“I’m Dr. Robinson,” said a man who appeared beside Paul’s seat. “Could I sit beside this gentleman?”
Paul stood and Dr. Robinson took his place.
The doctor reclined Elijah’s seat. His elderly head lolled toward his left shoulder. Dr. Robinson checked his pulse and eye pupils, and felt his forehead.
“This man needs to lie down somewhere quiet,” Dr. Robinson said to three flight attendants who’d materialized beside Paul. “Do you have a stretcher and some place he can lie down?”
“The upper deck,” said one flight attendant. “We don’t have a stretcher on board.”
“Help me with him,” Paul said to the flight attendant. He motioned Dr. Robinson to vacate the seat beside Elijah.
Paul folded the armrest and braced his right knee on his own seat. He slipped his left arm under Elijah’s knees and his right behind his back, and gently lifted. Elijah was surprisingly light.
Carrying Elijah, he followed the flight attendant to the stairs leading to the upper deck. At the top, the flight attendant led them to a vacant World Club Service seat. While Paul held Elijah gently, she quickly folded the seat down into a bed and spread a sheet over it. She held a blanket while Paul lowered Elijah onto the bed and tucked a pillow under his head. Behind him stood Dr. Robinson and a man who Paul assumed was another physician.
“Thank you so much for your help,” Dr. Robinson said to Paul. “You can return to your seat. Someone will contact you with an update as soon as possible. Thanks again.”
Paul nodded then looked down. Elijah’s eyes were closed; there was a peaceful look on his rugged face. A day’s growth of white whiskers contrasted with his dark skin.
Paul made his way back to his seat, sharing with Anne and Doug what little he knew.
Paul was again into reading Malcolm’s draft proposal for the Secret Shepherd Foundation when a flight attendant knelt down bedside his seat. Paul glanced at his watch. Almost an hour had passed since he’d carried Elijah to the upper deck.
“Dr. Rucker has asked to see you,” she said.
“How’s he doing?” Paul asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said, a worried frown on her face. “He seems very weak. Dr. Robinson is with him. Can you come now?”
“Of course,” Paul said, standing. He glanced over at Anne and handed her his file. She smiled and nodded. He ruffled Doug’s dark brown hair and said, “I’ll be back in a bit, sport. Look after your Mom and Catherine while I’m gone, okay?”
A proud smile blossomed on Doug’s young face.
“You bet, Dad!” he said.
When Paul arrived at the upper deck, Elijah was asleep, his mouth and nose covered with an oxygen mask.
Dr. Robinson was writing at a foldout desk in the seat across the aisle. He rose when Paul arrived.
“Oh, hello,” he said. “I didn’t get your name.”
“Paul Winston,” Paul said. “How’s he doing?”
Dr. Robinson frowned. “Dr. Rucker confirmed for us... that is, for myself and another physician on board... that he has severe heart arrhythmia. Dr. Rucker is an extremely sick man. He needs a pacemaker... long overdue. He should be in surgery receiving one as we speak.”
“Paul,” Elijah said weakly. Paul turned. Elijah held the oxygen mask in his right hand. Paul felt bad that his conversation with Dr. Robinson might have awakened him.
“Paul,” Elijah repeated.
“Sorry, Elijah,” Paul said, kneeling down beside him. “Did I wake you?”
“Never mind that,” Elijah said. A slight grin made a flickering appearance. “I’ll have lots of time for that... in due course. Look, Paul, I know we’ve only known each other for just a few hours.”
Elijah stopped and put the oxygen mask back over his mouth and nose. His breathing was labored. He took a few deep breaths, and then removed the mask.
“I must say I rather like you,” he continued. “And I feel you are trustworthy. I have no right, Paul, but may I ask a very large favor of you?”
“Of course,” Paul said. “What can I do for you?”
“It’s Anthea,” Elijah said. “I left Anthea back in Sierra Leone. If anything happens to me, can you get word to her for me? I know it’s a lot to ask. Our phones are... well, they’re not working just now.”
“I’m sure you’re going to be just fine,” Paul interrupted him. “You’ll be seeing Anthea very soon. But if it will put your mind at ease then consider it done, Elijah. It’s a promise and it would be my privilege.”
“Oh, thank you, Paul,” Elijah said. “That’s very important to me.” He put down the oxygen mask and reached into the inside left pocket of his frayed suit jacket.
“Here,” Elijah said. “Please take this. It’s my wallet with my identification. I want you to look after it for me. Okay? In it you’ll also find instructions that if anything happens to me I’m to be cremated. I want my ashes set back to Anthea in Sierra Leone.”
“Of course, Elijah,” Paul said. “But all that won’t be necessary. Why don’t you just hang onto it?”
“Listen, when I return to my seat, you can give it back to me,” Elijah said. “Okay?”
“It’s a deal,” Paul said. Elijah’s firm insistence worried him.
Back in his seat, Paul was dozing when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He woke looking into the face of a flight attendant.
“Dr. Robinson would like to see you, sir,” she said.
Paul rose and stepped into the aisle. His watch said it had been two hours since he’d left Elijah on the upper deck. He hoped that Elijah was feeling better.
He looked over fondly at Anne, asleep with her seat reclined back. Catherine was sleeping soundly in her mother’s arms. Doug’s chin was slumped on his chest while the book he’d been reading had slid down beside him.
The flight attendant led Paul up the aisle to one side of the narrow stairway to the upper deck. Dr. Robinson was waiting. He led him to a services alcove.
“How’s Elijah... uh, Dr. Rucker... doing?” Paul asked.
“I’m very sorry to tell you this, Paul, but Dr. Rucker passed away a few minutes ago,” Dr. Robinson said. He looked at Paul with eyes filled with sadness. “I regret there wasn’t anything more we could do for him here.”
“Oh, my!” Paul said. “That’s terrible.... terrible. A wonderful man... gone... hard to believe. Oh my!”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Pueblo, CO
“Do you swear under oath that you have never had intercourse with the plaintiff?”
“That is correct,” Paul said. “I swear that I have never had any form of intimate relations with Pamela Milliken, much less intercourse. This whole thing is outrageous!”
Paul was in the cluttered office of Pamela’s lawyer, Larry Sutherland, giving evidence in a deposition. Seated beside Paul was Walter Stewart, his lawyer and boyhood friend.
“Just answer my question with a simple ‘Yes’ or ‘No’!” Sutherland said, his voice loud and aggressive.
“Easy now, Larry,” Walter said. “We’re not in court... yet.”
“Mr. Winston,” Sutherland continued, “Would you care to reconsider what you have just said? I should warn you, we have DNA evidence from Ms. Milliken’s daughter, Stacey, confirming your paternity.”
Paul began to reply. Sutherland interrupted.
“Before you answer, I would remind you, Mr. Winston, that you are giving this deposition under oath. False testimony will be considered perjury. You will...”
Paul interrupted him.
“I’m telling you categorically that it is not humanly possible for you to have the evidence that you claim to have,” Paul replied calmly and firmly. “I repeat, the intimate relations necessary for that supposed DNA could not, and I repeat, did not occur. Period. Do I make myself sufficiently clear?”
He looked directly at Pamela as he spoke.
She held her chin up defiantly but her eyes were focused down on her hands, folded in her lap.
“Any documents that you have proclaiming the contrary are not legitimate,” Paul added.
“Are you saying we falsified evidence?” Sutherland said, his voice angry.
“I’m telling you that any documents purporting to show a DNA match cannot be authentic,” Paul replied calmly. “You can make of that what you wish.”
“I warn you once again about perjuring yourself!” Sutherland said, his voice again loud and threatening.
Paul made a token effort to hide his amusement over Sutherland’s attempt to intimidate him.
“Larry,” Stewart said. “This deposition is over. If you have any further questions for my client, call my office. See you in court.”
“Paul?” Stewart said, looking over at Paul as he rose.
“You should know,” Paul said to Sutherland. “I have instructed my lawyer, Mr. Stewart here, to have the copies of those documents you provided checked out very, very thoroughly.”
He looked intently again at Pamela.
“They will be investigated vigorously,” he repeated. “And I will take legal action vigorously on anything we find that cannot be authenticated completely.”
“Is that a threat?” Sutherland said. “Are you threatening my client?”
“I am making you and Ms. Milliken a promise,” Paul said, rising to his full six-feet, two-inches.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Two Dot Ranch,
Colorado Springs
“Now that the deposition is over I really must go to Sierra Leone,” Paul said.
It was the day after his deposition in Pueblo.
Paul and Anne were enjoying morning coffee on the expansive veranda of their fieldstone ranch house, nestled in the foothills southwest of Colorado Springs.
The imposing two-story structure where Paul grew up sat on a rise of land offering a breathtaking three hundred and sixty-degree view of the vast sprawling five-thousand-acre ranch. To the west in the distance rose the majestic Rocky Mountains; to the north, east and south lay vast rolling grass-covered grazing lands.
“As you know, I promised Dr. Rucker that I would go see his wife if anything happened to him,” Paul said. “I feel badly not being able to go sooner, to bring her the tragic news and to deliver his ashes. I’ve no way of knowing if Mrs. Rucker knows. Their phones seem to be out of service.”
“I understand, Paul,” Anne said. “I’m sorry that sad duty falls on you. My goodness, you only knew him for just a few hours.”
“I really liked that kindly old gent,” Paul replied. “What he and his wife have been doing in Sierra Leone for all those years sounds very impressive. I want to see it for myself. It might be something Secret Shepherd should consider.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Peckham Borough
London, UK
“What in hell are you up to?” Kazem Mehregan asked.
“It’s a condition of my parole,” Ahmed replied. He looked Mehregan directly in the eye. “The judge ordered me to pick up the bloody garbage on the campus at Cambridge. He called it community service.”
“That’s a crap job,” Mehregan retorted. “You should have told him to get some other fucking idiot to do that... told him to shove it up his flippin’ arse.”
“Yeah, sure,” Ahmed said. “It got me outta jail, man, didn’t it? Besides, it’s only a couple of hours a week and a prof there gives me free coffee and snacks. It’s a cool gig, man.”
“You’re a fucking idiot!” Mehregan said.
After recruiting Ahmed into the gang, Mehregan had taken him under his wing at first. But Kazem had recently installed himself as the boss, after a rival gang killed their previous leader. Now, Mehregan seemed to believe he should intimidate everyone around him. It made Ahmed more determined than ever to crush the gang that had forced him to try robbing Paul, and abandoning him after he was arrested.
“I’m going with you to that college the next time,” said Izad Rajavi, who’d ingratiated himself with Mehregan. “I’m good for some free coffee and crumpets.”
Rajavi was the gang’s self-proclaimed enforcer and deputy leader. Ahmed understood Rajavi, who seemed envious of him, planned to check up on him and perhaps try to call his bluff. Neither Mehregan nor Rajavi knew he was enrolled in a preparatory economics class taught by Dr. Jack Bebermeyer. He could sense that both were suspicious that something might be going on, other than what he’d claimed.
Ahmed knew his undercover role placed him in considerable danger, and that he’d have to work hard to learn the secrets that would destroy them... and keep him alive.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Denver, CO
“We have confirmation now, Paul,” Ken Hagerman said on the phone. “Those shots were meant for both of you... for you and for Kay Shelley.”
Paul was at Denver International Airport about to board a long flight to Freetown, Sierra Leone.
“Good God!” Paul said. “How is that possible? What’s the connection?”
“Our working assumption at the moment is that two different groups hired the same hitman,” Hagerman said. “Chances are they didn’t know about the other’s plans. There aren’t all that many top-notch hitmen around. The guy may have planned on a double payday. I’ll bet he had some tough questions to answer from both of his employers after blowing their assignments. We know Ahmed’s former gang ordered the hit on you, of course. We can’t confirm yet who ordered the hit on Ms. Shelley.”
“Her former husband?” Paul asked.
“That’s our best guess,” Ken said. “Our major crimes unit says the alibi given by Mrs. Shelley’s ex-husband didn’t stand up. We’ve issued a warrant for his arrest. We’re convinced the bomb under the bench was intended for both of you, Paul. Our current theory is the hitman planned to shoot Mrs. Shelley first. His next shot was intended for you after you came to help her. A timer was to detonate the bomb in order to obliterate your bodies along with any forensic evidence.”
“I’ll be damned!” Paul said. “Two attempts on two separate and unconnected people... at the same time. Big payday.”
“Yes, Paul,” Ken said. “Mrs. Shelley said she had received a voicemail as well. It gave instructions on where to find information about retrieving her stolen money.”
“Do you mind me asking?” Paul said. “Why are you and Richard involved in this case at all? You run the anti-terrorism branch for New Scotland Yard and Richard works for MI5. Isn’t this a domestic criminal matter?”
“Normally, that would be the case,” Ken replied. “But there appears to be links between the shooting and the security leaks we’re pursuing, including those at the House of Lords. These seem to be getting stronger the further we dig into this. When are you back in London, Paul?”
“In about a week, I expect,” Paul said. “I’m just leaving for a commitment in Sierra Leone.”
“Give me a call when you’re back,” Ken said. “I’d like to review your understanding of events leading up to the shooting.”
“You bet,” Paul replied.
***
London
“Better you go easy right now, Ahmed,” Richard counseled the young, newly recruited informant. “You’ve got to back off, or you’re going to get yourself killed.”
They were in Ahmed’s room in the flat Paul had arranged for him while attending the special academic preparatory program at Cambridge.
“I’ll be careful,” Ahmed said. “But I’m sure that asshole Rajavi is determined to collect the fifty thousand in US dollars each on Paul and Lady Anne and their children. He’s got to be stopped. That’s why I called you. I need your help. One of those pricks has been following me,” he added. “His name is Izad Rajavi. He’s the enforcer for the Peckham Boys gang. He showed up at Cambridge yesterday just as I was about to go into Dr. Bebermeyer’s class. Scared the shit out of me. Good thing Professor Bebermeyer is in the loop. Can you have Scotland Yard pick him up?”
“We need a sound legal reason to have him arrested again, Ahmed, and we don’t
have one,” Richard said. “He’s out on parole now as you know.”
“Damn!” Ahmed said. “I’ll just have to fake it, then.”
“I think all of this is getting too risky,” Richard said. “Scotland Yard tells me Rajavi is implicated in at least two homicides, most likely more. Let’s not add yours.”
“Naw,” Ahmed said. “I can look after myself. Rajavi is not all that smart. He does what he’s told, which means Mehregan is calling the shots.”
“Listen, Ahmed,” Richard said. “I really think I should ask CS Hagerman to pull you out right now.”
“No!” Ahmed said. “Don’t do that! Not now! Please! Not yet! Paul and his family are in real danger, Mr. Meriwether. Besides, that son-of-a-bitch and his lot almost messed me up for good. They’re not getting off scot free, not if I can help it.”
“All right,” Richard said reluctantly. “But just for now.”
“There’s something else you’ll want to know,” Ahmed said. “Mehregan took me with him to Westminster two days ago. He told me to wait in a corridor while he went to see someone. A few minutes later, he came back with a book. He took a folded sheet of paper out. I couldn’t see what was on it. Anyway, I heard him talking to a woman. She came to the doorway to the corridor. After we left, he told me to bugger off... that he had a date with another woman, some older woman. When I got home I grabbed a city map to figure out where we’d gone. Turns out, I’d been waiting outside the Lord’s Library. Do you think that’s significant?”
“Yeah,” Richard said. “I rather think so. Good for you. It could be very helpful if you can find out a bit more about that older woman without putting yourself in any more danger. That’s rather interesting. Be careful, though, okay?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Secret Shepherd Page 9