A Pawn for Malice

by Cynthia Roberts

  As she turned to the left, she thought it rather strange a man was standing at the end of the corridor, leaning against the wall, and staring back at her. There was something very nefarious about him. His hair was dark brown, long and unkempt about his shoulders, and he wore a tattered and faded Jets baseball cap that rimmed the top of his wide, black eyeglass frames.

  He looked at her as though she was someone he was waiting for, and pushed himself away from the wall. He pulled down his baseball cap, looked up at the ceiling for some reason and smiled. When he looked her way, his expression was like one of recognition and, maybe, satisfaction.

  She looked over her shoulder to see, if perchance, there was someone else behind her, he had recognized. No one was there except for a man, who had just exited a room further down the hallway and went in the opposite direction.

  She swallowed nervously, as a warning of fear ran through her. She halted briefly, then questioned, if perhaps, she was just overreacting. He was waiting for someone, that’s all, she rationalized in her mind. When she looked back at him, she still didn’t feel right. The pressure in her bladder increased, prompting her to move forward, and she did.

  She looked directly at him, and the hairs stood at attention at the back of her neck. Goosebumps danced along the skin up and down her right arm.

  Something isn’t right. Something just isn’t right. Her inner voice warned. What if Hal hired him to find me? Forget the bathroom … turn around.

  Not even a foot of space separated them, when she made up her mind to retreat down the hallway. It was too late.

  The stranger bolted forward and blocked her way, a villainous sneer planted upon his face.

  “What changed your mind … me?”

  “I beg your pardon,” she shot back, as she tried to side-step around him.

  Maybe I can make a mad dash for the bathroom, she rationalized, as she saw the bold black letters that read LADIES on the door just a few feet away.

  He blocked her way again and she gasped in horror.

  “Let me pass please.” She glared back at him.

  His tiny weasel-like eyes leered back at her through his thick, bifocal glasses.

  “You’re that Dalton woman. Gallagher’s rich fiancé,” he spat.

  “I am not.” She blasted back. She looked at the elevator doors, wishing them to open.

  “Don’t lie ta me, bitch. I gots your picture right here.” He waved a tattered newspaper clipping under her nose.

  She stepped back in fear, shaking her head profusely in argument.

  “No, you’re wrong. My name is Jessica Wilton. I was just hired by the Senator. I can show you my driver’s license.” She slipped her purse from her shoulder and attempted to open it with fingers, that refused to cooperate.

  He clutched her forearm in a vice-like grip, making her squeal painfully.

  “Lying bitch,” he snarled, increasing the pressure on her arm.

  His eyes glazed with anger, as his cheeks flushed and beads of sweat seeped from every pore on his face.

  Jessica was horrified at his reaction.

  Just in the nick of time, the elevator bell dinged and the doors glided open, and it was Bryan’s face she saw first. It was also obvious to the him and the other two male occupants, that something was amiss by the scene taking place in front of them and the look of utter panic on her face.

  The madman released her, pushed her hard against the wall, making her slam her head. In a flash, he bolted toward the Exit stairs, and was gone from sight.

  She went down hard, as squiggly, white worms danced before her eyes.

  Bryan ran forward, catching her, before she hit the floor, while the other two men went in pursuit of the assailant.

  “Jessica, shit, are you alright?” He cried out, as he cradled her in his arms, quickly examining her for any obvious signs of injury.

  Just then a woman in the office next to them opened the door and looked out.

  “My God, I thought I heard something,” she blurted and looked down at them both.

  “Call the Capitol Police, now!” Bryan demanded.

  The woman nodded, turned and entered her office to do his bidding.

  Another office door opened and staff personnel stepped out. Soon the hallway was amassed with pandemonium.

  She looked up at him in a dazed state, as she rubbed at the knot forming at the back of her skull.

  “He … he thought I was Angela. Why would he even think that?”

  He looked perplexed and his tone conveyed his displeasure.

  “There was a posting on line and in the Times Union this morning of her with a new look that at a glance, could pass for you.” He replied.

  “What? Why would she do that?”

  He sent her a look like … really, you need to ask.

  “Who would hate you so much to lash out like this?”

  He threaded his fingers through his hands and sighed heavily.

  “I put a lot of guys behind bars, Jessica, and sponsoring the death penalty bill has placed me on many a shit list, I imagine.”

  The Capitol Police arrived, as did two EMT’s to check her out, pushing a gurney in case she needed to be transported to the nearby emergency room.

  Now she knew why Missy and Claire had looked at her strangely, when she first arrived at Bryan’s office. Angela and she obviously looked very similar, and that made Jessica want to punch her lights out even more.

  What a helluva way to start out her first day at the office. She was pissed. She was embarrassed. She wanted nothing more, than for people to stop fussing over her and scat in all directions.

  When she tried to stand, her head whirled as though she had just stepped out of a spin tunnel doing jet speed rotations. Jessica knew she was losing it, as she swayed on legs not strong enough to assist her and her knees buckled under her. The back of her head throbbed painfully and all she wanted to do was close her eyes and fall asleep.

  She looked at the EMT at her side and the words she tried to speak were difficult as she muttered before she slumped against him, “I … no … not good …”

  ---

  Bryan could tell from the look on Florence’s face, that she was not happy, as she made her way into Jessica’s room. He took the liberty of ordering a private room for her, so she could be watched more closely.

  “What the hell happened to my niece?” She blared, as she moved to Jessica’s bedside.

  She petted her forehead tenderly and leaned in to place a soft kiss upon her cheek.

  “Aunt Florence, I’m fine. Just a large bump on my head. They want to keep me overnight for observation, that’s all.”

  “Don’t make light of this, dear. Someone tried to accost you, did they not?”

  “Well –“

  “Well, nothing,” her Aunt barked, directing her attention back to Bryan. “I’m waiting, young man.”

  Bryan took Florence’s temperament in stride. He would be reacting the same way, if he was in her shoes. The one thing he wasn’t doing, was taking this situation lightly. He would find the bastard, who did this, and quickly. There was no love lost between him and Angela, but to use someone close to him, as some act of revenge, didn’t sit right with him.

  “This whole thing was related to me, for some reason. The perpetrator mistook Jessica for Angela, and I believe, attempted to kidnap her.”

  “I saw the photo of her in the Times and thought so myself. This is her way of getting back at you for the other evening, I suppose.”

  Bryan nodded and replied, “It could be, in some warped way.”

  “Or, think of it as a compliment to me,” Jessica chided in with a snicker, “You know,” she shrugged, “to emulate herself in my image.” She smiled tritely.

  Florence made a face that had Jessica chuckling.

  “I don’t find that humorous, dear. Imbalanced and unstable, maybe. What if Angela is in cahoots with this madman? Have you thought about that?”

  “It’s crossed my mind, and certa
inly something being considered. I’ve instructed the Capitol Police to pull the feeds from the security cameras and run a face recognition against state and federal records to see, if we can come up with a match and go from there. Plus, we’re trying to track down Angela’s whereabouts. She’s incognito right now and all I’m getting from her family is she’s abroad somewhere on the French Riviera.”

  Florence harrumphed. “Highly unlikely. I still say her fingerprint is all over this.”

  Jessica held her head briefly and sighed.

  “I just can’t believe she would do something like this. I mean think about it. She’s a socialite. She loves the attention, being in the limelight, having the freedom to come and go as she pleases. Do you really think she would jeopardize all of that, because she thought we had a tryst?”

  Florence raised her eyes to the ceiling and scoffed.

  “She’s vain enough, culpable enough, and stupid enough to hire someone to do her dirty work and think she can get away with it.”

  Jessica scrunched her lips to the side and replied in a deflated tone.

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  Bryan reached for her hand and held it tenderly between his own. What he really, wanted, was to crawl in beside her, and hold her in his arms. He never felt that strongly for someone he briefly knew. But, there was something about this woman that made him want to protect and take care of her. Something had happened to her, something so traumatic, it left a deep scar and created a barrier, an impenetrable one. He wanted nothing more, than to be the one to break down that wall and have her view him in a different light.

  This whole incident didn’t help. He could see the fear in her eyes and it bothered him deeply, that he was the cause. He was determined to get to the bottom of this, one way or the other, and the minute he left this hospital, he vowed to himself, he would do just that.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Levitt, where the hell is Corbat?” Peter Tallon, owner of Howe Caverns, bellowed loudly.

  His place was a public attraction and elaborate series of caverns two-hundred feet underground with a river, lake, and wondrous rock formations.

  “Gee, boss, I think he’s in the bridal chamber checking on the lights,” answered Morris Levitt, an especially nervous and lanky co-worker.

  Peter Tallon was hard core all the way and didn’t care for any horseplay, notably so, if it meant he was losing money, or looking the fool. He wasn’t very happy with Sylas Corbat right now.

  “Get your boney ass down there and tell that son of a bitch I want him up here. Now, move it!” He roared, as he stuffed a half-chewed stogy between his yellowed teeth.

  In May of 1842, a farmer by the name of Lester Howe noticed his cattle always kept to the far corner of his property during the heat of the summer months. When he went to investigate why and cut away an overgrowth of bushes, he noticed a small entrance from where a blowout of cool, moist air drafted outward.

  Little did he know then, that it would be noted as the largest cavern in New York State and the means of making him quite a fortune. Now, the caverns had been closed, under the new ownership of Peter Tallon.

  The bridal chamber was a pretty, extraordinary crypt, a grotto of luminous rock shaped in the form of a heart, where many romantics loved to exchange their marriage vows.

  Sylas was restringing a new formation of intricate lighting down there, when his coworker approached.

  “I don’t know what the hell you’ve done to piss off Tallon, Sy, but you better move your ass and quick. He wants you topside, and now.” He flustered, as his brow dotted with nervous sweat.

  “Jerk off, Levitt! I’ve got this system to install before dark. I ain’t got time!” Sylas remarked irritably.

  “Come on, man. I ain’t shitting you! Tallon sent me after ya, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll burn the soles off your shoes and get up there quick.” He retaliated in defense, as he climbed the scaling ladder that hugged the walls of the chamber.

  Sylas threw his screwdriver across the chamber, chipping a section of rose-tinted rock from its bed in the process, missing the lanky kid by an inch.

  “What the frig is eating at his craw? He wanted this god-damned job finished before dark!” He wailed, scaring Morris to the point, he cowered out of his reach.

  Morris watched him from a distance, as his beer belly raked atop each rung of the ladder, while he descended to the floor level below. The man gave him the creeps. The guy rarely smiled or joked for the pleasure of it. A hundred feet below the surface was the perfect place for a man like him.

  Sylas had it with Tallon pulling his chain, he argued silently, as he made his way to the entrance. If he had another rush job for him to finish before dark, he’d tell him to go screw. Tallon wouldn’t want to provoke him, if he knew what was good for him. He needed him. He knew these caves like the back of his hand. He worked them for eighteen years. He could get him ready for business within a week, if he wanted.

  He had Tallon where he wanted him, and sneered from the pleasure of knowing it. He loved controlling people.

  His shirt was soaking wet with perspiration by the time he reached top. Grotesque masses of curly chest hair glistened, as it peeked from the neckline of his shirt and between the button spaces, that pulled apart from his bulging stomach.

  “Took you long enough to get here,” Tallon chastised, as he pulled his cigar from his mouth

  “You got something to say, get on with it. I’ve got work to finish in the hole, which you wanted done by dark, remember?” Sylas retorted, as his insides worked into a knot.

  Tallon looked at the fists clenching tightly at Corbat’s side. He knew the man was pissed already.

  “You won’t need to finish. Someone else will do it.”

  “Why the hell not. You think they can do it better than me?”

  Tallon shook his head and readied himself for the explosion he knew was inevitable.

  “It’s a risk I’m gonna have to take. You’re out of here, Corbat. Pack your belongings and go.” He pulled an envelope containing a check from his pocket and held it out in front of him. “Here’s a severance check for your troubles. I can’t keep you on anymore.”

  “You what? Just like that? Why the hell not? You got no call to let me go,” he stepped forward threatening. “I’m the best you got here.”

  Tallon raised his arms in protest.

  “Look. You’ve been down in the hole almost eighteen hours now, and I don’t think you know, so I’ll tell you.”

  “Tell we what?”

  Corbat was furious and reached for him. He didn’t take to being fucked over and this prick was going to feel his fist breaking the bones in his face.

  Tallon was prepared. He expected this kind of reaction and drew a pistol from his side vest pocket.

  “Back off, dickhead, before I blow your brains out. I’m gonna give you an explanation, because I owe you that much,” Tallon continued, as he threw the envelope at him. “Your brother was being transported to Dannemora early this morning. They still don’t know how the prick pulled it off, but he got away and killed the two cops transporting him. He hijacked a car and was intercepted by a Trooper, who was the Governor’s son. Gunfire was exchanged. The trooper is fighting for his life. He managed to put a few into your brother.

  I got a business to run here. I don’t need any of this shit, or the attention it’ll draw. If people find out you work here, they’ll wonder what kind of place I’m running. I need you out of here, cause I certainly don’t need any frigging reporters buzzing around either and creating bad press before I open.”

  “You, bastard. You’ll be sorry for this, Tallon. Damn sorry.”

  He leaned over and picked up the envelope from the ground, sneered at Tallon one last time, and spun about in retreat. He would pay, Sylas vowed. He would pay dearly for firing him. He had plans for those caverns, and getting on the wrong side of him, Tallon would regret. He had no control over his brother, and it wasn’t fair he was be
ing fired, because of him. His brother was a sick fuck, but he knew how to get even. Eighteen years was a long time to devote to a job.

  Even though the pay wasn’t glamorous, he loved what he did, loved working beneath ground, not having to deal with people, alone with the dark and the silence. He knew every stretch of the caverns … the entire mile and a half. He knew of places that hadn’t been opened to the public, that the owners didn’t want to invest more money in.

  He had broken into one of those chambers and had plans for it. Didn’t matter now, that he got fired. He didn’t need keys. He knew how to get in without them. He was the only one who knew. Nothing would keep him away. Nothing.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Bryan exited his car and walked the short distance where he generally met up with his snitch down at the Port of Albany. He never lost touch with him, once he took office. You never stopped being a cop. It was ingrained in you like your DNA. There were a lot of skills he had developed during his decade with Albany P.D., that came in handy at the Capitol.

  He needed to talk to Dante and have him check around and see, if he heard any talk on the streets about the attack on Jessica. He knew, whoever this guy was, had it out for him. This was a vendetta, and what he did to Jessica, was simply a warning.

  After reviewing the security tapes from the cameras, Bryan’s conclusion wasn’t wrong. The bastard had the balls to look straight into the camera and smile. He was sending a clear message to him. He felt it in his gut. The one thing about most criminals, they liked to boast. Bryan hoped this bastard got hard talking about what he got away with.

  The assailant, was smart too. He knew to pull his baseball cap down just enough to hide his features. The facial recognition he had called for came up short. A tough break for them, but he wasn’t about to give up. Now, it was time to hit the streets and branch out. He wished he could have gotten to this sooner, but his calendar was crazy, now that Session was in full swing. Shortly, the Legislature would be breaking for the holidays and there were a lot of bills still sitting in his Codes Committee that needed to be addressed.