by Jan Coffey
“The boss has been on the phone with Columbia Digital in Connecticut half the morning about the system you set up for them.”
“What’s their fucking problem?”
“Well, I don’t know exactly. Nothing is working right, and nobody knows what’s going on. They’ve just shut down operations, and the fur is really flying.”
Lyden bet more than fur was flying. From his house, he’d logged in and moved around a few things in Columbia Digital’s programs. Without the computers functioning, the business was out of commission.
“What about the fucking field engineers?”
Helen’s face was breaking out in purple blotches. “They’ve got a team there now, but they’re at a loss.”
“So while they have a little circle jerk, I’m supposed to go and fix the problem?”
Helen looked more flustered, and glanced over the cubicle walls toward the supervisor’s office. She turned back to Lyden.
“He does want you to go sort out the mess. His exact words were, ‘Lyden had better get them up and running or someone’s butt is going to fry.’”
“Where is he now?”
“Still at lunch.”
This was just exactly what he’d planned. Columbia Digital was only twenty miles from Wickfield. He could be in Connecticut and have a legitimate reason for it. Fucking beautiful.
“Get him on his cell. I’ll stop off at home and grab an overnight bag.”
“I’ll call him right now.”
“Where’s the incident file?” he demanded, shutting off his computer.
“Everything is on his desk. I’ll get it for you.”
He watched her scurry away. She couldn’t move fast enough.
Forty
Ben poked his head inside the partially open door of the café’s office. Emily looked up from her phone call and motioned him inside. He’d lost the sling somewhere.
“Yeah,” she said into the phone as she rose to her feet. “I’ll call you tonight when I know for sure.”
“You be careful,” her ex-husband said from the other end.
“I will. Say hi to Anne for me. And…thanks again, David.” She hung up the phone and came around the desk.
The clock on the wall showed four-thirty. Only half an hour left to the rendezvous.
Ben closed the door behind him and pulled her into his arms. The last time she’d checked, there were at least a half dozen agents on the other side of the door, preparing for whatever was going to happen. But Emily didn’t care. This was exactly what she needed, just having Ben hold her. She was trying not to let it all overwhelm her, but her mind was running in a hundred different directions. And worry was powering it like jet fuel.
“I had to call David, my ex-husband,” she told Ben. “I told him a little of what’s going on with my…uh, fan. I asked him if it was okay to send Conor to stay with him and his wife for a while. He agreed.”
“You don’t have much faith in what’s going to happen here, do you?”
Her forehead rubbed against his chest as she shook her head. She pulled back slightly, looking up into his face. “I’m positive that Robert Chen is innocent. I also believe we’ll have a no-show here.”
“Why do you think the real guy won’t show?”
“Because he might be a sicko, but he’s no dope. It takes a brilliant mind to come up with that virus and find a way to deliver it undetected into so many cars. He’s smart. He plans ahead. He’s not going to walk into a trap. I just know it.”
“Have you told Conor yet about California?”
“No. Not yet.” She stepped away from him and moved around to the other side of the desk. “He won’t be happy about it, especially since he’s already into the school year. But I have no choice. I don’t believe he’ll be safe staying with me or Liz.”
“He could stay with my parents. I could have a driver take him back and forth to school. That way, you could still see him, and he wouldn’t feel deserted, either.”
She hugged her middle and smiled at him appreciatively. “That’s too much to ask. I can’t—”
“It’s not too much to ask. And you can.” He came toward her. “I want you to cut all this formality, Em. Things have changed. Everything is different between us now.”
She didn’t have a chance to argue as Ben pulled her into his arms and kissed her. And she responded, welcoming his strength, his passion, the confidence that was so much a part of him.
A knock on the door separated them. She smiled up at him, feeling the warmth in her face. “You know how to distract me.”
“I’ll call my parents and tell them Conor will be coming over.”
She shook her head. “Not yet. Let me talk to him first. I want him to be part of the decision.”
Ben seemed satisfied with that.
At the second knock, she hurried to open the door. Liz was standing on the other side. Her mischievous glance traveled from Emily to Ben and back.
“I can rent you two a room upstairs by the hour, you know.”
Emily felt her face really get hot, but before she could think of a response, Ben was behind her. His arm slipped around her waist, drawing her closer. “We’ll take you up on that later. Are they ready for us?”
“Yes and no. They’re ready for Emily. But they want you in back. With the café lights on, everyone on the street can see what’s going on inside. They don’t want you to scare anyone off.”
Emily looked over her shoulder at Ben. His face showed his frustration.
“I’ll just be on the other side of this wall,” she said, planting a kiss on his lips in spite of their audience.
He stopped her from closing the door and stood watching them.
In the café, right behind the counter, Emily spotted a female agent wearing an apron and chopping vegetables on the cutting board. Two other agents, a man and a woman, were sitting at a table by the wall, to all appearances waiting for their orders.
Emily wasn’t too sure about the three older teens who were perusing the menu near the side-by-side juice and soda refrigerators. If they were feds, then they’d done an outstanding job of making themselves look genuinely young.
She knew there were more agents positioned across the street, and upstairs, and in the van that was parked in the alleyway, and probably in other places that she hadn’t been told about.
The good thing was that the restaurant business was usually light at this time of day. Lunches were always busier than dinner at the Eatopia Café. Only a handful of true tree-huggers came around for a sandwich or salad after work, and most of the orders were “to go.” Liz generally closed down the café around seven. Emily looked up at the clock. It was already 4:50.
“I’d feel much better if you didn’t stay,” Emily whispered to Liz.
“Tough, sis. I’m not going anywhere.”
Emily looked at her sister. “Nobody knows what’s going to happen.”
“All the more reason for me to be here with you.”
“Listen, this guy could be crazy enough to walk in here with an Uzi and try to gun everyone down,” she said with a touch of temper. “Both of us can’t go at the same time. If something…well, bad happens, who’s going to take care of Conor for me.”
“Nice try. If something happens to you, I know that David is next in line. So forget it, I’m not going anywhere.” Liz put both hands on Emily’s shoulders and pushed her behind the counter. “Stop thinking and do something useful.”
“Like what?”
“There’s too much cash in the register. Take care of it. I haven’t made a deposit in two days.”
“I don’t think anyone is going to rob us with this many agents hanging around,” Emily complained, but she let herself be pushed down on the stool by the register.
“Government agents? Who do you think I’m worried about.” She smiled sweetly at the woman cutting vegetables.
“Nice attitude,” the agent said wryly.
Emily looked up at the clock again. 4:55. She glanced at the doorway
to the office. Ben was there. She felt better.
The bell on the door rang and a knot immediately formed in her throat as she looked that way. A young woman with an infant on her hip and holding a toddler’s hand was walking toward the counter.
This one couldn’t be an agent, Emily thought. She noticed the two against the wall and the teenagers eyeing the woman with concern.
“We’re out of everything,” Emily whispered to Liz. Her sister was just putting a salad and a wrap sandwich on the counter.
Emily looked at the clock. 4:59. The female agent wearing the apron came around the counter and took the plates to the table. She was now between the young family and the door. The three teenagers moved behind the women, too. It was obvious everyone was getting in position to shield her until they could get her out of there.
“We’re getting ready to close,” Liz said tensely.
The mother looked over her shoulder at the food that had just been delivered to the table. “I’ll take a Caesar salad and a chicken wrap to go, then. Oh, two drinks, too.”
The toddler separated herself from the mother and ran to the glass front refrigerator. Emily scrambled off the stool and hurried around the counter. She went to the little boy and helped him get the drinks out.
It was 5:00. She felt sick.
Emily looked out on the street. A four-wheel drive vehicle had been parked in front, facing the café, for the past couple of hours. Beyond it, traffic was light on the street.
“Sit there and wait for me,” the mother told the toddler, pointing at a table and chairs by the front window.
The agent who’d been delivering the food turned to the mother. “That table’s reserved.”
“Sit at the one next to it, then,” the mother told the child.
“They’re all reserved.”
“I thought you were closing.”
“We are. There’s a private party,” Emily managed to say. “They’ve rented the entire café.”
The sound of screeching tires in the distance drew her gaze outside. The toddler, not paying any attention to the adults, was sitting at the table in front of the plate glass window.
Out of the corner of her eye, Emily saw Ben rush in from the office.
Forty-One
“Your mom asked me if we could keep you for a couple of hours. Something about an appointment at the café.”
Conor glanced back at Mrs. Gartner, who was looking at him in the rearview mirror. He and Ashley had planned yesterday for her mom to give him a ride home.
“Do you want to call her, Conor?” Ashley’s mother asked. “I have my cell phone.”
“No,” he said. “Thanks, Mrs. Gartner. I have my cell. But I’m not putting you out, am I?”
“Of course not.”
Conor had a pretty good idea what was going on. He knew “the appointment” had to do with his mother’s stalker. He just hoped nothing had gone wrong.
The gnawing pain in his gut seemed to be telling him otherwise, though.
The Gartners lived in a nice neighborhood on the far side of the village, and Ashley’s mother kept up a stream of small talk as they drove. A few minutes later, they were nearing the village green.
“Keep the radio low, will you, honey?” Mrs. Gartner asked as Ashley fiddled with the stations. “So, do you like pizza, Conor?”
“Sure. I like everything,” he replied.
“I was thinking we could pick up a pizza or some grinders. How does that sound to you, hon?”
“Sounds great,” Ashley said. She turned in her seat to look at Conor. “Have you had the pizza from the new trattoria?”
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s awesome.”
“Wonderful,” Mrs. Gartner said. “We’ll go there. I just have one other stop I need to make at the dry cleaners.”
Conor looked out at the Eatopia Café across the village green. Even though Tuesday nights were kind of slow, he could see a few customers through the front windows. Someone was working behind the counter, but he couldn’t tell who it was.
“Ashley,” Mrs. Gartner said, “do we have to listen to this?”
That gnawing pain in his stomach was getting worse. Rap music was playing on the radio. Ashley was twisting the tuner around but kept coming back to the same station.
“Maybe I will call my mom, Mrs. Gartner,” Conor said, pulling out the cell from his bag.
“Turn off the radio, honey, while Conor makes his ca—”
Before she could finish her sentence, the car made a sharp turn. Its tires screeched as it cut across traffic, nearly sideswiping a pickup truck. They all bounced as the car jumped the curb. In a second they were tearing across the village green.
“Mom!” Ashley shrieked. “What are you doing?”
The car jerked to the left, throwing the two teenagers sideways. Conor felt his head bang the window, and then the car was accelerating. He looked at Mrs. Gartner, who was frozen in the driver’s seat and clutching the wheel in a death grip. As the car careened toward the other side of the green, it clipped a park bench in the middle, splintering it and sending pieces everywhere.
Dead-ahead, Conor could see they were heading straight for the café. A second later, the car flew off the curb.
“Oh, my God,” Mrs. Gartner cried.
As Conor watched from the back seat, the whole thing took on the feeling of slow motion. Ashley was screaming and there was no way they were going to avoid crashing. In the window of the café, a little kid was sitting in a chair and looking out.
Then, in an explosion of headlight glass, the car smashed into the rear end of an SUV, driving the larger vehicle into the café.
Glass and brick pounded down on the SUV and on the crushed hood of the car, and the shrill sound of car alarms immediately blotted out everything else.
Forty-Two
The front grill of the SUV, now parked in the middle of the café, was only inches from Ben’s back. He could feel pieces of glass in his hair and piercing his skin through his shirt. Clouds of dust filled the restaurant.
The little boy was cocooned by Ben’s torso and arms, the child’s small fists clutching at his shirt.
The alarm of the SUV was immediately joined by the sound of sirens coming from every direction. And people were shouting both inside and outside the café.
He looked up, his eyes scanning the dust-filled area in search of Emily. She was on her hands and knees, a couple of feet away from him. She was covered with glass, too. She looked his way. She was bleeding from a cut on her cheek, and she looked too stunned to move.
The mother’s screech cut through the chaos. Ben realized she may not have seen him grab the child and thought her son had been crushed by the SUV. He struggled to his feet. People were rushing inside the café from outside. FBI, police, EMTs…he couldn’t tell who was who.
The young mother saw him and quickly closed the couple of steps between them.
“You saved him,” she gasped. “You saved him.”
The infant she had clutched to her chest had blood on her arm. He handed the toddler to her as an EMT came to help the young family.
Ben turned to Emily. She was trying to get to her feet. He went to her, took her by the arms, and pulled her up.
She was crying and shivering. He pulled a nasty-looking shard of glass off her hair and gathered her against his chest.
“You’re okay,” he said in her ear. “Everyone’s okay. Look at me, sweetheart.”
The SUV’s car alarm stopped abruptly.
“Liz!” Emily whispered. “Where is she?”
He looked toward the counter. Liz was there, the three young-looking agents with her. “She’s there. She’s okay.”
He tried to remember how many people had been in the café before the SUV came through the window. It didn’t matter, he realized. People were rushing in and out now. Everyone was shouting directions. The scene was total chaos.
“Why is he doing this?” she said between sobs.
Ben wished he had an answ
er. He had to get her out of here. The back door was blocked by a couple of EMTs trying to bring in a stretcher. He looked out the front. The SUV had torn a gaping hole in the glass and the wall, and the top of the vehicle was crushed flat. If anyone had been in it, they’d be dead for sure.
The shattered plate glass looked like a blanket of diamonds on the floor. For the first time, Ben saw the car behind the SUV, the one that had driven the larger car into the café.
The driver was a woman. She was still in the car, although the airbag had inflated. Despite all the noise, Ben could hear her crying out. She was hysterical, and he could understand exactly how she felt.
“He wants to destroy everything that matters to me,” Emily said to him, pulling herself out of his arms and staring around at the scene.
Ben saw it first. The teenage girl stepping out of the car on the passenger side was tall and blond. She had a nasty cut on her forehead. His grip on Emily’s arm tightened when he saw the EMTs trying to take another passenger out of the back seat. She followed the direction of his gaze.
“Ashley,” Emily cried out in a strangled voice, trying to pull free of him.
Rescue workers were swarming around the car. Ben held on to her. A phone had started ringing in the café.
“Conor!” Emily said, frantic. “Conor is in there.”
“Let them get him out,” Ben said.
She wrenched her arm free and started toward the SUV. A uniformed police officer blocked her path.
Ben held on to her again. “He’s okay. Look. He’s talking to the EMTs leaning in.”
The phone kept ringing somewhere behind them.
“Why isn’t he getting out?” she cried.
“Doors jam when they—”
“Conor!” she called out.
At that moment, a rescue worker pried open the door and Conor climbed out. His face was covered with blood, but it was impossible to tell the source of the bleeding. He was clear-eyed and alert, though, when he turned toward Emily.
“Mom!”
The officer got out of the way. There were a couple of stretchers right behind the car and the medics were asking Conor to get onto one of them.