The service concluded, final goodbyes said, Emma and Aiden returned to the limousine with their grandparents and Marissa.
Grant Carnevale rejoined his colleagues. They watched from across the parking lot as Jordan thanked the Reverend and received his blessing.
“Think they’ll be all right?” Chris asked.
“Jordan will need a little time,” Carnevale answered. “But yeah, they’ll be fine.”
“You’ve got one hell of a goddaughter there,” Andrew Dunn remarked.
“Thank you, Director,” Carnevale replied. “I certainly do.”
“She can back me up anytime,” Chris said.
“Damn straight,” Carnevale agreed. “She’s her father’s daughter all right, through and through. By the way Chris, how’s the shoulder?”
Hanover’s wounded arm hung in a sling. He lifted it gingerly. “Hurt’s like a sonofabitch.”
“And your neck?”
“About the same.”
Dunn turned around and saw his daughters and Lily standing inside the front gates of the cemetery. He waved to them to join him.
Jordan walked over to the men and received a hug from her godfather. “How are you, sweetie?” Carnevale asked.
Jordan smiled. “All things considered, I’m good.”
Shannon and Zoe joined their father. Lily stood back, unsure of her place. Shannon took her by the hand. Zoe put her arm around her, pulled her close.
“Jordan,” Andrew Dunn said, “I’d like you to meet my daughters, Shannon and Zoe. And this is Lily Maynard. Girls, this is Jordan Quest. Jordan helped us locate you.”
“Please accept our condolences on your loss, Mrs. Quest,” Zoe added.
“Yes,” Shannon added. “Thank you for all you’ve done to help my father, and us.”
“You’re most welcome,” Jordan answered. She leaned over and shook Lily’s hand. The psychic connection with the girl was immediate. In a flash Jordan saw the stables, the bodies buried beneath the ground, the nuclear fallout shelter, the framed pictures of her parents. “They’re fine, Lily,” she said. “They’re with you now, you know.”
“I don’t understand,” Lily said.
“Your parents,” Jordan said. “They’re here, watching over you, keeping you safe.”
Lily’s eyes welled. “They are?”
Jordan smiled. “Indeed. Never doubt that. Not even for a minute.”
Dunn interjected. “Perhaps I should explain, Lily. Jordan has a very special gift. She’s one of the world’s foremost psychics.”
“I recognize your name,” Shannon said.
“Me too,” Zoe added. “Shannon and I are both lawyers. We studied a case you were involved in two years ago in Connecticut. The Bamford kidnapping and murders. You helped the police locate the bodies and catch the killers.”
“I remember it well,” Jordan said. “I understand from your father you both attended Harvard?”
“We did,” Shannon said.
“I sailed for Harvard.”
“Basketball was my game,” Zoe said. “Go Crimson!”
Shannon raised her hands. “Don’t look at me. I don’t have an athletic bone in my body.”
“Me neither,” Lily added.
Jordan laughed.
Andrew Dunn’s cell phone rang. He checked the display. “Excuse me,” he said, and walked away from the group.
Jordan introduced Shannon, Zoe, and Lily to her godfather and Special Agent Hanover. Lily shook Chris’ hand and blushed. Zoe noticed her reaction and, being Zoe, seized the opportunity to tease her. “Hot, isn’t he?”
Carnevale laughed.
Chris smiled, tried to turn away. Jordan grabbed his jacket, saw his face, pulled him back. “Are you blushing, tough guy?” she joked.
Andrew Dunn returned. “That was Commander Reed with Hostage Rescue. CSI found several blister packs of Rohypnol hidden in the wheel well of the Chevy.”
“Uncle Emmett’s car,” Lily said. “Ben and Basil used it all the time.”
“Must be what they used to knock us out,” Shannon said.
Their father nodded. “Trace amounts of the drug were found in the wine in the condo. CSI also found a manila envelope containing surveillance pics of the two of you on the Harvard campus. The address of the rental condo in L.A. was inside the folder. Prints on the blister pack came back to three subjects: Ben and Basil Maynard, plus a small-time drug dealer by the name of Dwayne Kirby. Agents picked up Kirby and brought him in for questioning. He rolled on Ben. Said he’d accepted the kidnapping contract but then got cold feet. He still wanted the payout, or at least part of it, so he sub-contracted it to Ben. The phone you used to call me, Ben’s phone, contained audio he recorded of his meeting with Kirby detailing the plan, who was involved, information on your coming and going, the works. Kirby’s cooked. And with Ben and Basil dead he’s the one left holding the bag. By the time the Bureau’s done with him he won’t see the light of day for years to come.”
“But why take us in the first place?” Zoe asked.
“The Bureau’s been keeping a close eye on me for the past few months,” Dunn said. “I can’t get into the details, they’re classified. All I can say is the people associated with Kirby wanted to get to me through you.”
“There were photos of you on the stable wall,” Shannon said.
“So I heard.”
“Are you still in danger?” Zoe asked.
“I don’t think so, honey. Kirby provided us with enough information to go after the people responsible for this. Arrest warrants have been issued. The raids will take place today. It’s over.”
“Thank God,” Zoe said.
Dunn nodded. “Reed also told me CSI also found the remains of a kerosene lamp on the back porch of the house. They lifted finger and palm prints and ran them through RISC, the Repository for Individuals of Special Concern. They came back to Emmett Maynard. Why the old man torched the place is anybody’s guess. Maybe he was trying to destroy evidence or cover something up. No matter. CSI’s still sifting through the debris and continuing their investigation. With that will come more answers.”
“What about the men who tried to kill my family?” Jordan asked. “Have you been able to identify them?”
“We have,” Dunn answered. “Their names are James Rigel and Harrison Tasker. Rigel, the man you shot in the house, is the same man who tried to kill you in the hospital. Quantico reviewed the hospital footage we sent them. Biometrics confirms it. We’ve been looking for him for some time. We found his car parked on a new home construction site down the road from the estate. The site supervisor called it into LAPD. They called us when Rigel’s name came up as someone we were interested in talking to. The address on the car’s registration was for a condo in Safety Harbor, Florida. Tampa agents searched the residence and found a cache of weapons along with scrapbooks filled with newspaper articles covering a series of unsolved homicides. Some stories had been blown up to poster size, framed, and hung on the wall like pieces of art. They also found a trunk in the bedroom closet containing four wooden cigar boxes. We found a fifth in the trunk of his car. All were filled with miscellaneous women’s items: nail files, hairbrushes, scarves, panties... you name it. The box in the car trunk contained a barrette and a tongue-stud, among other items.”
Jordan remembered the conference, her conversation with Chief Wayne Ballantyne, and her vision of the final moments in Becky Landry’s life when her struggle for survival ended with the barrettes being pulled from her hair.
“They’re souvenirs,” Jordan said. “Kill trophies.”
Dunn nodded. “That’s right. Trace DNA on the items matches fifty victims, all unsolved homicides. Most of the names coincided with the articles in the scrapbook or the wall posters. The sick sonofabitch was following the media’s coverage of his kills. Trust me, as much as I would have liked to have seen him stand trial for the crimes he committed and the lives he took, you did the world a favor by taking him out.”
“My p
leasure,” Jordan said
“One more thing,” Dunn added. “When Quantico ran the hospital surveillance they got a hit against a photo taken a year ago by our Organized Crime Task Force. The picture showed Rigel meeting with Salvatore Monterra, the boss of New York’s Monterra crime family. The Monterra’s are into everything from drug trafficking and money laundering to prostitution, kidnapping, extortion, and murder for hire. Various agencies… FBI, Justice, and DEA, had noticed a shift in Monterra’s financial activity over the last couple of years. Most notable was the sudden interest he’d taken in the tech sector. A Joint Task Force was established between the agencies to take him down. Investigator’s concluded the family was trying to transition away from illegal business activities to legitimate ones. One of Monterra’s first investments was a small tech start-up, SerraDyne Terratech, headed by a guy by the name of Allan Marsden. Monterra paid Marsden five-hundred-thousand dollars for the company, then sunk another million into patent filings.”
Jordan recalled the book signing. “Allan Marsden showed up at the American Association of Police Chiefs conference I spoke at a few days ago. He told me my father had cost him everything. That somehow he had ruined his life.”
Dunn shook his head. “If anyone ruined Marsden’s life, it was Marsden himself. There was a back story to his company; one that Marsden conveniently failed to share with Monterra. As you know, Farrow Industries is always on the lookout for up-and-coming tech companies they can acquire to make use of their intellectual properties within one or more of their divisions. SerraDyne Terratech came to Farrow’s attention. They offered to buy the company from Monterra for twenty million dollars, including the in-process patent applications. Monterra accepted the deal. But when Farrow’s attorneys performed their due diligence on the proposed acquisition they discovered a problem. One of SerraDyne Terratech’s patent applications infringed upon one of their own. They dug a little deeper and looked at the computer files Monterra provided them as part of the deal. The files had been authored by Marsden, who had in fact worked at Farrow Industries for a while. They concluded he’d stolen the technology from Farrow while still in their employ. After leaving the company he waited two years before starting SerraDyne Terratech. Never in a million years could he have imagined the company that would one day offer to buy SerraDyne Terratech from Monterra would be Farrow Industries.”
“At which point Farrow would have cited ‘just cause’ and walked away from the deal,” Jordan said.
“That’s precisely what happened. When Farrow pulled out, Monterra was furious. He accused Marsden of costing him twenty-one-and-a-half million dollars. He went after him for the five-hundred grand he paid for the company, plus the million for the patent applications and twenty-million he lost on the deal. But Marsden didn’t have a dime to his name. He was being sued by Farrow Industries for breach of contract and theft of intellectual property. He figured Monterra would probably have him killed, so he played a card that saved his skin but ultimately concluded with Rigel and Tasker coming after your family. He’d developed another computer technology, one that was worth tens of millions of dollars. That tech was wholly his design. He told Monterra that he could have it free and clear to settle the debt. But only under one condition.”
“That Monterra authorize a contract to kill my family.”
“Exactly. In some twisted way, Marsden wanted your father to pay the ultimate price for ruining him, which he hadn’t. There was already bad blood over the twenty-million Monterra lost when Farrow Industries pulled out of the SerraDyne Terratech deal, so Monterra agreed. We figure he assigned James Rigel to execute the hit.”
“Then where does Harrison Tasker come in?”
“He too is a known associate of the Monterra family. Considering how high-profile a target your father was Monterra probably wasn’t comfortable using just one hitman to fulfil the contract, so he sent Tasker as well.”
“There’s still the matter of determining the cause of the jet crash,” Jordan said.
“We now know what happened,” Dunn explained. “Remember I told you I had a contact at the National Transportation Safety Board? My friend, Bill Parker, is Director of Air Safety Investigation at the NTSB’s Los Angeles field office and a plane crash evidence collection expert. I asked him to review the debris collected from the runway and crash site. Bill told me they found pieces of rubber near the end of the runway that smelled like they’d been soaked in jet fuel. The design, structure, and composition of those fragments matched the tires on your father’s jet. NTSB believes the jet’s tires had been wiped down. They found a fuel-soaked towel in a trash can in the hangar and traces of fuel on the tire valve stems and the pressurization equipment used to fill them. I’d sent pictures of both Rigel and Tasker out to the field. Agents working with Bill and his people showed them to the hangar staff. A clerk identified Tasker as a fire chief who’d demanded access to the hangars. We think Monterra ordered him to sabotage the aircraft. NTSB believes the jet’s tires had been soaked with fuel and overfilled. As soon as the tires came into contact with the hot tarmac during taxi and takeoff a perfect storm was created. The fuel on the tires surface became super-heated. Friction with the runway caused a build-up of static electricity which ignited the fuel and caused the tires to blow. In his report, the coroner who picked up the bodies of Rigel and Tasker noted the smell of fuel on Taskers clothing. How much do you want to bet that when we swab the tire’s valve stem and the pressurization equipment in the hangar for epithelial DNA we’ll get a positive match to Tasker? We found his car around the corner from the estate too. The interior smelled like gasoline.”
“We’re still not out of the woods,” Jordan said. “By now Monterra knows Rigel and Tasker failed. He’ll send another team of assassins after my family to finish the job.”
Dunn shook his head. “Agents took Salvatore Monterra into custody yesterday afternoon. He won’t be communicating with anyone other than his attorney for quite a while. He won’t try anything now. He’s too hot. Too many eyes are on him.”
“What about Marsden?”
“His landlord found him in his basement apartment yesterday. He’d been shot twice; one bullet to the heart, a second to the head. The contents of a SerraDyne Terratech file were thrown over his body. The message was clear. It was a classic mob hit.” Dunn looked around the cemetery. Members of Jordan’s protection detail mingled with his agents. “Looks like you’re well protected.”
Jordan smiled. “Let’s hope so.”
“So, what happens, now?” Dunn asked. “Will you be taking the helm at Farrow Industries?”
Jordan shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. The company will continue to run just fine, with or without me. My father left good people in charge. In the greater scheme of things my role would be a minor one, anyway. Besides, I can’t just stop what I’m doing.”
“You’re right,” Dunn agreed. “The work you do is too important. Your skills are far too valuable to waste sitting in an office.” He paused. “I’ve been thinking about something,” he said. “Are you open to a suggestion?”
“What did you have in mind?” Jordan said.
“Come work for us.”
“For the FBI?”
“Yes,” Dunn answered. “It will be an unprecedented decision on my behalf and most certainly met with a great deal of criticism. But the Bureau is always looking into new technologies we can use to keep us one step ahead of the bad guys. Maybe the time has come to welcome someone with your unique gift into the organization.” Dunn smiled. “Jordan Quest, FBI,” he said. “Kind of has a nice ring it, doesn’t it?”
Jordan smiled. “Yes, it does.”
“You’d have to go through agent training, of course,” the Director continued. “But I’m sure in your case special provisions can be made. Besides, you’re talking to the guy who’d have to sign off on it and I’m already on board.” Dunn extended his hand. “What do you say, Jordan? Will you join us?”
Jordan shook his h
and. “It would be my honor, Director.”
Dunn smiled. “Good. I think you and the Bureau will make a good team.”
“Me too,” Jordan said. “I just have one request, if possible.”
“Sure,” Dunn answered. “Name it.”
“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to partner with Agent Hanover. We’ve already established somewhat of a working relationship.”
The Director smiled. “Consider it done.”
CHAPTER 62
IN THE weeks and months following the tragic events which had affected them all so deeply, Jordan and her family began the long and difficult process of rebuilding their lives.
In memory of her parents, Jordan sold the home she had shared with Keith and moved her family into Farrow mansion, much to Marissa DeSola’s delight. Though now a rich woman in her own right, Marissa stayed on at Jordan’s request, sharing the grand home with the family she loves so much.
Paula and David Quest stayed with Jordan for a while, spent time with their grandchildren, and helped their daughter-in-law transition to a life without their son and her beloved Keith.
Abe Carmichael was awarded the FBI’s ‘Civilian Award for Bravery’ for saving the life of Special Agent Chris Hanover. He continues to work as a mechanical engineer at Angel of Mercy Hospital.
Andrew Dunn petitioned the courts and was granted legal custody of Lily Maynard, who now goes by the name Lily Maynard-Dunn. She is enjoying her new life with her step-sisters. Shannon reports that, under Zoe’s tutelage, Lily’s swearing vocabulary is now extensive enough to make a trucker blush.
Shannon and Zoe started their law practice, Dunn and Associates, specializing in Human Rights and Humanitarian Law. Lily has shown an interest in following in the footsteps of her step-sisters and step-father. She plans to attend Harvard Law with a long-term goal of becoming an FBI agent. As a family, they traveled to the home that had belonged to her parents and become her prison for over a year. The bodies of her parents, Rose and Colton Maynard, were exhumed from the property and laid to rest. Lily was given the closure she needed to move on with her life. She made a vow to visit their graves once a year.
Intruders (A Jordan Quest FBI Thriller Book 1) Page 24
