through its gears and let the wind sweep through his hair. For a brief moment he stopped caring about all that had troubled him earlier as he sped down the street and maneuvered in traffic.
* * *
Tuesday, September 13, 1977
Jenny woke to a light tapping at the front door. She rolled over and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Seven-thirty was hardly a good time for visitors. When she heard it again she slowly got up. Jenny reached for her robe and glanced in the next room at Trish sleeping soundly. She would be there for another three hours. Jenny walked into the living room and looked through the peephole at her landlady standing there with a plate covered with a white linen napkin. Jenny smiled to herself as she opened the door.
"Thought you might like to try some fresh sweet rolls I just baked." Mrs. Bennett was still in her apron. Her gray hair pulled tightly back in a neat bun and flour dusted her cheeks, making her look like a novice in the kitchen, but her fresh baked goods contested to her efficiency in that field.
Jenny took the plate, gently lifted the cloth, and smiled. "They look delicious," she said, forgetting the hour or her earlier annoyance.
"Did I wake you?"
"The alarm was about to go off in a few minutes." Jenny shrugged her shoulders, and then took Mrs. Bennett's arm. "Come on in, I'll make us a pot of coffee."
Jenny put the plate on the coffee table and walked into the kitchen.
"I forgot about yesterday," Mrs. Bennett said as she sat down on the couch.
"Don't worry. Benjamin didn't forget." Jenny glanced at Mrs. Bennett, and then smiled.
"He's such a good friend to have Jenny."
"That he is." Jenny sighed.
She walked into the kitchen, took the coffee grounds out of the canister and quickly measured out the right amount. Within a few minutes the apartment was filled with the aroma of fresh brew.
"Your mother called looking for you last night. It was late, so I told her I would give you the message this morning."
"I'll be sure to call her back."
"When she asked how you were holding up, I remembered what day it was."
Jenny glanced at Mrs. Bennett as she stepped into the living room. She set the two cups on the table, and then reached for the elderly woman's hand.
"You miss him too, don't you?" Jenny choked on the words.
A tear rolled slowly down the
elderly woman's cheek. "If Mr. Bennett and I had a son, we would have wanted him to be just like John."
"He felt the same way about you too."
John's parents had died in a car accident when he was only seven. An old maid aunt who died his senior year in high school raised him. There was no other family and the friends he made filled that void in his life. John treated each and every person he met as if they were special. Jenny felt the bond he built with those people long before she'd married him. In his absence their love for him flowed over to her. She felt so lucky. John was still bringing her joy through them.
They sat there talking just as they had since John's departure years earlier, and reminisced about times gone by. It was almost eight-thirty when Mrs. Bennett finally got up to leave. Jenny quickly showered and readied herself for work.
Before leaving she walked over to the two sketches on the wall as she did every morning. She stood there for a few moments, then reached over and touched the cool glass that separated her warm hand from the image of the man she loved.
CHAPTER 6
Gideon had spent the night in Delaney's hospital room crouched in a chair behind the door. It was cold and he was cramped, but given the alternative of a streetlight flicking all night, it had to do. The smell of disinfectant and the tiresome beeping of the heart monitor was not enough to deter his sleep, but the night nurse coming in every hour on the hour to take Delaney's vital signs caused Gideon to wake throughout the night.
As the morning sun filtered in through the closed curtains, the realization that twenty-four hours had passed since the incident in the park hit home. All Gideon could do was watch the bed and the movement of Delaney's chest as each breath filled his lungs.
Slowly Delaney opened his eyes. In the hazy dimness of the room he focused on the man in the corner. It startled him at first, not knowing if he should be afraid or jubilant. His heart pounded fiercely for a brief moment as he remembered bits and pieces of what had happened in the park. Delaney was not sure anymore who his enemies were. His eyes darted around the room. He tried to talk, but only a gurgling echo of air could be heard from his throat. Delaney struggled with the bonds. He looked at his wrist and followed the tubes to the little bag of dark liquid as the monitor started beating faster. Delaney leaned back while shutting his eyes.
The Twelfth Of Never: A suspense mystery romantic thriller Page 6
