by G. K. Parks
“What does the OIO have to do with any of this?” O’Connell asked Mark.
“Officially, nothing. But I’ve been looking into things for James since he first received the threats.”
O’Connell looked at me. “Which explains why you work here, why you noticed the sun reflection, and how you got Mr. Martin out of the way.”
“Guess so,” I said. “Did you find anything on the other building? I don’t know what I saw, but like I said, I was expecting shots fired, not an explosion.”
He hesitated because it wasn’t something he should be able to discuss, but I didn’t know if he was a bend the rules kind of guy or not. “We’ll let you know what we find,” he finally decided. He looked at Mark. “We can read your office in, but just remember, this is our show. It’s a local crime on local ground. You have no jurisdiction, and I don’t want to start a turf war.”
“I appreciate the favor,” Mark said.
Jeffrey appeared in the doorway with a paramedic. “Is now a good time?”
No one disagreed, so the EMT cleaned my arm, removed a shard of glass, and bandaged the wound. He remained silent since he had already seen way too much today to think of this as anything that needed detailed questions or conversation.
“Well, gentlemen, if that’s it, I have a company to run and employees who have been through hell,” Martin said.
I was reluctant to let him go anywhere without an armed guard. I was still being hyper-vigilant and felt guilty for not taking the situation more seriously sooner, before things started exploding.
“If you remember anything else or get any more threats, let me know.” O’Connell handed Martin his card.
Martin looked at it and put it in his pocket before walking out. I caught Mark’s eye and jerked my head in the direction of Martin’s fleeing back. Mark got up and followed him out.
I looked at O’Connell. The two uniformed cops had already left. “I know I can’t ask anything about this case, but if you had to guess, would you say it’s related to his threats?”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
“Coincidences don’t happen often. Are you checking into the employees?” I asked.
“You say you understand I can’t talk about the case, and yet, you still want to talk about the case. Kinda funny how that works, don’t you think?”
“I’m asking about procedure, not the case.” I was splitting hairs, but he let me get away with it.
“We interviewed everyone in the building and everyone outside. We’re canvassing the area to see if anyone’s seen anything. And don’t worry, we will check into what was going on in the other building. If you had to guess, what floor would you say?”
“Maybe seven. I can’t be sure.”
“It’s a start.” He handed me his card. “You think of anything else…”
“I’ll let you know,” I finished for him. He smiled politely and left.
I sat alone in Martin’s office. I didn’t realize how much time had passed; it might have been a few minutes or a few hours. The floor was dead. Bad choice of words, I scolded. Griffin was either hiding somewhere or maybe she left for the day. I wasn’t sure. Eventually, Mark and Martin came back to find me in the same spot.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Mark asked, concerned by my lack of movement.
“I’m fine. I was just letting everything seep in.” After the initial adrenaline rush had worn off, I had shut down, but they didn’t need to know that. “Some coffee would be nice, though.”
“I’ll go make some,” Mark offered. “You have a pot in your office, right?”
I nodded. My door was open since I hadn’t bothered to shut it after being questioned.
Martin sat next to me. “Hell of a day. Are you sure you’re okay?” He absently brushed his fingers against my bandage.
“I’m fine, just adrenaline crash. Nothing some caffeine can’t fix. Are you okay?”
“Thanks to you, but I’m sick of this bullshit.”
I was too. Maybe I had signed on to a job I wasn’t prepared to handle. All leads had been dead ends, and now we probably had some dead bodies to add to the mix.
Mark returned, balancing three cups of coffee in his two hands. “Here.” He handed out the mugs. “I think you need to up your security here and at home. I can have some of my guys keep an eye on things for you. They are always looking for opportunities to moonlight and make a little extra cash.”
Martin was going to protest, but before he could say anything, words started pouring out of my mouth without my permission.
“I’ll do it,” I announced to everyone’s surprise, including my own. “If you want, I can stay with you around the clock until we stop the asshole or assholes behind this. You’ll probably want to have more security than just me, but…”
Martin cut me off. “Okay.” He almost sounded relieved.
Stupid, I screamed at myself. What in the world are you thinking?
I looked at him quizzically. “That was too easy? What’s your endgame?” I was getting a feel for my boss, and if he was relieved, then he must have planned it all along. I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Well, isn’t it just the natural next step for the girlfriend to move in, especially after a life-threatening experience?” he asked innocently.
Mark almost choked on his coffee. I continued to stare at Martin. Was he really this good at manipulation? After Mark recovered from his sputtering coughs, he turned to us.
“Anything you want to tell me, Marty?” he asked.
“You mean besides the fact the whole undercover security idea we agreed was a very bad idea still got enacted?” I asked, recounting how, despite my protestations, Martin still implemented his covert plan with me being the undercover security in spite of my positively overt position at his company, but Martin shushed me.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he insisted.
“Too late to back out now,” Mark said, “but really, Alex, I thought you had better taste in men.”
“What can I say? I must be slumming it with millionaire CEOs.” I smiled winningly at Martin. “Darling, if you expect to keep me happy, I could use some diamonds. They are a girl’s best friend.”
Mark chuckled, and Martin rolled his eyes.
“Guess we should probably be on a first name basis, sweetheart,” Martin replied coolly.
My diamond comment must have struck a nerve, and I acquiesced begrudgingly but only for use in public. The last time I referred to him as James, he staged a fake robbery. “Okay. I guess I’ll grab my things and settle in at your place,” I said.
We locked up the offices, and the three of us headed downstairs. Police officers were stationed in the lobby, along with MT security personnel. Outside was roped off with crime scene tape, and investigators continued to work the scene. O’Connell stood outside, talking to someone from the bomb squad. I glanced at him as we walked around the crime tape on our way to the parking garage.
“I’ll take Marty home,” Mark said as we got closer to the garage. “Gather your things and meet us there.”
I agreed, and we went our separate ways. Roommates are always so much fun, I thought wryly.
Nine
The drive home had been peaceful, but I was beginning to think this was the worst idea I ever had. Back out now, the voice in my head kept repeating. I did my best to ignore it and instead grabbed my go-bag, which was already full of a weekend’s worth of supplies. Something I learned at the OIO, you could be whisked off at a moment’s notice, so always be prepared. I pulled out a suitcase and put more practical items inside: work clothes, a hairdryer, makeup, a side arm, and a box of bullets. Then I unplugged the unnecessary appliances and adjusted the air conditioner, put a timer on the light in the living room, and picked up my gym bag.
With my three bags in hand, I left my apartment for what I hoped would only be a few days. Realistically, I knew it would be a few weeks, at the very least. Our leads in the case were nonexistent. It was time we s
tarted overturning different stones or maybe just breaking a few until answers appeared.
I drove to Martin’s, enjoying the last few minutes of solitude. Arriving at his compound, I was once again amazed at its magnitude and architectural design. It was a large estate on the outskirts of the city, secluded from passersby and traffic by a hidden private road that led to a long driveway. The building itself was four stories; the bottom consisted of a completely finished garage resembling an expensive car dealership’s showroom. Everything was password and key code access only. I dialed Martin’s cell phone.
“I’m outside,” I said when he answered. “Can you buzz me in or something?” I needed to further analyze his home security measures, but first, I had to get into the house.
“Sure, south side garage?”
I glanced at the electronic compass on my dash. “I think so.” There was a possibility I was directionally challenged.
“Okay, be there in a minute.”
The garage door opened, and Marcal directed me into a parking space. Next to the expensive custom cars, my inexpensive subcompact looked painfully pathetic and homely. Marcal came around and opened my door.
“Carry your bags, miss?” he asked in a polite tone.
“That’s okay. I can do it.” When one is born with a silver spoon in his mouth, like Martin was, it was probably easy to grow accustomed to having help for the simplest tasks, like carrying bags.
Marcal went back to whatever he was doing, probably standing around waiting for someone to need the garage door opened. I felt sorry for the man, but I was sure, despite all of his faults, Martin was very generous in his employees’ compensation. He had been with mine.
The door at the top of the staircase opened, and Martin stuck his head into the garage. “Care to join the party, Miss Parker? Alex,” he corrected. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”
“I’m on my way.” I headed for the staircase, but to my surprise, he descended the stairs and took the duffel and gym bag from my shoulder and carried them up. I gave him a sideways glance and followed him into the house.
Mark was inside setting up some type of surveillance camera feed on a monitor, and he waved in my general direction, never looking up from the screen.
“Do you have a floor preference?” Martin asked as we passed the kitchen and living room on our way to a back staircase. I had only been in the house once and was quickly realizing how unfamiliar it was. Just another reason why this was a bad idea.
“Floor preference?” I repeated, unsure what he meant.
He grinned. “Here at Chateau Martin,” he adopted a French accent, “our guests have a choice of either a second or third floor suite.”
“It doesn’t really matter.” I wondered if he missed his life’s calling to be a bellhop or hotel concierge.
“Third floor it is then.” He returned to his normal speech pattern. We went up another flight of stairs, and he showed me to the guest suite in the eastern wing. It was a spacious room, larger than my apartment. It had a sitting room, bedroom, private bathroom, and French doors that opened onto a terrace overlooking an Infinity pool. “There are clean towels in the bathroom and under the cabinet. The bedclothes are fresh, but if you need additional pillows or blankets, they’re in the closet.” He pointed to a doorway.
“You didn’t have to go to so much trouble. I could have slept on the couch.”
“Nonsense, you’re doing me a favor, so you should be comfortable. I’ll let you get settled, and you can meet us downstairs whenever you’re ready.”
I nodded, and he left the room. I opened the closet and then the drawers. I checked out the bathroom and the cabinets. Everything was where he indicated it would be, and the rest was empty space. I took out my gun, debating whether I should be armed at all times, but I decided to see what Mark was setting up before I walked around the house like Rambo and stowed the gun back in the bag. I made sure the French doors were locked and pulled the curtains over the doors and windows. I didn’t like having an outside entrance or exit in my room. It didn’t seem like a great option when there were people trying to kill you or, in this case, Martin.
“That was quick,” Martin said as I descended the stairs.
“Well, I didn’t think I needed to dress for dinner,” I retorted. “What are we working on?” I leaned over Mark’s shoulder to look at the screen.
“I’ve set up a constant feed on a single screen that way all entrances and exits can be monitored. I’ve also installed a few cameras in the hallways and around the exterior, and I have the feed alternating on this monitor.” He indicated a second screen I hadn’t noticed. “I’ve set it up so Marty can wire it directly into his home security system and use the cameras as motion sensors if need be.”
“Is there a direct line to the home security firm or 911 dispatch?” I tapped a key to manually alternate the camera feed.
Mark looked at Martin. “Where does your home security system direct a problem?”
“It’s a two-step process. First, the security firm checks to make sure it wasn’t accidental, and then the police are notified.”
“ETA in the event of an emergency?” I asked. It felt good to be in control again.
“Not sure. They’ve promised within five minutes, but I’ve never had to use it,” Martin replied, rubbing the stubble on his chin as he thought about it.
“Okay. Hopefully, we won’t have to test it out,” Mark echoed my thoughts exactly.
“I’ll need a tour of the house and grounds,” I piped up. “I need to know where you have security and what types of security. How many employees do you have? Maids? Cooks? Personal bodyguards? What kind of access do they have? The whole shebang.”
Martin almost laughed. “Do I really seem that pretentious to you?”
“I’m going to assume that’s rhetorical.” I refused to give him a straight answer, and he feigned being insulted. Mark laughed.
“There’s Marcal. He’s my go-to guy. You.” Martin counted people off on his fingers. “There’s a cleaning lady, Rosemarie. She comes in twice a month, and Marcal lets her in. Anyone else I’m missing?”
“You mean there are people trying to kill you, kidnap you, or blow you up, and you don’t have any personal security?”
“What do you think I hired you for?”
Okay, so maybe he had a point, but one person was not a security detail. Plus, I wasn’t originally hired to be a twenty-four hour bodyguard. “Decoration?” I suggested. “Had I known, I would have recommended hiring full-time bodyguards. Some big, burly men with names like Bruiser, Brawler, and Killer.”
“Brawler and Killer were busy.” He smirked. “Plus, you’re much smarter and a lot easier on the eyes.”
I glared at him.
“Okay, kids, play nice,” Mark interrupted. “Let’s take a tour of the house, see what blind spots we might have missed, if there are any doors ajar or windows open.” He stood between us.
“Oh.” Martin grabbed a tablet off the table. “We can bring this along. It’s a mobile version of the monitors. We can watch ourselves walk the perimeter.” He seemed like a kid wanting to play cops and robbers once again.
Over the next two hours, I got a very detailed view of the entire estate, inside and out. Martin’s sleeping quarters and private office were on the fourth floor. He also had French doors with a balcony, but being that high up wouldn’t pose too much of a risk, I hoped.
The security system and additional cameras Mark set up did a decent job covering the grounds. Each entrance was keypad and card required. It made sense why Martin never felt the need for more personal security or staff; his house was well-protected. Any unwanted entry would be loudly announced, and the police would be called.
Mark assured me Rosemarie and Marcal were on the level, and both had worked for Martin for at least a decade. Once we were all satisfied the compound was secure and I was familiar enough not to wander into the garden while looking for the bathroom, we returned to the seco
nd floor.
“Everything’s set. I’ll try to get some of my guys to patrol around or at least drive by periodically to make sure everything is okay,” Mark reassured us. “Plus, Alex is here. She’s like a pit bull, only scarier.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“It’s been a long day. Things are as secure as they can be, at least for now. I would stay to keep an eye out, but I have to get back to work. We were in the middle of planning an op when I got the message about the explosion. I will check in with you in the morning,” Mark promised.
“No problem. I’m sorry I kept you this long, Jabber.” Martin extended his hand.
“Not a problem. Catch you tomorrow.”
After Mark left, Martin turned to me. “Alex, can I interest you in some dinner?” He seemed to deflate as he slumped into a chair. The events of today weighed on him, and he had been going nonstop since it all began.
“Sit down, relax.” I got up and went into the kitchen. “I can probably scrounge something up for both of us.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Don’t get used to it. Just because I’m pretending to be your girlfriend doesn’t mean I’m going to start cooking or cleaning for you, not on a regular basis, anyway. But today things blew up, literally, so I got this.”
“Okay.”
We had a lot to discuss, but tonight, neither of us was up for it.
Ten
I awoke with a start. There was someone in the room. I heard a noise. My thinking was garbled, and I grabbed my gun from the table and pointed it directly at the cause of the sound as I tried to blink the sleep from my eyes.
“Don’t shoot. It’s just me,” Martin said in a soothing voice, his hands slightly raised. He was wearing swimming trunks and nothing else.
“What are you doing? What time is it?” My brain wasn’t functioning. Where was I? How did I get here? I thought back. Last night, after dinner, I stayed downstairs on the couch, checking out the surveillance feed and trying to work out new leads. I had gotten my handgun, just in case. “I must have fallen asleep.”