Connections: Conexiones (Mercenaries Book 3)

by Tony Lavely

  “I was so mad at you. Mom, too, and Mr. Jamse, but I’d left you the note. I thought sure you’d read it and figure out… Well, I really expected Mom to come leaping out of the sky to take me home. I wasn’t hoping for more than a day or two with Abby before…” She bent over to stare at the sand next to Beckie’s foot. “That was the second stupidest thing, I guess. Thinking Abby would actually send a message like that.”

  “They were playing on your hope, not your sense.”

  “Yeah. That’s what they mean by experience, huh?” She looked up. “How’d you find me, anyway?”

  “You’ll listen to your teachers when you hear. I was in that same camp, in one of those chickees, last February. My Physics instructor made arrangements for some of the class to spend a weekend at the Winter Star Party, where amateur astronomers get together and… look at stars, believe it or not.

  “While I was watching the video, something bothered me—”

  “Yeah, Mom said you watched the whole thing. She was impressed.”

  “I actually watched you only about a minute. Long enough to be sure it was you.” She shuddered. “Rape porn doesn’t do it for me. I watched the background, trying to remember what was tickling my mind.” She sighed. “Sorry. It didn’t come back till I heard the news about Hurricane Hanna hitting Key West. After the star-gazing ended, we went there for dinner before heading back to school.”

  Amy reached for Beckie’s hand. In a barely audible voice, she said, “I don’t know how to… to act. To—”

  Her whisper was cut off when Beckie hugged her.

  After a bit, Amy gave a humorless laugh. “You know the absolute worst part?” she whispered. “They wouldn’t even take me with them when the storm came. Just left me… Like you and Mom…” Beckie stiffened at the charge, but before she could protest, Amy continued, “Yeah, I know it’s not the same at all. But…” She sniffled as more tears rolled down her cheeks. “But it wasn’t different, either, from where I was… in my mind.” Beckie met her eyes. “Can you understand that? No one came to get me, and they left me to… to drown.”

  “Yeah. I get it. I’m sorry.”

  “The past couple of days, I’ve been taking myself to the courtyard since I can go there alone. I see Mom watching me from inside, frowning and shaking her head. She’s blaming me, I know she is. For—”

  “No!” I have to make sure she understands. “What happened wasn’t your fault! Your mom is worried about you, not passing judgment.”

  Amy burrowed her face into Beckie’s neck and shuddered.

  “Can you believe me?” Beckie asked. “This is important.”

  Amy nodded in her arms, but said nothing. Do I push it?

  Beckie didn’t notice time passing until water soaked her shorts; the tide was coming in. She used her fun-filled voice to say, “Do you need more saline soaking?”

  Amy shot up. “What?” Beckie ducked the loose fist swung at her arm. “No! No, thank you.” Amy laughed so hard she fell over into the sea foam. She lay, gasping for breath, until Beckie pulled her up.

  While clouds lined the horizon, the sun was comfortable as they dripped dry. Amy sobered quickly, pulling Beckie to sit above the high tide mark. I guess she’s not ready to head back yet.

  “I feel really stupid, no matter—”

  “Why do you feel stupid?” Beckie retorted. “Believe me, there’s no call for that. Just because you made a… hormone driven mistake, probably, it doesn’t mean you’re stupid. I’m here to tell you people make mistakes every day. I’ll bet you even make some from now on.”

  “For a while, I thought I should just kill myself, you know.” Beckie hugged her again, pulling her across to wipe her eyes. “That everyone’d be better off… That I’d be better off.”

  “You decided to stick it out, though.”

  “Yeah.” She choked on a sob. “Maybe more ‘cause I was scared…”

  Beckie wasn’t sure where to take that. Telling the girl death was part of the human condition and shouldn’t raise fear didn’t seem like today’s best therapy. At the end of the day, she thought, it doesn’t matter. She’s holding off.

  “I want to go.”

  Coming as Amy shook, holding back more weeping, Beckie was sure she didn’t mean back to the hospital. “You know that’s not possible. And it’s a really bad idea.”

  Amy sat up so quickly she banged her head against Beckie’s. “Sorry.” Her face flushed and she took a deep breath before demanding, “Why is it even a little bit of a bad idea, let alone a really bad one? How do I get that time back? My… virginity back?” She pounded the sand between her legs but then used the fist to knuckle tears away. “It’s supposed to be so special, and I can’t give it away to the person I want to, if I ever do. They took that, along with everything else.” She collapsed in Beckie’s lap.

  Beckie reached deep inside herself, trying to answer Amy.

  “How does Meili deal with it?”

  A question Beckie could begin to answer. “Meili saw her friend being murdered. Being rescued before she, too, was murdered was a big offset to being raped. Sorta put it in perspective, if I can say that about rape. That was the impression I had when we talked about it.” Beckie was cradling Amy’s head, stroking her hair. “Even though she didn’t have her family to go back to, she had me for a while, and the Go’s since then. She feels wanted, and important because of it.” She spent a minute rubbing Amy’s tear tracks away. “I don’t think she dwells on it, but she’d be willing to talk to you, if you think it would help. But make sure Xia’s there; I’m pretty sure Meili’s English isn’t up to that conversation.”

  Amy wriggled around so her face was in Beckie’s belly.

  “Another thought: you’ve never made love with anyone, have you?”

  Amy’s eyes snapped open, but rather than allow her to protest, Beckie hurried to say, “Think about it. The physical act of penetration is just that: someone using force to overpower, to take what you refuse to give. That’s not making love. At least, to me it’s not. It shouldn’t be to you, either.”

  “Yeah, I understand. Just…” She closed her eyes.

  “I believe your chance will come, if I can keep you alive—”

  “What’s that mean? You can keep me alive? I…” Amy spluttered a couple more seconds.

  Beckie wondered if she should duck from the girl’s flashing eyes. “I guess your mom didn’t tell you. Ian and I talked… I asked to take your safety as my job.”

  “But… Why?”

  “How could I not? You’ve helped me, you’re one of the team, you’re a girl who’s been abused… I could go on and on—”

  “But… but—”

  Beckie laughed, making sure it wasn’t a making-fun-of kind of laugh. “Stop the sputtering and get over it. Rou won’t give you the papers to sign till you’re eighteen, but you can read Ian’s promise to you. You’re one of the team, and the team leaves no one behind!”

  Amy’s eyes were wide; her body stiff. “I guess I thought that… that phrase meant something else. Like in combat?”

  “Of course! But what you’ve been through, that’s not combat? Nothing I’ve heard about rape makes it better than combat. Worse, in fact! But, I have to stop thinking about you that way.”

  “What way is that?”

  “As a girl who’s been abused. You—”

  “I’m a survivor, damn it!”

  “Damn straight you are! And I’m glad of it.”

  As she spoke, she squeezed Amy, then rolled her off her lap with an authoritative push. “While you think about all that, we should go back. While I’m sure your mom is watching with Shen—”

  Amy’s face went flat, unresponsive.

  “Okay, tell me about it.”

  “I don’t wanna.”

  “Whoa.” Beckie giggled. “Listen to you: ‘I don’ wanna.’ Sounds like one of Shalin’s kids. Have you been practicing?”

  “No, damn it! I just… She’s all the time around. I can hardly go
to the head alone.” She glanced over, forehead furrowing. “How’d you spring me, anyway? I never asked you that.”

  “I asked, politely. More politely than she expected, probably. You might try it.”

  “I tried everything. Polite, snippy, bitchy, rude! Nothing worked. She—”

  “Com’on. She’s scared to death, girl! You came within a gnat’s eyelash of being dead with not one fucking friend or anyone to… to even be with you!”

  “Whoa! Sensitive much?”

  Teeth bared, Beckie spun and swung open handed at her, but pulled the blow halfway round. “Yes!” She caught her breath. “It’s the same problem Ian and I have: worrying about each other till we can’t do anything.”

  Amy was still leaning back. Guess she’s not sure I won’t swing again. “From Mom, it doesn’t come across that way, like it does for you two.”

  “She hasn’t had much practice, probably. She thought you were safe till Shen showed us the video.”

  “The video? Oh…” Beckie nodded. “Did anyone here not see it?”

  Good, Beckie thought, she’s angry. “No one saw it that wasn’t going to work on getting you back. Your mom, Ian, me, Mr. Shen, Kevin, Elena. It’s not something we wanted to distribute.” She leaned back on her hands. “Ian and Shen believe Abby’s seen it too.”

  “Yeah, Mr. Jamse told me that when he told me she’d taken leave. He sounded, I don’t know, disappointed?”

  “Yeah, he is. We could help her, whatever’s going on. Now, she’s out there alone, kinda like you, and while we’re looking…

  “You know, you’ve maybe not thought it through. What do you think would have happened if you’d decided not to sail off to Providenciales?”

  “It would have all fallen apart. That’s what Abby said… My God. Abby didn’t say that, did she?”

  “No. But you’re right. That scheme would have fallen apart. Shen has just spent several thousand dollars adding cams along the beaches where you run. Ian’s pretty sure that, had you taken the sensible course, they would have grabbed you off Bon Secours, and nothing else would have been different.”

  “There would have been a long boat ride instead of one in the limo, I guess.”

  She’s reacting well. “Yeah. Not that you would have enjoyed it any more.”

  She reached for Amy’s hand, but the girl shied away. Maybe she’s not reacting so well. Amy’s eyes were wide and she gasped. “They might still be coming? No! No, I will—”

  “Relax. Amy! Stop it!” Amy was almost hyperventilating, gasping, swaying back and forth. “Listen to me! Listen. It’s why I talked to Ian. It’s why you’re always with someone. It’s why Mr. Go added the cameras. No one’s gonna be able to sneak up and grab you.”

  Amy was calming, slowly. She wasn’t gasping now, but her eyes were still wide; Beckie could see whites all around. I gotta be careful here. “It’ll be tough for a while, thinking everyone’s sticking to you closer than… your underwear.” That worked, Beckie thought as Amy snickered, a weak giggle. “Until we figure out who they are and stop them, in the shower’s the only place you’ll be alone. And that’s only if there’s no windows in the bathroom!”

  “This is sure payback, isn’t it?” Beckie’s confusion made it to her face; Amy said, “Wanting to be independent, not needing protection. Really, wanting to be left alone to do what I wanted. Those guys didn’t need to go that far to teach me a lesson.”

  Beckie only nodded.

  By noon, the girls had done their conversation to death. Beckie led Amy back to the wheelchair and drove her to the dock facing Ian’s home.

  “I’m going to take the chance your mom won’t mind me keeping you as long as I don’t lose you. Maurice has a great lunch planned and you can listen to me and Ian try to figure out what’s next. Just listen, okay?”

  After the boat ride, they walked the path to Ian’s home. He and Maurice were in the kitchen building a crab salad. “That looks great!” Beckie said.

  “Or perhaps you are starving,” Ian rejoined. “Have you eaten yet today?”

  “Well…” She admitted defeat when her stomach rumbled. “I invited Amy, okay?” She peered into the bowl. “Looks like plenty there.”

  “Ms Arden is more than welcome.” Ian lifted Amy’s hand and brushed his lips against her fingers. “It is a pleasure to see you up and about, Amy Rose.”

  Her head bowed, she said, “Believe me, Mr. Jamse, it’s a pleasure to be out and about.”

  Maurice had set down his utensils and was holding a chair. Beckie nodded to him and pushed Amy to sit.

  The small talk bored Beckie after she’d finished her helping of the delicious salad. “Have we heard anything… about anything?” she asked.

  Amy sat forward, fork frozen over her plate. “Any word about Abby?”

  “No. I suspect she has travelled to the United States, but without being noticed by Mr. Go’s informants.”

  “You wouldn’t…” She looked into her plate and then glared at him. “You’re not trying to protect me, are you?”

  “I am unsure of your meaning—”

  “I’m not.” Beckie turned to face Amy. “Of course he’s trying to protect you! Remember what we talked about? But that doesn’t mean he’ll lie to you, or tell you things that aren’t true. We do expect you’ll have the sense to allow us to protect you. We need you to have that sense.” She faced Ian. “She’s afraid you’re not telling her what we know, for fear she’ll run off to rescue Abby.”

  “I gathered that as you were chastising her,” Ian said with a wry smile. He looked at Amy. “Please look at me, Amy Rose.” He waited until she raised her head and gazed at him. “I will give you any information I have regarding Ms Rochambeau as long as I deem it safe for you, her and the team to do so. Before Rebecca’s… tirade, I might have withheld information I felt you had no need to share, but watching you… I will tell you what I know.”

  “Thanks, Ian,” overlapped Amy’s “Thank you, Mr. Jamse.”

  “I confirm today I have no additional information to share with you.” He looked around. “Do we have any calmatives, Boynton? I fear Rebecca is somewhat… stressed, shall we say?”

  “Huh? No, I’m not… well, maybe a little.”

  “This is the least strong elixir we have,” Boynton said as he poured a measure of champagne into a fresh flute of orange juice. “Would you like one also, Miss Amy?”

  “Mom’ll have a fit, so yes, please!”

  “You may detect just the slightest hint of… rebellion? I think rebellion, yes.” Beckie grinned. “I haven’t teased that out of her, yet.” She raised the glass to Boynton. “This hits the spot, Maurice. Thank you. And you, love.” She clasped Ian’s hand.

  Chapter Seven

  The Nest

  Abby’s Package

  BOYNTON MET BECKIE AND IAN as they came through the front door. They’d spent two days at a conference investigating rising ocean levels; with no good news about the Nest’s future, Beckie was ready for a long shower and some relaxation with Ian. Maybe not so relaxing, at first anyway!

  The look on Boynton’s face pushed all that aside. No relaxation yet, she grumbled to herself. Boynton led them to the lanai, where on the table a Fed-Ex envelope lay, festooned with official stamps. Sure, Beckie thought, it looks innocent enough.

  Neither sat. Ian poked the package around so they could read the label: J.A. Rochambeau, with her box number at the Nest.

  “Shen brought it over this morning when it arrived. It was dispatched in Georgetown, Grand Cayman last Monday,” Boynton said, pointing to the label’s date. “As it was self-addressed, he thought you should decide if we should open it.”

  “Self-addressed?” Beckie looked at the neat script, but she’d never seen Abby’s handwriting.

  “Shen and Derek agree; it is written in her hand.”

  Beckie looked at Ian, who had a disconsolate look. “What are we waiting for?”

  “Nothing.” He sighed and scrubbed his hand through his
short blond hair. “But I am concerned over the penchant both she and Amy Rose seem to share: leaving important information to be discovered late in the game, perhaps too late. Pfaugh!” He snatched the envelope from the table and ripped the sealed end open.

  He peered inside, then tipped the contents, an opened foil snack package, a folded paper and an envelope, onto the glass table top. Beckie picked up the chips wrapper, saying “What…” followed by “Oh,” as she pulled Abby’s salt- and crumb-covered passport out. Boynton handed her a napkin as Ian tore the smaller envelope apart.

  While Ian studied the envelope’s content, Beckie picked up the loose piece of paper and read: “The enclosed passport has been found, but not the owner, so we are returning it to the owner’s home.”

  Ian still hadn’t finished with his letter. “Relax, Ian,” Beckie said with a smile as she placed a hand on his arm. “What’s it say?”

  “I am unsure.” He handed the single sheet of paper to her.

  She scanned the seven words twice before handing it to Boynton.

  “Dewey, Cheatum and Howe?”

  Beckie giggled. “She must have a lawyer friend. It’s a derisive term for a law firm. Confirmed by the ‘JD’ after. Read it aloud: Do we cheat ‘em? And how!” She glanced at the paper again. “But it’s crossed out? Except for the JD.”

  “Indicating perhaps Ms Rochambeau did not recall the name of the firm, only the principal. Samuel…”

  “Goldfarb,” Beckie finished. “Okay, who’s he?”

  “Samuel Goldfarb was the defense attorney at the trial Derek apprised us of,” Boynton said. “The one at which Ms Rochambeau testified.” When she gave him a questioning look, he said, “I researched the case, hoping to expand on the Times article. Goldfarb’s name figures prominently in the contemporaneous media reports. As did his potential linkages with not only Donato Talos, but other unsavory characters. His training in criminal law and racketeering was money well spent.”