When they walk through the order line, he winked at her and ordered for both of them. She was surprised he knew her favorite sub, Italian with oil, no onions. In a booth hidden from the front windows he finally said, “I’m sorry for all the cloak and dagger stuff back there, Sara. Because of it, I’m sure you have many questions. As you can imagine, I do to. I work for the government but not in the capacity you’ve been told.”
She nodded her understanding, put her soft drink down, and folded her hands over her wrapped Italian. “I’m listening.” A fair amount of electricity stood between them as she waited for him to continue.
“You can trust me, Sara. I’m one of the good guys.”
“Carl said that about you. But he’s dead, so what does he know?”
“Carl talked about me before he died?”
She could see the panic on his face. “Not before; after.”
He brought his hands to his face, paused, then glanced back at her with a look of tired frustration. “Look Sara, I was wrong to think we could help each other here. You are not stable enough to help yourself.”
“Don’t ‘look Sara,’ me. I have been chased, bugged, romanced, and drugged. I have a husband who doesn’t believe in ghosts but wants me back anyway – probably for my ability to organize his life. My dead son, who was into God-only-knows-what before he died, won’t stay out of my head. My boss is so desperate to hit on me he’s tried drugging me and putting my unconscious body in his bed. My friends are so afraid I’ll do something stupid they dance around on tiptoes to avoid a direct confrontation. My son’s friends have been burgled and killed. I have espionage at my office, and possibly murder. As far as I know every place I go has at least one, if not two or three, listening devices recording my every move. And now, the only man I felt safe with is playing ‘spies are us’ with me. You tell me exactly what I’m supposed to do about that!”
“It would help, Sara, if you wouldn’t broadcast that kind of information across the restaurant.”
He covered her shaking hands as she attempted to open her sub. She felt the warmth of his confidence. “I don’t want to know how you communicate with Carl, it’s too bizarre. But you did say he told you I was one of the good guys. He was right. I was his contact and his friend. He died before he could reach me.”
“Then you don’t believe he took his own life, either?”
He shook his head. “It was too easy. The evidence was probably planted.”
“That’s what I thought but nobody believes me.”
“I deal in black and white, Sara. A ghost, even of my best friend, talking in your head is not reality.”
“Then, how do you suppose I came by this opinion of you, of his death, of the knowledge that bugs are planted everywhere I’m likely to go? Did you know there was a tail on my car?”
She watched the steady look on his face. “Of course you know. You probably put it there.”
“I know about it; I didn’t put it there. Tell me what else you know.”
“Why is a bug in your car?”
“I’m not the only player. That’s why we couldn’t talk in your office. There’s a leak in the organization. I don’t trust anyone. Neither should you.”
“There’s a leak at Starr Shine, too. Isn’t that a coincidence?”
“I don’t believe in coincidence.”
“You’re asking me to trust you. At this point, the only one I do trust one hundred percent is dead.”
“You don’t trust your friends? The artist? His mother?”
“I suspect that if I trust them with this information, I could put them in danger. But I think it’s already too late for that. Jordie’s place was ransacked and Leonardo got the blame. I suspect this spy business was also the reason my son’s friend, Stacey, is dead. But you know that, too, because you were at the funeral home wearing a beard. You were at the motel in Portsmouth, too, weren’t you?”
“What makes you think that?”
“I remember your eyes.”
“I was wearing sunglasses.”
“Not the morning I checked out. It just took me a while to connect it. Tell me why I should trust you.”
“Because your son did.”
“And now he’s dead.”
“And he still trusts me.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts.”
***
Sara picked apart her sub eating one tidbit at a time. At this rate, it would be morning before she was finished. Matthew could see she was scared and weary. Hell, so was he. “Sara, tell me what you know.”
“I think you already know what I know. Why don’t you tell me why my son died?”
“You found the key ring, didn’t you?”
“If you were listening last night, you know the answer to that.”
“What else did you find?”
She shook her head.
“What does Ron know?”
“He says he has printouts from internet sites, some pictures and a flag.” She looked down at the mess of shredded lettuce in front of her.
“Have you seen the pictures?”
“No, he just told me about them. He says they look like some kind of an initiation ceremony. He’s been investigating. Carl says he has to stop, says he’s been warned.”
She looked up, tears glistening in her eyes. “Ron’s broken ankle wasn’t an accident, was it? The vehicle that nearly ran him down was a black SUV with tinted windows. Yours is black with tinted windows. Where were you last Saturday?”
“Sara, it wasn’t me.”
“Prove it.”
“If I was the enemy, you would be dead.”
“Oh, how comforting.”
Her spunk was back. That could be a dangerous thing.
“Where were you?”
“Watching you. You were sitting on your porch, rocking in your patio chair with your eyes closed. I was fantasizing about what could have happened the night before. I think you were, too. Your neighbor came up with a basket of Indian corn and a pumpkin. Then you got the call.”
“Where were you?”
“I was one street over in the trees.”
“What are you all waiting for? Why are you all just sitting back and watching. If you’re the good guys, do something!”
“Calm down, Sara. Your voice is carrying again. Carl took something important. The bad guys want it back. Apparently the bad guys were doing business with other bad guys, who also want it. The good guys, that’s me by the way, want it destroyed. As I said before, there’s a leak in the agency. Some would like to keep it for themselves.”
“Then why not just let it go if nobody can find it? It’s gone, end of story.”
“Apparently there’s a time factor. It’s dangerous information, important enough to kill for, maybe on a tape, a microchip, or a disk.”
“Then, why warn Ron to stop investigating?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they’ve already checked Ron’s place and they don’t want him finding out any more about the bad guys.”
“I think it’s too late for that.”
“Sara, do you know where it is?”
“I wouldn’t even know where to look.”
She was lying, he knew it. “You said you talk to Carl. Why won’t he tell you where it is and what it looks like?”
“He says it’s too dangerous.”
“Aha.”
“You still don’t believe me about him, do you?”
A car backfired in the parking lot. He pulled her head down into her sub wrapper and reached inside his jacket for his weapon. Several other diners looked up, but no one went out to check. Apathy and gullibility, it was what made 9/11 possible. “I’m sorry about this,” he said as he lifted a piece of green pepper from her hair. “Tell me something only he would know about me.”
“He said you are the only other person he trusts one hundred percent, other than me. But he says I can’t tell you about his ability to communicate because you won’t believe. He says your English family
is so hung up on ghosts they give haunted tours in their Yorkshire castle. They wouldn’t do that except for two things. They need the money and they thought they saw a real ghost. When you were twelve you dressed up as a fourteenth century ancestor and scared the crap out of them. He tells me you never told anyone but him. Matthew, I didn’t know you existed until after he died. Why would I know that story if he hadn’t told me?”
“It’s not possible. It’s wishful thinking on your part. I understand you don’t want to let him go. Your mind has been playing tricks on you to preserve his memory and keep him a part of your life. But it’s only in your mind, Sara, and your need to hold on to him.”
“Is the story about you spooking your family real?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“You don’t want to answer me because it is true. Answer me this? If this is all in my head, is the danger in my head, too? Maybe my home, car and office aren’t bugged. Maybe you don’t exist and there are no good guys and bad guys. Maybe I’m just sitting in this fast food restaurant talking to an empty booth.”
“I think the evening is over.” He slid out of his seat. “Come on. I’ll drive you back to your car and you can go play nursemaid.”
“How would I know, Matthew?”
“I don’t know, maybe he wrote it in a journal and you read it?”
“Would a spy keep a journal? That sounds a bit risky to me.”
Out in the parking lot, he walked her to the end of the building and spun her around with her back to him. “Look at the vehicles in this lot.”
“What about them?”
“In addition to mine there’s a black SUV with a roof rack parked in front of the ski shop. Across the lot by the entrance,” he pointed, “is a black Jeep Grand Cherokee with tinted windows.” He spun her around to the left. “And there’s another parked beside the auto repair shop. SUVs with tinted windows are everywhere. I dare say from almost every auto manufacturer. I was not in Greenland on Saturday, I was watching you.”
“And your point, Matthew?”
“I want you to trust me. Please.”
“Listen, my life has become far too bizarre lately. I…” He spun her around to face him and backed her into the side of the building. “What’s going on now?”
“Another black Cherokee just entered the lot. It’s cruising the rows.”
She tried to push his shoulder out of the way. “Please move. I can’t see.”
“It’s circling the row we’re parked in. There are plenty of extra spots this late in the evening; the driver is not looking for a place to park.”
“Please, let me see.” She tried stepping around him.
“Don’t move.”
“Are the windows tinted?”
“Yes. Look, I’m going to work my way around to the other side of the building.
I want to get a good look at his license plate. You stay here, out of sight.”
“Matthew, is he parked in the light?”
“No, he’s just cruising like he’s looking for someone. I don’t think he knows which SUV is mine.”
“This is silly. If he’s bugged your vehicle he knows where it is.”
“Bloody hell, he’s coming around this side of the building.”
He pushed her up against the concrete wall with a mockery of a kiss. Then he lifted his head.
“Where is he, Sara?”
“Let me come up for air, will you?”
Matthew stepped back and she sagged against the cold concrete.
“A black Jeep Cherokee is idling second row from the building. The headlights are still on. I can’t see beyond them,” she said.
“Let’s walk around the back of the building and come up on the other side. Once we’re out of sight, you keep walking and I’ll sprint ahead. I want to tag that bastard. He’s been following me ever since I arrived in Portland.”
“How do you know?”
“I’m trained to know. Start walking.”
CHAPTER 20
“Where the hell have you been? It’s almost eleven!” Ron shouted from the top of the stairs. He was balancing on one leg and a crutch.
“I told you I’d be late. I had several crises to deal with at work.”
“You weren’t at work. I called. Your cell was turned off, too. You look like you’ve been romping around in a field.”
“Calm down, Ron. I had a business dinner and it ran late, not that you have any right to ask. Then, I lost a hubcap when I hit a pothole. I spent thirty minutes wandering around the edge of Route 1 looking for it with just the light from my flashlight.”
“Did you find it?” He didn’t buy her hubcap story. She’d been with another man.
“Yes, it’s in the trunk. I need to clean up; then we can talk.”
She held up a skinned palm with dried blood and dirt stuck to it.
“How did that happen?” What kind of a beast was this guy?
“We’ll talk in a minute.” She walked into the kitchen out of sight.
She was going to make him come all the way down these stairs just to find out what was going on. Hop, clunk, hop, clunk, hop, clunk, he sounded like peg leg Pete in Treasure Island. He was three stairs from the bottom when she finally stuck her head around the kitchen doorway, wiping her face with a kitchen towel.
“Now why did you do that? You’re just going to have to shimmy all the way back up.”
“You’re not a very good liar, Sara. Separation or no, you are still my wife and I don’t like to see you come home battered and bruised. What happened?”
“Nice of you to care, but if I was going home I wouldn’t have fallen and scraped my hand and my knees looking for the damn hubcap. I would have been home an hour ago.”
“You’re going to stick to that story?”
“It’s the truth.”
She leaned back against the banister at the base of the stairs and closed her eyes. He reached out and brushed the back of his hand against her cheek; a trickle of wetness overflowed the path. He dropped the crutch and pulled her into his arms. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re safe now.” He rubbed his palms up and down her back. God, this was tearing him apart.
She spoke into his neck, “It’s not safe; we can’t talk here.”
“What?”
“Sh, can you make it to the patio?”
“Why?”
“Just trust me.”
Minutes later she had him stretched out on a chaise lounge on the patio with the blanket from the den around his legs. The only light came from a canopy of stars overhead and the nightlight over the stove shining through the kitchen slider.
“There is so very much you don’t know. First, the house is bugged.”
“Wait a minute,” he stopped her.
She put a finger to his lips. “Don’t interrupt. When I’m done you can ask questions.”
He thought the strain of everything that had happened had pushed her over the edge. He gently picked up her wounded hand, tested the tenderness and wrapped it in the edge of the blanket.
“Carl was working for the government,” she started. “He was what they call a mole. He smuggled out some really bad stuff to give to his contact and died before he could pass it on. The bad guys want it and the good guys want it. They think he hid it somewhere. Everyone who may have come into contact with him the last few days of his life has been checked, I think by both sides. They all want this stuff back. Nobody knows where it is. When you started researching the things you found, it made the bad guys nervous and they tried to scare you into dropping your investigation. I don’t know who the bad guys are, but I think I can trust one of the good guys. I’ve been told that both this house and your office are bugged – the van maybe, definitely my car, my house and my office. The bad guys even put a bug in the car of the good guys.”
When she first started explaining, he thought she’d become delusional. On top of what he’d found, maybe she wasn’t. “You’re saying Carl was murdered? I mean, you always believed he was murd
ered, but do you have proof?”
“His contact believes it.”
“The bad guys are the Nazi’s, aren’t they?”
She nodded her head, “and, another group from the Middle East. There’s a time value on this stuff. For six months the bad guys thought they had a duplicate of the information. Now they know they don’t. The second group is expecting delivery. The group Carl infiltrated is getting desperate and careless. That’s why Stacey was killed.”
“Oh my God,” he whispered. “Delivery of what?”
The sound of a muffled crash echoed from behind the garage. His brave, beautiful wife stood and slowly picked up one of his crutches holding it like a baseball bat, topside out. “Sara, don’t.” He grabbed the side of the crutch. “It’s probably a coon. There’ve been a lot of them this year.”
“It’s not a coon, just me, Sara,” a British accent whispered from the general direction of the garden shed. “I seem to have gotten tangled up in some wire.”
“Who’s there? Come out where we can see you. We have a phone here and I’m dialing 911.”
“Ron, it’s okay. It’s Matthew.” She pulled his grip from the crutch.
Ron might be slow, but he wasn’t dumb. It figured that the other man in her life would be the Brit. “You might as well come out and stand were we can see you,” Ron said.
“I am trying to. I appear to be standing inside two wire cages.”
Ron laughed. “You put your feet inside two of my tomato cages. When you’ve freed yourself come on over.”
After a pregnant pause the Brit crashed into the side of the garden shed one more time. “This damn wire should be used for booby traps in the Middle East. Doubt they’ve ever come across bloody traps like these before.”
Mourning Dove Page 18