by Mark Stone
“Same sort of day you had,” I answered, not taking her arm.
“Not really,” Terry answered. “I flew here with a white wine in my hand and a Humphrey Bogart movie on the screen in front of me. You, on the other hand, were drugged and tossed into the storage compartment.”
“The storage compartment?” I asked. “That seems a little unnecessary, though it would explain the stiff neck I’ve had since I woke up.”
“In any event, I hope you’re not too upset about it. The whole thing is standard, after all,” Terry said. “Besides, if we’re going to be working together, I think we need to start looking at today as something of a bonding experience as opposed to anything else. It bodes well for our future. Wouldn’t you say?” She extended her arm again. “Now, what do you say?”
I was about to say no. Dining with Terry, even inside the restaurant where I last knew Even Jensen to be, wouldn’t be a good use of my time. I’d need to ask too many questions, to do too many things I couldn’t let the woman know anything about.
Of course, then fate intervened. A familiar looking man strode by me and walked right into the restaurant. He had slicked back dark hair and a smile I had seen one other time in my life...on the last picture posted on Eve Jensen’s Facebook page.
I couldn’t turn away from this opportunity, regardless of who was with me.
I reached out and took the despicable woman’s arm, lying through my teeth as I said, “I’d like nothing more, Terry. Let’s eat.”
Chapter 21
Oceana was brimming with people as I walked in arm in arm with a woman who I had no doubt would kill me if she knew who I really was. The obvious money on display inside these walls was truly awe-inspiring. Though I had no reason to believe any of the men and women, dressed well in suits and beautiful dresses, had gotten their money from the same sort of ill=advised and illegal behavior as Terry, her coworkers, and her mysterious employers, I also couldn’t help but sit with the knowledge that a restaurant who would treat a woman like Terry with such reverence and respect probably knew exactly what kind of business she was in.
It made me wonder about the dark haired man from Eve’s Facebook post. What kind of person was he? Was he in the same sort of business as Terry and the Archer? Did he work for the Archer?
...maybe he was the Archer.
Or maybe he was just a well to do man, a business executive here to close a deal. But, if that was the case, how did he know Eve Jensen, and why would she-a woman from the dead center of the country- feel comfortable enough with a man on an island to take a picture and post it publicly.
“Is this alright?” The hostess, shaking a little, asked as she motioned to our table.
“It’s fine. Leave,” Terry said.
For her part, the hostess nodded firmly and left quickly as I moved over and pulled Terry’s chair out for her.
“No, no,” she said, twitching her finger back and forth at me in a negative fashion. “I don’t like to face the wall, Albert.”
I grimaced. She might not have liked it, but she was going to have to deal with ut. The dark haired man from Eve’s Facebook post was on the other side of the restaurant, and if I was going to keep an eye on him, I couldn’t allow myself to face the wall. Of course, that wasn’t the only issue at hand. She called me Albert, which was as curious as it was incorrect. The ‘Al’ in Al Davidson didn’t stand for Albert. If she knew as much, it meant she might be testing me to see if I was-in fact- who I claimed to be. It meant she might have been suspicious of me too. If so, then I had little doubt this was the worst kept secret in the history of the FBI. Of course, she might have also just wanted to be coy. Either was completely possible.
“It’s Alan,” I answered, using ‘Al Davidson’s actual given name. “No one’s called me that since third grade, though.”
“Perhaps they should,” Terry said. “Maybe it would change your luck.”
“And here I thought you were going to do that,” I replied. “That is why you followed me here, isn’t it?”
“Followed?” Terry asked, a smile spreading across her face. “Are you insinuating that you don’t believe our meeting here tonight was mere coincidence?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” I shot back. “And I hate insinuations. So, how about I just flat out say it? You followed me here tonight. Like you said, you’ve had a long day and I noticed the look on the hostess’ face. She was surprised to see you. I’m guessing you have set days you like to eat here, and this isn’t one of them. That’s why the hostess had to ask you if this table was okay, right? This isn’t your usual one, is it?” I smiled now myself. “Not this close to the wall anyway.”
“Clever boy,” she answered.
“I’m also a little claustrophobic,” I lied. “Too much so to have a wall staring me in the face. Not to put too many demands on you, but I was hoping I might be able to take the other chair.”
Terry looked at me for a long moment. Then, relenting, she sat down at the chair I had pulled out for her, the one facing the table. “Don’t say I never gave you anything,” she muttered.
“How could I?” I answered, sliding her chair in and moving around the table to take my own. “You saved my life earlier today. If anything, you’re on a roll. Though you didn’t answer my question. I’m curious as to why you followed me here.”
“You figured the rest of it out,” Terry answered. “I’m surprised you haven’t gleamed this part too.”
As she spoke, I saw the man from Eve’s Facebook post on the other side of the restaurant. He was with a beautiful woman, though he wasn’t paying her much attention. Standing, he had his phone pressed to his ear as he headed to the restroom. This was my chance.
“Maybe I could think that over as I went to the Little Boy’s Room?” I asked, standing myself.
“Or maybe you can sit the hell back down,” Terry said, the tenor in her voice changing completely. “You know why I’m here, Mr. Davidson, but I don’t know why you are.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, my eyes widening and my face dropping. “I’m here to eat.”
“At one of the most romantic restaurants on the island without your fiance?” Terry said. “I would doubt that even if I didn’t know what you did earlier.”
“And what would that be?” I asked, my hands balling into fists at my sides.
“Don’t play coy with me,” she said. “I know you were with Nate Chambers and I know you went off the grid. Now, you’re either going to tell me what he wanted from you right this instant or I’m going to make sure the Archer puts a bullet in something you’ll miss.” She shook her head. “The choice is yours.”
Chapter 22
“Are you threatening me?” I asked, my heart racing and my mind spinning as I looked at the red-headed woman staring at me from across the table. I knew the answer to that question, of course. It was as obvious as the look on her face. Still, I needed to make sure I understood what I had just stepped into.
“I’m making you a promise, Mr. Davidson,” Terry answered, tapping her fingers across the table much like Boomer did across the top of his desk whenever he was thinking hard. It reminded me of him, and for a second, I wondered how all of this might be different if my best friend, boss, and confidante were here with me. At the very least, I might be able to better figure out what was going on here.
“And what would that promise entail, ma’am?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. “Because I’m not sure I like what I’m hearing.”
“You shouldn’t be nearly as concerned about what you’re hearing, Mr. Davidson. Your focus should be entirely on what I’m hearing,” Terry said. “Like I said, I’m well aware of everything you’ve done today.”
I hoped that wasn’t true. If it was, it meant she knew about the argument Natasha and I had about the FBI’s involvement in this. Of course, given the fact that she was still calling me Mr. Davidson and not Dillon Storm spoke volumes to that, as did another aspect of what she asked me.<
br />
“If that was true, you wouldn’t need to ask me what I was talking about with the man,” I answered, not giving the woman an inch. “I’m guessing you know about half as much as you’re trying to pretend you do.”
“I know enough to know that you disappeared with Nate Chambers after you disarmed and attacked the man with him,” Terry said. “I’m guessing you ducked into that service closet he’s got on the beach. What is it, number seven?”
As the woman stared at me, a thousand things were running through my mind. Chief among them though was the fact that I was missing my chance to question the man from Eve Jensen’s Facebook post. He had waltzed into the restroom, and unless I could find my way out of this conversation in the next few minutes, I wouldn’t get a chance to grill him for information.
“He wanted to welcome me to the team, so to speak,” I lied, deciding it was in my best interest not to tell her the actual reasons Nate drug me into the service closet.
“You’re a liar,” Terry answered. “Which doesn’t surprise me. Given what we both do for a living, lies are sort of our stock and trade. You should learn right now that that’s not going to work with me though. My mother raised me better than to believe every fairytale that lands on my doorstep.” Terry waved the waiter away as the man, thin and as nervous as the hostess who had sat us down, placed two glasses of water in front of us. “I’m giving you a chance to be honest with me here, Mr. Davidson,” she continued. “Thinking I don’t know everything that goes on here is a mistake. I know what Nate Chambers came to you about, and I know what he’s up to. This is a formality. It’s an opportunity I’m giving you. Right here and now, you can prove to me that you know where the power is on this island.”
“I thought the power here was with the Archer,” I answered. “Whoever that is.”
“The Archer is, of course, in charge here,” Terry said. “But there’s been a dispute lately as to who is really on his side. You saw that on your way here. The man who tried to kill you wanted you dead because you represent something new the Archer is trying to do, and he wanted to kill me because I represent the fist the Archer will use to make sure it happens.”
I glared at the woman. She didn’t look like much of a fist to me, given her slight frame and her short stature. Still, I had seen her with a gun, and more than that, I’d seen enough to know better than to judge anyone by their appearance.
“He said there’s a schism in the Archer’s people,” I said, truthful about at least part of what Nate Chambers wanted. I knew, since Terry had yet to put a bullet in me, that she didn’t know who I really was. So, the whole ‘Eve Jensen’ thing was more than likely still a mystery to her. Still, she was obviously smart enough to know something of what was going on here. I had to give her something, and I was betting this was just the ticket. “He said there was something coming, something the Archer had planned in order to clean house. He said that I was at the center of it, and he said that- if I wanted to- I could change the way it all went down. He said I could grab some of the Archer’s power when he and the people like him took the Archer down. All I had to do was help.”
“And your response to his offer was what, Mr. Davidson?” Terry asked.
“Honestly, I told him I would think about it,” I replied. “I didn’t want to get myself killed in a service closet, and in my experience, when you turn down offers from mobsters who lay their master plan out at your feet, that’s what tends to happen.”
“And, when you told him that, how did he respond?” Terry asked.
I knew she was baiting me, trying to make sure I told her the truth. So, I did. At least, I told her as much of it as I could, given the circumstance.
“He told me that if power wasn’t enough to convince me, he’d find another way,” I replied. “Then he threatened to kill Margo.” I shook my head. “I’m here, strangely enough, for the same reason you are.”
“I’m here to question you,” Terry answered.
“And I’m here to question you,” I replied. “Look, I have no interest in betraying the Archer. He’s been good to me. He’s helped me build myself up to the point where I matter. I don’t want more power than I have right now. I might have a head for business, but I also have a love for life. I have no interest in spending all of my time looking over my shoulder or making business deals.” I nodded firmly. “I’m good where I am, and that’s just that. But I also love my woman, Terry. I’m not about to let some knuckle dragger threaten her. If I’ve gotta kill him, then I will. But I was hoping you might help me find a way around that.”
“And why would you come to me for that?” Terry asked.
“Because I know you,” I replied. “In fact, you’re the only person I know here, and you’re the only one who I’m sure, without a shadow of a doubt, is on the Archer’s side. Besides me, of course.” I shook my head. “After all, I watched you kill someone who would betray the man.”
“You did,” Terry answered. “And, if that’s what it took to lead you to me, then it was worth it. The Archer has high hopes for you, Mr. Davidson.”
“Then perhaps he should tell me that himself,” I answered, taking a drink from the water the waiter left for me.
“Perhaps he will,” Terry said. “All things in their own time. That’s what the Archer always says.”
“And the Archer allows you to speak for him?” I asked.
“There are times when we are of the one mind.” Terry answered. “Of course, there are other times when I couldn’t explain the Archer’s motives with a map. In any event, we will be watching you, Mr. Davidson. When Nate CHambers comes back to you, and he will, be sure to let him believe you’re right there on board with him. Not only will it serve to keep your fiance safe, but it’ll also make it so much sweeter when you’re the one who puts a bullet in his head.”
I cringed. It was an instinctual thing, but it happened nonetheless.
“Is that a problem?” Terry asked, her red eyebrows raising.
“Of course not,” I muttered. “In fact, I can’t wait. No one threatens my fiance and gets away with it.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Terry said. She looked around the restaurant with a winsome eye. “This place used to be a ballroom of sorts. Did you know that?”
“Never been on the island before this,” I answered, and even though that was only true for Al Davidson and not Dillon Storm, I needed to keep my cover.
“I keep forgetting that,” she answered. “It’s a shame, Mr. Davidson. This is a gorgeous place. I’ve been here for my entire life.” She looked down at the table. “The part of it that matters anyway. I remember when this entire place was filled to the brim with people dancing all night long.”
“I never have been much of a dancer,” I responded.
“That’s too bad,” Terry said. “You look like you’d be a lot of fun to dance with, mr. Davidson.”
I smiled at her, wondering if I caught a hint of attraction toward me on her part. “That’s kind of you to say,” I answered, pushing my chair away from the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really do need to go use the restroom.” Nodding at Terry, I stood and walked to the back of the restaurant, pushing toward the door that I saw the man from Eve’s Facebook post disappear through. He had been in there for awhile, and as I entered the restroom, I saw why. The entire place was empty, and the window had been pried open.
Moving toward it, I heard a man’s scream from outside, and then-seconds after- I heard a gunshot.
Chapter 23
With my heart pounding, I hoisted myself up to the jarred open window. Another shot rang out behind the restaurant, though this time, I heard no scream to accompany it. Something horrible was going on out there, and the man from Eve Jensen’s Facebook post was very likely a part of it. That couldn’t be a coincidence, because as Al Davidson just said to the red-haired woman who followed him to this restaurant, he didn’t believe in coincidences.
Throwing myself outside the window, it suddenly became very
clear to me that I didn’t have my gun. In fact, I didn’t have any weapons. In the rush of everything that had happened since I was literally drugged and brought to this island, I didn’t have time to arm myself the way I otherwise might have.
It didn’t matter. This was a lead, and even if it hadn’t been, it was an emergency. What kind of cop would I be if a gun stood between my action and inaction? I would help here if I could. I would have to be a lot more cautious about it.
Falling on my heels against the concrete, I saw that I now stood in an alleyway, complete with dumpsters filled with trash bags and even a few cats. What I didn’t see was either the man from the Facebook post or any reason for the gunshots I’d just heard ring out before me. Of course, the alleyway did turn.
Moving forward as quickly as my cautiousness would allow, I began to heard muffled voices. They weren’t screaming, but they were certainly tense, which made sense, given the fact that I was pretty sure these voices were also responsible for the gunshots I’d just heard.
Taking a deep breath, I found myself at the turn of the alleyway. From there, I could hear the muffled voices much clearer. I could make out what they were saying. Sticking my head out just an inch across the divide, I saw the man from Eve’s Facebook post. He lay slumped, ducked behind a dumpster and grabbing his arm. Blood seeped from behind his palm.
He had been shot. Luckily, it didn’t look to be a fatal wound which meant I would still be able to question him, assuming I could get the man the hell out of here. He might even be more willing to give up information to the man responsible for saving his life. The obvious fault in this plan was that not only would I have to save his life first, but the other person shooting at him didn’t seem ready stop shooting anytime soon.
