by Grayson Cole
Chapter 17
“We’ll go by the office first,” Nya directed, waving to a security guard sitting in the little red and blue booth at the front of the twelve-foot-high fence surrounding the Hatsheput grounds. Nya swung her SUV through the gate and pointed to the various buildings. “Over there is the main warehouse; it backs up to the dock. We’ll go there later. You see that longhouse? That’s where the studio is located. And here is the administrative complex.”
She stopped in front of the brick edifice and got out of the SUV. Inside the building, Nya directed Michael down a hall lined with offices. At the end was an office marked as Nyron Seymour’s and another as Elphonse Deklerk’s.
“It’s locked,” Michael said testing Elphonse’s door.
“I have a master key,” Nya told him, producing the key. Unfortunately, it didn’t work in the lock. “Maybe I should ask security if they’ve got one.”
“I doubt it. If it were me, the only person who would have a key would be me.” Then he pulled something dark and shiny out of his pocket. He unfolded the object.
“Michael, what are you doing?” Nya asked behind him.
He shrugged.
“You stop right there, Michael,” Nya said behind him and he looked up. She took the knife he held. “You are not going to break into any of the offices in this building. If it comes to it, I’ll have my dad come down and let us in, but for now, the warehouse is the important part anyway.” She folded the knife and put it in her pocket as she started collecting the other items Michael had left on the floor. She held up his platinum card. “If you want to get any information in this city, this will probably be your best bet.” She handed it to him and proceeded into her father’s office.
Michael followed her reluctantly, thinking that it was worth a try to at least look in the office. However, he wasn’t going to argue with her about it this day. He entered her father’s office and sat down. It was so reminiscent of Nya’s back in Birmingham. He watched her go through the various papers and sticky notes on the desk. Her work was never far from her mind. Uninvited, the question entered his mind. Would she ever spend as much time thinking about him? He just didn’t know how he measured up.
Nya, noticing Michael’s somber mood, asked him, “What’s wrong?”
Michael looked at her for a moment and pondered her question. The compassionate eyes and sincere set of her mouth let him know that she really wanted to know, and so he told her. “Nya, maybe this isn’t the time, but I’d just like to say that it seems like something is going on between us, something good, you know? And I just want to know if you’re ready to give it a chance.”
She remained frozen and silent. All this time she’d spent fighting him, spent pushing him away, she’d still wanted him. Now she had the opportunity, if only she would accept it, to be with him. It had been so long since she’d felt alive if she wasn’t in her office. For so long, her life had had only one focus. Could she change that focus now, when there was so much at stake for the company? After a minute she glanced down again at the notes on her father’s desk, a desk that one day, God willing, would be hers. “You’re right,” she said, averting her gaze. “This is the wrong time to talk about it.”
Michael breathed out heavily, feeling that he had gotten his answer. What she really meant was that she didn’t have time for him, for a relationship, for anything that didn’t have to do with Hatsheput Industries. He looked up at her. Her twists were still loose, drying from earlier that morning. Her lips were wine colored and those tilted, wide eyes with their long lashes made him think of that morning and the way she had kissed him. Suddenly grinning to himself, he was sure that there was at least one way he could get her attention and keep it. No, he wasn’t going to give up that easily, “Well, when the time comes, and it will, just remember that I’m a reporter. The word ‘no’ has very little meaning for me.”
Despite herself Nya smiled radiantly. He was serious and for some reason, deep down inside her, she was unbelievably pleased with his answer. She led Michael out of the office. It wasn’t long before her slender hand was wrapped in his large, strong one. From that point on their conversation was light and a genuine rapport formed between them that made their time pass quickly. They joked easily with one another and to any passerby they looked like a pair of lovers who didn’t care about anything else in the world.
They made their way from the administrative office to the studio. The sun warmed them, and they caught the sweet scent of flowers as they walked. They entered the longhouse and were greeted by the sight of four artists grouped around a canvas and arguing over the merits of acrylic paints. Nya smiled and was welcomed home by all of them with a hug. Michael stiffened slightly when one of the male students held her overly long. Nya only giggled, though, and let the young man lead her over to his sculpture. It was a tall thing with heavy wrought iron arms spiraling out from it. It reminded Michael of a tree he saw once on the cover of a horror novel. Nya seemed extremely impressed by it and Michael wasn’t a bit happy about that. Then he sighed, thinking of how crazy she was making him by only being herself. There was just something about her that made him possessive. Even if she was only insulting, he wanted to be the only one to elicit that much passion from her.
He watched her paying rapt attention to the young artist as he explained where he was trying to go with his sculpture. She was alert and interested in what he was saying and talking excitedly about the young man’s talent. Michael silently stepped back and began to explore the studio. There were a few half-finished works all around: oil paintings, clay molds, even a small batiking area. He moved closer to the wax-covered piece of cloth and looked down to see what was shaping up to be a multi-colored market scene. All of the works were impressive, even in their fledgling stage, and Michael marveled at Hatsheput’s accomplishment in harvesting all this talent. He continued around a corner and looked up to find himself staring head on at a huge canvas of an underwater scene. It was rendered in blues and purples with brightly colored tropical fish. It looked as though there was a reef looming in the background. It pulled the observer in and Michael was instantly compelled by it.
“It’s not very good,” he heard her say behind him. Her voice caressed him as if she had physically touched him.
“Why do you say that?” Michael asked, wondering how Nya could say that about a kid’s work, especially one that made him want to stare at it all day.
“Well, it was really my first try at something complete. It’s not as good as some of my others; that’s partly why I’ve left it here for so long.”
“But it’s beautiful.”
“It’s amateur,” Nya replied, smiling at the painting she’d never been able to get quite right. “The ones at the house are better.”
“At the house?”
“Yeah,” Nya responded, as they started out of the studio. “They’re all around along with those of Ma, Daddy, and Jenine.” Michael gave this some thought, trying to figure which ones were Nya’s. Then he remembered a painting he’d seen at her house in Birmingham.
“The picture in your foyer, across from your mother’s. You did that?”
“Yes, that’s my favorite.” She smiled to herself.
Michael was sure now why Lysette had said that Nyron wanted his daughter to paint. She did have a gift, an undeniable one. This woman was so talented and so beautiful she couldn’t be true, he thought. Her animated, passionate speech was exciting to him as he saw her in her own element. She showed him everything from studio to the loading dock, from the front office to the janitorial quarters, and she knew everything, absolutely all the answers to any of the questions he asked about Hatsheput. She was also on a first-name basis with all the employees, vowing to take care of this grievance and that as soon as possible. She’d seen a door open in the warehouse that was to be locked at all times because it provided alternate entrance into the building and she had immediately given the order to have it fixed right away. He had always known she was a business d
ynamo, but to actually watch her at work was something. She deserved this company more than anybody. She deserved her life.
That turned Michael’s thoughts to a graver issue: Rinaldo Mandolesi. The more time Michael spent with Nya, the less he could stand the thought of her putting herself in danger at the hands of Rinaldo Mandolesi. They hadn’t talked much about what they were going to do about him. They hadn’t, in fact, discussed him since leaving the plane, and Michael was beginning to worry. The more he thought about it, the more he knew that they were in over their heads. He had to find some way to make Nya see reason.
Together they made their way through the warehouse, where they searched for the missing crates. Unfortunately, they found nothing. They decided to go home and regroup.
h
Nya sat on the sofa and smiled when he sat next to her.
The day had been so perfect, reminding Michael of another nearly perfect time, that day in the Hatsheput Galleries. Maybe, just maybe, if his luck held on, she would consider what he had to say. “Nya, I’ve been thinking,” he started. Hesitantly, gently, he told her, “I think this may be too big for us. You and I both know how dangerous Mandolesi is, and I think that’s all the more reason to call in the big guns. Maybe if you talk to your father—”
He winced at the loud intake of breath. “Talk to my father?”
“Listen to me, Nya. You don’t have to do this by yourself. You don’t have to figure this out alone. You can go to the police. You can go to the FBI. You could at least go to your father. He loves you and he loves this company. I’m sure he’ll know what’s best—”
“And I don’t?” she demanded. “I don’t know what’s best?”
“Nya, I just think, no, I know you can’t do this alone. You don’t need to do this alone. No one will tell you you’ve failed if you just let this be handled properly.” She didn’t say anything, only turned from him. He hoped that meant she was softening. He neared her, laying his hands on her shoulders. “It’s not a secret how I feel about you—”
“It isn’t?” she asked, capturing his gaze with her own.
Michael was halted for a moment, but thought it was about time everything was out in the open. “You are part of everything in my life right now. I know you understand and I think you care about me, too. But the only way we can ever give this a chance, give us a chance, is if you trust me. If you finally let yourself be human, let yourself feel, and admit that you need help.”
She spun around, facing him with anguish lining her face, making her eyes glisten. “Michael, you just don’t understand.”
“I understand that while Hatsheput Industries is important, it’s not the only thing. What you want is important.” He pressed the palm of her hand to his heart. “What we have is important. And your safety is important.”
Nya jerked her hand back as if she had been burned. “Can you just stop pressuring me? Can you not just wait? I have too many things happening in my life right now to think about this. Don’t you understand that?” she yelled with her arms around her waist.
Michael just stood there silently, his mouth slightly ajar. It was as if she had slapped his face. But then her eyes softened apologetically.
“I didn’t mean that, I didn’t. I just need to get some things straight, that’s all.” She looked down at the floor. Michael was finding it extremely difficult to be angry with her. He understood how much her independence meant to her, how much she felt she needed to prove herself. Slowly, he tilted her chin up so that he could look down into her face with its soft curves and defiant chin. He laid a tender kiss on her mouth that she accepted and returned just as gently.
“I can handle it,” she whispered when he let her go.
Michael cursed under his breath. If she wasn’t the most stubborn, one-track minded individual…
h
Michael left the house on foot. He had to get out of there. If he didn’t, he would lose all resolve. That woman badly needed making love to and he was just the man to do it. Maybe that was the only way he could get her to admit that she needed someone, that she needed him. If only she could open her heart to him completely. If only she would trust him completely. If only she could ask for help. But she couldn’t. He had seen that tonight. She had to have control. She had to prove that she didn’t need anybody.
Michael walked on through the streets of Charlotte Amalie and beyond for what felt like hours, not watching where he went or caring about the ominous onlookers he was attracting. Maybe even daring the more surly ones to try him. After convincing himself that looking for a fight was the absolute wrong way to go about things, he realized that he was lost. However, after careful inspection, he found the patch of road he was on to be familiar. He scanned the area and saw the sign: Hatsheput Industries. If his guess was correct, the evidence he was looking for was somewhere inside that complex.
He started down the side street that led to the warehouse. Staying just off the road, he picked his way through wild vegetation, thinking of how he might get through the gate. However, that problem was solved once he saw headlights flash behind him. Michael slid effortlessly into the darkness waiting for the car to pass. It was a Mercedes limousine. That was way too extravagant for the island, something easily identifiable. Whoever it was, they weren’t hiding. The car slowed and pulled up to the entrance. Michael saw a man in a guard’s uniform pull the gate open, then follow beside the limo. Keeping low to the ground and as much in the darkness as possible, Michael slipped through the gate also. He kept close in the shadows behind the car until it pulled up to the front of the warehouse. Michael slipped around behind the building and saw a closed door. Betting that it was the same as the one Nya had made mention of earlier that day, he tried it and found that it was locked. This was one moment he wasn’t thankful for Nya’s thorough efficiency. He searched his pockets, looking for something, anything, he might be able to use to get that door open. He cursed himself, remembering that he let Nya keep his knife. Then an idea came to him. He pulled out a credit card and slid it between the door and the frame. The door came open. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he whispered to himself, grinning as he eased through the door.
He couldn’t see anyone else inside and decided to wait, willing to bet that whoever was in that car would come in sooner or later to look at the merchandise, if indeed this was a theft operation. He crouched down behind a crate and waited several minutes. When no one came, he grew impatient and decided to do some investigation of his own. He began searching the crates again, going over the same spots he and Nya had searched with an even finer-toothed comb. Before long, he found it. It was a very small box in a crate filled with several small boxes. He’d seen it before, but hadn’t gone through each box. The first few he opened didn’t have anything important in them. Then, he found one with the label torn off. He carefully lifted the lid on it. Inside, he saw only a few prints and packing material. As he pushed aside some of the white Styrofoam “peanuts” within, he saw a manila envelope. He grabbed it and peered inside. It held black flash drives. The excitement and anticipation of discovery took hold of him until he heard muffled voices approaching.
He peeped around the crate to see two figures standing in the shadows speaking in hushed tones. As quickly and quietly as possible, he slipped the top back on the crate and sank down behind it. He waited there hoping to discover something else. The voices moved closer, though he was unable to see who they were. Slowly, cautiously, he rose and pressed himself against the length of a wall and edged closer so that he could hear more clearly. He peeked around the corner of the wall, trying to see who they were but finding that he could see only one of them. He stood with his hands folded lightly on top of a sleek black cane. He was a short man with a cafe au lait complexion and a meticulously trimmed moustache and beard. Michael knew that any man standing in the middle of such a dank and dirty place wearing an immaculate tuxedo could only spell danger. Smoke from his fragrant cigarillo curled into the humid air as he whispered, “Is she dead
yet?”
“No, but she’s here on the island and I know where she is. I’m prepared to do what’s necessary,” said Elphonse Deklerk’s very recognizable voice. It was all Michael could do not to go wring the man’s neck.
“And the other thing?”
“I’m searching, Rinaldo. I am. You brought Marshall on board against my wishes.”
“Your wishes mean nothing.”
“Yes, sir, I know that. But he found Bernard, and Bernard’s trail leads straight to you.”
“And it’s your job to destroy that trail,” replied Rinaldo.
“I’m working on it. You can’t expect me to work a miracle after the mess you’ve made.”
Suddenly, the smaller man moved like black lightning. His diamond cuff links sparkled and flashed violently in the scant light. Michael made out metal glowing at the end of the sleek black cane and pressed against the neck of Elphonse Deklerk. Without a hair or ruffle out of place, Rinaldo hissed, “Don’t ever, ever disrespect me that way again. Do you hear? Good. Now you listen to me. If you do not deliver those proofs to me in forty-eight hours, you are a dead man. You understand?”
“I understand,” Elphonse answered in a tense voice. He sounded like a man desperate to save his neck.
“Who is this reporter that’s nosing around?” Rinaldo questioned, suddenly moving back into his original stance.
“Michael Harrison,” Deklerk replied, rubbing at his neck. “He wrote that damned article in the Harrison Tribune that started all this mess.”
“That article saved this operation.”
“Look, there is absolutely nothing to be concerned about. The problem is Nyron’s daughter. I’ll take care of her,” he responded.
“So you’ve said, Elphonse. And don’t worry. I’ll make sure you keep your word,” Mandolesi said, straightening his tie. “And then I’ll take care of the reporter as a bonus.”
Michael could feel the absolutely electric charge in the air. He had to get out of there. He stuffed the flash drives in his pants pocket, preparing to retreat. As Michael turned, he felt his toe catch and hook on something, nearly tripping him. He reached out to steady himself and a loud, clinking noise rang through the darkness.