by Kim Alexis
Finally, cells were a unique way to consolidate expertise. Support cells, for example, could focus on what they did best—whether that was logistics, fund-raising, procuring of supplies, or some other task necessary for the larger goal—and leave the actual carrying out of the terrorist act to a different cell entirely. That meant someone could be a terrorist and never once pick up a bomb or plan an attack. By working toward the cell’s goal, they were also working toward the common goal.
When he signed on with the project, Marcus learned that cells could have as few as four members or as many as twelve, but they were usually made up of about eight to ten people. The one JATFAT had brought down was an eight-member fund-raising cell that procured money for the larger organization. That they had been doing so primarily through the sale of counterfeit goods had not come as a surprise. What had come as a surprise was how pervasive the problem was, and how little the average person understood it.
Even Marcus had needed convincing in the beginning. He and Nate Anderson had first met during the aftermath of 9/11, when the two men’s duties kept them in close proximity. They developed a mutual respect and stayed in touch. When Nate was forming his task force, he brought Marcus in as a consultant to run various disaster scenarios and plot out the necessary steps for prevention and/or response. Those scenarios changed with each new piece of intel they uncovered, and the job had kept Marcus busy for the past six months.
In the beginning, though, he almost didn’t take the job, partly because he hadn’t understood what was at stake. In the end it took a photograph to get Marcus on board.
Snapped covertly in a third-world sweat shop, the photo showed a group of children assembling counterfeit watches. Those children, valued for their tiny fingers, endured forced labor for as much as twelve hours a day. In the photo Nate pointed out the oddly-disfigured legs of several of the boys.
“These were the rowdier of the kids, so the gang running the shop crippled them.” Nate’s anger shone in his eyes. “If you can’t walk, you stop begging to go out and play.”
Marcus still couldn’t get that image from his mind.
Now that his work with JATFAT was done and the cell had been eliminated, this one task remained: to help Juliette understand the kind of people she was up against and the precautions she needed to take—all without violating his oath of confidentiality.
He wasn’t sure how he was going to pull that off, but he trusted that with God’s help, he would find the right words at the right time.
Chapter Twelve
AFTER DINNER JULIETTE AND Didi started off toward their rooms on foot but were soon stopped by a friendly security guard, who insisted on giving them a ride in his golf cart. He explained that the resort would be providing security escorts for the rest of the evening, should they care to venture out again later. Though Juliette was a bit unnerved by the thought, a part of her was also relieved.
Better safe than sorry and of all that.
Once they’d been delivered safely, they each went to their own room. While Didi freshened up and got ready to go to the volunteer meeting across town, Juliette changed into a bathing suit, robe, and slippers, then she went back outside. When Didi emerged again, Juliette was there on the walkway waiting for her, room key in hand and a towel over her arm. With a grin, she stuck out her thumb.
Didi smiled, pulling the door closed behind her. “Don’t see many hitchhikers dressed like this.”
“Yeah, well, it’s the grotto or bust. Give me a lift on your way out? I don’t want to wait for another escort.”
“Of course.”
They headed to the car, Didi unlocking it with the remote as they approached. “I’m proud of you, though I’m surprised you made the healthier choice here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Going for a soak in the grotto. Good for you. I figured you would spend the evening in your room, obsessing over the whole Raven situation.”
Didi hoisted herself into the driver’s seat of the SUV as Juliette climbed into the passenger side and buckled her seat belt. “I’ll probably do that too, but at least I’ll think better if I’m relaxed.”
Didi gave Juliette an odd glance as she turned the key and the vehicle rumbled to life. “Think you can relax, given all that’s going on?”
“I don’t know. It’s worth a shot.”
“Just be careful, okay? Someone did die here today—for reasons that are still unknown. Even with all the enhanced security, well, just keep your eyes open. And promise me you’ll get another escort back when you’re done.”
“I promise.”
“You still remember those self-defense moves Raven taught you?”
Juliette resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Yes, mother.”
Didi pursed her lips as she accelerated up the wide, curving road that led to the grotto and the resort exit beyond. “You know, I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said someone could’ve been sent here to ‘kill the supermodel’ and ended up offing Raven instead of you by mistake. I’m sure the news of her death has hit the airwaves by now. For all we know, somebody’s out there just itching for the opportunity to correct their little error.”
Juliette gazed out at the lake as they drove past, the moon’s reflection sparkling on the smooth, black surface. “I’m not exactly on board with that theory, but I suppose you could be right, that is one more reason to be careful. I will be, I really will.”
Didi slowed at the sight of a Palm Grotto golf cart that had pulled over to the side of the road to dispense some passengers. As they moved past, Juliette couldn’t help but notice how eagerly Didi scanned the scene.
“Looking for someone in particular?” she teased, knowing full well her friend had been hoping it might be Orlando, the guard she’d been flirting with earlier.
“No.”
Juliette chuckled. “Oh, come on. Why do you keep denying the obvious? It’s time to take this attraction to the next level. Ask the man for coffee or something.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious. Have you seen the way he looks at you? The way you are around him?”
Juliette was half teasing, but Didi didn’t respond with her usual good humor. Instead she remained silent until they reached the top of the hill and turned into the main parking lot. She pulled to a stop near the entrance to the resort and let the engine idle as she turned toward Juliette.
“Let’s just say there was something there. What’s the use? We live three thousand miles apart.”
Juliette laughed. “Gosh, Didi, I didn’t say marry the guy. I said go for coffee.”
She climbed out but then hesitated, growing more serious. “I’m just saying, don’t use the bigger issue of forever as an excuse to miss out on the here and now. Sometimes long-distance relationships work out great, you know.”
Didi met her gaze. “No offense, but I have a little trouble taking advice about long-distance relationships from you of all people.”
Juliette’s brow furrowed. “Why? What do you mean?”
“Uh . . . TOTGA?”
Juliette gasped and her head jerked back as if struck. “You know how much I hate that word.”
“Sorry, but what else could I call him? You wouldn’t tell me his name, so I came up with one of my own. TOTGA—‘The One That Got Away.’”
“Grammatically speaking,” Juliette replied stiffly, “I believe the proper usage would be ‘The One Who Got Away.’”
“Thanks, Professor. TOTGA, TOWGA, whatever. You call that a successful long-distance relationship? Look what it did to you.”
Juliette was quiet for a long moment, wondering how to reply. Yes, he had caused her some heartbreak in the end. But she still wouldn’t have traded their time together for anything. “He changed my life.”
“That’s putting it mildly. You were at the height of your career. You were a supermodel. And yet somehow a man—a perfect stranger no less—convinced you to turn your back on all of it. You were just twenty-four, you still ha
d a few great years left. Instead, thanks to him, you gave up modeling completely, turned your back on millions, and just walked away.”
“Best decision I ever made.” Juliette’s eyes narrowed. “But speaking of millions, are you sure this is about me and not you? As my booker, you lost out on plenty of money too.”
“I would never ask someone to stay in a career they hated just so I could collect my twenty percent. I’m not that selfish.”
“Well I guess I am, ’cause if I had to do it over again, I would do it exactly the same way.” Juliette pinched the bridge of her nose. She could feel a headache starting, deep inside. This was an old argument, one they’d had plenty of times before. “Look, I don’t know how else to say it. Yes, I was hurt by the fact that he never came back for me later, but I still treasure what we shared. That man didn’t just change my life, he saved it. It’s like I was suffocating, and he came along and gave me air. He set me free. I’ll always be grateful to him for that.”
Didi glared back at her, skeptical. “Still, as far as long-distance relationships go, under Pros and Cons, I’d say that’s one giant check in the Cons column. He completely disappeared from your life. He said he’d come find you but he didn’t.”
Juliette swallowed hard, wondering if Didi could fathom how hurtful her words really were right now. “That was twenty-five years ago. I got over it.”
Didi rolled her eyes. “Maybe. But you pined after that guy and waited for him for so long that you ended up missing out on other men, other relationships. Sorry, but I don’t want that to happen to me. Better never to open that door in the first place.”
Juliette resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Didi hadn’t dated anyone—near or far—for years. What made her think history would repeat itself here?
“Sorry,” Didi added, “I know it’s a sore topic.”
Juliette took a deep breath and blew it out. “I had other relationships, Didi. Need I remind you, I’ve even been engaged? Twice.”
“Yeah, but both times you broke it off.”
“That’s not—”
“You broke it off because no other man could compare to that one, to the only one you ever really wanted. The one that got away. TOTGA.”
Ready to end the conversation, Juliette stepped back from the car. “You know what? Do whatever you want with Orlando, I’ll stop bringing it up. Just leave me and my past relationships out of it, will you? Thanks for the lift.”
With that, she closed the door and walked off, her heart pounding furiously all the way to the grotto.
THE CONFERENCE CENTER WAS transforming before Crystal’s eyes. To accommodate a variety of group needs, the place featured sliding walls, portable podiums, retracting screens, and more, many of which were being put to use now. Crystal had been tasked with organizing the reception desk in the lobby of the conference center, and soon she was so engrossed in her duties that the time simply flew. She even managed to forget about the day’s trauma—until it was time to go and Andre made them wait at the door while he called for their “security escort.”
“Oh, please,” one of other staffers scoffed. “What for?”
Andre tugged at his collar, avoiding their eyes. “Due to, uh, today’s events, security has been ramped up throughout the resort. Until further notice, no employees are allowed outside after dark unless accompanied by a guard.”
Crystal’s eyes widened. What was going on? Had Raven’s death really involved some sort of foul play? The detectives hadn’t been willing to say either way, but now here was another sign that they were thinking murder.
But how? Who? Why?
She was still puzzling over that a few minutes later when their escort arrived and she saw it was none other than Greg. She pushed those questions from her mind for now. Somehow, just the sight of his handsome face and crisp uniform made her feel safe and secure.
Greg’s cart had seating for six, and though Crystal wanted nothing more than to climb up front next to him, she deferred to her boss and slid into the second row. Soon they were off, the cool night air caressing her face, lifting her hair, and raising chill bumps along her arms. Or maybe the chill bumps weren’t coming from the air at all but instead from the way Greg kept glancing at her in his rearview mirror.
When they reached the employee parking lot, though he could have dropped everyone at the center and let them disperse from there, he instead ferried each person directly to his or her own vehicle, proclaiming “door-to-door service with a smile.”
Much to Crystal’s delight, he saved her for last. As the others were driving away, she lingered in her seat, reluctant to part, as he turned so that they could face each other. Their earlier conversation had ended awkwardly, but she was reassured by the way he was acting now—warm and friendly and eager to be together. Once all the cars were gone, however, the parking lot felt dark and empty, and it struck her that this probably wasn’t the safest place to linger.
“So what’s up with the heightened security tonight?” She glanced around at the encroaching shadows. “Should I worry? Did the cops tell you guys to do this?”
Greg shook his head. “Nah, this was a Palm Grotto decision. People are feeling a little spooked is all, so we’ve been given extended hours and additional security rounds. It’s just for show, mostly, though I think it’s also to keep any paparazzi at bay. Nobody needs some nosy reporter or photographer snooping around, you know?”
“Makes sense.”
“At least I’ll get some overtime out of it. I’m on duty till midnight, and then I’ve got to be back here tomorrow first thing.”
Crystal’s shoulders sagged. She had been about to suggest they go for coffee or something, but now that she knew he’d be on duty for a while yet and wasn’t free to leave, she held her tongue. It was just as well. This had been a long day, and she was starting to feel tired again.
Sitting there in the cart, she fumbled for her keys, thanking Greg for the ride. As she began to climb out, she felt his warm hand around her wrist. Electricity raced up her arm and through her body, and she turned to meet his eyes. For a heartbeat, she thought he might kiss her, but instead he simply spoke, his tone soft and intimate.
“Crystal, I . . . I just wanted to apologize for earlier.”
“Apologize?”
“For blowing you off like that. You were being so sweet, letting me talk about my sister, and I just kind of shut down.”
A surge of tenderness rose in her throat. “It’s understandable, Greg. I know this can’t be easy.”
He slid his hand up her arm until it came to rest just above the elbow. “Still, you asked me a question and I didn’t answer it. I want to answer it now.”
Swallowing hard, Crystal leaned in even closer as she waited for him to go on.
“You asked me if Val had been ill or in an accident. The truth is, she was murdered.”
Crystal gasped. “Murdered?”
Greg nodded then looked away. “Oh, not according to the police. They ruled it a suicide. But I know the truth. She didn’t . . . it wasn’t . . .” His eyes welled up again, as they had that afternoon. “Sorry. It’s hard to talk about.”
Crystal took him by the hand. “Of course it is. Just tell me, who did it? Were they caught?”
With his free hand, Greg swiped at his tears. “No. Like I said, police labeled it a suicide and closed the case. I tried to convince them otherwise, but in the end . . .” He shook his head, his grief palpable.
She squeezed his hand even tighter. “Why did the police think it was a suicide?”
“Because there was a note. But it wasn’t even a note really, just a quote she’d jotted down. Nietzsche.”
Crystal waited, and after a moment he recited it for her.
“It said, ‘One ought to hold on to one’s heart; for if one lets it go, one soon loses control of the head too.’”
What an odd, sad thought. “What does that mean? Had her heart been broken?”
Greg nodded. “Yeah, she’d had a real r
un of bad luck. Lost her job, the guy she’d been seeing broke up with her . . . She was depressed. All the more reason for the police to call it suicide. But she didn’t kill herself. She was murdered. I have no doubt whatsoever.”
Greg’s walkie-talkie crackled to life, interrupting them to say that someone else needed a ride. Reluctantly Crystal took a step back. Though she had a million more questions, Greg’s work had to come first.
She gave him a reassuring smile as she clutched her keys in her hand, suggesting they continue their conversation tomorrow.
He shrugged, turning away. “I don’t like to talk about it. I just thought you deserved to know the truth.”
He waited until she was safely in her car and had pulled out of the parking lot before he sped off in the other direction. Once she was out on the main road and driving toward home, Crystal went back over their conversation several times. At least she understood now why he seemed to shut down so abruptly sometimes—he was still grappling with the senselessness of his beloved sister’s murder less than a year before.
Poor Greg seemed like the kind of guy who wanted to protect people, to keep them safe. He’d chosen a career as a security guard, after all, and he’d mentioned more than once that his long-term goal was to become a policeman. Given that, no wonder he’d been so devastated by his sister’s death! He must’ve felt that he’d failed her, that in the end he hadn’t protected her from the biggest threat of all. Tears formed in Crystal’s eyes at the very thought.