Hour of Reckoning (Donatella Book 2)

by Demetrius Jackson

  “You said Brewer gave this to you, why didn’t he brief both of us?”

  “Not sure partner, he looked like he had a lot on his mind. He gave me a cursory overview and told me to read the rest of the case. I thought it was out of character as well,” she shrugged her shoulders, “but what was I to do?”

  Donatella emulated the gesture, “Not much you can do but grab the file and bring home the result.” Donatella was just about to look through the file again when Terri urged her.

  “You can read that in the car. We better get going so we can observe the scene. Come on, grab your gear. I’m driving.”

  Buckley pulled her windbreaker from the back of her chair, extracted her firearm from her desk and began walking toward the door. Donatella sensing her eagerness, something she noted before, grabbed her gear, including the file, and trailed her partner out of the door.

  December 11th – 7:30 a.m.

  The alarm clock in Terri Buckley’s 73-degrees heated bedroom chimed relentlessly. Prior to peeling her eyes from the ceiling, she reached over and smacked the off button silencing the alarm. Today would once again be a key day in her assignment – her plan. Her bare feet smacked the heated hardwood floor, a welcomed addition to this rented space as she proceeded to the closet. She flung aside one outfit after another until she found the attire that matched her mood for the day.

  “Ah yes, this will do, this will do quite nicely.” Not wanting to waste any time she lay her outfit across the bed and gave herself an appraising glance in the full-length mirror.

  Terri stood 5 foot 7 inches with ebony black hair that was pulled neatly into a ponytail. Her elegant, smooth brown skin had a glow from the light cascading into the window from the morning sun. Her eyes, a light shade of brown, were both warm and menacing. When she smiled, her cheekbones blushed accentuating her soft, luscious doughy lips. Several times in her youth she had been mistaken as a runway model.

  However, when she ran her eyes down her curvy toned body, she paused at the reflection of her legs in the mirror. Once her legs were as beautiful as the rest of her body but now she felt disgusted when she looked at them. She had surgery to repair her broken legs that left scars that were visible any time she wore a dress or shorts.

  She furrowed her brows deciding the self-appraisal was complete and walked into the bathroom for her morning shower.

  December 11th – 10:30 a.m.

  The wind howled against the still morning jostling the branches on the leafless tree. The snow that fell the previous night began to melt against the emergence of the sun. With another gust, snow particles spun rapidly like a formidable tornado and crumbled the moment the Thompsons hustled past.

  Jasmyn buried her head into her husband’s shoulder in an attempt to protect herself from the wind as they walked from the car to the hospital entrance. As they did, a woman appeared from behind the sliding doors pushing a stroller covered with blankets to protect the baby from the elements. Jasmyn’s heart warmed and she gave an involuntary grin thinking to herself in a few months that would be her new reality.

  This was a reality that she embraced. She grew up as the only child and she wanted a litter of kids roaming their house. Marcellous too was an only child; however, he approached the topic of kids with a bit more caution. He was of the mindset that two kids would be plenty. Being outnumbered was something he didn’t relish, but she figured she could convince him to have at least three… and then maybe even a fourth.

  She could feel her blood thawing and circulating, fully providing feeling back to her exposed appendages. She wiggled her finger in an effort to assist the flow as the tingle slowly began to dissipate. Once the elevator gave the familiar double ding alerting them that they were at the top floor and that the elevator was making its descent once they exited, they stepped onto the floor belonging to the practice of Dr. Olivia Prince.

  The fine hairs on the back of Jasmyn’s neck began to stand as the aura in the waiting room emanated negative vibes. Marcellous stirred and she could tell he felt this as well. They approached the reception desk and to Jasmyn’s surprise a new receptionist manned the desk.

  “Good morning,” the new girl spoke, “may I have your name?”

  “Yes,” the word stumbled from her throat. “Jasmyn Thompson here for an 11 o’clock appointment with Dr. Prince. If you don’t mind me asking, where is Samantha?”

  A grave solemn expression overcame the features of the receptionist. “Mrs. Thompson,” she said in a barely audible whisper. “Samantha was murdered in her home last night.”

  Jasmyn’s hand shot to her mouth in disbelief and the article from Sal Grandson played in Marcellous’ mind upon hearing the name. “36-year-old Samantha Taylor was found murdered in her apartment at 631 Sapphire Ave. by an unidentified person.”

  “My God,” was all she could say after hearing the news. “That poor woman.” As Jasmyn peered around at the rest of the office staff, she could now see what she missed upon entering the floor. Two women stood over in the corner crying, arms embraced in a hug consoling one another. Another doctor, Dr. Theodore Smith, had red sullen eyes and looked as if he was just going through the motions. Jasmyn began to feel as if she needed to take a seat.

  The receptionist spoke, “You look a little flush Mrs. Thompson, can I get you some water?”

  “No, no thank you.”

  “Well if you need anything, anything at all you let me know. My name is Lucie T. Berkry.”

  “Thank you.”

  Marcellous, who had been silent throughout this exchange led his wife to a pair of chairs in front of the television showing old reruns of Matlock. Once they were settled in place Marcellous reached into his pocket, retrieved his cellphone and searched for Sal’s article that he had read earlier that morning.

  He read through the article again kicking himself for not recalling that Samantha was the receptionist at the doctor’s office. Had he recalled who she was earlier, he could have prepared his wife. Instead she had to endure this shock just before heading into the ultrasound she had been looking forward to for weeks. Caught up in his own world he had not noticed the woman who sat next to his wife and was engaging her in a full-blown conversation.

  “Dr. Prince has been amazing. She comes highly recommended and to date she has not disappointed. Is this your first baby?”

  “Yes,” replied the newcomer with a weary smile. “My husband, Troy, and I were pregnant once before; however, we lost the baby a week before the end of the first trimester.” As she said this the sclera of her eye began to speckle red as liquid formed in the corners.

  Genuinely she responded, “I’m so sorry to hear that and I’m sorry for your loss.”

  The tear that had been forming in the corner of the woman’s eye streamed down her face. Jasmyn reached into her purse, extracted a couple of tissues and handed them to the woman. With a nod of thanks, the woman took the tissues in her trembling hand and dabbed the corners of her eyes.

  “My name is Jasmyn by the way. Jasmyn Thompson. And this,” she playfully elbowed her husband, “is my better half, Marcellous.”

  Not sure if he should shake the hand of this crying woman or simply give a head nod, he shot a hand in the air and gave her a wave.

  “My name is Bethany Evans. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She extended her hand, still trembling but not as much as before, toward Jasmyn and the two of them shook. Jasmyn cupped her left hand on top of Bethany’s and gave a reassuring firm squeeze.

  “Troy couldn’t make it to the appointment today as they are in the middle of finals and this was the only appointment I could get. And now look at me, crying on the shoulder of a woman I just met.”

  “There is no need to apologize.” Jasmyn said more quickly than she had intended. “It’s no trouble at all. I’m always happy to help.” She shot Bethany a warm reassuring smile and for her efforts, she received a smile in return.

  Marcellous marveled at his wife. He knew she was taking the death of Samantha much harder t
han she was letting on, but when she saw a person in need, she forgot about all of her worries and tended to the other person. This is what made her such a great nurse, and if she ever decided, a great doctor.

  “Jasmyn Thompson” the assistant bellowed from the partially opened door.

  “Looks like that’s us,” Jasmyn uttered aloud. “Here is my cellphone number. If you ever need to talk, feel free to give me a call.”

  “Thank you, I will.”

  The Thompsons stood from their seat, Jasmyn waved her hand at the assistant acknowledging her call and the three disappeared behind the closing lobby room door.

  December 11th - 11:30 a.m.

  Terri Buckley sat on a green bench bundled against the brisk air on this December morning. For two week she sat on this same bench at the same time observing, watching. The object of her desire had been the headquarters building located directly across the walkway. She watched every person that walked out the door. Some walked out alone each day while there were others who came out in groups.

  However, Terri was increasingly interested in the people walking into the building versus the ones who walked out. To her delight and dismay she was surprised how lax the company had been with regards to corporate security. On a regular basis, she watched no less than three people holding doors for colleagues to enter, none of which displayed nor scanned a security badge.

  Buckley, a master in social engineering, could utilize the lapse in security to her advantage. Each day at exactly 11:35 a.m., a group of three women and two men exited the main door and she knew today would be no different. She looked down at her watch, "11:34. It's time."

  Buckley casually strolled across the walkway timing her stride. She needed to reach the door as the third person in the group would be passing through the exit. In her studies she realized the third person in a five-person group is in a perilous situation. Half of their party was outside while the other half was inside the building. With the frigid cold weather, they didn't want their lunchmates in the cold waiting any longer than necessary, so they were quick to allow a person going the opposite direction to passthrough as quickly as possible.

  Ten paces to go. Predictable as always, the group reached the door and began filing out. Buckley picked up the pace promoting the thought she was rushing through the cold.

  The rutty faced middle-aged woman she had begun to think of as Rose was the first one to walk through the door. Next through came the guy she thought of as Jimmy. On several occasions she noticed Jimmy watching the backside of Rose as he walked behind her. It was always a subtle view, but the slight tilt of his head was always a firm give away. She thought of him as Jimmy primarily because of the dated term for a sexual protection device - the Jimmy Hat.

  Who would be the linchpin today, she thought as she bypassed Jimmy who was already trying to get a glimpse of Rose's ass underneath her waist cut peacoat.

  Ah, Richard, the only African American in the group. From a distance he always appeared to be roughly six feet tall, but now as she prepared to pass him, she realized he was closer to 6 feet 2 inches.

  As he prepared to push his way through the door, she quickly flashed him a smile. He pushed the door open, held the door with one arm extended, stood to one side, and motioned her through. Buckley spoke her thanks and continued to walk through the atrium and just like that, she was inside the offices of Global Insights Securities.

  Again, in her casual walking manner, Terri crossed the atrium to the elevator banks. She pressed the up button and patiently waited the cars arrival. A security company that fails miserably at their own corporate security, what a joke. The elevator dinged once, and the doors opened.

  Two men exited the elevator, "Who you got on the game this evening?"

  "The Colts are looking good again, but I think I'm going with -"

  The last words were cut off as the door closed and the elevator began its ascent to the fifth floor. A song from Taylor Swift played through the elevator speakers, Buckley tapped her foot in rhythm.

  Her goal was to continue the illusion that she belonged in this building, another key element to social engineering.

  The door opened onto the fifth floor and she made her way directly to the office on the northwest side of the building. She was able to secure a set of the company’s floor map and she knew this was the office of Veronica King. It was immediately clear to Terri that the floor map wasn't set to any scale as the path from the elevator to the corner office was slightly longer than she expected.

  Along her path she encountered a woman sitting at her desk, eating her lunch while watching an episode of "Designated Survivor", and idly thought how fitting. She smiled at the woman who smiled back, and she continued her path to the corner.

  Another woman struggled at her office door, hands full with her lunch and a file.

  “Let me help you with that,” Terri said opening the door and pushing it open.

  “Thank you for your assistance,” the woman said making her way into the office.

  Terri nodded her head while picking up her speed. The office of Veronica King was a mere two offices away and she could feel her palms sweat with anticipation. When she arrived at the office, King faced the window, back to the door and she could be heard rehearsing her speech.

  Terri walked in and closed the door that swung silently and latched shut with a barely audible click. She sat down in the plush leather visitors chair, and crossed her leg, waiting patiently.

  “In closing, those are the changes that I recommend, and with your support, the growth of this company will no longer be a question.”

  “Well said,” Terri spoke while clapping in a low, slow manner. Veronica King spun around, heart in her throat, pulsating her vocal cords preventing all speech. Her eyes grew wide with a lack of recognition and with a few gulps to push down the lump in her throat she managed to speak.

  “Who are you and what are you doing in my office?” She noticed with alarm that her office door was now closed.

  Chapter 5

  December 11th – 11:45 a.m.

  “M rs. Veronica King. I have to say, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I have read so much about you.”

  Veronica wasn’t the type to scare easily, but the sight of this woman was causing her some serious anxiety. “I already asked you once. You had better tell me who you are and what you are doing in my office or I will call security.” Absentmindedly, she began to wonder how on earth this woman made it past security.

  “Who I am, Mrs. King is not important. What I can do for you, and what you in turn can do for me is what’s important at this moment.”

  “Enough!” Veronica said picking up the phone.

  In a smooth yet threatening voice Buckley said, “Veronica, put it down.”

  Looking into the eyes of this stranger gave Veronica the notion that she should do as she was asked. She slowly placed the phone back into the cradle, “What is it that I can do for you Ms. –”

  She waited on the woman to respond; however, the only response she received was the woman pulling a tablet from her pocket.

  “Veronica, do you know where your husband is at this moment?”

  “Kyle! What have you done to Kyle?” Her legs came close to giving out from underneath her as she groped for her chair and sat down.

  “Mrs. King, that is not how this works. I asked you a question and I expect an answer.” Escalating the intensity in her voice, “Where is your husband?”

  The change in tone was not lost on Veronica and she blurted, “He’s at work!”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought you would say.” She slid the tablet across the mahogany desk. “Please, go ahead and take a look.”

  With the tablet laying on the desk, she could make out images emanating from the screen. She picked up the tablet and there framed in the center in an extreme close up was her husband.

  “Why do you have video of my husband?”

  Buckley pulled her phone from her pocket, ignoring the question, a
nd pressed the call button. After a few silent moments, the stranger spoke. “Go ahead and transition to the second view.”

  Veronica watched this stranger as she made the call with a mix of bewilderment. At that moment, she saw the image from the tablet change drastically drawing her attention. The display switched to a video of Kyle on an airplane holding hands with an attractive brunette, hair flowing past her shoulders. Veronica’s eyes grew to the size of golf balls as she choked back a pained gasp.

  “Your husband, who should be at work, is in fact on a plane headed to Nepal with his chummy co-worker Irena Petrov. A co-worker he has been sleeping with for the last three months. A co-worker that as of today he is officially leaving you for so that he can be with her.”

  Shock and disbelief registered on her face. “Not my Kyle,” she said in a hurt, mousey voice.

  “Mrs. King,” the stranger continued, “It’s time to discuss what I can do for you, and in turn what you can do for me. It’s really simple, you have a presentation to the board of directors and the entire c-suite at the top of the hour.”

  Veronica nodded her head never taking her eyes from the screen.

  “I need for you to kill them all.”

  Her head snapped up from the tablet, “You want me to do what!” she exclaimed.

  “I want you to kill them – all of them. I will provide you with the method, you just need to execute the plan. If you refuse then I will trigger the bomb that has been loaded at the bottom of the plane killing your bastard of a husband and everyone on the plane.”

  A tennis ball sized knot began to twist in Veronica’s stomach. Her mouth began to water uncontrollably along with the sour taste that proceeds the need to vomit. She eyed the woman and it was clear she was not kidding. She had every intention of blowing up the plane that her husband was on and all of the passengers.