Hacker For Hire (Ted Higuera Series Book 2)

by Wallace, Pendelton

  “So that’s what this is about? Your father’s restaurant?” Catrina saw right through him. As always.

  “No. It’s family pressure, but that’s not all. I can’t do this Cat. I believe in what you’re doing, but not how you’re doing it. I can’t go around hacking into people’s systems, breaking the law. I have to be able to sleep at night.”

  “You’re too honest for your own good.” Cat sat her glass down on the porch railing and hugged her arms around herself. “I’ve always known this wasn’t right for you, Ted. You’re too good for this kind of work. You’ve never been comfortable.”

  “I really respect you. I like hanging out with you, but I just don’t like what I’m becoming. I can’t say ‘no’ to you. You could ask me to do anything and I’d do it. I can’t put myself in that position.”

  “Ted, it’s okay. I understand. This kind of work isn’t for everybody. You’ll always be part of the family.” She reached her hand out and took Ted’s. She pulled him to his feet and wrapped her arms around him.

  She felt good. All warm and soft. He smelled her scent, the fragrance of her hair. He melted into her body. His heart raced.

  She held him for several minutes. He melded with her and enjoyed the moment. Man, if she was only twenty years younger.

  Catrina pulled him closer and planted her lips firmly on his. “Don’t forget us, Eduardo Higuera. If only you were twenty years older.” Another long kiss, then Catrina broke away. She held his shoulders in her hands. “You have friends here, family. If you ever need us, we’ll be here.”

  Stunned, Ted felt his groin throbbing, his pants felt tight. He didn't know what to say or do. He wanted to be back in her arms, to feel her lips. But he didn't. This wasn't right. He had to break away, to go home.

  “I’ll stay until we get your systems straightened out." Ted gulped in a big breath of air... "I’ll make sure you get that new background check system up and running. I expect that it’ll take until after the first of the year.”

  “Ted, you do what you have to do. I’m going to be busy for the next few weeks with a project of my own.”

  *****

  The office of the El Chaparral restaurant was eight by ten feet. A Formica covered counter along one wall served as the desk. A statue of the Virgin de Guadalupe presided over the shelf on the opposite wall.

  Ted sat with yesterday’s receipts spread in front of him, a cup of coffee in his hand.

  Coming home to LA wasn’t coming home at all. It felt so foreign to him. In five years in Seattle, he had put his roots down. Now he felt like a stranger in his home town.

  Papa came through the door, wiping his hands on a bar towel, smile on his face.

  “¿Como estamos ayer?”

  “We did okay. Not bad for a Friday night at all.”

  Gina had spent a week with Ted in LA, setting up the bookkeeping systems and helping him find a new accountant. It was bitter sweet, spending the time with her.

  She was entirely focused on him. There were many tender moments, but she wouldn’t let him touch her. She had made her commitment. He’d never again feel the softness of her skin, the warmth of her flesh. He felt a lump in his throat. They had both made their decisions.

  When he finished the bank deposit, he turned to the computer screen to enter the total. The Seattle Times web site was up. He looked longingly at the front page stories from his new/old home town.

  “Former Millennium Systems CSO Missing” the headline screamed.

  What’s this?

  Ted read the story.

  Richard Freeman, former Chief Security Officer of Millennium Systems, was reported missing by his wife. Elaine Freeman filed a missing persons report with Seattle Police after Freeman failed to come home for 48 hours. Police spokesman, Sergeant Matthew Flaherty Sr., says that an investigation is ongoing.

  Freeman recently left his position at Millennium Systems (MS) during a management shakeup following the death of Chairman of the Board Terry Metcalf. The Seattle based Millennium Systems is one of the largest computer manufacturers in the world.

  MS CEO and new Chairman of the Board, Alison Clarke expressed her concern for her former employee’s safety. “Richard Freeman was a significant force in bringing MS from the brink of bankruptcy into the new millennium. Our thoughts and prayers are with his family. We can only hope for his quick return home.”

  Freeman was a “person of interest” in the death of DigiGuard Systems president Donna Harrison, but all charges were dropped for lack of evidence. Freeman maintained his innocence throughout the investigation.

  Ted sat and stared at the screen, stunned. Freeman missing? She couldn’t have, could she?

  Post Script

  I hope you enjoyed you foray into Ted and Chris’ world.

  Reviews are the life blood of independent writers. I need your reviews to give my work credibility and convince new readers to take a chance on an unknown author. If you liked the book, I ask you to write a review of Hacker for Hire on Amazon.com, Goodreads or where ever you go for your book information. Thank you so much, it means the world to me. If you didn’t like it, then forget about it.

  I’d love to hear your comments and criticisms. Who knows, maybe some of your ideas will appear in a future Ted Higuera novel. To contact me click here or use the Contact Penn form on my web site at www.pennwallace.com.

  There’s plenty more to come. When next you see our intrepid pair, they will go deep into the Mexican drug wars to save Ted’s little brother.

  For now, if you liked this story, you can browse my other books and short stories at http://www.pennwallace.com/index.html.

  If you liked Cat, you have to read my short story about one of her early cases, The Mirror Image, available on Amazon.com and on my web site this summer.

  Pendelton C. Wallace

  5/9/2014

  At Casa Mary Lou

  La Paz, Mexico

  Coming Soon . . .

  Continue to follow Ted and Chris’ adventures.

  The next Ted and Chris novel will bring us into the present day. Ted is still working for his father in LA and Chris and Candace have just graduated from law school.

  A sudden, traumatic event in Ted’s life plunges Ted and Chris into the heart of Mexico’s drug wars.

  Enjoy a preview of the first chapter.

  The Mexican Connection

  By

  Pendelton C. Wallace

  Chapter 1

  West Seattle

  “DEA!”

  The front door of the cozy West Seattle home burst into splinters.

  “Mom!” ten-year old Kayla screamed.

  Lisa jumped up, dumping the bowl of popcorn from her lap. The Little Mermaid played on the TV. Lisa froze. Kayla screamed at the top of her lungs.

  Men dressed in black combat fatigues, carrying automatic weapons and shields burst into the room.

  “On the floor, now!” the leader shouted.

  Lisa and Kayla stood frozen to the spot.

  “Under the sea, under the see-eee-eee . . .” Sebastian sang on the TV.

  “I said get down. Now!” the man repeated. He grabbed Lisa by the shoulder and shoved her to the floor.

  Before she knew what was happening, another black-clad officer pulled her hands behind her back and hand cuffed her.

  “Clear,” a woman’s voice shouted from the kitchen.

  “Clear.” This time it was a man in Lisa’s bedroom.

  The men swarmed into the kitchen, burst through the basement door and flooded downstairs.

  “Mom, what’s happening?” Kayla, laying face down on the carpet next to Lisa, screamed.

  “On your feet.” This came from a small, trim man in a brown suit.

  One of the cops pulled Lisa to her feet.

  “I’m District Attorney Anthony Pertocelli.” He waved a folded paper in her face. “We have a warrant to search the premises.”

  Lisa just stared at the man with her mouth open. What are they doing here? She thought. Wh
y have they broken into my house?

  “Petrocelli,” a man in a windbreaker with SPD on the front yelled. “Down here.”

  The little man in the suit turned and dashed into the kitchen.

  “Mom,” Kayla sobbed. “Who are these people? What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know honey.” Lisa tried to think. It was so hard in the confusion.

  Why are they here? What do they want?

  “Where’s you husband, ma’am?” the woman in a SPD windbreaker said. “We have a warrant for the arrest of James Adams.”

  Lisa just stared at the woman. A warrant for Jimmy? Why? What’s going on?

  “I asked you a question.” The woman’s harsh tone startled Lisa. “Where’s your husband?”

  “Ah . . . he’s not here.”

  “I can see that.” The woman stepped forward and put her face right in Lisa’s face. “Where is he?” she shouted.

  “Away. On business. . . “

  “Scooooore.” The man called Petrocelli came prancing back into the living room, tossing a plastic wrapped package a little bigger than a brick up and down in his hand. “At least ten kilos. High-grade coke.”

  “Petrocelli!” the policewoman shouted. “Gloves. You’re getting your prints all over the evidence.”

  Petrocelli ignored her. “Arrest her,” he said.

  “You have the right to remain silent,” The woman in the SPD windbreaker turned to face Lisa. “You have the right to an attorney. . . “

  Lisa tuned her out. This nightmare couldn’t be happening. Her mind raced. What had they found? Why was it there? It couldn’t really be cocaine, could it? They must have planted it, but why?

  “I’ve alerted CPS about the girl,” the woman said to Petrocelli. “They’ll be here to take her to a foster home.”

  “Kayla . . . No!” Lisa came to life. She tried to move to her daughter, but the woman and the man in the SPD jacket grabbed her arms. They dragged her towards the door.

  “Kayla . . . “

  “Mom!”

  “We got no troubles,” Sebastian sang on the TV. “Life is the bubbles. Under the sea. Under the sea-eee-eee.”

  ****

  East Los Angeles

  The El Chaparral restaurant was usually closed on Sundays. The light yellow stucco building with arches and a red-tile roof surrounded by palm trees, cactus and a parking lot usually sat empty. Papa felt that his employees should be home with their families on Sundays.

  This was an exception. Music blared from the open door. A mariachi band in full charro costumes filled the stage in the dining room. The buffet was set up on a row of tables against the wall. A couple of hundred people wandered though the dining room and around the plant covered patio with terracotta tile floors.

  Ted had substantially upgraded the facility. A Puebla tile covered fountain flowed in the middle of the patio. The patio itself had been carved out of the parking lot. Giving up parking for extra dining space had been a tough decision, especially because it meant an extensive upgrade in the kitchen too.

  Ted Higuera was catching on to the restaurant business. He was smart enough to realize that if he was going to add room for an extra fifty diners, the kitchen had to be able to handle the load.

  “Papa, Papa,” Esperanza, Ted’s younger sister and co-manager yelled. “Ven aquí.” (Come here.)

  Papa, a short sixty-something Mexican man with a Pancho Villa mustache, looked up. “¿Que pasa?”

  “We can’t find Guillermo. Have you seen him anywhere? It’s time to make speeches.”

  Esperanza Higuera, or Hope as her Anglo friends called her, was a tiny dark beauty with luxurious black hair down to the middle of her back and deep, dark eyes. This was her big day; she flittered around the restaurant in a flower-print dress with just enough cleavage to interest the boys, but long enough not to raise Papa’s ire.

  After five long years at Cal State LA, she earned a bachelor’s in business with flying colors. Not quite the Summa Cum Laude that her big brother, Ted, had earned at the University of Washington, but not bad for a chica from the barrios. Now she wanted to enjoy her graduation party.

  “Where did The Mouse get to?” She dashed out the side door and into the parking lot.

  “Guillermo Raton,” she knew her little brother hated being called “The Mouse,” “What are you doing out here?”

  Guillermo sat on the hood of a fire-engine red 1970 Boss 302 Mustang convertible, surrounded by three of his amigos. The legendary muscle car had belonged to Tio Ernesto since before they were born.

  “Oh my God,” Esperanza yelled and swatted at Guillermo’s hand.

  The joint went flying across the parking lot.

  “Hey, sis. Back off.” Guillermo hopped off the hood of the car and grabbed for the doobie. “Yow!”

  A Reebok Cross Trainer came down on his hand. “Forget it, you little turd.”

  Guillermo looked up to see his oldest brother, Ted, attached to the foot.

  ”And stay the hell off of Tio Ernesto’s car. You know how he fusses over it.”

  “Not Tio’s car anymore.” A shit-eating grin spread across Guillermo’s face. He held out his right fist chest high.

  Ted and Esperanza stared at Guillermo’s hand. He opened his fist, like a magician. Only, instead of a rabbit or dove, he dangled a set of keys from his fingers.

  “Mine. All mine. Tio gave it to me for a graduation present. Since he only has daughters, he thought I should have it.”

  “Dude!” one of Guillermo’s friends shouted and high-fived Guillermo.

  “What . . .” Esperanza’s mouth hung open. “Celli loves that car.”

  “You get your ass in there and make Papa proud.” Ted’s eyes glowered. “This is your big day too. I can’t believe you’re doing shit like this now.”

  Guillermo straightened up. “What’s the big deal? It’s just high school, man.”

  “Cut the crap.” Ted grabbed his little brother’s bicep and turned him around. “You know it means a lot to Papa. He never got to go to high school. And don’t give me that barrio shit either. You act like an adult for once.” He shoved his brother towards the restaurant entrance. “And pull up your pants.”

  Guillermo did as ordered. He pulled up his pants and marched back into the restaurant.

  Ted turned towards his little sister. “Hey, chica, you look beautiful.”

  “Oh you,” she slapped at his shoulder. “I bet you say that to all of your sisters.”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” Ted put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “Let’s go have a party.” They strolled in lockstep after Guillermo.

  ****

  Seattle

  Lisa had never seen a jail cell before. She had never even been in a police station. Yet here she was, a tall good looking woman with long light brown hair and brown eyes, sitting in her pajamas in an iron cage off to the side of a busy room full of cops at desks.

  “Wha’ ju in for, babe,” a short, round Latina woman said as she plopped down on the bench next to Lisa.

  “I . . . I don’t know . . .” Lisa’s mind had not yet caught up with reality. She pulled her pajama top close around her neck.

  “C’mon. A pretty mama like ju. Ju musta done some bad chit.”

  “The police burst into my house.” The scene replayed in Lisa’s mind. What had she done to deserve this? “They said there were drugs in the basement. They must have planted them. They want my Jimmy.”

  The Latina woman flung her hair back out of her eyes. “What kind of drugs?”

  “Coke, cocaine. They said they found a bunch of packages. They couldn’t have. We don’t do drugs. And guns. They said they found guns. I won’t allow guns in the house.”

  “Middle class crime.” The dark haired woman snorted and held out her hand. “I’m Angie. Looks like ju in pretty deep chit.”

  Lisa stared at the proffered hand. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t know what’s going on.”

 
“You talked to your old man? He knows what’s goin’ on.”

  “Jimmy? He’s out of town. Out of the country. He’s in the import/export business. He’s on a trip to Vancouver.”

  “Ju better get a hold of him, Mama. Ju don’t wan’ him walkin’ back into this mess.”

  “Lisa Adams.” A tall police woman with a clip board in her hand opened the cell door. “The Dicks want to talk to you.”

  “But I’m not dressed.” Lisa folded her arms over her chest. She was mortified, being out in public in her PJs. “I don’t even have a bra on.”

  “Let’s go.” The police woman took Lisa by the arm.

  The police woman led Lisa to an interrogation room where two men waited. The first was the small district attorney that led the raid on Lisa’s house. The other was a large man in a badly crumpled suit.

  The big man, over six feet tall and big around as a house, pulled out a chair for Lisa. “Sit here Mrs. Adams.”

  He sounded polite enough.

  “Mrs. Adams, I’m detective Peterson. This is DA Petrocelli. We have a few questions for you.”

  Lisa sat down and stared at the men. She was still too dumbfounded to speak, too embarrassed to look them in the eye. The little man couldn’t keep his eyes off of her sagging breasts. Ever since she nursed Kayla, the darn things hung down to her kneecaps.

  “Let’s start with your husband,” the big detective said. “Where is Mr. Adams?”

  “He’s out of town. Out of the country.” Lisa kept her arms crossed over her chest. “Kayla! What have you done with my daughter?”

  “She’s safe Mrs. Adams. She’s with a foster family in Child Protective Services care.”

  “No.” Lisa started to stand. Petrocelli put his hand on her shoulder and held her down. “She’s only ten. She needs me.”

  It was cold in the interrogation room. Lisa’s nipples were hard. Another source of embarrassment. Since nursing Lisa, they were so long she had to wrap them around a pencil to get them in her bra.