by Cap Daniels
I chuckled. “I’m not sure feeling safe is a rational thought process. People tend to get hurt around me.”
She offered up that sultry little smile of hers. “Yeah, well, something tells me you’re not going to let anything happen to me.”
I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “I’ll do my best.”
“It’s really none of my business, but he left you a lot of money.” She held up the court documents from Dr. Richter’s estate.
I felt the lump in my throat again, but I held back the tears. “Yeah, but it’s just money. It can’t bring him back.”
“But it’s almost three million dollars, Chase. What does a person do with that kind of money? You’ll never have to work again. You can do whatever you want.”
“I already do whatever I want.” I looked at Aegis, my beautiful, fifty-foot, custom sailing catamaran, and then back at her. “I have everything I want right here. I have Aegis, and I have you.”
She laid her head on my shoulder and sighed. “But now you have more money than most people make in their whole lives.”
“What I do pays extremely well. The money that Dr. Richter left me will be a very nice safety net, but it won’t change my lifestyle—our lifestyle—and we aren’t going to run out of money. Besides, that money isn’t really mine.”
“But you work for the government,” she protested.
“No, I don’t. I’m a contractor. I work for Dominic…sort of. Each assignment has a price attached to it. If I accomplish the mission, I get paid. If I fail…Well, I don’t fail.”
“See,” she said, “that’s why I feel safe with you. You don’t fail.”
“It’s not always that simple,” I confessed. “Sometimes people get hurt. Sometimes I get hurt. And even worse, sometimes people die.”
She looked at me with a waxing look of concern. “You’re not going to stop, are you?”
“No, I’m not going to stop. It’s what I do, and it’s what I am.”
“And Clark?” she asked. “Is he one, too? A covert operative or whatever?”
“He is.”
“And Elizabeth?” she said with animated disbelief in her tone.
“No, Skipper’s not an operative, but she once thought she wanted to be. I think she’s settled on being an analyst now. She’s off with Ginger and learning the tricks of the trade.”
“An analyst like the ones you said spies bring intel to?”
“No, not exactly. A different kind of analyst. Ginger’s going to teach Skipper to oversee operations and provide support to operators like Clark and me in the field. Those kinds of analysts are masters of information, and they have computer skills that most people could never fathom. They can process massive amounts of data and feed the operators the information they need to accomplish their missions and stay alive.”
Elizabeth, who I’d called Skipper for years, was the daughter of my college baseball coach. She’d made a few bad decisions and wound up in the hands of some nasty guys in the world of porn production on the slimy side of Miami. With the help of Clark Johnson and Anya Burinkova, I’d rescued her from that world. Clark was a former Green Beret turned covert operative, and Anya…well, Anya was impossible to explain.
“Now’s your chance to stop me,” I said.
“Stop you?”
“I mean, if this is all too much for you, I’ll stop, and I won’t tell you any more than I already have. Most Americans don’t want to know people like me exist, and most women aren’t interested in the bullshit that comes along with a man like me.”
Penny had a knack for talking too much, but occasionally, she cut right to the point. “I’m not most women.”
For the first time in weeks, I genuinely smiled. “No, you certainly are not.”
“I’ll be right back,” she said. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to need a drink for the rest of this conversation.” She returned moments later with a tumbler a lot like mine. “Okay, tell me about Anya.”
I reached for my glass and tried to decide where to start. “What do you want to know?”
She smirked. “So, that’s how this is going to work, huh? You’re not going to volunteer anything. I have to drag it out of you.”
“No, I’ll tell you every detail. I have no reason to hide anything from you anymore.”
She sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. “Okay, so let’s hear it. I want to start with Anya. Tell me what made her so perfect.”
“She was beautiful,” I began.
Penny’s eyed widened. “Was beautiful or is beautiful?”
“She was beautiful when I met her.”
“Come on, Chase. Even you’re not that shallow. There has to be more to it than the fact that she was beautiful. The world is full of beautiful women.”
I thought of Anya’s long blonde hair falling across her shoulders and her haunting blue-gray eyes. I remembered how it felt when she’d pressed her body against mine and whispered in my ear.
Penny snapped her fingers. “Hello? Wherever you went…come back.”
“I’m sorry. I was just thinking about your question.”
“Bullshit,” she shot back. “You were thinking about her, and that’s okay. Really, it is. But I want you to tell me what makes her so unforgettable.”
“She was willing to die for me,” I said, unable to make eye contact.
“Are you sure?”
The response came as if Penny had been saving the question for the right moment.
What did I really know about Anya? Was anything she ever told me the truth? Was anything about her real?
“Why are you so willing to put up with me?” I asked.
“YA lyublyu tebya,” she said, straining to form the words through her Texas drawl.
I couldn’t resist smiling. “That was terrible, but I love you, too.”
She leaned forward and gently kissed me. “I’m beautiful, too, you know.”
“Yes, you certainly are, but not just on the outside.”
We sat in silence, looking at each other differently than we had before.
“She was Dr. Richter’s daughter,” I said.
Penny shook her head. “What? I thought she was Russian.”
“Her mother was a Russian KGB officer named Katerina Burinkova. Dr. Richter fell in love with her in the seventies while he was overseas. It’s a long story, but Katerina was killed before Dr. Richter knew about Anya. She’s his only living heir, so that money belongs to her, not me.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“I have to find Anya,” I said.
She closed her eyes and sighed.
Chapter 3
Hail Mary
I didn’t recognize the number, but I stuck the phone to my ear anyway. “This is Chase.”
“Mr. Fulton, this is Sister Mary Robicheaux. I trust you remember me.”
“Of course, Sister. I’ve been expecting your call,” I lied.
The truth was that the mission in Central America and Dr. Richter’s death had all but overshadowed everything else in my life. I’d let Sister Robicheaux and her situation get lost somewhere in the mix.
“Are you still willing to help me, Mr. Fulton?”
Clark’s admonition came flooding into my mind. That’s not what we do.
I’d intervened, perhaps unwisely, in a confrontation between Sister Mary Robicheaux and a man she claimed was a pedophile stalking children at the school. I roughed him up a little after he pulled a knife on the nun, and in the aftermath, I promised to help Sister Robicheaux when I could.
“Of course I’m still willing to help, but first, you’ll need to exhaust all efforts to get the local law enforcement involved. If this guy really is a threat to the children at your school, the local police will have no choice but to investigate and arrest him.”
“You don’t understand, Mr. Fulton. It’s not that simple. This man’s mother is Congresswoman Gail D’Angelo.”
I’d just stepped into a pit I’d believed was only a pu
ddle.
Trying to reassure her, I said, “It doesn’t matter who his parents are. If he’s—”
“You’re being naïve, Mr. Fulton. I know you’re some sort of federal agent, and that probably makes all of this even more difficult for you, but you saw what that man was willing to do to me. If you hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve killed me, and he’d have gotten away with it, too.”
“I don’t think he was going to kill you, Sister. I think he just wanted to frighten you.”
She scoffed. “Ha. I’m not afraid of him, and I’m not afraid of dying. I’m afraid of what he’ll do to those innocent children if he gets the chance, and I’m not going to let that happen.”
“I understand,” I said. “Let me do some digging, and I’ll see what I can do. Call me in a couple of days, and I’ll let you know what I’ve learned.”
Without another word, she hung up.
“I take it that was your nun,” Penny said.
“You take it correctly. I want to help her, but I’m just not sure what I can do.”
Penny squinted, trying to look as diabolical as possible for a woman as beautiful as her. “You could kill him.”
I squinted back. “You could kill him.”
She clasped her hands around my neck. “I could kill you if you don’t help that woman. She’s desperate.”
“The world’s full of desperate people.”
“But most of them aren’t nuns trying to protect innocent children.”
I was beginning to believe that I’d never win an argument with her and hoped we’d never have a real disagreement.
“I’m probably not going to kill him,” I told her, “but I am going to find a way to help her.”
Penny let go of my neck and hugged me. “I knew you would. You’re a valiant knight, eight hundred years too late.”
“I’m no knight,” I insisted. “I’m just not smart enough to keep my nose out of things that don’t involve me.”
“It’s not your nose that makes you my knight in shining armor. I love you for your big white steed.”
“Oh, so you only want me for my boat, huh?”
She smiled. “Yeah, well, maybe there are a few other perks, but mostly it’s your boat.”
I reached for her hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“Where?”
“To find Officer O’Malley.”
We left the boat and headed across Avenida de Menendez into Old St. Augustine. Finding O’Malley turned out to be far easier than I’d expected. He was in the Plaza de la Constitución, talking with a group of tourists and teaching yo-yo tricks to a duo of young boys.
I was encouraged that he was the man I needed for what I was about to do. Penny and I sat on a bench and waited for him to finish the lessons.
O’Malley saw us and flashed a broad, knowing smile. He finished his conversation with the tourist family and then spoke into the microphone mounted on his epaulette. For such a big man, he moved with the agility of youth and the confidence of an athlete.
I stood to greet him. “Good afternoon, Officer O’Malley. Do you remember us?”
He glanced at Penny then looked me up and down. “Of course not. I’ve never seen either of you before, especially not at the scene of an attempted assault on a nun.”
I was right. He was my man.
“Do you have a few minutes to talk about that situation you never saw?”
He checked his watch. “Sure. I’ve got ten minutes or so. What’s on your mind, Special Agent?”
I frowned. “I’m not really—”
“I know,” he said. “It’s none of my business what you are. I’m just glad you stopped that scumbag from hurting Sister Robicheaux.”
“That scumbag is what I’m here to talk about. What do you know about him?”
O’Malley cleared his throat. “I know he’s a low-life piece of trash whose mother got herself elected to Congress.”
“That’s what I heard,” I said. “Sister Robicheaux seems to believe he’s potentially dangerous to the children at the school where she teaches. What do you know about that?”
“I’m just a beat cop, but if I weren’t, I’d be thinking the same things that are going around in your head. That guy’s trouble, and he needs to be stopped.”
“Why haven’t you arrested him?”
“We have, but it never seems to stick. Between the judges afraid of the Congresswoman, and D’Angelo’s slimy lawyer, he never spends more than a single night in lockup.”
“Does he make a habit of messing with kids?” I asked.
“We’re off the record here, huh?”
“Absolutely,” I said, leaning in.
“If I ever catch that son of a bitch by himself at night, I’ll do more than just break his arm like you did.”
“So,” I said, “the nun’s right?”
“Yeah, she’s right about him, and that’s not all. I think you know she’s a grade-school teacher over at Saint Francis.”
“Yeah, she told me that much.”
“Well,” O’Malley continued, “Congresswoman D’Angelo is trying to have the school shut down.”
“This is sounding more and more like it isn’t going to be easy to resolve.”
Penny spoke up. “When was the last time you shied away from anything because it wasn’t going to be easy?”
O’Malley glanced at her and then focused on me. “I don’t know what you’re thinking of doing, and I don’t want to know. I’m a cop, for God’s sake. I can’t condone anything illegal even if I happen to agree with it. But what I can do is answer your questions as long as you don’t tell me what you’re up to.”
“What’s his name?” I asked.
“It’s Salvatore D’Angelo.”
“Let’s say I had something I needed to deliver to Salvatore D’Angelo,” I said. “You know, something that he really needed and was rightfully his. Where would I find young Sal?”
O’Malley smiled. “Oh, so you have this thing that belongs to him, and you just want to make sure he gets what he’s earned, eh?”
“Exactly. It’s only right that the man gets what he deserves.”
“Ah, so you’re a humanitarian.” He pulled a sheet of paper from a notepad he kept in his shirt pocket. “In that case, Sal lives on the beach. Here’s his address. I hear he likes to run by the ocean at sunrise.”
I tucked the address into my pocket.
“Oh yeah, and if he’s not there, it’s pretty easy to find him at the Tidewater most nights. He fancies one of the bartenders out there, and he seems to like what they keep on tap.”
“Do you happen to know if he carries more than that switchblade he likes to threaten nuns with?”
O’Malley shrugged. “He’s never had a gun on him during an arrest, if that’s what you mean.”
“Thank you, Officer O’Malley. You’ve been more than helpful.”
“Ken,” he said. “Kendrick O’Malley’s my Christian name, but my friends call me Ken.”
“Thank you, Ken. You’ll have to join us for a cocktail sometime when you’re not in uniform.”
“I’d like that. You’re on that white catamaran. Aegis, right?”
“You don’t miss much, do you, Ken?”
“Not much, Special Agent Fulton.”
Penny and I shook Ken’s hand and headed back, and we sat on the upper deck watching boats come and go for almost an hour.
“I like when you do that,” I finally said.
She smiled. “You like when I do what?”
“Let me think when I need to.”
“I could see the wheels turning. You’ve got a lot on your mind, and I thought maybe you could use some quiet time.”
“You were right. I have a lot of things to figure out, not the least of which is what to do about Salvatore D’Angelo.”
“Do you have a plan?” she asked with rare timidity in her tone.
“I decided we need some Russian lemonade.”
“Some what?” she said.
“It’s a long story, but it means we’re going to take ol’ Sal for a little sailing trip. First, we need to help him relax.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and called Dr. Fred at The Ranch.
“Hello, Chase! How are you?”
“Hello, Fred. I’m doing great. How are things at the funny farm?”
He laughed. “Same as it ever was. To what do I owe the pleasure of a call from you?”
“It’s not a social call,” I confessed. “I need a concoction to help someone sleep. Preferably an injection that’ll give the recipient three or four hours of quality time in the spirit world.”
“I have just the thing,” he said. “Are you in St. Augustine?”
“I am.”
“Great. I’ll have someone stop by this afternoon with a little care package for you.”
“You’re the best, Fred. I knew I could count on you.”
“It’s always great to hear from you, Chase. How’s Penny?”
“She’s spectacular, as always.”
“Good, good. Please tell her again how much I enjoyed her nearly killing Gunny.”
Gunny was the senior tactical training officer at The Ranch, the covert operations training facility where I’d become an operator. He was one of the most intimidating and deadly men on the planet, and Penny had knocked him out cold with a winch handle in the main salon of my boat. There are probably less than three humans who could claim to have knocked out Gunny and still survived.
“Will do. Thanks, Fred.”
“Anytime.”
I slid the phone back into my pocket. “Fred wants me to remind you how much he loves the fact that you laid Gunny out.”
“I’ve got skills,” she said from behind a brilliant smile.
“Indeed, you do.”
“Are you going to kill Salvatore D’Angelo?”
“No, I’m not going to kill him, but don’t tell him that. I want him to believe I’m willing and capable of ending him without remorse.”
She inhaled a long, full breath. “I know you’re capable of that, but I hope you’re not willing.”
Chapter 4
Apothecarial Delivery
“Mr. Fulton?”
