The Enigma Series Boxed Set

by Tierney James

  He chuckled then wiped imaginary perspiration from his forehead. “Whew. I’m glad you came along. I’m not very good with computers. Give me a shovel or a box of shards and I’m a genius.”

  Tessa laughed glancing at the clock. Time to begin. Another ten educators arrived. She took a seat at the closest table and waited for him to begin.

  Within minutes Dr. Ervin began his lesson, which actually turned out to be very useful. She definitely would try this in the coming school year. Two attendees asked lots of questions which were answered with patience and enthusiasm. Copies of the program were passed out as people began to exit.

  “Excuse me, Tessa?” Dr. Ervin began trying to set the computer up for the next session. “Could you wait to make sure I do this correctly?”

  She came to his side and watched. “Perfect. You’re a quick study.”

  He clapped his hands together once. “Wait ‘till I tell Martha I got the hang of it. Martha is my wife.”

  “Yes. You told me on the plane. Packs too much for you.” Tessa felt amused.

  “So I did.” He chuckled. “Would you mind waiting here with my things for just a few minutes? I need to get some water and stretch my legs. I’ll be back in five, plenty of time for you to get to your next class.”

  “Sure. Go ahead.”

  It was more like ten minutes. Tessa remained by the computer, leaning against the table where it rested. Yawning, she looked down to see that the screen had gone black. Fearing the power had been compromised; she reached down and touched the refresh pad. A picture popped up on the screen of a badly crippled navy ship. Across the screen in capital letters read, “REMEMBER THE USS LIBERTY.”

  Sucking in her breath, her eyes lifted to see Dr. Ervin walking into the room chatting with some teachers he invited in from the hall. She hit the escape button and quickly gathered up her things.

  The smile she offered the professor felt fake as she tried to exit. He mumbled a “thank you” when his phone began the Indiana Jones theme song.

  ~~~

  Moving to the computer, the professor hit a few buttons and smiled triumphantly before raising the phone to his ear. “Yes. She saw it.” He listened a second before answering. “Because she was pale as a ghost, that’s how I know. Besides I had the computer programmed to her touch. It let me know when the picture was accessed.” Dr. Ervin positioned the phone between his shoulder and ear as he pulled up the next presentation on his computer. “So how is the move going? Meet the neighbors yet?” A smile spread across his face when his wife told him about the stale cookies from the kids next door.

  Chapter 6

  E scaping to the bathroom, Tessa locked herself in a stall and stood frozen in confusion. How could this be happening to her again? After her near brush with death a year ago, she vowed never to put herself or her family in harm’s way again. Now here she was in the most powerful city known to man, being sucked into a conspiracy to assassinate the president, and if that wasn’t enough, her uncle may be involved.

  She listened for the person washing her hands at the sink to leave before slipping out of the stall. Pulling her purse open, Tessa searched for her cell phone. Activating it, she saw there were two messages; one text, one voicemail. The voicemail was her husband, Robert, calling to let her know all was well on the home front and ended with “miss you”. Then there was the text message from an unknown number.

  “We need to talk. I’ll be waiting at the National Geographic booth in one hour.”

  Knowing it would be futile to redial the number, Tessa slipped the phone back in her purse before glancing at her watch. Was it Zoric checking up on her? There remained a certain amount of mistrust between her and Enigma. No matter if Zoric claimed to be her forever protector, he was a dangerous killer that could easily turn on her.

  Then again maybe it was Captain Hunter. He’d pledged no such thing. All he ever managed to do was give her nightmares for the last year. Pushing her into a fight against terrorism she’d not realized existed; he’d barged into her home saving her from Libyans.

  Kidnapping her, the captain drove a hard bargain to secure her support a year earlier. Through it all he remained aloof and determined to see the mission completed. Saving her life multiple times resulted in damaging the once clear and focused values she’d carried like a badge of honor. Would there ever be a time when circumstances forced her to step up and return the favor?

  Whoever sent the message was of no consequence. She planned to ignore it.

  ~~~

  Jake Wakefield looked around his motel room with disgust. A sluggish roach meandered near the baseboard nearest the bathroom. After stomping on it with a cruelty that shook the Norman Rockwell calendar picture on the wall, he went into the bathroom to tear off some toilet paper to dispose of the creature. Frowning at the smell of mildew, due to a poorly operating air conditioner, he turned the weather report up on the television. His hearing started to fail after the bombing on the USS Liberty. Cocking his head, he listened carefully, worried that plans were going to need an adjustment.

  The forecast called for a tropical disturbance in the Atlantic then showed all the signs of turning into a full-blown hurricane. The Weather Channel displayed several possible tracks of the storm, one coming ashore in Cape Hatteras, North Carolina, another farther north at Virginia Beach, Virginia and the most serious one, Ocean City, Maryland. This one would move inland and hit Washington D.C. almost head on.

  He imagined the damage that would occur, not to mention the chaos from being cut off from the world for a few hours. Loss of power, communications and transportation could possibly bring the most powerful government in the world to its knees. Throw in a dead president and the stock market would plummet, militaries around the world would go on high alert and the fear of a terrorist attack would consume the American public. How had he gotten to this point? What would his family say when they found out about his plans?

  Jake lifted his canvas suitcase off the floor and gingerly laid it on his bed. With a deliberate slow motion, he unzipped then pulled the flaps back to see his hunting rifle. Reaching inside he let his fingers touch the stock of the weapon, remembering fondly all the times he’d taken his two nephews and niece hunting. Since he didn’t have children of his own, they had become his greatest fondness, especially his niece Tessa.

  She had been the one to always ask impossible questions, wanted to tag along and hug his neck every time he came and went from their house in Franklin, Tennessee. Smart as a whip and stubborn as the day was long, she’d forged a different path than her brothers. He missed her being so far away in California all these years. Reaching out to her might place her life in jeopardy. Would she come in search for him if he didn’t make contact?

  For now, there was work to be done. The country needed to know the atrocities the Israelis committed to the USS Liberty. He rubbed his shoulder, remembering how he’d gone into the bowels of his ship over and over to bring out men burned and deformed by the attack. Even when he’d been locked in the rising water he never let go of those that needed him most. Sometimes when he closed his eyes he could still hear the screaming, smell the burning flesh, and feel the jarring of a torpedo hitting the hull of the ship.

  For decades he’d lived that day over and over, knowing President Johnson did nothing to get justice for him and his mates. The commander of the USS Liberty had been awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for his role while serving during the attack. However, he was rudely denied receiving the award, as is tradition, at the White House by the president. Instead the commander was presented the medal at an obscure naval yard by the Secretary of the Navy; better to have a presidential snub than insult the Israeli lobby. The citation failed to mention Israel and maintained the lowest possible profile. Jake never understood.

  His phone gave off a soft ring. He squinted at the number on the surface before pushing the word “talk”. He’d picked up the phone from the desk clerk at his first hotel. Folded inside the envelope revealed min
imal instructions on how to use it. Technology wasn’t his thing. Basics. That’s what worked in his day.

  After he left the Marines in 1970, he swore to never leave his home of Franklin, Tennessee again. But the nightmares never vanished. The remaining crew of the USS Liberty shared the atrocities done to them with each other at reunions and book promotions concerning the cover-up. He experienced comfort being with those men. Some suffered more than others. Knowing that the whole dirty little secret wasn’t a lie gave each man hope that someday the truth would come out and they would receive a deserved recognition.

  He wanted more than that; he wanted Israel to admit what they’d done.

  “Hello?” Jake cleared his throat and spoke again. “Hello.”

  “Tomorrow night. Ballroom of the Mandarin. During the speech.” The voice sounded like a computer robot. It reminded him of the television show in the sixties Lost in Space. Danger, Will Robinson, Danger, was a famous line that now played around the fringes of his conscience. He shook it off. “Where will you be?”

  “Close. You don’t need to worry about me. Do as you’re told and…”

  “I know,” Jake snapped. “I know.” The line went dead but Jake continued to hold the phone to his ear. Doubts of his sanity started to surface as his mind played over and over again what he was about to do. He probably wouldn’t survive. Those Secret Service boys were dead shots.

  Thinking of the Israeli protection detail, forced an involuntary shiver up his spine as he returned the phone to his backpack. The Israelis, rubbed the wrong way, could easily make you wish you were dead. Matter-of-fact you didn’t even want to make eye contact with them if the prime minister was within a mile of you. There was Israel, then everyone else. The prime minister might as well be God because his angels of death were not about to let him be exposed to danger. The voice on the phone promised to neutralize that obstacle.

  Then there was his niece Tessa. If he’d known in the beginning she’d be in danger he would not have tried to arrange a meeting. Now they knew she was here. It was another means of making sure he followed through on his promise. He lifted two pictures off the bed that someone slipped under the door when he was in the john. One picture was his niece having coffee with a dangerous looking man. They were sitting close, heads together, touching hands.

  Was she having an affair? Considering what a rock her husband was and the importance she put on family, the picture only confused him. Someone had written on the back of the photo your niece is working with a secret government agency. This is Nicholas Zoric, a former Serbian assassin and interrogator. Your niece has a history with him. Jake shook his head in disbelief as if by doing so would bring clarity.

  His eyes shifted to the second photo. Tessa was getting into an old car, maybe a limo, looking over her shoulder with frightened eyes. Although the wind had forced some of her curls across part of her profile, there was no doubt it was her. The man holding the door of the car was a priest, not much taller than her. He looked over his shoulder in the opposite direction. It was obvious he was of Asian descent. It was also obvious this man was no priest. Like the first photo, there was information written on the back. Dr. Wu is a psychological profiler and therapist for the government. The Serbian, the doctor, and your niece have made a pact with the devil.

  ~~~

  Amon, the Egyptian, knew his voice showed irritation with Jake Wakefield as he hung up the phone. He needed to keep an eye on Tessa Scott. It would be a shame to have to eliminate such a lovely creature. But if she was working with that Serbian, her involvement was far from innocent. Amon knew the man worked for a secret government agency blessed by the president himself. Was it too late to abandon this folly?

  ~~~

  Congressman Jim Gault spotted the figure in the rear of the restaurant sitting in a red leather booth. Lit only by a small candle flickering lazily in an amber colored glass, the booth provided a secluded atmosphere where lovers might linger. Maybe the flight attendant would be available later for a drink or more interesting activities, depending on how this meeting went. As he scooted into the booth he looked at the Egyptian eyeing him with reserved indifference. The waiter came over to take his order.

  “Just water with a twist of lemon.” The waiter nodded as the congressman turned his eyes back to the Egyptian who leaned back with folded hands in his lap. Jim winked at the man sitting across from him. “No drinking just yet. May need my strength when I meet a certain flight attendant tonight.” The water arrived with a menu positioned in front of him as if it might hold important information.

  “You disgust me,” the Egyptian said straight faced.

  “Really? I never figured you Brotherhood types would turn their nose up at a little free sex. Pretty good sex I might add. That girl and I do mean girl, can--”

  “I do not wish to hear about your clumsy attempts to mate.” The Egyptian leaned closer, never changing the expression on his face.

  “Mate is a far cry from what I plan to do.”

  “Being the dog that you are, that is exactly what you do.”

  The congressman frowned, not liking that he was losing control of the situation. “I wouldn’t get so high and mighty, Pharaoh. We both need each other a little longer.” Jim took a sip of his water then stuck his spoon in to fish out the lemon. He sucked on it just a second before making a puckered face. “Did you transfer the money into my Swiss account?”

  “Yes.” The Egyptian’s eyes scanned the recesses of the dimly lit room. “Where are your watch dogs, Mr. Speaker?” He was concerned the Secret Service would notice too much about him.

  “At the front ordering dinner. I told them I didn’t want to be disturbed.” He waved for the waiter to order bourbon then leveled a pompous look at the Egyptian. “And Mr. Wakefield?”

  “The shooter is ready. I’m concerned he will change his mind.”

  Jim remembered the picture of Tessa Scott and let one corner of his mouth lift in a grin. “He won’t. I’m going to take a little insurance policy out for that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m going to take something that belongs to him. Rather you’re going to take it with a couple of your very capable people. I’m sure he’ll want it back.” He chuckled and motioned again with impatience for the waiter. “And when the deed is done I’ll collect on the insurance.”

  The congressman imagined several possibilities for the niece. He felt his body stir at the prospect of her having no option but to submit. “Soon you’ll have your revenge and I’ll be one step closer to being President of the United States.”

  “My organization can count on you in the future for support, and the destruction of Israel?”

  The congressman lifted his class in a toast. “To success!”

  Chapter 7

  T essa opened the French doors to her room and leaned against the door facing. Hurricane Candace was pushing bands of rain inland ahead of the storm. Warnings of doom traveled up and down the Atlantic seaboard. News footage showed people in North Carolina buying supplies until store shelves emptied like a looming apocalyptic event. Even Virginia Beach battened down the hatches, but as of yet the D.C. crowd held to the opinion the hurricane wouldn’t dare hit anywhere close. Even so, thunder storms rolled across blackened skies, putting on a lightning display that fascinated her.

  Never afraid of weather, her father often scolded her as a child for standing too close to windows when watching an approaching storm. The rumble of thunder would reach deep inside her. Pounding rain made her sleep like a baby. From May to October in California was postcard perfect. Then, in November rains fell without the lightning she loved to watch dance across the sky like back home in Tennessee. She missed that kind of weather. Maybe that’s why she was drawn to Enigma, it was an advancing storm she couldn’t resist experiencing.

  Hugging her arms from the wind pushing against her black nightgown, Tessa felt the first drop of rain. With the lights extinguished behind her, Tessa thought she’d be safe from pryin
g eyes. Besides it was late. Kate and Shelly’s partying from the night before finally caught up with them. After only one drink they’d decided to call it a night. Tessa didn’t argue with the decision.

  Now here she was alone, confused and full of anxiety over the prospect of working with Enigma yet again. This time it would be against her favorite uncle.

  A snap of lightning caught her by surprise as she dropped her arms to her side. Her eyes searched the windows of the other rooms while the lightning flickered like a dying light bulb. What she hoped to see in that flash of light was the man who could keep her safe at any cost. Where was he tonight? Was he with the president, a beautiful woman, or watching her from afar as she tried to decide which path her life would take?

  Zoric claimed Enigma never entered her room and stole the picture. He had no reason to lie. His body language alone convinced her he spoke the truth. Who was it? How did they get in and out without her knowing? When Tessa thought Enigma had been lurking in her room, her temper flashed like drops of water on burning grease. Now fear replaced anger. A wind gust swirled her already tangled curls around her head, blinding her momentarily. The rain started in a slow rhythmic beat against the balcony. In moments she’d have to retreat from the evening shower.

  ~~~

  Why did she keep standing there when the lightning grew close? Chase lowered the binoculars for only a second to rest his eyes. He leaned his chair back on two legs against a dresser before raising them again to watch Tessa standing in the doorway off her balcony. That lacy black negligée revealed answers to questions he’d thought about for the last year. The image of some Greek goddess came to mind when the wind played recklessly with her hair, then would drop it back down gently to her shoulders. A few strands would fall across her face without fear of being pushed away. Seconds later it would all start again. She stood like a classic statue at the Greek Parthenon. Watching her staring out into the night, Chase imagined where her thoughts wandered.