Velvet Mafia

by Lydia L Watts

  When Teddy turned to leave the room, Blake was standing at the door.

  “Good morning, Winifred,” he said. “Breakfast smells wonderful. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. You were sleeping so soundly when I woke up. Now I’m starving. How about you? Excuse me; let me just wash up and then we can eat. I hope it tastes as good as it smells.”

  Teddy couldn’t say anything. She had been caught snooping redhanded. And what made it worse was the fact that he had the decency not to rub it in. Breakfast was more of the same. Blake didn’t say a thing about her snooping and she didn’t either.

  “How you feeling today?” he asked as he buttered his toast.

  “Much better,” she replied. “Can’t you tell by this beautiful breakfast I prepared for you?”

  Taking a bite, Blake paused before responding. He wanted to savor the moment and at the same time, mess with her.

  “Not bad, kid. Not bad,” he replied. “A little heavy on the garlic, but other than that, not bad. You could cook for me again.”

  She just nodded. She knew he was teasing her and by the way he scarfed down his first two bites, she also knew the food was good.

  “So, how is your memory?” he asked. “Are things coming back to you?

  “A little,” she replied, sensing where the conversation was heading.

  “Do you remember what happened at the safe house?”

  “Yeah, I do.” She took a sip of her coffee.

  “Are you ready to talk about it?”

  “Yeah, sure,” she said as she stood up to put her dishes in the sink. “I was in the process of dismantling everything in the house because I had one week before the management company would take possession of it.”

  “And then what happened?” he asked. “Where was Lance?”

  “Earlier that morning, he’d gone on one of his walks. I’d hoped he would stick around and help, but since the funeral, he’d become much more distant. Anyway, he surprised me when I was working in the kitchen.”

  “What did he say?” Blake asked.

  “He asked me if it was worth it.”

  “What did he mean by that?”

  “He was referring to all the people who had died trying to expose the conspiracy. It was evident he was upset; I could tell he’d been drinking and crying. I told him it was worth it and everybody who had lost their life thought it was worth it, too. Then I realized what I had said, but before I could correct my mistake, he was hollering at me and waving a gun. He was quick to remind me that Kennedy hadn’t volunteered. She was an unknowing casualty, and of course, he blamed me for her death.”

  “Then he told me he needed all the evidence, especially the antidote. I asked him why. He said he didn’t need it — the Velvet Mafia did. Then everything went blank. The next thing I know, I’m in the emergency room with you, getting my head stitched up.”

  Blake could tell Teddy had really been taken by surprise by everything. He also knew he had to fill in some of the missing pieces. Lance was dead and Teddy didn’t know it yet. More importantly, the police wanted to question her about his death.

  “There’s more to your story, Teddy.”

  “What do you mean by that? That there’s more to my story?”

  “Do you remember the day I gave you your vest?” Blake asked.

  “Yeah, you had some misgivings about Lance and thought I needed it for protection.”

  “Obviously, at some point, you did, too. What made you put it on?”

  “After Kennedy’s funeral, Lance stayed in DC, and the entire time he was gone, I was at peace. But, the moment he returned, things changed. Suddenly my peace was gone and I felt more anxious. Why do you ask?” “When I gave you the vest, I withheld information from you. I had discovered that Lance was affiliated with a group that has some unusual ties to the Velvet Mafia.”

  “What do you mean by affiliated?” she said angrily. “Are you saying Lance was a member of the Velvet Mafia? Why didn’t you say something?”

  “No! I’m not saying he was a member,” Blake replied, visibly regretting his choice. “I’m saying he was affiliated, through no fault of his own, with a group tied to the FSA. Plus, I couldn’t say anything because it was too soon in my investigation, and you and Basil needed Lance and you needed him to be at peak performance. So, instead of telling you, I chose to protect you. I established a monitoring system in and around the safe house.”

  “You were spying on us?” Teddy yelled. “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “No! I mean, yes … I mean …”

  By now, Teddy was furious. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She had trusted Blake, and now, she felt completely betrayed.

  “Wait, Teddy, please,” Blake said as he followed her down the hall to the living room. “Let me finish the story first before you judge me. I didn’t have all the information, but when I did, I went to the safe house to tell you. But when I got there, Lance was outside talking to two men. One I recognized and I am ashamed to say, I knew personally. The other man was a complete stranger.”

  “Who was the man,” Teddy asked, “and how do you know him?”

  “His name is Eli Edelstein and … well, he worked for me.”

  “He worked for you!” She looked at him with complete consternation. “Okay, Blake, if you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m becoming extremely uncomfortable.”

  “I know and I understand, Teddy, but you have to hear the whole story in order to understand.”

  “Okay, Blake.” She looked at him as if she were looking through him. Head now pounding and her heart racing, she could tell fear had slipped in unnoticed and was trying to take control. God, please protect me. Then, before she could say another word, the voice inside said, “Don’t worry. Trust him.”

  “Calm down, Teddy. I won’t hurt you, I promise. You have to trust me,” Blake said. “Now, where was I?”

  “You were telling me that Lance was outside talking to these two men.”

  “Yeah, right. So, when they finished talking, Lance gave Eli a leather bag and a gun. It was obvious Lance was distraught, but before I could even make a move, the man with Eli killed him. Then they took Lance by his leg and dragged him into the house. Shortly afterward, he and Eli walked out of the house just as black smoke started to billow out. I managed to get in and get you out right before the fire consumed … well, you and me. Then, I took you to the emergency room, and as you know, for the last four days, you have been recuperating here under my watchful eye.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Teddy sat down.

  Blake could tell the news was emotionally draining. Rather than continue, he allowed Teddy to sit still while she digested the meaning of what he’d just shared. Even for him, it was overwhelming.

  “What was in the leather bag?” Teddy finally asked as she reached for the missing key that once hung around her neck.

  “I don’t know. But I think it was all your work. Everything you needed to expose the conspiracy.”

  He was surprised to see that Teddy wasn’t fazed when he told her everything was gone. He’d expected a different response.

  “I’m sorry, Teddy,” he said, now reaching out to comfort her. “I know you were on the verge of exposing everything, and now everything is gone and without the proof, it looks like you won’t be able to go forward with your plan.”

  “Why are you sorry?” Teddy asked as she pulled away. “Did you have something to do with it?”

  “No, I didn’t have anything to do with it. In fact, if I could have, I’d have gone back to get your evidence from the two men. But you needed emergency care.”

  It didn’t take Teddy long to realize she’d put her foot in her mouth again. Everything Blake said seemed on the up-and-up, and deep down inside, she knew she could trust him. After all, it was Blake who had made her think defensively, and as a result, the real evidence had been out of the safe house for well over a month. Whatever Lance took was nothing but gibberish, and whoever had the information would see it c
ontained, among other more technical-looking “data,” the names of dead presidents, rock stars, and things you find at a grocery store. It was funny then, but when she realized Lance had lost his life for nothing, she was sad all over again.

  “I’m sorry, Blake. What I said was rude. I appreciate everything you did for me. I still don’t understand entirely why you just didn’t tell me, but I assume you made the decision based on what you felt was best, and I respect that.”

  “Thanks, Teddy. I want you to know I only had your best interests at heart.”

  “I believe you,” she said. “And you should know that the only thing your employee has is garbage.”

  “Garbage? What was in the bag and cooler that Lance handed over?”

  “A whole bunch of useless documents, including fictitious formulas and charts. After both you and Basil told me you had some concern, Basil and I decided to doctor up all the evidence. And since Lance was disappearing regularly, we used that time to make false duplicates of the original documents and stored them in the safe.”

  “So you mean to tell me they don’t have anything?”

  “Nope! I hid the originals, including all the original blood samples, in a safe location.”

  “So that explains it,” Blake said.

  “Explains what?”

  “Let me show you.” Blake pulled out the Washington Herald and gave it to Teddy. On the front page was a picture of Teddy and a story saying she was wanted for questioning in regard to the murder of Lance St. John.

  Blake and Teddy now headed to the den, where, hidden behind a sliding door, was a seventy-two-inch high-definition television. They decided to see what the pundits were saying, especially considering that Teddy had been one of their own.

  “Hey, I’ve seen him before. Agent Walls,” Blake said as they watched coverage of the case. “He was with Eli at the safe house.”

  “I know him, too,” Teddy replied calmly. “I don’t think we’ve met but his voice sounds familiar. I spoke to him on the phone. He called me on my private line when they found Kennedy’s body. He was also the agent Lance spoke to when he was asked to identify Kennedy’s body. Wait a minute … wait a minute … I do know where I’ve seen this guy before. He was the lead agent on the scene the night Mayor Whitherspoon was killed. That’s it! He must have been at the other crime scenes, too; I just didn’t notice him. Usually when I arrived at a crime scene, I would only interact with the lead agent, and since he was never lead, we never interacted. He has to be the guy who’s been leaving all the clues.”

  “What clues?” Blake asked as he tried to follow where Teddy was going with her epiphany.

  “After Isabella was killed, I left the bureau and took a break. About six years into my hiatus, a string of high-profile murders drew me back into the game. My first case dealt with the death of Senator Janice Stonegill from New Jersey and the second was that of Detroit’s youngest-ever mayor, Tracy Hartman. Both deaths were mysterious and neither case has ever been officially solved. But, at each scene, I found evidence specific to Isabella.”

  “Evidence? Like what?”

  “On the side table in Stonegill’s bedroom was an article on Isabella, about the fact she would probably be assuming a major post within the National Institutes of Health and that her work involved developing cures for infectious diseases. The evidence found in Mayor Hartman’s summer cottage was also telling. He too had an article, but this one was written by Isabella. In it, she was disputing the notion that HIV was created by the government. Mayor Hartman was known to have said on several occasions that he felt HIV was a government conspiracy.

  “I didn’t put any of this together until Whitherspoon was killed. Like the others, he too had been questioning the rate of HIV in the District. He had even gone so far as to have a sit-down meeting on the subject with Commerce Secretary Rachel McClendon. Who, by the way, was also mysteriously murdered.”

  “Sorry, Teddy, but I’m still not following,” Blake said. “What does this have to do with Agent Walls?”

  “Walls was likely at those scenes, too. This cat, whoever he is, has probably been at every major crime scene that has involved a high-ranking public official who publicly questioned the origin of HIV. Now get this, at each crime scene, there was a piece of evidence that led back to Isabella. No other agent but me would recognize the connection.”

  Blake asked, “So was there a message waiting for you when Whitherspoon was murdered?”

  “Yeah,” Teddy replied. “When Whitherspoon was killed, a song by the Manhattan Lovers called “I Got Your Girl” was playing. This was the same song playing at our home when Isabella was kidnapped. When I followed the music, it led me to the mayor’s laptop. The song was the background music accompanying the work of a local artist named Santiago Escobar.”

  “Okay, now I’m really confused,” Blake said. “Santiago Escobar?”

  “Yeah, a young Hispanic artist who’d been featured at my mother’s annual art social. It was there I first met Kennedy. Had it not been for Santiago and the enormous award he received from this guy at the event, I would never have met Kennedy. This guy was so inspired by Santiago’s work and his life story, he established a Young Artist Endowment Award and a foundation to support it, on the spot. And then you know what he did?”

  “No,” Blake replied, smothering a grin. “What did he do?”

  “He made a ten million dollar pledge for ten years — the largest artist award ever given to an urban artists’ association. He even wrote the first check from his personal checkbook and presented it to Santiago and Kennedy then and there. So, when I heard the music and saw it was coming from the mayor’s laptop, which was showing Escobar’s work, I knew then that Kennedy was in danger, probably already missing. My instincts tell me it was Walls who pulled up the website and left it there for me to find.”

  “That’s it!” Blake said. “Walls must be the third guy in the picture. It all makes sense now!”

  “What picture?” Now Teddy was confused.

  Blake hesitated at first. He knew he would have to explain why he had the picture, how he had gotten the picture, and his connection to the individuals in the picture. And he also knew she would want to know why he hadn’t told her sooner. All legitimate questions. Intellectually, Blake knew he had to maintain as much anonymity as possible, but something inside was telling him to tell her and trust it would be okay.

  “What picture, Blake?” Teddy asked again.

  When Blake sat down on the end of his couch, Teddy could tell that whatever was on his mind, he was in a quandary.

  “What is it, Blake? By now you should know you can trust me. After all, you saved my life, and if we can’t trust each other, then who do we trust?”

  “You’re right, Teddy. I have to trust you, and my spirit is telling me that I can trust you. But I have to warn you that the picture I’m about to show you and the story I’m going to tell you will be painful.”

  “It can’t be any more painful than what we’ve already experienced. Plus, today I know that God will never give me more than I can handle. So show me the picture and tell me the story.”

  Blake left Teddy on the couch and headed to his library, where once again, he opened the safe under the floorboards of his hanging bed. There he kept his most valuable possessions: a picture of his mother and father, letters from Devon when he was in college, Devon’s last letter to him, his birth certificate, the legal documents that established him as the only surviving heir, and the picture.

  With the picture now in hand, Blake could feel his body tensing. So, before he left the room, he prayed.

  Lord, I hope what I’m about to do is the right thing. The last thing I want to do is cause Teddy any unnecessary harm. Please protect her and me and continue to guide our steps. Also, if this is not your will, please stop me before I do something I’ll regret.

  Blake got up and went back to where Teddy was sitting. Without saying a word, he placed the picture on the coffee table. He could tell
immediately she knew what the picture was.

  For eight years, she had seen the image play over and over in her mind — Isabella on the gurney. And like all those other times, Teddy was spooked. “Where did you get this picture?” Teddy yelled as she stood up from the couch.

  “It was given to me by my brother.”

  “Your brother? What brother? You don’t have a brother. I should know; I checked you out and nothing from my intel indicated that you had a brother, or any living family, for that matter.”

  Lord, is this where I find out I made a mistake? Blake was watching Teddy freak out. I could sure use your help right now. “Listen, Teddy, please. Please sit down. I want to tell you everything, but you have to be open to what I’m about to tell you. I know how you must feel, but I promise you I will tell you the truth. Then you can judge for yourself who and what I am.”

  “Blake, if I find out you had anything to do with Isabella’s death, I will personally kill you. I promise.”

  It was obvious to Blake that the rest of the day would be long. The story he was about to unravel included both public and private secrets. He only hoped Teddy would be able to hear the truth and not let her emotions dictate something else. “Please, Teddy, you have to believe me. I had nothing to do with Isabella’s death. In fact, I only found out that the woman in the picture was Isabella right before you contacted me at my office.”

  “So where did you get the picture?”

  “Like I said, I got the picture from my brother.”

  “And, like I said, Blake, you don’t have a brother.”

  “In some respects, you’re now right. My brother died. They say he committed suicide, but I have every reason to believe that the man on the left-hand side of the picture had something to do with his death.”