He hit SEND, snapped the clam shell phone in half, pulled the SIM card, and tossed it all down a storm drain.
Across town, Detective Maple’s cell phone hummed. At the same time, NYPD Detective Doremus’ mobile trilled. In D.C., Special Agent Cavanaugh’s FBI-issued smartphone pinged. All three received the same text message.
Gabriel looked up and saw Raimy coming out. The pair embraced for a quick buddy-hug. “Well? You were in there for a while.” Gabriel asked.
“Let’s walk and talk.” Raimy led the way out of the building and started a slow walk to the top of the parking deck where his car waited. “First, Tanzler was fired for planting evidence on Pablo Souza. He’s done. They took away his retirement, too.”
“That’s good, right?” Gabriel asked.
“Yeah. Very good. That pervert should’ve been gone years ago. Funny, though. Tanzler told my boss it was all my fault, despite all the video evidence. Apparently, he was really steamed about it.”
“Jesus! Victim complex, huh? There’s more though, right?”
“Yup. I’m done, too. Arvind had no choice. I admitted taking those medical reports out of the office. That’s an actionable offense. No doubt about it.”
“Oh, shit, Raimy. I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve that. I’m really sorry.”
“It’s not all bad. He’s letting me resign. No record of my violation. I can still practice pathology…just not for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. And he offered me a year-long consulting position for an amount equal to my current salary.”
“Consulting?”
“Yeah. Arvind’s a good man…we have a good relationship. He wants me to recruit replacements for me and Tanzler…and provide outside consultations on tough cases. It’s a gosh dang good bone he’s tossing me, under the circumstances.” He sighed, then shrugged. “I’ll send my resignation letter to him by end of day. Oh, well. At least I’m not broke.”
“Or dead.”
“Yeah, that, too.”
“You can still write that scientific paper, can’t you?”
Raimy shrugged again. “I could, but I won’t. It’s Nia’s work. She really discovered it…she just hasn’t published it yet.”
“Wow. Ethics. Good for you. Very refreshing,” Gabriel joked as the pair reached the uncovered top parking deck. The sun was low on the horizon, casting long, skinny shadows eerily across the near-empty lot. The two men walked to the safety railing and leaned against it, admiring the view.
“You know, the last time we leaned against a railing together was at the Jaws bridge in the Vineyard,” Gabriel reflected.
Raimy smiled. “Damn that was exciting.”
“Yeah. And things only got more exciting from there...!” Gabriel’s breath clutched as the memory of Pablo and Cody haunted him, again.
Raimy watched the sadness shade his friend, so he broke the mood. “Hey, let’s get a drink?”
“Drink? Yeah, sure.”
The pair smiled, and then simultaneously turned when they heard the high whine of an engine revving. Frozen momentarily, they saw the dark sedan jump toward them…and Raimy recognized the eyes of the driver.
“Tanzler!”
The ruined pathologist was enraged, face red and eyes blazing. He raced toward Raimy…and Gabriel.
“You’re dead, Robinson! You’re fucking dead!” Tanzler screamed from behind the steering wheel.
Raimy and Gabriel were up against the parking deck wall. They ran to the right…and Tanzler tracked them…his car gaining speed.
He’s going to ram us! He’s insane!
Tanzler accelerated.
Raimy climbed up onto the wall. Gabriel followed, but his leather soled shoe slipped. He stood…and stared at the two-ton Ford Taurus racing at him.
Raimy glanced over the edge…looked down. He turned back and yanked up on Gabriel’s shirt collar. He shot a last look at Tanzler. “You’re crazy!” he yelled.
Tanzler plowed into the wall…sending Raimy over the edge and five-levels down. Tanzler was elated. But his gleeful hysteria soured as his car slowly tilted over the edge.
Struggling to release his seatbelt and escape the doomed automobile, Tanzler’s fear shifted to stunned disbelief as Gabriel Sweeney appeared from nowhere, climbing up and across the engine hood.
For a brief moment, the trapped pathologist watched as the troublesome PR flack scrambled past the windshield and over the roof, leaping to safety on the parking deck...just as the sedan plummeted to the sidewalk below.
Chapter 104 – Metropolitan DC
Firuzeh poured a glass of chardonnay and walked through the suite to the dining room table where her painting was unrolled and weighted down at the corners with tumblers from the bar. She stared at her deceased mother’s masterpiece. This was the first opportunity she’d really had the leisure to examine it.
She touched it, again, and ran her index finger around the lump she’d discovered on the trip to the Caymans. The outline was credit card-like in shape. She flipped the corner over and gazed at the reverse side of the canvas, hoping to find a seam she could cut into. Nothing.
She flipped the corner again…and there it was…at the top. The thick edge of the canvas was split…just a little…enough to slip her fingernail in the narrow pocket. She quick-stepped to the bathroom and retrieved her tiny tweezers.
She was methodical…slowly pushing the tweezers into the slight opening. She could tell there was a little glue holding the two slices of the canvas together. She returned to the bathroom and got her nail file…back at the dining table she sawed gently through the dried glue…gradually making progress…and careful not to damage the work of art.
Asrani must have done this. God, he was really careful…thank goodness.
Success! The glue relented, and the make-shift pocket opened. She returned to the tweezers and pinched the flat, rectangular object in the delicate pouch.
Gently baby...gently...a little more…that’s it…almost…there it is…come on...Got it!
Firuzeh held the plastic three-and-a-half inch by two-and-a-quarter inch item in her hand…and started to tremble. The blue and gold plastic card was emblazoned with a logo…K-R-L…and the words Katiakan Research Lab printed under it.
“Son of a dog…son of a Wookie’s damned dog,” she blurted. “It’s a security swipe card to Nia’s lab.”
Firuzeh dropped it on the table, sat back and took a long sip of her wine…thinking. She picked up her smartphone and speed dialed Raimy. Voicemail.
“Raimy. It’s me. Call me as soon as you can. I found something. Asrani hid a security pass card in my painting. It looks like the one for Nia’s lab…where she kept the chemical crap. Call me. We have to discuss this.”
She ended the call and dialed Gabriel.
Voicemail.
“Dammit!”
She left the same message and then returned to her wine and her thoughts.
Why did Asrani hide this? Did he give this to Kang? What the heck? Jesus! I thought this was over. Goddammit! C’mon boys…call me back…call me back.
Chapter 105 – Boston
Raimy slowly opened his eyes. Everything was blurry.
“Raimy! Raimy! RAIMY!”
Raimy was disoriented. What happened?
Gabriel screamed at the growing number of onlookers. “Don’t touch him. Don’t fucking touch him! Raimy! Can you hear me? Raimy?”
Is that Gabriel? Gabriel!
“Goddammit! Raimy! Blink if you can hear me! Blink for chrissakes!”
Oh wait. Tanzler. Crazy whacko. Did I jump?
“C’mon. Raimy! Hang in there. RAIMY!”
Raimy’s lipped moved.
“Raimy! Did you say something?” Gabriel tipped his ear close to his friend’s mouth. “What did you say? What is it?”
“Ga-Gabriel…stop yell…yelling. My back hurts. Tried to grab y-you…you ok-okay?”
Gabriel burst out laughing. “Yeah, man. I’m okay. Tanzler’s dead. You’re crazy lucky. You landed o
n an awning. It broke your fall. Jesus!”
Raimy slowly shook his head and motioned for Gabriel to come closer.
“N-not luck. Worked here f-for years. Knew it w-was th-there. J-jumped for it. Tried to p-pull you...with me. Slipped.... s-sorry.”
“You saved my life, Raimy. You pulled me up enough. Tanzler missed me. Shit, man, I thought you were a goner.”
“Y-you owe me...a drink,” Raimy wheezed, and then smiled.
Chapter 106 – Wednesday, August 15 (Boston)
Raimy was taken to the hospital and observed overnight. His shoulder was dislocated from hitting an awning bracket as it collapsed under his fall. His nose was broken, he had a slight concussion, and he was bruised everywhere.
"You’re in damn good condition, all things considered. You should heal up just fine,” said the attending doctor.
"Yeah, easier said than done," Raimy said, wincing as he shifted in bed to get comfortable.
“Avoid reading, watching TV and using your smartphone. That’ll allow your concussion to heal.” The doctor left.
Carl scooted onto the hospital bed. “Hey, Dad. We look like a couple of badasses, huh?” He used his good arm to snap a selfie with his father. “Hah! Awesome! Can we use this for our Christmas card?” Carl laughed, and hopped off the bed to show his brother the picture.
Raimy smiled, through the pain. It was good to be alive, and with his boys and two new friends.
If only everything didn't hurt. His phone rang. He instinctively reached for it with his bad arm, sending a shot of pain through his shoulder.
"Dangnabbit!"
Gabriel picked up the smartphone and read the caller ID just before the call kicked over to voice mail.
“It was some leasing office. Fox Chase Manor or something.”
"Yeah…I gotta find a place to live. I better call back," Raimy grumbled.
"That is taken care of," Firuzeh said. She took the phone from Gabriel, turned it off, and put it back on the nightstand. “And no phone. Doctor’s orders.”
"What do you mean, it's taken care of?"
“I got you into a corporate apartment Pilgrim Trust Bank uses. I’ll help get you into something more…homey…but that’ll take a few weeks,” she explained.
“Thanks, babe. I mean it.”
Ron’s head popped up. “Dad…did you just call Ms. Patel babe?”
“Ron…it’s impolite to eavesdrop,” Raimy scolded, and suppressed a smile.
“Haha. Hey, Carl! Dad’s got a girlfriend. I didn’t know he had it in him!”
"Yeah, yeah...take it outside, OK? You boys are making my head ache!"
Snickering and jostling each other Carl and Ron went out into the hall, making loud smooching noises.
Firuzeh giggled and then, after the boys left the hospital room, grew serious. “You’ve seen the news, right?”
“What news?” Raimy asked.
Gabriel answered. “It’s in the papers. The authorities got a tip. They recovered the Beacon Hill Bank money. Nearly every dime. The heist was masterminded by two Pilgrim Trust officials, and a few Boston cops. Most are dead. There are some others facing charges.”
“Holy shit! That plan come together fast.” Raimy was impressed. “What about Pilgrim Trust?”
It was Firuzeh’s turn. “Pilgrim Trust Bank will have credibility problems thanks to Forbes and Asrani’s criminal activity. The bank will be okay in the long run. The money’s returned. The guilty are dead.”
Raimy suddenly felt vulnerable. “Damn! And are we…?”
“…in the clear? Yes.” Gabriel answered.
“Well, that’s good.” Raimy paused before a smile broke across his face. “Hey! Did I tell you? Dr. Katiakan left me a message. She wants me to join her research team. I can’t believe it. I mean I know she fired Kang and has a spot open but…dang…how cool is this?”
“Very cool…and deserved, too,” said Gabriel. “Remember, she thinks your sharp. She said it was remarkable that you found that deadly conception chemical.”
Firuzeh leaned over and hugged him. “Wow. You could be part of history. I’m so happy for you.” She squeezed him tighter and thought. And maybe…just maybe…I’ll be able to have a baby of my own…it would be a miracle.
“Ow…ow…ow! Gently, babe, gently.” Raimy grimaced…and then smiled at her.
“Okay, you two. Knock it off. I’ve got news, too.” Gabriel waited until he had their attention. “I got a call…some dude named Nopera Temuera…heads up the board of directors for Dr. Katiakan’s lab.”
“What’s that all about?” Raimy asked.
“They want to hire me. Mostly to keep them out of the news.”
“Makes sense,” Firuzeh said. “You’re already doing it for Pilgrim Trust.”
Gabriel smiled and handed around three flimsy hospital paper cups and filled each with a shot of Tres-Quatro-Cinco Tequila, Pablo’s favorite.
He raised his cup for a toast. “Here’s to a long and boring life for each of us.”
Raimy and Gabriel drank.
“Or maybe not,” Firuzeh said.
The men stared at her.
“This may not be over yet.” She tossed back the bracing shot of tequila.
“You both got my message, right?”
“Yeah...The secret, secure lab swipe card hidden in your painting. I just don’t know what to make of it.” Raimy confessed.
“Agree. Why would Asrani do that?” Gabriel asked, and filled their cups.
“I don’t know. Maybe Kang will have some answers. I’ve got a hunch this isn’t over. Not yet,” Firuzeh said.
Gabriel raised his cup. “Here’s to Cody…and Pablo. If here were here he would say, When life gives you a song you better dance, because the song is going to end for everyone.”
They all drank.
Epilogue – Thursday, August 17 (Kinshasa, Congo and New Jersey)
Lucien Smeets sipped his Da Hong Pao tea, savoring the heavily oxidized, lavish dark oolong tea worth nearly $40,000 per ounce.
He listened as his call to Dr. Katiakan rang while scanning his expansive, richly manicured estate through the bullet-proof floor-to-ceiling windows inside his west-facing sunroom.
“Hello, Lucien. How are you?”
“I’m in a good mood today. I expect your answers will keep me in lofty spirits, yes? Are you ready to help our movie star couple with a baby?”
“Yes. Scheduled for this week.”
“And the actress? Does she have any suspicions? What we’re doing is internationally illegal, as you know. We cannot have any leaks.”
“None. She thinks it’s a normal in vitro fertilization. She has no idea we’re not using her eggs.”
“Good. And our boy? He’s clear on this?”
“Absolutely. He’s one of us. He knows the stakes.”
“Well done. Let me know how things go.” Smeets hung up, sipped his tea, and smiled.
Nia clicked off and put the phone down, walked across the chemical-resistant floor of her New Jersey lab to a cryopreservation tank. She verified that the locking seals, temperature, and redundant power sources were properly set. The tank hosted thousands of vials of frozen embryos.
Moving to the other end of the crowded room, the internationally-famous doctor examined twelve pods. Half of them were no larger than medium-sized dog kennels, the rest looked like science-fiction tanning beds. Peering into each of the observation windows, the doctor smiled at what stared back.
My babies.
***
End of Book 1 – Follow Gabriel Sweeney in his next adventure – False Conception
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About the Author
Patrick Blake is an award-winning public relations veteran, former prize-winning journalist and Adjunct Instructor at Georgetown University. When he's not writing action-packed, high-stakes thrillers, Patrick plays beer-league hockey, cook
s his grandmother’s Puerto Rican recipes, and backpacks the Appalachian Trail.
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