In the master suite of his luxury LA home, curled into a ball on her side, hugging his pillow, she watched as he dressed. “So, that’s it, huh?” she called out. “Just leave me behind, all alone in your messy bed, nothing to do, no one to play with?”
He waited until most of his clothes were on before going to her. He bent down to kiss her quickly; his night was done, the dawn of a new day dividing them. “Breakfast will be ready in half an hour.”
“Okay if I lock the doors while I shower?” June said. “Or is that breaking some sort of security rule in His Majesty’s castle?”
“There’s two security staff inside the house, and two more outside,” he told her while tying his necktie. “They’re all here to protect you too.”
“I’ll be locking the door anyway.”
After showering and dressing in clothes she had left there on previous visits, June found Jack outside sitting at the garden table in the middle of the patio. The morning was bright, sunlight peeking through the heavy green leaves of a rubber tree growing in one corner of the courtyard. On the table rested a tray with a pot of coffee, two cups with sugar and cream servers. Jack was busy reading through pages of documents, his never-ending task during the days they spent together.
On her way out, June smiled a greeting to one of the private security agents, barely a nod in return. She found the other guard loitering close to the breakfast table, keeping a close eye on his charge. Jack didn’t seem to notice, or mind.
“May I live in your bathroom?” June asked, sitting down. While she drank her orange juice, he poured her a cup of coffee. “I promise I’d be quiet and never cause any trouble. Just toss a little mat on the floor for me to sleep on, and maybe a coffee maker and toaster oven, and I’d be a happy girl in there.”
Jack smiled. “What is it with women and bathrooms?”
“Clean bed sheets, a clean bathroom, and lots of space to spread out all our crap is all we ask for.” She looked up as the cook, a portly Hispanic-looking man, brought out a plate of toast, hard-boiled eggs, and fruit cups. June poked around for the most burnt slice of toast and bit into it. “That, and a dirty-minded man.”
Jack cleared his throat, apparently a little embarrassed, and glanced in the direction of the security guard.
“You really have to leave this morning?” she asked. “When will I see you again?”
“Not until the conferences. Have you been to Seattle before?”
June nodded. “Once, a long time ago for a modeling job. It was a little weird wearing ski clothes in the spring. Hotter than heck in down parkas. They ended up dumping styrofoam snow under the trees anyway, just so it would look like winter. Probably still there.”
Jack took a sip of coffee. “I’ve got someone new looking after security. After last time, I figured it was time to get some outside help.” He ate some of the toast she had buttered for him. “The guy owes me a favor or three, so I’m lobbying for time away, all on our own.”
“Like a real date?” June said, brightening into a gasp of mock disbelief. “You mean mommy and daddy won’t be coming with us? What if…”
“Something happens?” he interjected, his eyes glued to the papers in his hand.
“Yeah, as in some sex-crazed female fan pulls you into the bushes in a park somewhere?”
He looked up at her. “What?”
“We have the whole weekend together?”
Jack nodded. “From Thursday evening until Sunday morning. I need to be back in D.C. by Sunday evening for a meeting.”
June finished her coffee and poured more for both of them. “Never get enough meetings?”
“This is the most important time.”
There it was again: the elephant in the room. Even though Jack was a California native and owned a Los Angeles home, he had become a denizen of the Washington D.C. set. His whole world revolved around getting into the White House, a task he had almost accomplished once before. Nothing was stopping him this time.
June couldn’t imagine leaving Los Angeles behind. If they were to stay together, she’d have to pack up lock, stock, and barrel for Washington D.C. She could be on staff at Bethesda, but would likely be in name only. Joining politicians’ wives for tea in a rose garden each day held no appeal. It would be a major change in her life, and required a massive decision.
“Jack, how do I fit into all of this?” she asked, not sure she even wanted to know the answer.
“Half of America wants to know that too. Not to mention the media.”
“Along with my mother,” June said. “I’m stuck in a hard spot here, Jack. This isn’t an ordinary relationship, and the usual rules don’t apply. As you said, the media is beginning to notice the same woman with you, and they’re going to want answers. Before America gets some kind of official status report, I’d like to know where I stand with you.”
Jacked sighed. “June, we’ve been over this. I’m not dating around. There’s no one else.”
“That’s not what I want to hear.”
“No, it isn’t. You want to know about the future, not the present. My entire future right now is dictated by voters, campaign managers, and pointless politics.”
“But not by me.” June pushed the last of her meal away and took one last sip of her coffee, suddenly disinterested in food. She blotted her mouth and set the linen napkin down next to the plate.
“I want you by my side, June. Now and into the future. In ordinary times, this would be much easier. But right now, every little detail needs to be planned out to the finest point. In due time, our relationship will be made public, but it needs to be a team effort.” Jack finished the last of his coffee. “Kevin has everything well in hand.”
June grimaced. “Ah, yes. The ever-present campaign manager, Kevin. El Acompañante. Our gooseberry.”
“Get used to it, June. It’s a way of life for many people.” He strode from the table, leaving her alone for the second time that morning.
Chapter 6
RICK GUSTAFSON CHEWED on an antacid and headed back to the vending machine, something nagging at the back of his mind. He knew yearly inspections of all vital operating systems had recently been done, as well as the last-minute visit from Trevor Hanson at Seattle HVAC. Now, another call from the guys at LS Coventry, and his day was getting booked up pretty quick.
It’s almost as though nobody trusts us to keep the damn place running.
Since making decisions was above his pay grade, and with his boss on maternity leave, Rick had double-checked records and then made confirmation calls. After waiting endlessly for word from administration, he had given up.
Better safe than sorry, he figured. With all the media attention this weekend, makes sense to have all the bases covered.
With two major heavy hitters dropping in for the conference, employee workloads had doubled. Not only were there extra hotel inspections to assure all services and conditions were running at one hundred percent, but hundreds of politicians, professors, and journalists were coming in from all over the country. That meant every system needed to be running smoothly, and Rick knew he didn’t have time to worry about a couple of extra maintenance call outs. If anything, maybe they’d help take some of the pressure off.
The President was coming to make a quick speech, something that brought the focused attention of the Secret Service. They had already been there once for inspections and background checks of convention center employees, and had just concluded their second round of sweeps, including locking and welding closed access doors to operations facilities. It made a lot of extra work, especially when another politician’s private security team was scheduled for its own security inspection.
Rick felt the acid in his stomach and sucked down another antacid, grabbing a packet of chips from the vending machine before heading back to his desk. As he took a seat, his phone rang.
“Hey, Rick,” a voice said on the other end of the line. “We got a couple of guys here to see you. Something about inspecting the electric
al system.”
“Yeah, buzz ’em through,” Rick said, opening his chips. “I’ll meet them outside.” He hung up and wolfed down half the packet, chewing frantically. Having already missed breakfast, lunch was looking less and less likely.
Stepping out into the corridor, he made his way toward the service entrance, just as two men stepped through the double doors. Dressed in work clothes, heavy-looking rucksacks slung over their shoulders, the men looked Chinese, or maybe Korean. Rick could never tell the difference. They looked up as he approached.
“Hey boys,” he said with a broad smile and his hand extended. While his boss was on maternity leave, he had plans at making his presence known with upper management. If he was ever going to get the promotion he knew he truly deserved, it would be from keeping a tight ship. “Welcome to the Washington State Convention Center and First Hill Suites Hotel.”
He got head nods and iffy grins from the two men. “Yes, thank you,” one said in heavily accented English. Hell, maybe they were Japanese.
When Rick realized he wouldn’t get a handshake he tried a different approach. “You said on the phone you want to take a look at the ventilation systems?”
The older of the two men nodded. “You Mr. Gustafson?”
“Yeah, sorry. Meant to introduce myself. We spoke on the phone.”
The man smiled. “Good, good. Yes, we’re here to check the ECU and wiring. We might need to do a firmware update, too.” He glanced at his younger companion. “We shouldn’t be more than an hour or so.”
“No problem, gentlemen. This way, please.”
A few flights of stairs later, the steady droning hum of the ventilation systems was loud enough to make even simple conversation a little difficult. Rick chose not to bother, keen to get in and out as quickly as possible. They reached the lower basement, and Rick pulled out a set of heavy keys.
“Here you go, boys,” he said, voice raised, opening the steel door. “Go on through.”
The two men obliged.
Rick followed behind, switching on the lights. The room was cold, a little damp, most of the space taken up by the two giant machines pumping air through the hotel and convention center next door. He pointed them out. “Since the hotel was built after the convention center, they use separate operating systems and run independently from each other.”
“No problem,” the older man said. “We can take a look.”
Rick watched as they worked with tools, setting up their gear. Some of it was familiar to him, some not. He picked a glass bottle of something from a plastic tub, but it was taken away from him just as quickly.
“You got yourselves some accents.” Rick tried to inject a bit of swagger in his voice. Make it clear who was in charge. “Where you boys from?”
“Ah yes!” The younger service rep removed a business card from his overalls pocket and handed it over using both hands. After Rick took the card, the man pointed to the logo at the top. “LS Coventry Electrical,” he said, still with the accent.
“No, I mean what country are you from?” Rick asked, a bit louder. “What nation?”
“Oh, just a small country, no one knows it. Such a privilege to live in America,” he answered in a practiced voice.
“Yeah, yeah. Guess it is.” Rick ran his fingers through his hair, not sure what to do with himself. “You guys said you’d be an hour?”
The older man looked up. “Yes, unless we need to do an update on the ECU. That might take a little longer.”
Rick glanced at his watch. So much to do.
“You okay, boss?”
Rick frowned. “I’m not supposed to leave you down here, but I’m running late on about a dozen different things…”
“Hey, hey, say no more. We’ll clear up after. You got our number, we’re not going to make any mess. We’ll check in with you on the way out, okay?”
Rick scratched his head. “It’s against policy, but…” He checked his watch again. To Hell with it. “Fine. You run into any problems, call my cell.”
“No problem. We got this.” The man grinned.
“Everything is good!” said the other.
Rick nodded goodbye and stalked off, keen to get back to his desk. With half the nation’s press descending on the hotel, there was too much going on to waste time babysitting.
Closing the heavy door behind him, Rick headed back up the stairs, a full stack of paperwork waiting for him.
Chapter 7
LEOPOLD WATCHED JEROME lug the heavy suitcases into the hallway, racking his brain for anything he might have forgotten. The bodyguard had packed up a case full of surveillance equipment looted from the backups he kept in the storage room, destined to meet them in Seattle when they arrived. More would be shipped direct from the supplier, Jerome had said, sent straight to the hotel for them to pick up when they checked in.
He hadn’t left anything to chance.
A low buzzing noise, and Leopold felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He checked the screen before answering.
“Detective Jordan,” he said, picking up. He felt a smile cross his lips. “Let me guess; you got an ID on your victim?”
“You could say that,” Mary replied, the signal a little fuzzy.
“What time you want dinner?”
“Not so fast, Blake. We got the ID, but you were off base.”
“He wasn’t one of yours?”
“A Fed, from the looks of it.”
Leopold frowned. “But he was undercover, right? Sounds like a win to me.”
“Close, but no cigar,” said Mary. “My contact at the bureau couldn’t confirm anything. Based on the ballistics report, it looks like this was a close range execution. Caught him by surprise. So I guess it’s safe to say his cover got blown.”
“Okay, so I got the wrong department,” Leopold said. “But that’s good enough, right?”
“There is no ‘good enough,’” said Mary. “There’s either right, or there’s wrong. You were wrong.”
“Fine. So I guess that means dinner’s on me.”
Mary laughed. “Nice try.”
“I still need your help.”
“What else is new?”
“Listen, I have to leave town for a few days. I’m stuck on a job I can’t get out of. I’ll officially owe you one.”
“You’ll owe me two,” said Mary. “At least.”
“So, that’s a ‘yes’?”
She sighed. “What do you need?”
“I need you to look into the sale of Chemworks. Try to dig up anything that might give us a lead. You might need to approach some people direct. But don’t flash your badge; that only pisses people off.”
“You need to let this go, Leopold.”
“I can’t let this go. Have you got any idea what kind of research could fall into the wrong hands? I need to know who’s pulling the strings. It has to be someone on the inside. There’s no other explanation. Nobody on the outside would know how to make this happen, and the only solid lead we’ve got isn’t exactly talkative.”
“Yeah, well, that’s probably because he’s dead.”
Leopold thought back to the events in Paris. “I’m not complaining. He was holding a gun to my head at the time. But there had to be someone else involved; it was too much for one man to do alone.”
“You could have done it by yourself.”
“Yeah, but I run the company,” Leopold said. “And I’m not exactly going to turn chemical research secrets over to an anonymous buyer. If we’re going to stand a chance of figuring this out, I’ll need you to approach someone with ties to Chemworks.” He paused. “Your sister might be able to help. She’s got the connections.”
The line went silent for a moment. “Let’s not bring Kate into this,” Mary said, eventually. “We don’t need the grief. Especially if the WHO or CDC get wind of it. I can do this myself.”
“That’s the spirit,” Leopold said.
“And don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing, bringing my sister into t
his.”
Leopold smiled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Whatever. Just email me the details. I’ll see what I can do.”
“No problem.”
“And I changed my mind. You now owe me three.” Mary hung up.
Leopold slipped his phone back into his pocket as Jerome emerged from the bedroom with another suitcase.
“You ready?” Jerome asked, dumping the heavy case onto the tiled floor. “Not that you haven’t been an enormous help, but we’re going to have to haul ass if we don’t want to miss our flight.”
Rolling his eyes, Leopold grabbed the nearest case. “And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
Chapter 8
JUN-YEONG WATCHED RICK Gustafson march out of the room, leaving him and Seong-min alone with their tools. The older man stole a glance at his watch and quickly went back to work.
“The second floor won’t need ventilation for five minutes,” he said in Korean. “If I’m quick, nobody should even notice the systems are off.” He knelt down next to the system that provided air to the convention center and located the subsystem that served the second floor. Flashlight in hand, he found the master electrical panel that ran that system and shut it down. A few inches to the side, the access panel had been tack-welded closed, a label applied with a security warning.
“They’ve already been here,” he muttered, looking up at the kid. “Now what?”
Jun-yeong shrugged. “You’re the expert.”
“Remind me again why I let you tag along?” Seong-min leaned in closer. “You better know what you’re doing with the payload.” He spotted the filtration unit, a separate housing the size of a refrigerator. It hadn’t been sealed shut. Using a specialized screwdriver, he removed the access panel to the housing and slid out several particulate filters. Setting those aside, he flashed a light inside and looked toward the base.
Ratio: A Leopold Blake Thriller (A Private Investigator Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers) Page 4