by Louise Dawn
The General shook his head.
Antonio paused before looking back at his father. “Dad, by the way, can you look into an international fugitive for me?”
“Sí, cómo no. Is this work-related?”
“Not exactly. It’s personal.”
“In what way?”
“I’ll explain when I’m ready. His name is Rajin Bandara. DS are tracking his movements, but he may have slipped over the Sri Lankan border.”
“Do you know his destination?”
“For now, I think he’s trying to evade arrest and will find a safe house. I need eyes and ears because Rajin Bandara has connections, and he’s unpredictable.”
His father remained silent for a long moment before replying. “Sure thing, Tonio. Anything for you.”
Smiling in relief, Antonio headed to the bar. He wondered what Pearl was doing. A Friday night. Was she eating the ice cream he’d bought for her freezer? Was she watching a movie? That sounded appealing. Feeling like he was suffocating, Antonio tugged at his collar as he waited in line.
Would Rajin come for his daughter? How far would he go to find her? Both questions bothered Antonio. Pearl’s troubles shouldn’t be Antonio’s concern, and yet he hadn’t clocked out of duty. Martin had asked for help with a safe passage, and Antonio had completed the mission. He’d gone one step further and set up Pearl and Aysha in safe accommodations.
He just needed to act like any landlord and step away. Feeling warm, Antonio shed his jacket and took a deep breath.
“Sir, what can I get you?”
“Can I get a beer?”
And a double shot of ‘rationality.’
Long Beach, California.
* * *
Cyrus pulled out a heavy chair and sat at the large table. In his opinion, the centerpiece—a rich gold ornament of a snarling lion—took up too much space. Harland’s tastes in art and decor always leaned on the garish, clichéd end of the spectrum. The best part about Harland’s penthouse was the sea view. The dark, heavy interior seemed out of place. The wealthy magnate was like a preening crow that gathered sparkly shit wherever he went. And he never stopped boasting about his collections. His loud mouth got on Cyrus’s last nerve, but he paid well. And having a dimwit as a partner meant that Cyrus could control the direction of their meetings.
“We finally have the passenger manifesto.” Harland trundled into the room and threw a file in front of Cyrus. “Do you want a drink? Brandy?”
“I’ll have a beer.” Cyrus nodded at the bar fridge before opening the folder before him. “Nice work—I bet it took a lot of persuasions to get this document. So, Pearl Bandara and the kid flew into New York?”
“Yeah, but they aren’t on any connecting flights. We’ve also searched for other means of transport from the city. Nothing.”
“Could they have remained in New York?”
“We can’t find a trace.” Harland uncapped a beer and placed it on a coaster beside Cyrus. “I know you’ve been waiting for the green light. I think we’re narrowing down on their location.”
“And the GPS Transmitter isn’t working?”
“No. We think it was damaged, although it’s supposed to be rugged and weatherproof.”
The fact that Rajin Bandara had gotten hold of a sophisticated military GPS tracking device was impressive. The covert tracker was only available in spec op communities and had a seven-year battery life. The clever bastard had hidden it in his daughter’s favorite stuffed “talking” teddy, which already housed a voice box. He’d placed it in the toy after his divorce—in case Pearl ever moved away. And now that the kid had disappeared, the device wasn’t working.
Cyrus studied the passenger list and paused on Pearl’s name. Harland continued talking, and Cyrus raised a hand. “Hang on. Let me clarify. The mother withdrew a few thousand dollars and hasn’t accessed any of her accounts since leaving Sri Lanka?”
“Correct. She’s a ghost.”
“And she hasn’t turned up in Colorado. We’ve been watching her family.”
Harland sat down heavily and swiped at a ruddy cheek. “Perhaps she’s still making her way across the states to their ranch.”
“After two months?” Cyrus shook his head and studied the list. His gaze paused. “She has support, and we need to find who’s helping her.” Laying down the file, Cyrus smiled and took a sip of beer.
“You mean friends? Pearl has no SM links. No Facebook or Twitter accounts. She’s always been a private person thanks to her brief celebrity status.”
“Not friends. Allies. On the night she disappeared, we know that she approached the U.S. Ambassador’s daughter and then went to the embassy. I think she had a diplomatic escort—from Colombo to New York.”
Cyrus stood and picked up the manifesto. “If we find the DS escort, we’ll find Pearl Bandara.”
Harland would need to pay him handsomely this time, as Cyrus was an excellent tracker. They had new prey in their sites. Cyrus would begin the hunt.
Chapter Six
Pearl sat down at the dining table before fanning her clammy skin with a notepad. Ignoring a wave of nausea, she instead concentrated on opening the meeting app.
“Mommy, can I have a mallow?”
“For the hundredth time, no. I’m surprised you can even look at marshmallows. You could barely eat your toast this morning.”
“I feel better!”
“Because you went to the doctor yesterday.” A visit that Pearl couldn’t afford. “You’re sticking to soup and crackers today.”
They still weren’t on health insurance—applying in the middle of the year caused added complications. And as luck would have it, both Pearl and Aysha had come down with food poisoning from ordering in a pizza—the first take-out they’d had in months.
Thankfully, Aysha hadn’t felt too ill—as she’d only eaten a few bites. Pearl, on the other hand… she’d suffered over the past twenty-four hours. The food poisoning had ravaged her system, and even sips of water came rushing up. And now, she had a job interview with a prestigious security company that offered decent pay and flexible hours. If she could get through the interview, then she’d rest before her later shift with her current hated remote position as a call center agent.
Working in “Furniture and Bedding Customer Service” meant dealing with the angriest customers who never had their problems resolved. Pearl quickly learned that the worst call center jobs are the ones where you can’t help customers because of the poor practices of the organization.
Looking for her laptop charger, Pearl muttered under her breath. Racing upstairs to the bedroom, she grabbed the charger and a throw blanket. She couldn’t stop shivering—she’d wrap up her legs while sitting through the interview. Five minutes to go… Pearl rushed back to the kitchen.
“Aysha! What are you doing? Spit it out.”
Her stubborn daughter now stood by the open cupboard on a chair. She shook her head and quickly swallowed the marshmallow.
“I said no.” Pearl lifted her down.
“But I’m hungry.”
“You just had chicken bone broth. How many mallows did you eat?”
Aysha stuck out her lip.
“How many, Bug?”
“Three.” Aysha raised five fingers.
“I don’t have time for this. Sit quietly while Mommy speaks with a boss-lady.”
“Is she scary?” Aysha climbed onto a kitchen stool and grabbed her coloring pad.
“A little. Now, hush.” After plugging in the charger, Pearl sat back down just as the virtual video alert rolled in.
Pearl greeted Rachel—the Director of Operations—and tried to calm her nerves. A bead of sweat rolled down her neck, and she resisted the urge to adjust her damp blouse. Her legs shook with fatigue, and she clamped her knees together. As suspected, she knew they’d focus on her lack of work experience.
Rachel steepled her fingers. The polished redhead on the screen seemed relaxed and in control. “So, what have you been doing for t
he past….” She looked down at Pearl’s resume. “Six years.”
Electing not to reveal her past, Pearl replied. “I’ve been a stay-at-home mom.”
“Great, how many children do you have?”
Recognizing Rachel’s forced smile, Pearl smiled in return. “A little girl, she’s four.”
“Almost five!” Aysha shouted, and Pearl winced.
“Well, you’d be working a seven-hour shift. Even if it’s from home, do you have that capability?” Rachel’s prim assistant asked.
Fingers tugged at Pearl’s sleeve. “I feel sick.”
Turning, Pearl noted her daughter’s sudden pallor and took a slow breath. Time to end the interview. “I’m really sorry, but my child isn’t well and….”
And Aysha went to town—projectile vomiting all over her mother’s white blouse. Pearl couldn’t contain her reaction, her already unsteady stomach heaved, and she threw up what little was left in her stomach.
Gagging sounds came through the screen, and Pearl covered her mouth, watching in horror as Rachel gagged and tossed her cookies. Her assistant did the same. Like a vicious circle of hell, everyone retched. Rolling back her chair, Rachel bent and grabbed something from below her desk—a trash can which was shoved in the assistant’s face.
Pearl tried to speak. “I’m so…” Her stomach heaved. “I’m so sorry….”
The screen went black, and Pearl extended her sticky arms and tried to breathe. Aysha had started to cry, and Pearl felt about the same way. Could she bawl alongside her child?
Antonio pressed the button for the elevator and checked his watch. Pearl had her job interview at one, and he wondered how it had gone. He’d text her—maybe give it another thirty minutes. They hadn’t had a chance to speak since he’d returned from California, and the last time he’d seen them was the night of the ball. Still, they’d kept in touch via text, chatting every evening. Until yesterday when she’d replied curtly to his last couple of messages.
He rode up to his floor, wondering whether he should stop by after work? Antonio headed down the passage and passed the waiting area.
“Antonio “Snax” Torres! I nearly missed you in that damn suit.”
The bearded man who stepped in front of Antonio had him stepping back. “Fuck me! As I live and breathe.”
“Living and breathing—seems like we’re the lucky ground pounders. Snax, I’ve missed you, man.” Muscled arms pulled Antonio in for a tight hug. “Shit, I’ve missed you.”
“Where have you been? I heard you left the Navy a few years back?” Antonio stepped back and studied his old friend. Bronco looked rougher around the edges with longer hair and his thick beard. Granted, they’d served together at West Point and in their first years on deployment. And then gone their separate ways. Antonio had remained in the Army, and his friend had become a Navy SEAL.
“Six years ago.” Bronco nodded and laughed. “Been a troublemaker ever since.”
“That hasn’t changed.” His nose looked a little worse for wear—like he’d broken it multiple times. “You’re still looking fit.”
“Back at you. Geez, man, are the diplomatic circles that demanding?” Bronco fingered the slightly crooked nose as he admired Antonio’s physique.
“At times. The war sometimes seems invisible, but it’s there. Let’s go and sit in my office.”
Bronco followed Antonio up the passage. “So? Are you married? Found a gullible woman yet to tie you down?”
Antonio chuckled. “Not yet. You?”
“I’ve always been full of shit, and it flows out every orifice. Females can smell me from a mile away.”
“So, I take that as a ‘no’?” Antonio rounded his desk as Bronco examined the display shelf in the corner.
“A hell, no!” Bronco reached for a framed photo. “This is us, man? Back when we were just grunts.”
“That was our squad, bro.” Antonio folded his arms. “Good times.”
Surveying the displayed frames from Antonio’s military career, Bronco nodded. “5th Special Forces Group. You did well for yourself.”
“Back at you. I’ve heard the stories of a certain frogman.”
“Hey, fuck you.”
Someone knocked, and a newer agent opened the door. “Agent Torres, I need a couple of details on a case. I don’t mean to interrupt.”
“I’ll come to your desk.” Antonio tapped Bronco on the shoulder as he passed. “Give me a minute.”
He headed over and looked over the file with the rookie; when he was done and returning to his office, his phone rang. Pearl’s number flashed on the screen, and Antonio paused to answer.
“How did the interview go?”
He heard Aysha crying. A group of agents brushed by, talking loudly, and Antonio turned away and blocked an ear. “Pearl? The interview?”
“Mommy fell down the stairs. I’m… I’m scared.”
“Aysha, where are you? At home? Where’s Mommy?”
“She keeps falling down!” Aysha began to wail. “I want my daddy!”
“I’m calling 911.” Antonio ran for the elevator and then changed direction—his car keys were in his office.
“No!” Pearl’s voice came through the line. “I’m okay.” Her words sounded slurred. “Give Mommy the phone. I’m fine.”
“I said I’m calling 911.”
“No! Don’t. We’re not on health insurance, and I don’t need an ambulance.”
“What the hell happened?”
“Mommy is sick,” Aysha yelled, and Pearl protested.
“We’ve both had food poisoning. I didn’t eat today and got a little dizzy, that’s all. I’m climbing into bed.”
“I’ll call you back in two minutes, and if you don’t answer, I’m calling an ambulance.”
“Okay… I’ll answer, I’m fine.”
Antonio hung up and swore. He jerked open his office door, and Bronco turned.
“I gotta go—I’m sorry, man. Can we catch up another time?”
“Sure. Everything okay? Work emergency?”
“Something like that.” Antonio grabbed his keys and rushed down the passage. She’d fallen down the stairs? That’s what the kid had said. “Mommy fell down the stairs…. She keeps falling down!”
He dialed Pearl’s number, and when she didn’t answer on the first few rings, he tensed, deciding to take the stairs. She hadn’t been taking care of herself, and he understood her anxiety, but it couldn’t continue.
“I’m in the bathroom….” She mumbled.
“Are you on some kind of meds?”
“No. Feel dizzy. I need to throw up again.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Stay on the phone.” Descending rapidly, he headed for his car as he heard Aysha crying in the background.
Ignoring the speed limit, Antonio chose the freeway, winding in and out of late afternoon traffic. When he hit an open stretch of highway, he floored the accelerator, finally slamming to a stop outside his condo.
“Pearl! Can you open the door?” When she’d moved in, he’d changed the locks and hadn’t asked for a copy of the keys. He’d wanted her to feel safe, but now he regretted that decision. In a case of an emergency, he’d need access to the rental. He could just kick in the door, but that would scare the shit out of the kid.
Antonio tried the front door and rang the bell. “Pearl! Aysha! Open up.” As he turned to pace, a neighbor stuck their head out of their entryway. Ignoring their wary stare, he banged against the door before ringing the bell. “Aysha! It’s Neo. Open the door.”
Finally, the lock turned, and the door was slowly opened. “Neo?” A teary voice asked.
“I’m here, honey.” He stepped slowly in and immediately knelt beside the scared kid. “You did well. Are you okay?”
“We’re sick. I ate mallows and threw up. Then Mommy threw up… then the lady threw up….”
“What lady?” Antonio lifted Aysha before standing and closing the door behind him.
“The… the job lad
y. Then we had a shower. But then Mommy fell and wouldn’t wake up!” Aysha began to wail.
“Where’s Mommy?” Antonio headed up the stairs.
“No! She’s there….” Aysha pointed a trembling hand at the kitchen, and he walked quickly down the passage and into the small dining and kitchen area. “Where, pumpkin?”
“By the toilet.”
Antonio remembered the guest bathroom tucked beside the laundry room. After placing Aysha on the floor, he nudged open the door and knocked. “I’m coming in.”
Seeing Pearl lying on the cold floor, clad in just a t-shirt and panties, was a punch to the gut. Wracked with tremors, her whole body shook. She held her knees to her chest, and her skin was washed of color.
Oh, God… he’d arrived—in an impeccable black business suit worn over an open-collared black shirt. He looked virile and dangerous. And she was a mess—a sweaty and dizzy mess. Pearl tried to sit up, but her arms felt too weak. The bathroom floor was where he’d find her; dressed in a long, thin t-shirt. She’d asked Aysha to bring her a robe, but the poor child was in a state. Who could blame her? Pearl had taken quite a tumble down the stairs. Her head still pounded from the impact with the wall.
“Shit, sweetheart. I should have called the damn paramedics.” A warm hand cupped her shoulder.
“Don’t curse!” Aysha said from the doorway. “You’ll be in big trouble!”
“I’m sorry, Bichito. I’m worried about your mom.” Antonio sat on the floor and lifted Pearl up beside him. “Can you sit up?”
Barely, but Pearl nodded. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Think I’m just… just dehydrated.”
“Look at your head.” He rubbed a gentle thumb over the throbbing bump on her forehead. “Is this from falling down the stairs?”
“Her head made a loud bang!” Aysha now stood in the corner, her small fingers clutched at her pajama pants. “Call my daddy. He’ll come and help.”
Pearl and Antonio exchanged a pained glance.
“Just help me get to bed… maybe I can drink something—I took another nausea tab.”
