by Mel LeBrun
“Sounds fun,” he remarked sarcastically. “Why don't you leave it alone for tonight. It's not going anywhere. Clear your head and try again later.”
“That's probably a good idea.”
Michael took away the tattered remains of their dishes. Jessica sat down on the futon and turned on the TV. Michael soon joined her. She pulled her feet up next to her and leaned into him. It wasn't long before she was passed out in his arms.
He would have gone to bed himself but he wanted to see if there was any news on the fire at Jessica's apartment. Finally at 11:00 p.m., the news came on. He waited impatiently as they talked about a traffic accident, the weather, a rabid raccoon.
“Did I miss it?” Jessica groggily asked.
“No. They haven't said anything yet.”
She sat up and rested her head on his shoulder. Then the moment they had been waiting for.
We have an update on the Carter Road fire. Police have confirmed the identity of the victim. Jessica Nickoli is the woman who died in that fire. She was 26 years old. Fire investigators are still trying to determine the cause of the fire. Next...
Jessica had been hoping Michael was wrong about the fire. That he was wrong about them faking her death. When she heard her name on the news her heart sank and she felt sick.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Not really.”
He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “We're going to get to the bottom of this,” he assured her. “I'm closer now than I ever was. Thanks mostly to you.”
Chapter 17
Morgan was popping antacids like they were candy. Things had never been this bad. He walked down a hallway in the Hilton hotel looking for room 286. He found it, popped another antacid and knocked on the door.
He was ushered in by a very large, muscular man with blonde hair and gray eyes that were cold and lifeless. Scars on his face and neck a testament to his rough lifestyle. Morgan figured he had worse scars covered by his clothing. In contrast to his gruff look, he was dressed sharp in nice slacks and a dress shirt.
Morgan was frisked and allowed to enter the room. Sitting at the table was a considerably smaller man dressed in Armani. His light brown hair was perfectly combed and it appeared a whole bottle of hair spray had been sacrificed to make sure it wouldn't move. It probably could deflect bullets given the chance. His face was wrinkled from a life of smoking that he had since given up. He was clean shaven and smiling warmly, unlike the brute who answered the door.
“Sit down, Mr. Morgan,” said the man at the table in a thick Russian accent.
Morgan nervously walked over and sat down across from the Russian.
“Where do we stand?” the man asked.
“Well, we are closing in on him. I hope to have this all resolved soon,” he replied.
“Do you now?” he smiled at the brute. “Well this is good news. Especially since my sources have told me the complete opposite.” His smile vanished.
Morgan gulped hard. He didn't say anything.
“This relationship is never going to work if you keep lying to me, Mr. Morgan,” he replied and then smiled insincerely at him. “I pay you well to take care of things for me. I have to say, I do not feel taken care of.” The smile was gone again.
Morgan felt the need to take another antacid, but was frozen in fear. “I'm sorry, sir.” He swallowed. “I have our best men on it. We're doing all we can. This man we are chasing is one of the most highly trained soldiers we had in our military. He is not making it easy for us.”
“This I know,” he replied. “And what about the girl? This Jessica Nickoli?”
“She's dead.”
“Good news. Have you recovered the package?”
“No, but most of her apartment was destroyed in the fire. It might have been destroyed. Even if it wasn't, with her dead we don't have to worry about the package.”
“Still, I would feel better if I knew where it was.”
“We'll keep looking.”
“Okay, Mr. Morgan. You may go now.” He waved his hand towards the door.
Morgan slowly got up and nervously walked to the door past the giant brute. He regretted the day he started working for a Russian Mafia. Once you were in, you were never out. They paid him well, but long ago he had started to feel like it wasn't worth it. The man he just met with was Vlad Milovich, second-in-command of the most notorious Russian mob in operation. He was a very dangerous man.
Morgan lied about Jessica Nickoli being dead. He hired Evan to fake her death. In addition to making sure no one else would look for her, he knew if he didn't have any progress to report or if the Russians knew she was alive and the package was still out there, he was a dead man. He needed to find them quickly and eliminate them. The clock was ticking and each second that passed brought Morgan closer to death.
After Morgan left, Vlad turned to his giant accomplice. “I think it's time we did our own investigation,” he said in Russian. “Reach out to our contacts and see what you can learn. Our friend Morgan may have outlived his usefulness.” The man nodded and pulled out his phone.
Chapter 18
Jessica woke first. She looked over at Michael, who was still asleep, noticing his phone on the nightstand. It wasn't there when they had gone to bed. He must have gotten a call or text while she was sleeping. She looked at him again, then back at the phone. She wanted to know what the call and text were about. She was still miffed that he hadn't told her. She carefully slid closer to him and the nightstand. She reached out over him, careful not to touch him. It was almost in her hand.
“Don't you dare.”
She jumped. Michael was awake and watching her.
“Are you ever not pretending to be asleep?” she asked.
“Yeah, when I'm sleeping,” he shot back. “What do you think you're doing?”
“Nothing.”
“It's locked anyway. You wouldn't be able to see anything.”
He was irritated, but so was she. “It's only four digits. It wouldn't take me long.”
Not pleased with the threat of her hacking into his phone, he sat up. “How about we lay down some ground rules then,” he said angrily. “Stay away from my phone.”
Jessica turned her back and lay down facing away from him.
“Are we clear?”
She refused to answer. He took his phone and left the room leaving her there fuming while he made coffee and then turned on the TV.
The coffee maker beeped and she got up to get a cup. Michael was sitting on the couch watching TV. Still angry, he didn't look at her. She didn't care. She poured herself a coffee and sat as far from him as she could on the futon. They both sat silently watching the news.
Michael abruptly shut off the TV. “Why are you fighting me so hard on this?” He turned to her.
“Fighting you on what?”
“You know exactly what. I told you I will keep things from you. That's not going to change no matter how hard you fight me. So why are you fighting me?”
“I don't like it. I don't like that you're keeping things from me.”
“I never asked you to like it. But I expect you to respect my decision. I have enough to worry about without having to cover my tracks around you.”
That made her feel bad. He did have a lot on his plate. She stared down at her hands. “I'm sorry.”
“Just promise you'll leave it alone and let me do what I need to do. Stop fighting me.”
“I'll try.”
“Thank you.” He wanted to hear yes, but figured even getting her to say she'd try was a victory. “How would you like to go to Boston for a few days?”
“I hate the city.”
He frowned. “I was afraid of that.” He turned to her. “I need to go to Boston and you have to come with me.”
“Wonderful.” Her day was getting better and better she thought.
“We'll load up the truck and head out. We can stop and get breakfast somewhere on the way. If you feel up to it you can work while we dr
ive.”
“Breakfast sounds good. I don't care for the rest. Why do you have to go to Boston?”
“I'm following a lead.”
“But you're not going to tell me?”
“Let's not start that again.”
After loading up the truck with nearly everything, but the furniture they began the hour-long journey to Boston. Along the way, they stopped at a cute little diner for breakfast. Jessica worked on decrypting the flash drive. Michael was quiet as she cursed and swore at her laptop. Without warning, she slammed it shut and threw it in the back seat.
“Not going well?” he remarked.
She sighed. “I don't know why I'm getting so frustrated. Usually I love a challenge.”
“You've been under a lot of stress lately. It's bound to affect your concentration.”
“I wish Kevin was back. He could probably crack it in half the time it will take me.”
“Well if you haven't done it by the time he gets back maybe we can get in touch with him.”
“Either way, I want to talk to him. I think he can help us.”
“We'll see.” Michael wasn't sure he wanted to involve Kevin. Things usually got messier when more people got involved. He still wasn't comfortable they had gone to the hacker club.
WITH THE patience of a saint, Michael worked his way through stifling Boston traffic. Jessica was amazed at his control. He didn't even seem to get frustrated. She, on the other hand, would have been screaming obscenities at the top of her lungs by now.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“A motel. I reserved us a room.”
“I can only imagine the shape this place will be in,” she said. Thinking of the warehouse shanty, rundown clothing store and biker bar from hell, she wondered how awful the motel would be.
It was just as terrible as she imagined. The crumbling parking lot was littered with garbage. Badly needing a paint job, the building showed its age. A couple old vending machines sat next to an ice machine about halfway down the building.
“Honey, we're home,” Michael joked.
“Where's your gun?” she asked.
“Why?” he looked at her curious.
“I'd rather die than stay here.”
“Come on, it's not that bad. You're so melodramatic.”
Michael parked by the office and checked in while Jessica waited in the truck. Their room was on the first floor at the opposite end of the building. Michael backed the truck in front of their door.
The room was about what she expected. It had been decorated maybe twenty years ago. The two double beds along the left wall looked terribly uncomfortable. A desk and chair lined the right wall next to the dresser with a TV on it. Further back in the room was a sink and then the door to the bathroom. Crammed near the front door was a small table and two chairs. It seemed fairly clean in spite of the mystery stains on the carpet.
Michael put a couple bags down on one of the beds and went back to the truck for the rest. Jessica set her laptop on the desk and started working again while Michael put the last of their things on the bed. He shut the door and sat on the empty bed watching her fingers dance on the keyboard. A vibration in his pocket diverted his attention. He stood as he pulled out his phone.
“Yeah, hang on,” he said as he walked to the door and left.
Jessica turned when she heard his voice. At first, she thought he was talking to her but then saw the phone in his hand. It bothered her that he wasn't telling her anything about his lead.
Michael returned a few minutes later telling her he was going to take a shower. Jessica watched him in the mirror above the desk as he stripped down to his boxers. With a big grin, he gave her shoulders a quick rub and kissed her cheek before disappearing in the bathroom.
Jessica tried to flush the image of Michael from her head. It was affecting her concentration. She heard the shower then turned in her chair and stared at his pants on the bed. She wondered how long it would take her to figure out the code to his phone. Probably not less than five minutes, but it would be a start. Searching his pockets, all she found was his knife and stack of cash. He must have taken his phone with him in the bathroom. There went that plan. She decided instead to check out the vending machines. She was thirsty and didn't feel like drinking water. She also thought a candy bar would be a nice pick me up. She grabbed a couple of dollars from his pocket and walked to the vending machines.
The snack machine looked ancient. It was the old push button kind she hadn't seen in years. The soda machine was more modern. She bought a Sprite then turned her attention to the snacks. She settled on a Snickers and put the money in. She pressed the button but nothing happened. She pressed it again and again. She didn't want to have to go back and get another dollar. She heard a voice behind her.
“That machine is temperamental.”
She turned to see a middle aged man with thinning brown hair and brown eyes. About her height but twice her weight, he was slovenly dressed and had about a day's growth of stubble.
“Were you trying to get the Snickers?” he asked.
“Umm, yeah,” she replied nervously. “It just ate my dollar.”
“Yeah, that button gets stuck. It should work if you pick something else.”
“Oh, alright. Thanks.” She forced a smile and turned to see what else she might want from the machine. There was a small bag of M&Ms. She punched in the button and the machine spit it out like clockwork.
“I haven't seen you around. You just check in today?” the man asked her.
“Uh yeah. Thanks for your help,” she said, trying to be polite. She got a weird vibe from him and didn't want to walk back to the room with him watching her. She wasn't sure what to do.
Meanwhile, Michael had emerged from the bathroom to find the room empty. He cursed. Where did she go? He quickly got dressed and went out to look for her.
“Which room are you staying in?” the man asked Jessica.
Now she was really starting to feel uneasy. She nervously glanced around.
“I'm just trying to be friendly,” he said noticing her uneasiness. “This is a bad area. Are you staying alone?”
“No. She's not.” Michael stepped between them, staring down at the creepy man. “Why don't you quit scaring my girlfriend.”
“I... I wasn't trying to scare her,” the man replied nervously. Michael was extremely intimidating, especially when he was angry.
“Get lost!” he demanded and the man obeyed. He left in such a hurry he stumbled over his own feet and almost fell. Jessica was more than relieved until Micheal turned to her. He looked angry. “Get back in the room,” he snapped. She too quickly obeyed.
“What the hell are you doing?!” he yelled once they were back in the room.
“I was thirsty and I wanted a snack,” she replied defensively.
“I really thought it went without saying that you not leave the room!” His voice was loud and his tone was angry.
“I can't even walk ten feet from the room?”
“No! You can't! For exactly the reason that just happened!”
“I'm tired of being couped up! You get to go wherever you please and I have to stay caged up like an animal. It's not fair!” she shot back as tears of frustration welled up in her eyes.
Michael sighed. He knew this was bound to happen. She wasn't used to living on the run and he did keep her under lock and key. He not only had to worry about the people hunting them, but also your regular average Joe scumbag. The places they hid in would be treacherous for any woman but Jessica's beauty was sure to attract even more attention from unsavory characters.
“I'm sorry.” His voice calm this time. “I know this is difficult for you. It's tough to adjust.”
They both crossed their arms and looked down at the floor. A few tears fell from Jessica's face.
“I'm sorry I yelled at you,” Michael apologized.
“I should have asked you first.” She brushed the tears away.
She sat at the de
sk again and stared at the laptop. Taking a deep breath she started pecking away at the keys. Michael sat on the edge of the bed watching her. She stopped for a minute. Then pecked away quickly and stopped again. “I have something.”
Within seconds, Michael was looking over her shoulder.
“It's not everything, just one folder I managed to get into. They're pictures.” She pressed a few more keys. Neither of them were expecting to see the image that popped up on the screen.
“That brings back memories,” said Michael.
“Wow. Now that's a sight,” Jessica remarked as she gazed at the picture of Michael slitting a man's throat.
“That's China,” he said.
“I figured.”
They browsed the rest of the pictures documenting the village attack in China. Some showed Michael killing people and others, Shaun. In some of the images, you could see dead villagers on the ground, others fleeing. The last few images were of the villagers departing with Michael and Shaun.
“We need to find out what else Alex sent you. We may be able to end this.” Michael sounded hopeful.
“I'll keep trying.”
“I'd like to know how your friend acquired these.”
“That makes two of us.”
Michael looked at his watch. It was almost noon. “I have to run out. You want me to bring you back something to eat?”
“Sure.”
He kissed her cheek and left. As he was getting in the truck, he spotted the creepy man from earlier loitering around the building by the main office. He watched Michael leave the room. Michael suddenly felt apprehensive about leaving Jessica there alone. He went back to the room.
“Get your things. You're coming with me,” he said.
“What? Why?”
“I don't feel comfortable leaving you here alone. Bring your laptop.”
She stood, curious why he was so nervous all of a sudden about leaving her. As she walked to the truck, she saw the creepy man and wondered if that was the reason he didn't want to leave her. The man watched Jessica get in the truck then disappeared down a corridor.