by Lois Winston
Gavin had made arrangements to reserve the entire restaurant for the afternoon. Along with Alpha Team, he had enlisted Sigma, Theta, and Omega, as well as a few people from IT and security to dine at Chez Jacques this afternoon.
“Why not Delta Team?” she had asked. “Isn’t this their op?”
“We don’t want to risk the possibility of Schuster recognizing one of them from our earlier surveillance,” said Gavin. “They’ll be with me in a van parked a block away. We’ll be monitoring everything from there.”
“How?”
“Everyone will wear cameras and earbuds.”
Some team members were already in position when she arrived, including Hanna and Noreen, who were halfway through their meals. Others began streaming into the restaurant in groups of twos, threes, and fours once she’d taken her seat. All had forsaken their standard blend-into-the-background black outfits and instead wore designer suits. Dressed in Dolce & Gabbana, Chanel, and Donna Karan, the women all looked very much like well-to-do society matrons who spent their days chairing charity events, exactly the type of women who lunched at Chez Jacques on a weekday.
Cassandra had chosen to wear a gray unconstructed raw silk jacket over a pair of black dress slacks. A daisy cloisonné lapel pin contained what appeared to be a small emerald in the center of the flower. No one would ever suspect the gemstone was actually a miniature camera. More importantly, the jacket had large, deep pockets to conceal the cloned phone, and the silk material would enable her to slip one phone out and the other into her pocket with ease. Or so she hoped.
As she sat waiting for Michael, she noticed three tables filled with diners she didn’t recognize, one with four men and the other two each with a man and a woman. She assumed they were the IT and security people Gavin had mentioned.
Michael had never been on time for anything in his life, including their wedding. So Cassandra wasn’t surprised that one o’clock came and went without his arrival. He finally sauntered in at one-twenty. She took note of the smug expression he wore along with the three-piece suite that fit him too well for an off-the-rack purchase. His closet probably contained a dozen more.
When he unbuttoned his suit jacket and shot his French cuffs, solid gold cufflinks with an “M” and “S” spelled out in diamond chips twinkled in the light of the overhead chandelier. His attire was a far cry from the Walmart specials he wore in front of the judge when he complained he couldn’t afford the child support the court had decreed he pay.
Michael took the seat opposite her and checked his phone before placing it on the table beside his plate. So far so good. Delta Team had mentioned he always kept his phone on the table while eating in a restaurant. Such a habit would make the switcheroo much easier. Cassandra had no idea how she would have pulled the slight-of-hand off had he kept his phone in his pants or jacket pocket.
Michael picked up the menu and began to peruse it without a word to her. So typical. She kept her cool. The last thing she wanted to do was antagonize him, even though she realized he was trying his damnedest to provoke her.
The waitress arrived at their table. “Can I get you something to drink, sir?”
“Macallan on the rocks. Make it a double.”
Of course he’d order the priciest Scotch on the menu. The waitress turned to Cassandra. “Anything more for you, ma’am?”
“I’m fine for now, thank you.” Needing to keep her wits about her, she’d ordered a Perrier and lime earlier.
“Would you like to order now, or do you need more time?”
“I’ll have the lobster,” said Michael, handing the menu back to the waitress. He glanced at Cassandra, looking for a reaction, but she refused to give him the satisfaction.
The waitress turned to her. Knowing Michael expected her to order the cheapest item on the menu—not that anything could really be considered cheap at Chez Jacques—to offset the cost of his sixty-dollar lunch, she chose an entrée only slightly less expensive than his. “The crab almandine, please.”
She noticed a slight downturn of his mouth, as if unhappy his choice hadn’t produced the desired reaction. “Win the lottery?” he asked.
“I never play.”
He fell silent until the waitress returned with his drink. After taking a sip, he smacked his lips, then asked, “So what’s this proposition you have for me?”
Before Cassandra had a chance to say anything, Noreen approached their table. She glared at Michael. “I thought it was you, you bastard! How dare you get my daughter pregnant, then walk out on her?”
She grabbed the glass of Scotch out of his hand and threw the contents in his face, splattering the liquid in his eyes.
“What the f—” Michael jumped to his feet, toppling his chair backwards. “I can’t see! I’m blind!” He flailed his arms, knocking into the table, causing it to teeter toward Cassandra. She slid off her chair as glasses and silverware headed for her lap, grabbing his phone as it began to slide off the table. Before Michael opened his eyes, she deftly made the switch, dropping his phone into her pocket and leaving the cloned phone in its place.
The waitress rushed over, napkins in hand, as Noreen exited the restaurant. Cassandra dipped a napkin in a glass of water and handed it to Michael. “Use this,” she said.
Cursing nonstop, he dabbed at his eyes. When he was finally able to open them, he squinted around the room. “Where is that crazy bitch? Did you see what she did to me?” he asked no one in particular.
“I want her arrested for assault.” He grabbed his phone. “I’m calling the police.”
But Noreen was long gone, the other patrons had returned to their meals, and two busboys had arrived to clean up the mess. No one paid any attention to Michael.
Cassandra grabbed her purse and stood. Leaning over him, she sneered. “You’ll never change.”
“What? I have no idea who that crazy bitch was. I’ve never seen her before in my life.”
“I stopped falling for your lies a long time ago, Michael. I’m certainly not falling for them now.” She turned to leave.
He grabbed for her arm, but she stepped out of his reach. “Where are you going? What about this deal you had for me?”
“I changed my mind. I’ll see you in court.” Chin raised, she strode toward the door.
“Get back here. You’re paying for this meal.”
Cassandra kept walking but called over her shoulder, “I changed my mind about that, too.”
She exited the restaurant, and rushed down the street, hoping he hadn’t decided to follow her. At the corner she turned into a municipal parking lot and headed for a navy blue commercial van lettered Johnson Brothers Plumbing & Supply Co. The rear door opened for her before she had a chance to reach for the handle.
“Nice job,” said Gavin after she stepped into the air-conditioned truck. He closed the door behind her.
“You can breathe again,” said Noreen.
She chuckled. “Good to know. Thanks.” As nervous as she’d been about this operation, it had gone off without a hitch—just as Gavin had predicted. She reached into her jacket pocket, retrieved Michael’s phone, and handed it to him. Then she removed the earbud and pin and handed them to Noreen.
Two long counters ran the length of the vehicle behind the driver and passenger seats. Keyboards lined the counters. Wall-mounted computer monitors hung above each station. Along with Noreen and Gavin, the three members of Delta Team, all wearing headphones, sat next to each other on one side. All had turned to nod at her when she entered the van. One Mom, a woman named Allison, gave her a thumbs-up.
“What did he do after I left?” asked Cassandra. She had thought Michael might race after her and try to drag her back to the restaurant.
“See for yourself,” said one of the other Delta Moms. She pressed a few keys, then pointed to the monitor in front of her. Cassandra watched as Michael, his eyes bloodshot and his bespoke suit and shirt spotted with expensive Scotch, stormed toward her departing back. As he passed Hanna’s table
, she moved her foot ever so slightly to the side, tripping him. He landed flat on his face.
“Ouch! I don’t suppose he paid the bill.”
“By the time he picked himself up and started ranting about lawsuits, the restaurant was just happy to see him leave,” said the third Delta Mom.
“We’ve already taken care of the bill,” said Gavin.
“Too bad we couldn’t get his lobster as take-out,” said Cassandra. She hadn’t eaten anything since seven o’clock that morning. It was now nearly two o’clock. A hunger headache had gathered at her temples and her stomach rumbled from neglect.
Gavin chuckled, then winked at her as a flush of embarrassment rose up her neck and spread across her face. When she noticed the Delta moms staring at her, the heat in her cheeks intensified. She quickly shifted her stance to turn her back on them.
Gavin hadn’t noticed. Or if he had, he pretended not to. He continued without missing a beat. “What makes you think we didn’t? I also ordered lobsters for Delta Team and myself. Hanna will bring everything back to the office.”
NINE
While Gavin, Cassandra, and the Delta moms feasted on lobster in the cafeteria, Gavin tasked Noreen and Hanna with searching Schuster’s phone for anything that would give them an inkling of his target and the timeframe for carrying out his attack.
“Anything?” he asked when he and Cassandra joined them later.
“Nothing beyond what we already know from monitoring his social media postings,” said Hanna, “but at this point we’ve just made a cursory pass through his calendar, emails, and texts.”
“He doesn’t appear to have any friends,” said Noreen.
“Typical of a lone wolf,” said Gavin.
Noreen continued, “He doesn’t communicate with anyone other than clients, business associates, and his wife. His calendar is filled mostly with sales calls, except for a number of doctor appointments. The calendar doesn’t list names or locations for those, though. They’re simply marked dr.”
“His wife is in her third trimester with twins,” said Cassandra. “Although, I can’t say he ever accompanied me to any of my OB appointments.”
“Guys always lavish more attention on the trophy wife,” said Hanna.
“Look into it,” Gavin told Noreen, “then start digging deeper. There’s got to be something we’re missing.”
“What would you like me to do?” asked Cassandra.
“I want to know everything you know about this new wife of his,” he said.
Cassandra shrugged. “Not much.”
“Let’s sit down and talk about it. You probably know more than you realize.” Gavin moved to place his hand on the small of her back to lead her to his office but quickly dropped his arm to his side before he touched her. When he’d briefly placed his hand on her shoulder earlier, he knew instantly he’d made a mistake. He couldn’t afford to let temptation get the better of him. With each passing day his attraction to her grew, despite doing everything in his power to ensure otherwise.
Instead, they walked side by side down the corridor with plenty of room between them. He opened his office door, and Cassandra preceded him inside. She walked across the room to the seating area and settled onto the sofa. Gavin grabbed the chair opposite her. “We haven’t been able to find out much about Schuster’s wife,” he said, “other than some basic details.”
“What have you learned?”
He rose and retrieved a file from the top of his desk, handing it to her after he returned to his chair. The file contained only two sheets of paper, one with notes and the other a surveillance photo of Michael and his wife shot by Delta Team.
He waited while Cassandra perused the minimal amount of data. Her mouth dropped open, and she raised her head to look at him. “She’s a doctor?”
“Of psychology, not medicine.”
She shook her head. “I figured he met her at Hooters. That’s where he used to troll for fresh conquests when we were married.” She dropped her head again and continued reading. “He’s way out of her league. What the hell does she see in him?”
“You tell me.”
She snorted. “I haven’t a clue. Michael is no catch by any stretch of the imagination, at least not for someone with these credentials. His parents wanted him to go to med school, but thanks to spending more time partying than studying, he barely squeaked through college. Needless to say, he never got into med school.”
When Gavin raised an eyebrow, she quickly added, “No, I didn’t know him back then. We met after I graduated. He was already working.”
“As a sales rep?”
“The pre-med courses he took gave him enough knowledge to score a job in the pharmaceutical industry. He’s also got the perfect talent for a job in sales.”
“What’s that?”
“When motivated, he oozes charm by the barrel. Some people go through life on their brains, others on their talent, and still others on their looks; Michael employs charm. If he wants something, he has a knack for manipulating people—especially women—into giving him what he wants. It makes him a very successful salesman.”
She scowled. “However, it’s all a game to him, and once he gets what he wants, he moves on. The conquest is all that counts.”
She focused back on the photo. “What he usually wants, though, are big-breasted dumb blondes just shy of jailbait.”
He studied her for a moment. “Forgive me for saying this, but—”
She glanced down at her so-not-a-Double-D chest, then back at him. “I’m neither? Funny, isn’t it? I guess it’s the Madonna/Whore complex prevalent in some men.”
She tapped the photo. “This Double-D doesn’t exactly fit the mold—except for the Double-D part.”
“Double-D?”
Cassandra blushed. “Sorry. That’s what I call her, what I’ve called all of them. Believe it or not, up to this moment, I didn’t know her name.”
Gavin nodded. Even though Jane Smith wore large sunglasses and a floppy straw hat in the photo, it was clear to see she was definitely no blonde. Wavy jet-black hair fell across her shoulders. According to Delta Team, Jane always wore large hats and dark glasses out in public. Even when only a few feet away from her, they couldn’t tell if Jane had an olive complexion, spent hours in a tanning salon, or was of mixed race. However, at thirty-five she was definitely a far cry from jailbait.
“They must have met on the job,” said Cassandra. “Glenmeade Pharmaceuticals is the same company where Michael works, although he’s rarely in the office.”
“Anything stand out to you?” asked Gavin. He studied Cassandra’s body language. She reacted with cool objectivity to the information he’d presented her. Outwardly she showed no animosity toward Michael’s new wife. Since she and Michael had divorced five years ago, he doubted Jane Smith was the other woman at the time of their divorce.
Cassandra returned the papers to the folder and placed the folder on the coffee table. “Aside from wondering what she sees in Michael and why a pharmaceutical company would employ a psychologist?”
He nodded.
“Her name for starters. Jane Smith? It might as well be Jane Doe.”
“Anything else?”
She leaned forward and tapped the folder. “What’s even odder is that this is all you’ve been able to find out about her. Where was she born? Where has she lived? Where did she go to school? Where else has she worked? What about relatives?” She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. “There’s nothing here. With all the available tech you have at your disposal, this is all anyone could uncover about her?”
“Odd isn’t it? We’ve been trying to find out more, but we’ve hit a brick wall. It’s possible she testified against someone and was placed in WITSEC. Tony’s looking into that angle, but the U.S. Marshals are averse to divulging such information.”
“Even to the Attorney General?”
“To anyone. It’s part of the pact they make with people who agree to enter the program. The ma
rshals are charged with keeping them safe. They don’t want any leaks that could place those under their protection in jeopardy.”
“I don’t think that’s her real name.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“I guess you already figured that one out, huh?”
He chuckled. “The thought had occurred to me. What else can you tell me?”
Cassandra shrugged. “I’ve never actually met her. She hasn’t accompanied Michael to court, and when he remembers to exercise his visitation privileges, either he picks the kids up, or I drop them off, but I always stay in the car. I’ve never been inside their house.” She retrieved the photo from the folder and held it up. “This is the first I’ve seen her other than catching an occasional quick glimpse from a distance. Not that this photo really tells us anything. The sunglasses hide her eyes, and given the angle of the photo, the brim of the hat covers much of her face. Delta Team couldn’t get a better shot?”
“This was the best of the lot. What about your kids? Have they mentioned anything?”
“They’ve said she generally isn’t home when they visit. When she is, she has very little to do with them and insists they refer to her as Mrs. Schuster. They’ve told me they spend most of their visits in the den in front of the television until it’s time to return home.”
She pulled a frown. “Michael lacks even the most basic of parenting skills, and if Jane Smith has any maternal instincts, she’s reserving them for her own kids.”
Gavin leaned forward and frowned at her. He heaved a grunt, then asked the one question he’d wanted to ask her from the moment they met. “Why the hell did you marry this guy?”
“Because we all make mistakes in life?” She sighed. “Like most manipulative bastards, he’s got a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde personality. Mr. Hyde didn’t show up until a few years after the ‘I do’s’—once the kids were born and he had responsibilities thrust upon him. Turns out Michael doesn’t do responsibility well.