Vengeance: An Action-Adventure Novel (A Jon Steadman Thriller Book 3)

by Nellie Neeman

  Back in the car, Jon appeared more relaxed. “Initial impressions?”

  Luanne said, “My spidey senses tell me he’s telling the truth.”

  “Spidey senses?” Jon looked at Luanne, brow raised.

  “Yeah, it means my intuition.”

  “Yeah, I know what it means.”

  A pause. Then, they broke out in laughter. Whatever seemed to be bugging Jon had passed.

  ***

  Peter closed the door behind them, his heart beating through his chest. He needed a stiff drink. He took a glass from the dry bar and poured himself two fingers of Wild Turkey, swallowing it in one shot like bad medicine. He couldn’t tell if Agent Steadman was feeling him out or really had something, closing in on him. Like the old television detective, Columbo.

  He poured himself a second drink, this time nursing it. He needed to think clearly, calm himself down. Maybe he should talk to someone he trusted for guidance. Explain everything. He hadn’t sought out the damning DNA reports. No, they were offered to him. He wanted to save the business, save jobs. He just didn’t know who to call. He was single, never married. Had a few friends but no one who he could turn to with something like this. He needed someone understanding. Someone savvy. He sat there pensively, his heart rate approaching normal range. And then an idea came to him.

  Chapter 14

  San Francisco

  The house was a spectacular example of old California glamour. Some would call it gauche or ostentatious, but Jon thought it elegant, a sign of a long gone gilded era. The marble exterior boasted grand windows, several chimneys, and magnificent landscaping.

  A red Porsche Roadster was parked at the center of the grand curved driveway. Luanne pulled the Beetle up behind it. She and Jon stepped out.

  The front door opened.

  Caroline Atwood was a stunning redhead. She wore a forties blue and white polka dot dress belted at the waist, and Chinese satin shoes. “Ooh I love your Beetle! It’s so retro.”

  Luanne was momentarily starstruck. “Thanks, it’s my parents’ car, but I have one just like it at home. I bought mine from an aging baby boomer and spent much of my savings making it road worthy.”

  “Maybe we can go for a spin?”

  Jon interjected. “Perhaps another time. We’re on somewhat of a time crunch.”

  The woman sobered up. “Of course. I apologize. I’m still in the mode of letting just about anything distract me from my reality. But come on in.”

  “Thanks.”

  They walked inside the vestibule.

  “Nice house,” Jon said.

  “Thanks, but honestly, this isn’t really my taste. The queen wanted us to have a regal home. She agreed to let me keep it. Sort of a consolation prize, I guess. I plan to sell it and buy a modern villa in the hills. Regroup. Start over. Not the easiest thing with my mess in every paper across the world.”

  Photos of her and the prince were everywhere. Yachting, golfing, and smiling beside a towering, decorated tree.

  She led them to a beautifully designed living room. Light fabrics, wainscoting, airy. “Have a seat.”

  The sofa emitted an overpowering smell of deodorizer. Jon took note of the ashtray on the side table nearest the woman, a joint lying in it. This stuff’s everywhere.

  He handed her his credentials.

  She looked at them briefly. “Agent Steadman, you seem young to have such an important job.”

  “I’m older than I look,” he lied.

  Luanne handed over her Times badge. “I’m a recent hire. And I am as young as I look,” she smiled.

  Caroline laughed. “So what would you like to know?”

  Jon began. “Our sources tell us that prior to your breakup—"

  Luanne interjected, “For which we are so sorry. It must be very hard.”

  “Thank you. It is. But this too shall pass. I’ll be all right. Stiff upper lip, as they say.” She reached for the ashtray, then reconsidered, putting her hand back in her lap.

  Jon thought her stoic demeanor was incongruous with the circumstances, and likely attributable to what was perched on the ashtray. He continued. “Yes, we are very sorry. But what we learned is that you were dismissed, if I can call it that, shortly after your blood test results were analyzed.”

  Caroline froze. “How do you know that? That was never made public.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not at liberty to say.”

  Luanne added, “Whatever you share with us will remain off the record.”

  Caroline said, “Fine. I’ll confirm that.”

  “Can you also confirm that your tests were further analyzed for DNA, namely predisposition for certain illnesses or abnormalities that could emerge down the line?”

  Caroline looked stunned. “Is nothing private anymore? You know, as much as I miss Harold and will always love him, I won’t miss the intrusion into my private life. None of this is anyone’s business, not the queen’s or yours. I was never asked, and certainly didn’t agree to further testing. Frankly, I would have been just fine not knowing any of those details, same as anyone else walking around. Now I’m being penalized for something I have no control over and that may never even become an issue at all.” This time she reached for the joint and took a deep toke.

  “It’s legal here,” she said.

  Luanne, said, “You don’t need to explain it. As far as I’m concerned, there should be no restrictions on cannabis whatsoever.”

  Caroline smiled. “You’re my kind of gal. Maybe we can hang out some time. We could ride around in your Beetle. Unless you’re squeamish about having your face in the paper.”

  “Sure, sounds like fun. We can take turns with the Porsche.”

  Jon needed to move things along. “Ladies, we need to figure some things out.”

  “Of course. My apologies,” Caroline said, taking another drag. She passed the joint to Luanne who took a draw as well. Jon waved the smoke away and refused the offer for himself.

  “May I know why the FBI is interested in this?” Caroline asked.

  Jon said, “We’ve recently come across a slew of recent layoffs in the LA area. Companies are pink-slipping qualified employees shortly before those people are diagnosed with serious illnesses. We’re trying to determine if there’s a connection—perhaps someone out there accessing people’s DNA and using it against them.”

  “That’s insane. Do you think that’s what happened to me?”

  Jon said, “From what we hear, your blood test landed in unauthorized hands, someone who sent the less-than-optimal results to the queen.”

  “If it’s any consolation, we understand that she cares for you and was happy to have you in the family.” Luanne embellished a bit on what Caroline’s ex-chauffeur had told her.

  Caroline sat more erect, crossed her ankles. “That’s of little comfort. What if it was Harold who had the defective genes? What would she have done then? Prohibited us from having children? It’s absurd.”

  They had no answer.

  “Who would do such a thing? Mess with people’s lives like that?” Caroline asked.

  Jon said, “That’s what we’re trying to find out. Can you think of anyone who would want to break off your engagement?”

  “I imagine there were countless people. When you’re in the public eye, weirdos come out of the woodwork. But I can’t think of anyone who would go to such lengths to derail my life. In the cases you mentioned, it sounds like the companies were responsible. Have you spoken with them?”

  Luanne said, “We’re working on it.”

  Caroline said, “I can’t see how corporate greed would be related to my situation.”

  Neither could Jon.

  Caroline pulled out her cellphone. “I’m starving. I’ll call for takeout. Either of you want anything?”

  Jon stood. “No thanks. We’ll be on our way.”

  Caroline escorted her guests to the Beetle.

  “If we have any more questions, can we contact you?” Jon asked.

&nb
sp; “Sure. Anytime.”

  Luanne unlocked the car. “When things calm down I’ll call to take that joyride.”

  Caroline brightened. “I’ll look forward to it. Good luck, you two.”

  Luanne got behind the wheel, Jon taking the seat beside her. She looked back at the stately mansion, the sun gleaming off the gilded windows. “I can’t help but think how lucky I am.”

  ***

  The drive took them past the colorful houses of Sausalito, perched on a hill overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge. The sun was beginning to set, the bridge’s namesake hue at its peak. “What did you think of Caroline?” Jon asked Luanne.

  “I feel bad for her. It must get lonely in that big house all alone. But she seems to be a strong woman. She’ll land on her feet.”

  “Not if she stays high like that.”

  “Especially if she stays high,” Luanne replied.

  “Whatever.”

  “That woman has been through the worst media nightmare out there. Cut her some slack.”

  Weren’t those the words he’d used on Doug?

  “Fine. Point taken,” Jon said. “Any updates on Ed’s condition?”

  “Last I heard he’s in critical but stable condition. Still unconscious.” A pause. “Now what?”

  “Now we go through the rest of the companies your group worked for and we track down who’s in charge of dismissals.”

  “At this point it’s our word against theirs. We have no evidence,” Luanne said.

  “True, but I’ve learned that the threat of a media circus that casts aspersions on someone’s business is taken very seriously.”

  “They’ll threaten to sue us for slander.”

  “Let them. The Feds are behind us. Hopefully that will scare some of them into talking.”

  Luanne looked skeptical. “Where do you want to begin?”

  Melanie had still not returned his call. “How about at dinner?”

  “Pizza?”

  “No, let’s go out nicely. We’ve been working hard and deserve a special treat.”

  “You rich or something?” Luanne asked.

  “Not even a little bit. But I do have an expense account.”

  “Even better.”

  “And,” Jon added, “I was told recently that I need to have some fun.”

  “Fun, huh?”

  “Yeah, have any problem with that?”

  “Nope, no problem with fun. But fun requires a wardrobe change. After I drop you off, I’ll head to my parents’ house. I can pick you up on the way to the restaurant.”

  “Great. Wear something nice.”

  “Is this a date or something?” she laughed mockingly.

  “No.”

  Jon watched as she exited the car.

  Maybe.

  ***

  Mr. Sherman,

  I recently had two visitors to my office. Ms. Luanne Parker from the LA Times and Agent Jon Steadman with the FBI. They wanted to know if our company has stolen employees’ medical data. As you can imagine I am terribly concerned given your assurances of the confidentiality of our agreement. I expect you will address this issue with great haste.

  Peter Cromwell

  Mr. Cromwell,

  Your email is very disturbing. I am dedicated to providing the best and most confidential service in order to maximize your profitability. The impact of a breach in our operational security could be devastating for both me and my clientele. I apologize for these unfortunate circumstances and will initiate immediate and aggressive measures to correct the situation, and prevent any future scrutiny into our dealings. In addition, I will reduce my rate as a show of good faith.

  William Sherman

  As Peter logged out, he realized he’d made an egregious error. He felt a sense of foreboding, fearful of the aggressive measures Mr. Sherman intended to take.

  Chapter 15

  San Francisco

  Jon looked at Luanne seated next to him at the elegant bar. She was striking, in her unique way, strangely fitting alongside the photos of old movie stars, writers and poets lining the walls around them.

  The concierge at his hotel pulled some strings, reserving them a table at Le Marais. He hoped Doug wouldn’t look too closely at his expenses. He spotted several wines he was certain hit the four-figure mark.

  “How can you afford this place?” Luanne asked.

  “Like I said, expense account. I won’t do it again, at least not on this trip. But we’re talking business and need to eat, so why not here?”

  She shrugged. “Works for me.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Steadman, your table is ready for you. Please follow me.”

  The maître d’ held the chair for Luanne and handed each a menu. “I’ll send over our sommelier now. Enjoy your meal.”

  “So, Mrs. Steadman, what’s your fancy?” No prices were listed on the menu. He knew full well what that meant.

  She laughed. “He certainly jumped to conclusions.”

  Jon’s phone rang. Melanie. “Please excuse me, I need to take this.”

  He stood and walked near the washroom.

  “Hey, Mel. How are you?”

  “Good. You’re in LA?” He was struck by her southern lilt, aware he’d once been accustomed to it.

  “Actually, I’m in San Francisco now but only for a few more hours.”

  Melanie let out a half-hearted chuckle. “Would you believe if I told you I’m in New York? I just arrived. I was hoping to get together with you here.”

  “You have to be kidding me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I thought I was being spontaneous. It’s almost like someone’s trying to keep us apart.” A pause. “Why are you in California?”

  “Work.”

  “Same here. Doug already put you on a new assignment? That’s impressive.”

  “It’s sort of a unique situation. I can’t say much but it all started with Ed.”

  “Ed Hernandez?”

  “Yeah, he was assaulted.”

  He heard Melanie gasp. Her father and Ed had been friends for years. “Is he okay?” Melanie asked, concerned.

  “Right now it doesn’t look good. I’m trying to find out who did this to him.”

  “Please keep me updated as best you can.”

  “I will.”

  “What’s all the noise in the background?” Melanie asked.

  “People talking, I guess. I’m in a restaurant.”

  “Which one?”

  “Le Marais.”

  “Fancy. Got a raise?”

  “Not exactly,” Jon replied.

  “Expense account?”

  “Yeah.”

  Melanie let out her sweet laugh. “Doug’s going to kill you.”

  “What else is new?”

  Luanne walked by. “Excuse me, Jon, can I get by? I need the bathroom.”

  “Who was that?”

  “Luanne Parker. Ed’s assistant. She’s helping me work on the case. Just a friend.”

  “Oh.”

  Jon asked, “Can you come to LA for a few days on your way back? It’s been too long since we had face time.”

  “I know. I’ll be back home tomorrow night. Can you stay a little longer in San Francisco?”

  “No. I need to get back to LA.”

  He heard Mel’s exhale. “Too bad. I don’t see how I can do it on such short notice. I wish I’d known earlier. I could have asked for some time off.”

  “Can’t you pull off even a short weekend?”

  “Sorry, Jon. I’m just overloaded. I’m sure you understand.”

  Unfortunately, he did. He wouldn’t have been able to take a whole weekend off from this anyway.

  Jon conceded. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Let’s try again with a little more lead time.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Miss you,” Melanie whispered.

  “Me too.”

  As he hung up he realized maybe he didn’t miss her as much as he should.

  ***

&nbs
p; Dinner conversation had started out about Ed but soon turned to their personal lives.

  “You never answered me about your limp,” Luanne ventured.

  Jon cut into the sugar-sprinkled souffle, chocolate oozing out. “Right.”

  “That’s why I Googled you.”

  Jon rolled his eyes. “I suppose that’s what journalists do.”

  “Just as you did to me.”

  “Touché.” He leaned forward. “I’m on the edge of my seat. What did you learn?”

  “You never Googled yourself?”

  “No. I probably don’t want to see what comes up.”

  “Based on what I read, I now have a whole new respect for you and deeper insight into your psyche.”

  Amused, Jon said, “Really now. Do tell.”

  “Well, for one, you’re a survivor. In the literal sense.”

  Jon didn’t respond.

  Luanne’s smile vanished. “Sorry about your fiancée.” The words were kind but no looks of pity. He was grateful for that.

  Jon looked away. “Thanks.”

  “Did you get the limp from the explosion?”

  “Yep.” He was uncomfortable with the line of questioning, but his therapist would want him to trudge through it. Put it on the table rather than under the rug.

  “You helped solve a major case, saved many lives.”

  “Yep.”

  “That all—yep?”

  “Not sure what you want me to say.”

  “You can elaborate.”

  “Fine. Ashleigh, my fiancée, died in the attack. I broke some bones, left me with this limp. Upside is I’ll always be able to predict an oncoming storm.”

  Luanne appeared puzzled by Jon’s flippancy.

  He went on, looking at her now. “That first case you referred to is how I met my boss, Doug Matthews. Total asshole but also a cool guy who opened doors for me, though I’ll never admit that last part to his face.”

  “Do you miss Texas?”

  Jon knew she was steering into less challenging waters. She had good instincts.

  “Sometimes. It’s friendlier there. I’m originally from Boston. My personality is probably a better fit for the Northeast.” He broke eye contact again, ran a hand through his hair.

  “A little bit ‘o cowboy, little bit ‘o Fed.”