Death & Other Lies

by Carol L. Ochadleus

  Ben had to fight through the highest government channels of both countries to get Matt returned to the U.S. as soon as possible. That’s how Agent Baggins started his day. A copy of Matt’s passport photo and American I.D. stared back from his desk. An order arrived from Washington. Matt must be granted clearance to leave the country and be on his way home immediately.

  The whole affair had the markings of a national emergency in Britain, HSS and Interpol weren’t happy about turning over a key part of the play to the CIA. As he headed down the hall to Inspector Dare’s office, he could hear the shouting through the closed door. Baggins knew he wasn’t the only one with such an opinion. There was going to be a full-scale war over the handling and control of the guy. They had possession, and it didn’t sound like they were going to give him up easily. The inspector already had permission from her superiors ‘to do whatever it takes’ to get the information they wanted. If need be, extreme force would be used to strongly encourage him to cooperate with the agency. It was not often torture was used, but this was, after all, a potentially catastrophic situation and if his memory didn’t come back on its own, they were fully prepared to help him remember.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  What a perfect opportunity he had before him. A disheveled apartment just ripe for the plundering. Fred Lafferty took his time making his way to Matt’s apartment as he checked out the empty street. The police caution tape was still in place, crisscrossing the entrance, and it gently puffed outward as he closed the door. Things were stacked or thrown toward one side of the room. Government agents and police had gone through each piece looking for something of great importance Fred decided, but whether or not they found what they were looking for was none of his concern. There were other prizes to be discovered in the mess lying around. Bills and bank statements gave up valuable personal information on a guy who had been missing for months. No sense leaving good money in a bank account when Freddie could put it to use. Even the small appliances could be pawned and would bring him a few bucks.

  By the time the owner got back, if he ever got back, Fred would be free and clear of any evidence, and the missing items would just look like part of the vandal’s work. He knew the cops wouldn’t bother to take inventory. Yep, ole’ Fred never missed a thing. He was building a treasure pile by the front door and was slowly working his way through the rest of the belongings in the bedroom when he was startled to hear the outer door open and shut quickly.

  “Shit,” he swore under his breath. Maybe it was another cop or some relative, or even the owner himself. It didn’t matter anyway, he was trapped where he was and would be discovered if someone walked into the back room. Too much stuff cluttered the floor to be able to quietly reach the closet and hide, and the only window was visible from the front room. He froze where he stood. He pulled out the small gun he kept in his waistband, prepared to be confronted by whoever just entered the apartment.

  Phil had little trouble opening the apartment door this time. Not like the last time when he broke into Matt’s home. On his last visit, the tip of Phil’s pick broke off in the lock. But this time he tumbled the lock easily and stepped over the police tape.

  In what was once a neat apartment, the scene that met his gaze was alarming. Someone beat him to the punch and probably found Matt’s work. “Damn Zand and his stinking camel jockey friends,” he muttered. The entire apartment was thoroughly, and from the looks of it, professionally ransacked. Phil was now more worried than ever the Iranian’s could eliminate him from the deal. Phil went to Matt’s apartment, intent to go through his things one more time. If he could find the rest of Matt’s notes and put together another tempting package to buy himself back in again, he would beat the Iranians at their own game.

  Now that he knew the world was full of buyers, he would reach out to some other groups who would want what he had to sell, and if he could find Matt’s notes for the antidote as well, he could sell it to the highest bidders to protect themselves from the nuts in Iran. There was more than one way to skin those fucking Arabs, he thought. Cut me out will they; I’ll give their enemies the same weapon and let the whole damn middle-east duke it out. See how Iran likes getting screwed. Won’t that make an interesting front page news picture? The image of thousands or even millions of people dying made Phil smile.

  Phil was faced with the dilemma of where to start. The entire apartment was littered with pieces of Matt’s life. Phil had gone through most of it before when Matt’s apartment was neat and tidy, but he had looked for files or manuscripts, lab books, or pages of reports. This time he had a much smaller target in mind. He put all the data on microdots. He knew Matt could have done the same thing. It would be much harder to find them now with the place in shambles, but there was plenty of time, and he would examine each inch of the place until he found what he was looking for. He conjured up two images again; the first was his favorite of him spending his golden years basking in the sun overlooking his vineyard in the hilly fields of southern France, and the newer one of hordes of dark, swarthy-skinned people gasping their last breaths. “Ahh, here’s to the good life,” he chuckled. He took off his jacket, threw it on the floor, and prepared to start his search.

  “Damn,” Fred swore under his breath. Whoever came in was surely taking their sweet time about leaving. He didn’t dare move and give away his presence, but he was getting a leg cramp standing in one place for so long. He couldn’t quite decide what to do, wait a while longer and hope the intruder left, or sneak to the edge of the bedroom door and bully his way out with the gun. The decision was made for him when his cell phone went off, clearly blasting Layla, his favorite tune.

  “Damn,” he whispered again, not sure if the sound carried into the next room. All was quiet beyond the bedroom door, but now he felt he must either hide or force the confrontation. He inched his way slowly, careful not to step on any pieces of broken furniture. The cracked dresser mirror propped against the wall caught his reflection. He turned his head slightly to get a better look. He was a picture of deadly stealth, gun in hand; a true predator, dangerous. If the girls could see him now, with his head back, flexed muscles, power crouching. He loved the look, even if it didn’t last long.

  So absorbed with his image, he didn’t see the lamp come crashing around the door to hit him squarely in the face, driving his nose into his brain. The impact made him squeeze the trigger.

  Phil’s body hit the floor only seconds after Fred’s did. The two men lay a few feet apart on opposite sides of the doorway. As their lives drained away, their greedy blood mingled into one giant pool.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  For his flight back over the Atlantic, Matt was almost as wide-eyed with excitement as was the young girl seated directly in front of him, who kept peeking over the top of the seat. He didn’t remember flying before, so it was as if it was his first time too.

  “Hi, my name is Mary Kathryn,” she said to him as soon as he and the accompanying agents sat down. Putting her small hand out to shake his. “What’s your name?”

  Hampered by the handcuffs he wore, discreetly hidden by his jacket, Matt could only smile and nod at the heart-shaped face beaming at him.

  “Well, I am told, I’m Matt Errington.”

  “That’s a funny answer,” she replied, cocking her head sideways giving its mop of dark curls a shake. “No one has to tell me my name, I always know it. Since I was little,” she added. “If you have trouble remembering, you can pin your name onto your shirt like the teachers did when I was in pre-school.”

  Matt couldn’t help but laugh at the wisdom of the pint-sized imp staring at him, clad in too small jeans and a cheap, thin sweater. “Well, Mary Kathryn, I was in a bad accident, and I got hit on the head, and I haven’t been able to remember much since it happened. It’s called amnesia. It made me even forget my name and where I lived. But there were people in London who found out who I was and told me what I needed to know to get home. So now that’s where I am going. Where are you
going?” he asked, trying to deflect the conversation from himself.

  “I’m going to live with my aunt and uncle in a place called Brooklyn,” she answered, with a definite tremor in her voice and a pained look on her small dimpled face. “Do you know where that is?”

  “Yes, it’s not too far from where I live in Pennsylvania.”

  “So, we can be friends, and you can come and visit me?” The child beamed with delight. The agent seated next to Matt scowled at her. She stuck out her tongue.

  “Um, well it’s not that close, and besides you will be so busy going to school and meeting new people, you won’t have time for an old man like me.”

  “No, I suppose not,” she agreed, eyeing the surly agent again, and giving her mop another sad shake. She folded her arms defensively across her chest. “I probably won’t have time for anything fun anymore.”

  “Why do you say that? School is fun, and making new friends will be a little scary at first, but you will see, the kids in Brooklyn will be just like the friends you left in London. You are from London, aren’t you?”

  “No. I didn’t live in London, and I didn’t have many friends either. My mom and I lived in Bristol. She’s dead. So I have to go to Brooklyn to live with her sister, Aunt Edith.”

  “I’m so sorry. What happened to her?”

  “She put some pills in a bottle and mixed it up with something and got sick and died,” Mary Kathryn replied as matter-of-factly as if she was discussing the weather. “She told me she hated me and couldn’t stand the sight of me anymore.” No tears or clouds of emotion scudded over her face. She was just stating the facts. But before he could think of anything more to say by way of solace, she changed the subject and her previous excitement of flying returned. “I’m glad I get to sit by the window when we go over the water. My teacher said it would be huge and not to be afraid to look down. I’ve never seen so much water.”

  “For what it is worth, I don’t remember flying over the water before either, so I can’t wait to see it too.”

  How strange that is, he thought as he half listened to the flight attendant perform her pre-flight ritual. “In case the cabin loses pressure ...” he gave her routine the most minimal attention.

  “Mr. Matt,” said the small voice in front of him, “did you hear what the lady said?”

  “No, I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. Why? What did she say?”

  “She said the plane would land in New York, not Brooklyn. Am I on the right plane?” Matt smiled at the concern in her voice.

  “Yes, honey, you are,” he said, trying to relieve her fears as she crawled up the seat again. He couldn’t help wondering about this fragile creature and how she would fare in a rough place like Brooklyn. She seemed tough on the outside but so young. In her shoes, he probably would have been scared to death. Even as the idea went through his mind, he admitted he wasn’t at all sure he wasn’t scared about what waited for him on the other side of the ocean.

  Glad he had something to take his mind off the other end of the journey he was content to play the role of the girl’s traveling companion. The elderly gentleman next to her was already asleep, so she aimed all her pent-up excitement in Matt’s direction. What a poor little thing, he thought, to be so alone in the world. But, upon closer introspection, wasn’t he just as alone? Going back to the States was exciting for him too, but a bit terrifying as well. He wanted to get on with his life, but he knew from the way he was treated when he left Interpol, he wasn’t going to be a completely free man for a while. It was a definite relief to be out of Interpol’s hands, even if he was still in their possession, so to speak, glancing over at his two suited companions. Before he was released, the questioning had taken a harder line, and the agents had lost any disguise at amiability. The tone of the interviewers had drastically changed for the worse in the last couple hours, and without being told, he had the distinct impression they were not happy about putting him on a plane out of England. They were terrified of something big, and they strongly suspected he was a part of whatever it was. And, more to his concern, they seemed prepared to learn one way or another what his connection was, regardless of whether he knew it or not.

  One minute, there were angry fingers pointed in his face and barely disguised threats hurled at him about what would happen if he continued to refuse to help them, then all of a sudden the door was opened, and he was ushered to a car and headed to the plane. No explanations were made. All of which made him wonder who, or what, he should thank for his deliverance, for there was no doubt, he had been saved from something worse.

  Mary Kathryn grew silent, and he realized she was asleep. He wondered at her future and his own. For the first time in days, he was able to spend some quiet time inside his head and to reflect on what he had narrowly escaped at the hands of Interpol. How did I get into such a mess? Who the hell am I anyway? Yes, he had a name now, but nothing in his limited memory or the little he had been told about his life, gave him a clue as to how or why he was in such a terrible position. The only information they would give him was his destination—Washington, by way of New York as it was the soonest flight out of Britain—and there would be someone to pick him up as soon as they landed.

  He asked to be allowed to collect his belongings from wherever they were in London, but the request was ignored, and he was given a promise his things would be forwarded to him later. Nor was he allowed to contact Elizabeth and Franny. He particularly felt bad about not being able to tell them where he was or say goodbye and thank them. He had expected to be granted the customary one phone call.

  It was past two o’clock in the morning when the plane touched down at Kennedy Airport in New York. Mary Kathryn slept for most of the trip and needed to be roused as they approached their destination. “Did you have a good nap, sleepy head?” Matt asked as her head popped up again above the seat.

  “Not so good. I was dreaming I was home with my mom and Billy. They were fighting again, and he broke my toys. Billy got mad if I left things on the floor. I didn’t mean to, but he came home early, and I didn’t have time to put them all away. He yelled at my mom and made her cry. That happened a lot.”

  Matt wished he could pluck her out of her seat and hold the tiny body in a tight hug. What a lot of crap she had in her short life; she couldn’t be more than five.

  “How old are you Mary Kathryn?” She seemed so small and frail.

  “I’m nearly seven,” she told him with a certain amount of pride in her voice.

  “Well the plane is getting ready to land, and I’m sure your aunt and uncle will be happy to see you.” He tried to put more excitement into his voice than he was feeling for her at the moment.

  “Yes, maybe they will, but I know my cousin Rachael won’t be so happy to see me. I’m sure she doesn’t like me coming to live with them. My mom always told me she was a princess, pretty and smart and everyone loves her and gives her nice presents, but now I guess she will have to share her things with me. She’s older than me too. She’s twelve.”

  “Well, I think you are pretty and smart, too,” Matt reassured her. “You two may become the best of friends.” Even though he wondered at his own words, he hoped things would turn out better for her.

  “Really? You think I’m pretty?” The hopeful look on her face tore at his heart.

  “Yes, positively beautiful,” he honestly told her. “If I have a daughter waiting for me, I hope she is as lovely as you.”

  Suspected of terrorism as he was, Matt was treated like any other prisoner, political or otherwise, and kept on the plane until all other passengers had disembarked. He watched the attendant take Mary Kathryn by the hand and escort her to the cockpit for a short tour. Delighted at the VIP treatment, she smiled at Matt as he exited the plane sandwiched between the two stone-faced Interpol agents.

  As the ramp opened into the reception area of JFK International Airport, Matt turned his attention to the two men in dark glasses walking directly toward him.

  “W
ill you come with us.” It was not a question. It was obvious the two agents from the CIA cared little what his thoughts might be and were no friendlier than his Interpol escorts and were in no mood for chatting.

  Under any other circumstances, he may have felt like a celebrity with his security detail as they by-passed the customs ritual. Heads turned curiously as they skirted around long lines of travelers. Two sets of suits now escorted Matt through the airport.

  On a backward glance, Matt saw a young couple about his age, sweep Mary Kathryn up in their arms and shower her with kisses. A young girl at their side was aglow with delight at meeting her new sister. Mary Kathryn, with a huge smile on her face, turned to look for Matt in the crowd. As she spotted him, she gave him a final happy wave. His parting thought for her as he watched her head off to a new life, was that hopefully, she was going to find a loving home and a normal childhood. Heaven only knew what his homecoming would be, but he was fairly certain it wasn’t going to be as sweet.

  The CIA suits parted company with the Interpol agents, who reluctantly released their charge. Matt was loaded onto a private jet and given a seat in the rear of the plane, in front of the agents. Another man unlocked his handcuffs and handed him a cup of coffee and an egg and biscuit sandwich. Not a single word was spoken.

  SITTING IN BEN’S OFFICE in Washington, Elizabeth and Ben went over the same topic for several minutes and neither wanted to concede their position. Elizabeth wanted to try one more time to sway his opinion of Matt. “But I still don’t understand why you can’t just tell him everything. Matt is a wonderful man, and no matter what you think of his employer or colleagues, I am certain he would do everything he can to help us. I think you are wrong about keeping Kate out of the picture. He will find out about her somehow, and maybe getting them back together is a good thing. She can help him heal.”