The Mather Triad: Series Boxed Set (Chloe Mather Thrillers)

by Lawrence Kelter

  Elias came face to face with Atwah. “Let me take a good look at you,” Elias said with disgust. “I want to know what a devil really looks like.” He stared into his eyes until Atwah was forced to look away. “We arrested your spy Aharoni in Tel Aviv. He confessed to lacing the pilot’s food service with ricin.”

  “I saw your face on television. You were the one who saved that plane?” Atwah asked.

  Elias nodded. “Yes.”

  “Who are you?” Atwah asked, trivializing Elias’ importance.

  “Calman Ben Elias. Israeli Intelligence.”

  “I don’t have the faintest notion of who you are. You’re a flea. A maggot. No one tried to kill you,” he spat indignantly.

  “That’s right,” a voice called out of the crowd. “You were trying to kill me.” Shaul Tasker stepped forward. “Two failed attempts on my life. You’re not only cowardly, you’re inept as well.”

  Atwah’s eyes bulged. “But, you were killed. It was reported on the news.”

  “Television.” Tasker said in a dead somber tone, “You never know what to believe.”

  “I don’t believe—” Atwah grumbled. “It’s impossible.”

  “As you can see,” Tasker said in a condescending tone, “here I am, in the flesh, alive to see you lose every privilege you ever had, alive to see you for what you really are, the shit camels drag across the desert on their hooves.”

  “Jew devil,” he grumbled. “No matter.” Atwah’s raspy voice crackled. “I killed twenty-five hundred Jews on the day of your holocaust remembrance, and every single member of Neshamah among them. Their deaths will provide endless comfort to me while my attorneys secure my release.”

  “You really are a dumb fuck,” I said with venom. “You have no rights. There will be no lawyers, and your death toll today was a whopping zero.”

  Atwah’s eyes bulged. “What?”

  “It was all staged, you moron,” Tasker said resentfully. “My death and the siege on the temple … it was all staged.”

  Atwah moaned so loudly it sounded as if he had taken a mortar blast to the stomach. “But—”

  “You thought you were viewing a stream from your cameraman on the street outside the temple? He’s in custody. What you saw was a stream that was produced on computers by special-effects engineers. It was all smoke and mirrors.”

  “But I saw Bloomberg,” Atwah explained, his voice and expression incredulous.

  “Yeah, me too, at one of his swearing-in ceremonies. He’s been on camera a thousand times. The assault, the high-profile attendees, the smoke, the chaos … all actors and stock news clips, all created in front of a green screen on a sound stage. No one is dead, shit bird. No one!”

  Atwah began to tremble, and then he dropped to his knees. “ALLAH!” he cried, a bloodcurdling scream that echoed in my ears. His head dropped in disgrace as he was dragged away like the insignificant piece of vermin he really was.

  Chapter 64

  Carolyn Abate angrily stomped away from the property clerk’s desk and right past Michael Orzani after she had been arraigned in federal court and released on bail posted by her husband’s attorney.

  “Yo, yo, Carolyn, slow down,” Orzani said, calling to her as she walked through the courthouse doors onto the street.

  Her first inclination was to hail a cab, but she quickly remembered that she had been led away in a hotel robe, wearing nothing more than her flip-flops and her lace bikini bottom. The attorney had brought her a change of clothes and some personal effects but not her wallet. She looked around in frustration, wondering what to do, when Orzani caught up with her.

  “Uh, Mrs. A, you need a ride?” he asked in a patronizing tone. His eyes were wide with disbelief. “How were you going to pay the cabbie, with your cootchie?”

  “You know what? Fuck you, Michael. I don’t like you, and I’m going to make damn sure my husband knows it. Three fucking days in a federal prison cell, are you kidding me?”

  “Oh no, please, Mrs. A, please don’t do that,” he said derisively.

  “Wait until I give Gaetano a piece of my mind.”

  Yeah, you do that. “By any chance do you know how the lawyer managed to get you out of jail?”

  She shrugged. “What are you talking about, jackoff? He posted bail.”

  Jesus. Madonna mia. Bite your tongue. “Do you have any idea who you were nabbed with? The guy you hotel-humped was wanted by the feds. Guy’s attorney has some powerful friends. He pulled in a favor and got your charges lowered from conspiracy to solicitation. That’s the only reason you’re out on bail. The federal prosecutor was ready to put you away for years for collusion with an enemy of the government.”

  Her mouth dropped, and then she smacked Orzani’s cheek. “Solicitation? I’m not a stinking prostitute.”

  Of course not, hookers are smart enough to get paid for their time. You just give it away. “So listen, my car is in the lot around the corner. Are you coming or not?”

  Carolyn was fierce with anger. It took a moment before she realized that Orzani didn’t care about her mood or her threats, and she reluctantly followed him to the parking lot. “I can’t believe that Guy left me in a cell with the dregs of humanity. Three days. Three fucking days.! Wait until I give him a piece of my mind. Take me back to the hotel,” she ordered. “I want to take a hot bath and order room service. Shit!”

  “Yeah, right away.” You miserable bitch of a woman. I’ll jump right on it.

  Orzani drove slowly through lower Manhattan traffic. It wasn’t until he turned off for the Queens-Midtown Tunnel that she realized he wasn’t taking her back to the hotel. “Hey! Where the hell are you going?”

  “Guy wants me to make a stop first.”

  “Why? I’m hungry, and I’m tired. I want to go back to the hotel.”

  “Like I said, Gaetano’s orders,” Orzani said quietly.

  “Shit!” she grumbled from the rear seat. “Well, make it quick.” She turned to look at the soot-stained tunnel walls and remained quiet until they emerged from it into Queens. “Wow, this place is the pits,” she said, gathering in the modest single and two-family attached homes that lined the congested avenue. “This is how people live around here?”

  I live in Queens, you bitch. Orzani said nothing, driving in silence until they were in Woodside. He pulled up next to a small Cape Cod-style house adjacent to a scrap yard.

  “This is where we’re going? My God. And I didn’t think my day could get any worse.”

  A burly man appeared at the front door and motioned for Orzani to pull into the scrap yard. He hustled down the steps and down the street to unlock the padlock that secured the gate. He waited for Orzani to pull in and then once again locked it.

  “What are we doing here?” Carolyn complained. “Does my husband know this place is such a shit hole?”

  “He knows.” Believe me, he knows. Orzani opened the rear door for Carolyn to get out.

  She looked around warily. “I’ll-I’ll wait in the car.”

  Orzani grinned. It was a wise-guy grin, one he’d had to suppress for a long while. It made him feel happy all over. He no longer had to guard his behavior around her. “Now I get to have some fun.”

  “Come again?” she asked contemptuously.

  “And again and again,” he quipped with his eyebrow raised.

  The burly man yanked her out of the car before she knew what was going on and zip-tied her wrists.

  “Hey! What the fuck?” She looked at Orzani with horror in her eyes and began to plead. “Michael. No. Don’t do this. I’ve got money that Guy doesn’t know about, lots of it. I’ll make it worth your while. Just please …” She began to cry.

  “You surely will make it worth my while,” he said as a grin spread across his face.” There was an opening in the fence, which led to the back door of the small house. He turned to the burly man. “Through there?”

  The man pointed. “Da.”

  “You don’t speak much English, huh?” Orzani asked.
>
  “Nyet,” he answered in a heavy Russian accent and pushed Carolyn toward the opening in the fence.

  “Hey, watch it!” she complained.

  The Russian snickered and pushed her again.

  ~~~

  When Abate next saw his wife, she was asleep in a heroin-induced stupor. She was naked except for thigh-high stockings and panties. Twenty-four hours had passed since she had been brought to Madame Malvina’s House.

  Madame Malvina boasted, “One day and already she’s my top earner.”

  “She cooperates?” Abate asked sadly.

  “She’s so high on Russian heroin that she doesn’t care, but between you and me … I think she likes it. Who is this pampered little bitch?”

  “Someone who has to disappear,” Abate said. Someone I won’t lay eyes on ever again. “How many men have had her since yesterday?”

  “Six,” Malvina said in her thick accent. “Excluding your man, who proudly boasts that he took her three times before giving her the drugs.” She laughed. “A real stud.”

  Son of a bitch! His eyes flashed.

  “Is everything all right?” Malvina asked. “You don’t look happy.”

  “What do you care how I fucking look,” he snapped and then handed her an envelope. “Twenty K.” He pointed at Carolyn with his finger. “She stays here until the day she dies. You need more cash—you let me know. The only daylight she gets to see is through the window while your Russian johns are banging her brains out. Whatever she earns is yours.”

  Malvina accepted the envelope and offered her hand. “I can live with that bargain.”

  “Good.” Abate turned and walked down the flight of stairs to the front door. He pictured his ex-wife in his mind. He saw her pathetic and drained, worn by sexual and mental abuse, ravaged by heroin addiction and disease. Now you’ll get what you deserve, you lousy whore. He spat on the floor in disgust.

  The burly Russian opened the door and let him out.

  Orzani was waiting for him in the car. “Where to, Gaetano?”

  “Back to the fucking city.” He cut Orzani with a scalding glance as he got into the back seat. “Where do you think I’m going?” You fucking piece of shit!

  Chapter 65

  Crime scenes are cold and lonely after the act of violence has been committed and the investigation has been completed. Transglobal felt like that, silent and dark, as if all life had been sucked from it, an empty shell. It was like coming upon a village that had already been taken by the enemy, solitary and dead. Homes, cars, offices, and boats … they’re all meaningless when they’re empty. They become junk. They rot and decay without humans to give them life and purpose.

  I was there alone, looking for something everyone else had missed, the box containing Rachel Rabin’s personal effects, the box Soto was supposed to deliver to me but never did. It could’ve been anywhere, here in the defunct office of Transglobal or somewhere else where Soto had hidden it.

  I rummaged around for more than an hour without finding anything. An hour had come and gone without my cell phone ringing, and I knew that it wouldn’t stay quiet much longer. As if on cue, it buzzed. It was my boss. “I need you back at headquarters,” Wallace said. “By two o’clock for a briefing.”

  I checked my watch. “Not a problem.”

  “Cabrera won’t be with us,” he continued. “He’s in the hospital trying to pass a kidney stone.”

  I cringed. “Did you tell him to rub a little dirt on it?”

  Wallace bellowed. “Jesus, Mather. I guess once a marine, always a marine. You’re still a hard charger, aren’t you?”

  “Hell yes. Ooh-rah!”

  “Still, you’ve got to have some empathy for him. Are you familiar with the procedure? They go in and yank the stone out through the penis.” He sighed. “I’m glad I never had one of those. Remember two p.m., Mather. See you then.” He hung up, short and sweet as always.

  I checked my watch again—my timeline was shrinking. There were only precious minutes left for me to locate Rachel’s possessions before having to head back to FBI headquarters.

  Her desk had been searched, and her personal effects removed. Still, I figured, it’s worth one last look. It was pretty much as I expected. All items containing sensitive business information were gone, but the basic office supplies—the blank pads, pencils, and such—were still there. I sat down at her chair, wondering about the way she had felt when she sensed that she was in danger on the night she died. I stared off toward Soto’s vacant office and let Rachel Rabin into my head.

  ~~~

  Rachel Rabin smiled at the three visitors in a quaint manner even though she had already begun to formulate a short list of excuses for the invitation she knew intuitively she was about to receive. She then averted her eyes, focusing on the computer screen and made several notations in her ledger book in order to appear busy, even busier than she actually was.

  I don’t feel well.

  Sorry, I already have plans for the evening.

  It’s so late.

  Which lie can I sell? Look busy, so busy they’ll think twice about asking you.

  It was after hours, and the rest of the staff had already left for the day. It was just her, Soto, and …

  She had noticed the other men leering at her through the open office door. Don’t look up, she told herself. Maybe they’ll leave you alone.

  They had come in force for their meeting with Soto, not just Linuzzi and his boss, Anthony Silvestri, but a stranger, a man with a ponytail and a dark suntan. She had no problem dealing with them one at a time, but together … She detested vulgar men but was not frightened by them. Having grown up in the Middle East, she had met some truly vile men, men who thought their manly stench was enticing and that she, as all women, existed only to satisfy their every selfish whim. The three men swearing amongst themselves and ogling her were paltry amateurs compared to some of the animals she had encountered before leaving the Middle East. Still, she thought, I’m alone here. Don’t do anything stupid.

  She checked her watch. It was half past seven. It’s late enough, she thought and quickly began to log off the computer. Finish and go. Beat them to the punch. She had just closed the ledger book when Soto approached her desk.

  “Rachel, Rachel, you work too hard. Tomorrow is another day, no?” He advanced toward her, coming so close that his proximity could be considered intimate, so close that she could smell garlic on his breath. Soto was oily in every way. His swarthy skin and his mannerisms were slithery, almost reptilian.

  “Thank you, Mr. Soto. You’re right. Tomorrow is another day. “

  “Why so formal?” he asked as his palms turned upward. “You can’t call me Faiza?”

  “Of course. Faiza, can I help you with something?”

  “Take a break. We have guests. Come in and say hello.”

  “Okay. Let me just grab my coat.” She thought quickly. “I’m late for an appointment.”

  “No. No coat,” he said. “You’ll insult them. Stay a few minutes. Be polite.”

  “But—”

  Soto wagged his finger. “I insist. They’re important clients, and I don’t want to disappoint them. They asked for you to join them.” He waited a moment for her to respond and then peaked his eyebrows. “Good jobs are so easy to come by?” he asked in a telling manner.

  “No, Mr. Soto, my job is very important to me.”

  “Then come. I insist.” He didn’t wait for her. He immediately turned and walked back to his office.

  Rachel took a moment to steady her nerves. You’re in control, she told herself. Give them a few minutes, and then politely excuse yourself. She drew in a deep breath. Here we go.

  She hadn’t yet entered his office, but she could already feel their eyes violating her. She tried to smile but couldn’t. A feeling of dread swept through her. Despite rallying all of her inner strength, she knew that she was not and would not be in control.

  ~~~

  I had to shake my head to clear Rac
hel’s face out of my mind. I had inadvertently rested my hand on a metal container, which was densely filled with paperclips in her open top drawer. They weren’t the colorful ones; they were just ordinary metal clips. I was playing with them, moving my fingers around in the cool pile of steel clips when I saw a thin chain buried at the bottom of the pile. I spilled out the container and rescued the object—a woman’s locket in the shape of a heart with a fine silver chain through it.

  I opened the locket and grinned.

  Chapter 66

  “I really don’t feel like going in,” Malaina said as she opened the car window and filled her lungs with fresh air. “I’m feeling a little nauseous.”

  “Malaina, we’re here already.” Nikki pointed through the windshield. “Look, the parking garage is right there. Uncle Guy will be very disappointed if we don’t have dinner with him.”

  “Do we have to?”

  “Yes.” She glanced over at her daughter. “I know what you’re going through, sweetheart—your father, and then things not working out with Cash—but you’re a beautiful young girl, and things will be different now. Just smile a little. Give life a chance.”

  Malaina remained quiet, with her head resting against the headrest as Nikki pulled into the Manhattan parking garage.

  “I’m excited to try this place. I hear the food is the best in the city.” She pulled into a space and grabbed her purse. “What you need is a good strong martini. A couple of cocktails will set your sweet little bottom straight.”

  “Oh, Ma.” Malaina sighed as she got out of the car. Her posture and sullen expression shouted her unhappiness for all to see.

  Nikki gave her a swat on the butt as they walked into Marea for a fine meal with Malaina’s godfather.

  Abate stood the moment he saw them, his face alight with happiness. He hugged Malaina first, gushing over her with his old-world charm.

  She actually smiled. “Love you, Uncle Guy.”

  “Where’s your wife?” The puttana, Nikki mused as she kissed him on the cheek.