by E B Corbin
The café owner nodded at the empty mug. "Let me get you a refill for that cider."
When she returned with it, she glanced around to make sure no one needed immediate attention before she pulled out a chair for herself.
"Is it all right if we talk while you're eating?" Vicki smiled at her. "I like to get a feel for my customer-- especially if there's a chance they'll return. And I'd like to apologize for the sheriff. He's only been in here once before so I don't know what brought him in today. Sorry if he upset you."
"I'm afraid it's because of me he dropped by. He and I don't get along as I'm sure you noticed."
Vicki grinned. "He and I don't get along, either, so we have that in common."
Roxanne pointed to the bowl of chili with her spoon. "This is delicious! I'll be definitely be back for more."
"I'm glad you like it. I wasn't sure that a vegetarian place would go over in such a small town, but then I thought, what the heck! Give it a try."
"How long have you been open?" Roxanne asked.
"About six months now. At first, I got some curiosity seekers but it's settled down to a few regulars. Most of them are transplants from bigger cities and happy to have the variety. That big diner on the edge of town gets most of the locals and hunters, but I'm happy with my little slice of the pie."
Roxanne couldn't let Vicki labor under a false impression. "Well, I have to admit that I'm the, um, well... sort of owner of that diner."
"Oh my gosh! You're Roxanne Boudreaux? I've heard about you."
"Good things, I hope," she said. "I've been meaning to come in and introduce myself but it's been a little hectic."
"I can relate to that. I never thought I'd get up and running. It takes some adjusting." Vicki paused. Then she raised big coffee-colored eyes filled with compassion. "I'm so sorry to hear about your house. You must be bummed out!"
"It's disturbing, I'll say that." She took another spoonful of chili.
"So that's why you're staying at Kate's place." Vicki pulled her chair closer to the table. "I didn't think she was open for business yet."
"She's not, exactly, but she was kind enough to offer me a place to stay. You know Kate?"
"Not as well as I'd like to," Vicki admitted. "She came in with Jonathon and her brother--have you met Pete?"
Roxanne nodded.
"Oh, listen to me, babbling on, I'll let you get back to your lunch." Vicki pushed back her chair and stood. "I'm not usually so nosy, honest."
"I enjoyed your company." Roxanne raised her spoon for emphasis. "Aside from Kate, I don't know too many locals close to my age. My work brings me in contact with a lot of the older generation--not that I don't like them. It's just pleasant to meet someone with a different outlook. And your food is wonderful, too." She beamed at Vicki.
"Thank you." The young woman returned the smile. "I hope you come in often, but I imagine you're well fed at the B&B."
The two men finished their meal and stood by the counter signaling they were ready to pay. As Vicki rushed off to take care of them, Roxanne marveled at the energy the woman exuded. If only she had half as much vitality.
When her phone rang and buzzed against the table, she checked caller ID expecting it to be Callahan. Instead, Sylvia's name appeared on the screen and she immediately felt guilty for not keeping her partner informed.
"Oh, Sylvia, I am so sorry I didn't get in today and I apologize for not calling," she blurted before the other woman could utter a word.
"Nonsense. You're your own boss. You don't need to check in with me all the time." Sylvia's voice held no reproach. "I just wanted to tell you that Mrs. Haynes has been calling for you all morning. I didn't want to give her your private cell phone number, but she sounds more distraught every time she calls. She wouldn't tell me what she wanted."
"Oh, God," Roxanne groaned. The small town grapevine worked faster than a Lear jet. The woman must have heard about the lawsuit against her son, Bryan. "If she calls again, tell her I'm not available today."
"Are you sure that's what you want me to do?" Sylvia asked.
"Yes...no...I don't know," Roxanne stuttered. "I'm just not ready to confront another angry parent."
"Well, she didn't sound angry--she sounded upset."
"Whatever. I'll call her sometime this week, I promise."
"I'm sorry I got you involved in this mess," Sylvia said. "Ruthie's been calling, too. She can be quite a handful, but I've known her forever and can't turn her away. I'm trying to convince her to take a breather but it's hard. If it were my daughter, I'd probably react the same way."
"I understand. What happened to Sandy is awful. But since we have no proof, there's not much we can do. Hopefully, Cummings will come through with a settlement."
"I don't know if it will be enough to satisfy Ruthie." The older woman sounded hesitant.
"I doubt anything will satisfy her, short of seeing those punks exposed and doing jail time. Unfortunately, we don't have a snowball's chance of that the way things stand." Roxanne spoke softly to avoid being overheard by the other customers.
"I know. I need to make Ruthie calm down. She's not helping Sandy by pushing it," Sylvia said.
"That's an understatement," Roxanne grumbled. "It's almost impossible to do what's right for both of them. All I can say is I'm working on it. Maybe something will come up to change one of their minds or I'll have an epiphany."
"You have so many problems of your own. Thank you for trying to help Ruthie and being so understanding."
"Hey, it's my job." She attempted to lighten the mood. "It's why I get the big bucks."
"You're a gem."
Roxanne heard the office phone ringing in the background.
"You better get that. We don't want to pass up any business."
"Right." Sylvia snapped into business mode. "So, you'll be in tomorrow?"
"More than likely." She didn't want to make any promises. "I'll call you."
She dropped the phone back into her purse, wiped her mouth and was about to go to the counter to pay when her phone pinged, indicating she had a message. Thinking it was Callahan wanting to know why she wasn't back at the B&B yet, she groaned and thumbed the message button to silence without looking at it. First she'd pay for her meal.
While she loved the convenience of having access to a phone anywhere, sometimes she longed for the luxury of uninterrupted time.
Roxanne stopped by the exit to check the text before braving the cold where her gloveless fingers would quickly freeze. To her surprise, it was not Callahan but an unknown number.
When she opened the message, she stared at the photo for a long moment before sticking her phone in her pocket and dashing toward the B&B.
- 23 -
When Roxanne rushed into the B&B, Callahan was at the kitchen table, working on his laptop. He looked up and saw her anxious expression.
"What's wrong?"
Her lungs still smarted from the race to get there. After she caught her breath, she stuttered, "It's... it's... Roxy." She pulled her phone from her pocket, but it seemed to take forever to turn on. When the message popped up, she handed the device to Callahan. She had no desire to look at the image again: Roxy tied to a chair, staring defiantly at the camera while someone held a copy of a newspaper with today's date beside her.
The accompanying message was short and sweet.
Give us the $ by 10 tonite or she will die. No excuses, no delays. Will text u location to meet 1 hr before. Come alone, no cops, no mates, no hidden backup.
WE WILL BE WATCHING!
Callahan's face tightened with anger as he stared at the message, while she felt the blood draining from her own.
"Doesn't give us a lot of options. Is this the same number as your old phone?" He held up the phone with the image still visible.
"Yeah."
"So it could have been anyone who knew your old number."
His reasoning baffled her. "Most everyone who has it lives in Pittsburgh. None of them know anything abou
t Roxy." She made a grab for her phone.
He kept the device just out of her reach. "Somehow the kidnappers found your number."
"How many of your people have it?" She decided it was time to confront him with her doubts.
"All of them," he sighed. "You don't really think it's one of us, do you?"
"Makes more sense than my contacts from Pittsburgh."
"What about this Conor fellow you've been hanging with?" His distrust of the Irishman rivaled only Conor's suspicions about him. But she resented being lumped with the long-time IRA agent.
"Hanging with? He grabbed me from the street and again from the motel room. I haven't exactly been meeting with him of my own free will." She glared at him.
"No sense arguing about it." He lowered the phone. "If we had time, our guy in DC could run a trace on it."
"We can forward it to him, if that helps." She had no clue how these techies went about tracking IP addresses and things.
"Doesn't give Ted much time. But it's worth a try." Callahan typed in a phone number and sent the text with a short message. "We'll see if anything breaks."
"So, what do we do now?" she asked. "They didn't mention where I need to deliver the cash. They must have a new location."
"They'll contact you again, probably around nine tonight. Ted can try to trace it. Maybe we'll get lucky."
"How big is Allegheny National Forest?" Roxanne hung her coat on a nearby peg as they talked. Her body still tingled from her run through the cold, and the kitchen heat started to make her sweat.
"Over 800 square miles." He lifted his hands before she could react. "But we only have to search about a quarter of it."
"So only 200 square miles." She dropped into the chair next to him. "We'd have to get damn lucky."
"We might."
"We might find Jimmy Hoffa, too, but I'm not counting on it." She placed her arms on the table and rested her head in her hands.
"You never know. He's got to be somewhere."
Ignoring his remark, she pushed away from the table to pace the kitchen. "Where's Kate? And Puka?" Panic hit her when she realized that her happy-go-lucky dog wasn't around to greet her.
"Kate said she needed to restock the pantry. She went to pick up Jonathon at school and took Puka with her. They'll be back soon. Why don't you sit down?"
"I can't." She swung around and started in the opposite direction. "There must be something I can do while we wait. What about the money? Did you get it or am I just going to deliver a bag of paper?"
"Relax. We've got the money."
Roxanne recalled his mention of having access to counterfeit money. "When did you get it? How?"
"Gabe brought it with him. It's hidden in Gramps' secret safe right now. Almost impossible to tell it from the real thing."
"Where did it come from? Originally, I mean. You said it's counterfeit, right? How did the Department of State get it?" She stood still after her volley of questions, searching Callahan's face--from his eyes to the grim line of his mouth.
"We...sort of borrowed it. We've recorded the serial numbers and are ready to send out an alert on them if necessary. So even if these guys get the money and escape, they can't spend it."
"Great," she muttered. "You think they'll get away."
"Not far," he said. "I received some new info from Ireland this morning. They think the money's staying in the States. Interpol intercepted contact between some bigwig with the IRA and a few of the best hackers in the US."
"Not explosives or guns? They're spending it on hacking?" Her voice rose in disbelief.
He nodded. "Fake news and hacking can cause a world of trouble. Just look at our last election. You'd be surprised how many people believe what they read on Facebook or Twitter or some other internet site."
"But these guys are fighters not thinkers. What do they hope to accomplish?"
"Probably more than all the bombs and killings in the last hundred years. It's a smart move. Cause political and social turmoil with nothing but words. Reach more people, too. The Russians and North Koreans are particularly good at it. I guess the IRA decided to give it a try." Callahan watched Roxanne resume pacing.
"But they've been blowing up boats and kidnapping people--not exactly peaceful." She stopped to lean against the counter and face Callahan. "Why change their tactics now?"
"Hackers...good hackers...can make fake news seem almost real. We're not talking some lunatic conspiracy theorist spouting off about pizza parlors and baby theft rings--which caused enough trouble, by the way. We're talking big, complex issues and agendas that can't be unmasked easily. If it seems the least bit reasonable, people will believe it. Hell, even if it's the most outrageous theory ever, there are people who will fall for it. Facts don't matter anymore. The important thing is how much traffic you generate and how many people click on your site."
He stared at his phone on the table. "It's nothing new. Remember Orson Welles and 'War of the Worlds'? Millions of people around the world, not just in the States, panicked. And that was before cell phones. Imagine what today's communication systems could do with an alien invasion."
"If it's so easy," Roxanne asked, "why would they need five million dollars?"
"Everything's more sophisticated today. To make a realistic fake announcement, you need some expensive equipment and the know-how that goes with it. Something that can't be traced to some geek's cellar. A top-notch techie can name his price. Especially when it's something that needs to be kept under the radar but still look official. I'm pretty sure the IRA doesn't have many computer specialists in their organization. And they could spread the money around. Using one hacker might be too inefficient. For maximum impact, they'd want several sites from different locations."
"Jesus," she said. "My head hurts just thinking about it."
"Then sit down. My head hurts following you around the room." Callahan grabbed her hand as she passed his chair and pulled her into his lap. "Things will work out. We'll get Roxy back."
"I'm not so sure."
As she leaned against him, every rational thought fled from her mind. His chest felt rock solid; his arms a welcome refuge. She took a moment to enjoy feeling secure and protected. Then she shook her head to get back on track.
No way would she let this attraction to him, no matter how compelling, interfere with what needed to be done. "As much as I'd like to believe your fable about the hackers, I can't wrap my head around it. They can't need all that money for fake news. Something's not right." She pulled back to gauge his reaction but kept her hands on his shoulders. "Interpol really believes that's the plan?"
"That's what they claim. No reason they should lie to us; we're on the same side."
"It just doesn't make sense." Roxanne wiggled around on his lap until they were face to face.
"Hey, you could get in trouble doing that." He looked down, then tilted his head to give her the full impact of his lopsided grin.
"Really?" She shifted again, fully intending to stand up after a quick tease.
Callahan grabbed her arms and held her still. "Stop that before we're both sorry."
She smiled at him and tried to pull away. He held her in place. Just as he began to lower his lips to hers they heard the key turn in the front door.
"Damn," he muttered, releasing her.
She patted his cheek as she stood--a feeble substitute for what she actually wanted to do. She couldn't say she was sorry the flirtation was cut short, she enjoyed it too much for her own good. After all, she'd sworn off men, she must not forget that.
"What if they're wrong?" she asked as she headed for the counter again.
"Who?" His eyes remained glazed over and she felt some satisfaction from her effect on him.
"Interpol. Their explanation just doesn't seem right. Why would the IRA, an old time organization, suddenly decide to jump into the twenty-first century using social media?"
Callahan paused before answering as if to collect his wits. "Maybe they decided it's time for a
change." He watched the entrance from the hall, ready to spring into action. Roxanne caught his apprehension and moved to the corner where she had a better vantage point. She relaxed when Puka came loping into the kitchen, followed by Jonathon. Kate struggled at the door with several reusable grocery bags.
Roxanne started for the front entrance to help.
"Stay here. I'll do it." Callahan jumped up, swinging her behind him by her elbows then hurried out of the room.
They brought several bags from Kate's car. "You have enough here to feed an army," he observed as he sat the last bag on the counter.
"I am feeding an army." Kate smiled at him. "I have a big freezer in the pantry. Better to have too much than not enough. Don't you agree?" She turned to Roxanne who had retreated to a spot near the counter, where she remained rooted.
"Uh, what? Food, yes, it's always good to have food."
Kate gave her a puzzled look. "Did I interrupt something?" She arranged a bunch of bananas, some apples and a few oranges in a fancy fruit bowl and raised her eyebrows when no one answered.
"No!" Both voices came out as one.
"We were, um, just discussing why the IRA needed the money after all these years." Callahan took Roxanne's arm and led her over to the table.
"And did you come up with any answers?" Kate prodded as she stuck celery, onions and carrots into the refrigerator's vegetable bin.
"He thinks they want the money for hacking," Roxanne said, relieved at the change of topic, even as the memory of Callahan's embrace continued to warm her.
If Kate picked up on their distracted state, she didn't let on. "Hacking? I don't understand. They need five million dollars for that? I thought you could hack someone from your bedroom."
"You can," Roxanne told her. "I think they want the money for something more onerous."
"Hacking is serious business," Callahan pointed out.
"It is, but I just don't feel it," Roxanne said.
"Interpol seems to feel it."