Sparkles
Page 15
“Aïda, this is Kat Manlove. I saw Daniel Jelski leave your house. Do you know where he went?”
“Well, hello to you too, Kat,” Aïda said icily.
“Sorry, I’m kinda in a state right now. So, where did he go?”
“Well, if you must know, he went to the opera house,” Aïda said.
“The opera house? At this time of day?”
“Kat,” Aïda said, “take my advice and leave the man alone. He doesn’t even know you exist. Please don’t make trouble. I—” Aïda spoke her last word into a dead line.
Chapter 52
Answered Prayers
CHARLOTTE PRIED the Vice-Regal Diamond from the crown of Darius III, the last king of the Achaemenid Persian Empire. What would we do if the world had no sparkles to tempt us? Charlotte put the stone into the attaché case and snapped the locks. She headed to her office, where she waited with Jan.
Daniel joined them, after taking photographs of all the costumes in Aram’s studio. He smiled reassuringly at Charlotte. “What will this do to your season’s program?” he asked.
“Looks like the Cav is back on,” Charlotte replied. “So much misery… I don’t think I’ll ever have the heart to try the Handel again.”
“Of course you will.”
OUTSIDE, ADEL circled the building that housed the Quaker City Opera. He noted that there were but two entrances to the old structure built in the late 1800s. The main doors stood atop a wide flight of worn marble steps that fanned out in an uneven arc, ending at the concrete sidewalk. The other door was made of solid oak, with an impressive lock. The main doors with their big glass windows would have to do, even if they had to be broken.
Adel heard the police sirens blaring somewhere behind him. As he turned to look back, a woman in a fur coat rushed past him, knocking him off balance. Men were shouting; the sirens wailed. Adel’s pulse pounded in his head as if it was trying somehow to get out. He pulled out a Glock pistol. His first shot went wild, striking a marble step, sending shards of stone into the air. The second round punched a hole in the woman’s back.
Kat fell forward and then rolled onto her side. A ribbon of blood trickled across the step, staining the snow that had not yet been swept away a light pink. Adel stood and looked at the fallen woman. His hand shook. It’s not supposed to be this way! He heard a voice demand, “Drop your weapon!” A police officer stood near a squad car. Adel turned and pointed his gun at the cop. Adel’s bright world went suddenly black.
Jan, along with Charlotte and Daniel, had just come out of the main doors. Together, they ran down the steps to where Kat lay moaning. Daniel gently lifted her up off the rough marble steps. The smell of gunpowder mixed with the odor of burnt flesh made him wince.
“Kat! Why?”
“I… I wanted to tell you… I love you. From the moment we met….” Kat made a jerking movement and cried, “It hurts, Daniel… it hurts.”
“The paramedics are coming, Kat. Hold on… hold on.”
“Will you kiss me, Daniel…? Please…. Just once?”
Daniel looked up at Charlotte, who nodded a yes. He bent down and kissed Kat just as he would Charlotte.
As the light faded from her eyes, Kat whispered, “I knew you’d be a good kisser.”
Chapter 53
The Adelphia Tavern
JAN CLOSED the pocket door to the large banquette he and Joachim Nussbaum shared at Philadelphia’s renowned Adelphia Tavern. Joachim drank heavily from freshly tapped beer. Jan’s sidecar sat untouched.
“You sure look happy. What’s up?” Joachim said at last.
“It’s personal,” Jan said. “Speaking of looking happy, you’re all smiles too.”
Joachim shifted his big bulk around the banquette. “Now don’t get mad, but something happened before I could contact you. When you hear my explanation, you’ll understand.”
“Am I going to like this?”
Joachim spread a hopeful smile across his lips. “I think so.”
“Well,” Jan said impatiently. “I’m listening.”
“The text message I sent you about Armande Bonnet being dead was not true. You wanted an answer. I gave you the one that made sense, but I wanted to make sure.”
Jan’s face sagged into what Joachim took to be the beginnings of fury.
“Before you blow up, Jan, hear me out.”
After he’d finished his story, Joachim took his beer and sat back. “The SVR kept me so long that by the time I got to Paris, Armande was already there. He’d been debriefed at the Sécurité, without mentioning me, or Mundus, I might add. As soon as he was finished with his handlers, who by the way were astounded at his resurrection, I took him to meet with his father. Armande should be landing here at the airport in about an hour’s time.”
Jan continued to frown. “I told Bonnet his son was dead. Damn it, Nussbaum! How could you put me into a situation like that? Do you have any idea how angry I am?”
“I can guess,” Joachim said. “If I hadn’t been picked up so soon when I got back to my hotel room, I could have sent you a counter message. As it was, the SVR watched me every minute until I left. I—”
“Never mind that now,” Jan said, the irritation still coloring his voice. “What did Armande tell Sécurité about his rescue?”
“He told them only what he knew. A French-speaking stranger showed up and gave him detailed instructions. He and the Iranian woman followed them, and voila! He got home. His spy masters are probably going crazy trying to figure how he did it.”
“Okay. What about the woman you say saved Armande’s life?”
Joachim chuckled, more to himself than to Jan. “As far as I know, she’s on a Miami beach sunning herself.”
“How the hell did you manage that?” Jan said.
“A friend of mine at the State Department owed me a favor. I thought it would be better to have her here where you can keep an eye on her.”
Jan reached across the table and took Joachim’s hand. “I don’t know what to say, except, would you be willing to join our Mundus family? We can use a man who knows field work as well as strategies.”
Putting his hands up in mock horror, Joachim said, “Oh no, not me, Jan. You people are crazy! I prefer to go my own way.” Then, smiling in genuine friendship, he added, “But I’m always around if you need me.”
“Suit yourself. I’ve wired a million dollars in gold certificates to the usual account.”
Minutes later the two men parted on the sidewalk outside the Adelphia. Joachim headed home, and Jan to the airport to fetch Armande Bonnet, a man who beat the odds, and lived—never to speak of it.
Chapter 54
Lazarus
JAN PARKED his car in the driveway. As he got out, he pulled an attaché case off the backseat.
“Stay here. Give me five minutes and then come to the door,” Jan said. He closed the car door without waiting for an answer.
Jan let himself in with the key Stephen had given him. He heard Stephen in the kitchen.
“Something smells good. Did you cook that yourself?” Jan said, pulling Stephen into his arms for a long kiss.
“I thought I’d try my hand at lasagna. I didn’t realize the recipe made so much,” Stephen said, laughing.
Jan held out the case with a smirk on his lips. “Surprise!”
Stephen’s eyes grew wide. “Wha…. What is it? Will I like it?”
“That depends on your viewpoint.”
Stephen opened the attaché case and stared at the gleaming jewel. “I don’t understand. What is it?”
“Stephen! It’s your diamond.”
“My diamond? But how did you get it?”
“That, my dear friend, is a long and sad story.”
Stephen turned with a start. “What’s that noise?”
“Au Secours! Au Secours!”
Stephen and Jan ran outside. Glacier sat proudly on a man struggling facedown in what remained of a snowbank.
“This wasn’t supposed to go like
this,” Jan said, although the scene made him laugh.
Stephen looked at the man whose face was turned away from him, and then to Jan. “Do you know this guy?”
“Of course I do,” Jan said. “Brother, meet thy brother.”
The reunion was tearful. The lasagna was delicious. Jan took a backseat to Armande and his tale of resurrection and deliverance at the hands of the mysterious man from Mossad. Stephen asked Armande many questions about his rescue; questions for which Armande had no answer. That night, after Armande had gone to his room at the Alexander Inn, Jan and Stephen engaged in strenuous gymnastics involving intense orgasms.
“Jan?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”
“What, again? I need to recharge.”
“No! Not that… I’m serious.”
Jan rolled over and looked into Stephen’s eyes. “Okay, I’m listening. What’s on your mind?”
“I want you to tell me the truth—”
“Stephen, I’m a lawyer, remember.”
“You’re the one, aren’t you? I mean you got Armande out of Iran, didn’t you?”
“Stephen, look at me. Do I look like a big mysterious Mossad man?”
“What I know, or at least believe, is you can pull a string and make anything happen.”
“Oh, my sweet Stephen. Believe me, if I could do that, the world would be a very different place than it is now….”
Jan could tell that his skirting the issue wasn’t going to wash, nor was it fair. You can’t keep him in the dark forever. At some point, you’re going to have to make a leap of faith.
“All right, Stephen, you win. I’ll tell you all about it. It all began when your father asked my close friend, the abbot of Saint Sebastian in Arles, to help find Armande. The abbot asked me to see what I could do. I sent the mysterious Mossad man to find Armande. At great personal risk, my man found Armande hiding in a stone hut. Some Mundus assets were used, but my doing that is not the norm. So now you have just a small example of what we can do. But, as I said, sometimes we succeed and sometimes we fail miserably.”
Jan paused, and Stephen’s eyes welled with tears. He said, “Jan, I don’t know what to say, except I owe you a debt of gratitude.”
Michael’s familiar voice whispered far off in Jan’s memory. He smiled as he remembered the phrase: A debt of gratitude is the most humiliating debt of all.
Epilogue
Bionic man
“WELL, MR. O’Farrell, you’re good to go. If you have any problems, please let us know. We’re here if you need us.”
“Thanks,” Bobby said. Taking the hospitality packet from the social worker, he put it in a canvas tote bag. Miss Linthwait had been supportive, he had to admit, although she continued to say that no one knew who had paid for his electronic prosthetic hand. Yes, the dollar cost was in the thousands. That was known. Known too, was that Bobby couldn’t have come up with one tenth of the cost of what he called his bionic hand. This was on top of the surgery that saved his life, and the weeks of therapy. With no insurance, no resources other than his wife, Nancy’s, income as a beautician at a local salon, the mystery of his benefactor continued to baffle him. There’s gotta be a catch. There always is. One day, maybe, I’ll find out.
More from Michael Halfhill
Eighteen-year-old Jan Phillips is down and out, hustling johns in Philadelphia’s Tenderloin District, when he catches the eye of Tim Morris, a powerful lawyer with ties to a secret organization. Against his better judgment, Jan is soon caught up in a web of intrigue that will change his life forever—or end it prematurely.
It’s 4:00 a.m., and the phone is ringing. Waking from an uneasy sleep, Jan answers and in so doing allows two strangers into his life. One is a victim of a heinous crime, a man to whom Jan feels an instant connection. The other is a deadly enemy. Their appearance will lead to murder—and the first plight Jan faces as Master of the Mundus Society.
Sequel to What Ever Happened to Jan Phillips?
What do three sons—one murdered by Iraqi terrorists, one who lost his mother in a fire, and one involved with an underworld sex ring—have to do with Jan Phillips?
Two sons bring fear and death, forcing Jan to wield the awesome power of his office as the North American head of Mundus, a sub rosa organization with roots in the ancient order of the Knights Templar. The other son threatens Jan’s life and the world he shares with Michael Lin, his partner of twelve years.
As Jan struggles to survive another man’s quest for revenge, the love of fathers for their sons is the only constant among shattered lives, despoiled love, and an unknown yearning for family.
Helki and Igashu, friends and constant companions since childhood, will soon perform the tribal ritual of the Bow and the Basket. Choosing the basket means living a domestic life, to be a Two-Spirit, a lover of men. To choose the bow means becoming a provider, the head of the family, and a warrior, if war should come. Both are worthy choices, but for Igashu, his father’s sole surviving son, the obligation to lead his family after his father’s death presses heavily on his heart. Yet if Helki and Igashu choose different paths, their love may not survive.
MICHAEL HALFHILL was born in West Virginia, just as World War II in Europe was coming to an end. After high school came college at the University of Baltimore and then a stint in the US Army.
Michael has traveled widely in the USA, Europe, Central America, and Asia.
After building a 37-year career in analytical science with the DuPont Company, Michael retired in 2001. In 2002, after a year of hectic boredom, he produced the first of three novels. What began as a distraction has become a passion.
Michael currently lives in northern Delaware. When he’s not writing, Michael, along with his longtime partner Peter, shows borzoi at local AKC dog shows.
You can reach Michael at www.michaelhalfhill.com.
By Michael Halfhill
Two Hearts Two Spirits
JAN PHILLIPS
What Ever Happened to Jan Phillips?
Sons
Sparkles
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Published by
DREAMSPINNER PRESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Sparkles
© 2016 Michael Halfhill.
Cover Art
© 2016 Anne Cain.
annecain.art@gmail.com
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
Interior Art by Michael Halfhill
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.
Digital ISBN: 978-1-63477-334-8
Published June 2016
v. 1.0
Printed in the United States of America
Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Epigraph
Map
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Epilogue
More from Michael Halfhill
About the Author