Once a Hero

by Jan Thompson

  The door to the conference room swung open. Kenichi limped out on his crutches. “All roads lead to Paris, right?”

  Since Jake was the only one there, he assumed Kenichi had directed the question to him. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

  “Oh no. Not this time.” He limped forward, trying not to put pressure on his broken leg in a cast.

  “Where does the road lead?”

  Kenichi kept walking. “Let me check with Bee, and we’ll know for sure.”

  “She’s taking a nap.” Jake tried to be helpful.

  “I’ll wake her up.” He made his way toward some closed doors. “She’s going to want to hear this.”

  Jake wondered how he knew which sleeper cabin was Beatrice’s. And then he remembered that those two had worked together for years.

  Still. “If she’s asleep…”

  “She’ll let me in. I’m her second big brother. By the way, if anybody hurts her, Benjamin and I will go after them with a big stick.”

  That sounded like a threat.

  Halfway down the aisle, Kenichi stopped and knocked on the door. Jake couldn’t hear what Beatrice said from behind the closed door, if she said anything at all. But he stared when Kenichi turned the knob and went inside.

  A lump of jealousy dislodged from Jake’s heart and rolled onto the floor.

  He heard two voices now. At least they had left the door open.

  He quickly returned to his phone with a “so what” look on his face. His ears were perked, listening to what Beatrice was saying. He glanced up to find her knocking on another door. Raynelle’s?

  Inside the cabin there was a perpetual sound—something like a loud air-conditioner—that muffled distant voices. Even though the Gulfstream was smaller than a commercial airliner Jake had flown in, the distance between him and the two of them were still far enough away that he could not make out what they were saying to each other.

  Thankfully, the voices came closer.

  “Jake?”

  Jake looked up, trying to be nonchalant. He wasn’t sure why he was this way. If his older brothers could see him now, they’d never let him hear the end of it.

  “Meeting in five,” Beatrice said.

  Jake barely looked at her. He couldn’t help himself. Never in his life had he experienced such a feeling, as if only he could want her, have her, and no one else.

  He couldn’t recall his last girlfriend making him go topsy-turvy like this.

  What’s happening to me?

  When Beatrice smiled at him, his eyes clouded over. He knew then that he would protect her at all costs.

  “Jake,” Beatrice said his name again, softly this time.

  Without waiting for him to reply, Beatrice leaned down and kissed his forehead.

  “What was that for?” Jake managed a smile even as he was all undone inside.

  “A stamp of approval.” Beatrice laughed.

  “A what?”

  She waltzed off. “See you at the meeting. Don’t be late.”

  Jake felt all warm and fuzzy and all giddy inside.

  A stamp of approval.

  That woman is full of surprises.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “They could have put it in a Faraday bag,” Kenichi said, trying to explain why the signal was lost over the Pacific Ocean. “No signals go in and out of the bag.”

  Across from him, Raynelle walked in, her hair all askew. Beatrice felt bad that they’d had to wake her up. Beatrice wanted Raynelle to be in the meetings so she would know what was going on firsthand. That way, Benjamin would have nothing to say about Raynelle being only a bodyguard.

  She was more than a bodyguard. Beatrice considered Raynelle an invaluable member of her team. She wished that Benjamin would at least be nice to Raynelle, whenever or not he liked her.

  “Where are they heading?” Jake asked.

  He was sitting next to Beatrice. In fact, he had followed her to the conference room and sat down after she did so that he could choose to sit next to her. Whenever Kenichi talked, he reached over to pat her thigh.

  It was most distracting.

  Surely it could not be because Jake had seen Kenichi enter her cabin. Surely not that?

  Perhaps Jake didn’t know that there was nothing going on between Beatrice and Kenichi. They were only professional colleagues.

  As far as relationships were concerned, Beatrice was open to Jake. They were two single people without any attachments.

  And yet she wanted to wait for God.

  Just in case Jake was not the one.

  Like Benjamin said, Beatrice had to be careful about thinking with her heart and feeling with her head. She didn’t want to do anything that she would regret later.

  “We know that all roads lead to Paris,” Kenichi said. “That’s Molyneux’s Rome.”

  “So why the circuitous route over the Pacific?” Jake asked. “To throw us off?”

  “Or to show a buyer,” Beatrice said. “We know from extensive research that Molyneux wouldn’t pass off making a buck.”

  “Isn’t the brooch box a reproduction?” Jake asked.

  Beatrice nodded. “It is, but do you know who made it for us?”

  Jake shook his head.

  “The same jeweler who made the original amber brooches in 1976. He wrote down everything he did and he photographed the original.”

  “When we explained to him why we need a second set of amber brooches, he was interested in redeeming his reputation—and possibly himself,” Kenichi said.

  “It must have cost you a fortune.” Jake turned to Beatrice.

  “There was no other choice. Everyone has tried to get Molyneux. What if we have a practical way take her down?” Beatrice asked. “I want her alive to stand trial. In prison, she might have more opportunities to repent and seek God’s forgiveness for all the many murders she had ordered over the years.”

  “That’s what we told the jeweler,” Raynelle added.

  “It was the truth.” Beatrice leaned back in the office chair.

  “Unfortunately, it got the jeweler killed two days later.” Kenichi shook is head. “Such a waste. He was super talented.”

  “The good news is that before he died, he told us what we need to do next, but we need all three brooches for the hidden code to be visible.” Beatrice tapped her iPad and showed it to Jake.

  He leaned toward the iPad. “What am I seeing here?”

  “The design of the original brooches. We’re missing one.” She pointed to the empty tray in the middle of the sketch. “There is a latch, and underneath is an engraved map.”

  “That missing brooch is the key.”

  “Who told the jeweler to put the map in the brooches?” Jake scrunched his eyebrows together.

  “Dad. He must have thought that would get Molyneux out of his hair,” Beatrice said.

  “The jeweler told you that, right? Can you believe him at all?”

  Beatrice wondered what was going on in Jake’s mind. “Five years and ten million dollars later, the information better be good or we’d be set back ten years in our search for the Amber Room.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly done more work than my entire division combined.”

  Beatrice didn’t answer him. Truth be told, she was weary. She wanted this to be the last job she did with Benjamin. After this, she wanted to find a community college somewhere and teach. Teaching seemed like a stable job with a stable income—not that she needed either one. The trust fund their second adoptive parents left them was enough to take care of them for the rest of their lives.

  Beatrice sighed. “I’m assuming you still have your one-amber brooch?”

  “Yes. In my pocket.”

  “What a safe place that is.” Kenichi rolled his eyes.

  “We have a safe in my office,” Beatrice offered. “And actual safe built into the wall.”

  Jake didn’t reply. Instead, he asked, “Where’s the original brooch box?”

  Kenichi looked up from his l
aptop. “No one knows. If Chisolm were alive today, he might be able to tell us.”

  “A lot of things have been lost to history,” Beatrice said. “For all we know, searching for the Amber Room is fruitless. Yet all we really want is to be the first to get there for leverage against Molyneux. I pray she will be arrested peacefully.”

  “She wants the Amber Room so badly that it will be a trap for her,” Jake said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Did she kill your dad for it?”

  Beatrice nodded. “I wonder how many times she tried.”

  “How do you know that Molyneux hadn’t found the Amber Room, or at least more pieces of it?”

  “No one could find all the panels, I don’t think,” Raynelle said. She hadn’t said much in the meeting, so when she did say something, Beatrice listened.

  Kenichi nodded. “For all we know, the original Amber Room is lost. The Russians seem to think so. They’re happy with their reproduction.”

  “I still can’t imagine a chamber where the walls were made entirely of carved amber.” Jake shook his head.

  “The ceiling too,” Beatrice added.

  The eighteenth-century chamber had been a gift from the King of Prussia to Peter the Great of Russia. There it remained until Nazi Germany got wind of it in World War II. Apparently, the Russians failed to protect the room, and everything in it had been lost to the war.

  Or had it?

  “If we don’t find the Amber Room or parts of it, will we lose our trail to Molyneux?” Jake asked.

  “That’s where you come in.” Beatrice gently tapped Jake’s arm, then wondered if she should have. “You interrupted her quest.”

  “I did?”

  “You made her look like a fool, infiltrating her organization for three years,” Kenichi added.

  “Yep.” Beatrice nodded. “She’s going to make an example out of you. She targeted you as a lesson for everyone.”

  Jake’s shoulders sagged. “Am I putting you all in danger?”

  “We’re past that.” Beatrice almost reached for Jake again, but she kept her hands to herself. “You’re one of us now. We’re in this together. Business, you know?”

  “And more,” Jake mouthed.

  But Beatrice read his lips.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Beatrice had a late lunch at two o’clock, and Jake joined her in the galley kitchen as they heated up frozen dinners in the microwave. Beatrice went for chicken tikka masala. Jake opted for chicken pot pie.

  Neither of them wanted the assistance of the flight attendant, who was loading the compact dishwasher nearby. In fact, Beatrice told her to get some rest since the flight to Paris would be long.

  Jake was happy not to have a third wheel in the kitchen. He wanted to every opportunity to be alone with Beatrice.

  To talk.

  Jake tried to contain his heartbeats—if it was possible to do so—but their proximity to each other in the kitchen made him want to wrap his arms around Beatrice’s waist for some reason. At this moment in time, he didn’t understand himself.

  Stay calm.

  He watched Beatrice press the timer on the microwave. In his mind, he wondered what life must be like living on the road—or in an airplane—all year round. He wondered if someday Beatrice might stop flying around and maybe…

  Settle down?

  He cleared his throat.

  “You must be wondering why we’re eating frozen dinners when we could afford this Gulfstream.” Beatrice leaned against a stainless-steel cabinet. She pointed to the unused stove nearby.

  Jake shrugged himself out of his other train of thought. “Sometimes I get home to my apartment famished. There’s no time to cook anything, so I get a takeout or I pop something in the microwave or I make a PBJ.”

  There, he admitted it. There were evenings when he made do with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich only because he had no time to cook or even get a takeout. Work could take over his life, like it had the last three years.

  He couldn’t help it. He liked to work.

  “I like PBJ. Comfort food,” Beatrice said. “What’s your jam?”

  “Blueberry.”

  “Strawberry for me.”

  “What’s your bread?” The microwave pinged. Beatrice took her food out and handed Jake the unlined paper plate that he could cover his bowl with.

  He put his chicken pot pie in the microwave. “Wheat or whatever I have.”

  “I prefer sourdough or sprouted bread—like Ezekiel bread.”

  “Fancy.” Jake said. He opened the refrigerator and looked inside. “What do you want to drink?”

  “Water, please.”

  “Mineral water or plain?”

  “Mineral.” Beatrice stirred her food. “Still a bit cold. I’ll put it in after yours.”

  Jake wanted to offer to take his dish out of the microwave so that she could put hers in, but maybe that was too much work. Two more minutes to go, and she could wait.

  “Is there anything stronger than water and soda? My eyes are about to close on me.” Jake laughed. “I need some caffeine.”

  “Or a nap if you feel sleepy. Just saying.”

  “I don’t want to miss out on our meeting with your brother.” It was the truth. “Do you think he will postpone the meeting so I could get some shut-eye?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “I figured. So where can I get some tea or coffee? Regular, preferably.” Jake looked around.

  Beatrice pointed to a cabinet near them and then to the coffee maker. “There’s a button on it where you can get hot water.”

  “Would you like a cup of tea?” Jake asked.

  “No, thanks. I only drink loose leaf tea and they don’t have it onboard today.” She waited for Jake to take out his plate from the microwave.

  “So why didn’t you ask for it?”

  “Well, here’s the thing with caffeine. It keeps me awake. It gives me a false nothing that I am able to keep going, when in reality, I need to be resting or sleeping if I’m tired.”

  “I know what you mean.” Jake swapped out the plate and put hers back into the microwave.

  Just then the plane shook a bit.

  “Turbulence?” Jake said just before the Captain came on the PA system apologizing like it was his fault the turbulence happened.

  “Do you fly a lot?” Jake had guessed the answer himself, but he wanted to make small talk with Beatrice to keep her engaged.

  Beatrice nodded. “I’m tired of it, to be honest. What wouldn’t I do for a home-cooked meal at the house.”

  “The call of work is strong.” Jake put two tea bags into a ceramic mug and poured hot water over it. He stirred the water, pressing down the tea bags to get the tea out.

  “It’s waning for me. After we turn Molyneux over to you—or the FBI since you don’t have your badge—I will retire from the field.”

  This, Jake had to hear. “You’re thinking of a career change.”

  “I can’t until my brother takes my place and lets me stay home. He won’t leave the house and I can’t make him.” Beatrice folded her arms across her chest. “If we both stay home—at the office—we don’t have anyone to send to the field.”

  “Kenichi and Raynelle?”

  “They have special skills, yes, but they’re in supporting roles. No one is going to think like Benjamin or me.”

  Jake removed Beatrice’s dinner from the microwave. Beatrice placed two trays on the counter for both of them. Jake offered to carry both of them. “Just show the way.”

  Beatrice grabbed a couple of apples from a fruit basket on their way out of the galley kitchen.

  When they sat down in the main cabin, Jake offered to say a blessing for them.

  “Go ahead. We’re both Christians here.”

  “So you knew I’m a believer.” Jake didn’t reach out for her hand, just in case it sent the wrong signal.

  Wrong signal?

  And what might that be?

  Jake had no idea hims
elf.

  “Research goes both ways,” Beatrice replied.

  “How much do you now about me?”

  “Enough.”

  That was all she said.

  “How about you say grace first?”

  “Okay. Sorry.” He closed his eyes. “Lord Jesus, thank You for this food. I pray that You will provide nourishment and healing for our bodies. I pray that You will give us a safe flight to Paris.”

  Then Jake went on, thanking God for their lives and their salvation. He asked for divine help to “defeat the enemy of humankind.”

  “Amen.” Beatrice drank some water first. “Whoa. Your prayer sounded like we were marching into a battlefield against a formidable enemy.”

  “God is the Lord of the Army, after all.”

  “Good point.” Beatrice started eating.

  “So you travel the world to find stolen treasures to return to their rightful owners,” Jake said. He could eat pretty fast but he slowed down now so that he could talk with Beatrice.

  “You’ve done your research. Very good.”

  “Helen’s team did, while I was trying not to get stabbed and killed.”

  “Well, I delegate research too. My brother and Kenichi dig up most of the information, and then I go out there to track down the artifacts. Most of the time we find lost paintings and family heirlooms. But we’re limited to only World War II treasures. Did you know that billions of dollars’ worth of artwork was stolen during the war?”

  “Could you hire more people to help you?” Jake thought the chicken pot pie tasted good, although the chunks of white potato would surely find their way onto his waistline if he didn’t exercise it off.

  “We don’t want to add more people—at least, I don’t.”

  “How does it work?” Jake asked. “Do people pay you to find their lost treasures?”

  “We take a percentage of the appraised value for our hard work.”

  “I’m sure it’s very hard work. Has anyone ever attempted to kill you?” Jake asked it in jest. Surely hunting for treasures couldn’t be as hard as working as an FBI Special Agent.

  “Countless times.”