Claire Gulliver #02 - Washington Weirdos

by Gayle Wigglesworth

  He hesitated looking at them suspiciously.

  “They’re clean,” she assured him.

  He took them and straightened them out, then went over to where the knife still lay on the ground. He used one of the tissues to pick it up by the blade and managed to close it, wrapping it carefully in the other tissue to preserve any prints before slipping it into his pocket.

  “I really need a plastic bag but this is better than nothing.” He returned to the bench looking at her earnestly, “I don’t think there’s any point in contacting the local police now, do you?”

  She agreed. Her attacker was long gone.

  He sat down again picking at some of the debris that had been caught in his shirt while he was on the ground. He looked about the same. Maybe his sandy hair was a little grayer, but maybe it was only the light. She had forgotten that he was attractive. He was only medium height, really about the same as her five foot, nine inches. She remembered crashing into him, nose to nose, when they first met and it hurt. She hadn’t liked him then. But somehow during the two weeks they had traveled together they came to respect each other and, eventually, they came to like each other. In fact, she remembered, they had progressed to a mild interest in flirtation before she left.

  “What are you doing here?” She looked at him thoughtfully, realizing she had been caught up in violence once again, and Jack was on the scene. Was it only a coincidence?

  “I was rotated back last month for some specialized training and, since I was here, I was invited to represent our group at the meeting you’re attending tomorrow. Supposedly I’m to be there in case there are any questions that need answering, but I suspect it’s meant as a bit of reward for my work with you.” He grinned. “That’s how I knew you were coming.”

  That’s when she noticed he no longer spoke with a British accent. “And are you still Jack Hanford? You don’t sound the same.”

  He shook his head, slightly embarrassed. “That was an alias. Actually, my name is Jack. Well, John. Really I’m John Rallins. But you can call me Jack, most people do.”

  She stared at him. “You probably change your name for every assignment. It reminds me of a movie with Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant. He kept using different names.”

  He laughed. “I know. Charade. Great movie! And she kept asking him if there was a Mrs. Whatever. So, just for your information, no matter what name, I have still been divorced for many years. I still have a grown daughter I try to stay in touch with. And I do have an interest in British history, although I confess I was never a teacher.” He looked at her closely. “Okay?”

  It was completely dark now and she felt much calmer. Jack apparently thought it was time to leave. “How about taking a rain check on the Vietnam Memorial? I’ll buy you a bite to eat and you can catch me up on what’s going on in your life. Sound good?” He got to his feet, reaching a hand out to her.

  She stood for a moment testing her knees to make sure they would hold this time, and then let Jack lead her across the Mall and out to a street where he flagged down a cab.

  They arrived at Georgia Brown’s after the dinner rush was over, so they were seated right away. Claire sat down at their table looking around the vibrant crowded room with curiosity. It was attractively decorated; the ceiling was covered with what looked like copper strands of seaweed floating horizontally through the space. Most of the tables were filled with smart and important looking people, but no one she recognized.

  Her mind was too frazzled; she couldn’t even make sense of the menu. She threw herself on the mercy of the waiter. “I’m not very hungry, what do you recommend?”

  “She-crab soup. It’s our specialty. That and some of our cornbread make a great meal.”

  She agreed. “Sounds great but I need a glass of wine.” She thought a minute, shaking her head, unable to make a decision asked, “What do you recommend?”

  He suggested a Kendall-Jackson Chardonnay they were offering by the glass and on her agreement turned to Jack. He ordered Scotch on the rocks, and then hesitating, he added the peach cobbler. Sheepishly he reminded her he was on local time and had already had dinner.

  The waiter came back with their drinks and after a healthy swallow, Jack sat back and looked at Claire carefully.

  “Are you okay? That was pretty scary. I wouldn’t blame you for having hysterics or something.” Then he smiled. “But knowing you as I do, I’d be surprised. You’re pretty cool in an emergency, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t think cool describes my reaction, frozen is more like it. Of course there are those times I just pass out cold or my legs give out.” She smiled ruefully, remembering prior occasions. “I think I’m okay but I won’t guarantee how long it will last.”

  She drew in her breath with a ragged shudder. “I just can’t believe that on my first night in town I was mugged. But then, I don’t suppose it mattered to him that I had just arrived.”

  Jack shook his head. “Don’t suppose,” he agreed. “Well, how is everyone? Have you been in contact with the rest of the tour group? Is Lucy’s leg better? Have you heard from Betty? And how’s my friend Joe?”

  She laughed at his eagerness to know what was going on, only too glad to fill him in on the lives and happenings of the other members of their tour rather than continue to dwell on the encounter on the Mall.

  Earlier in the year, Lucy Springer, her travel book author friend, had organized a tour for novice travelers to follow the route through England and Wales she described in her newest book, An Armchair Traveler’s Adventure. Claire who had never traveled outside the States offered her bookstore, Gulliver’s Travels, as a co-sponsor for the tour. She, of course, would also go along. It was a great publicity gimmick for both Lucy’s book and Gulliver’s Travels. It was unfortunate that Lucy broke her leg rather severely just before they left and couldn’t go. So Claire ended up in charge. It was the trip from hell. Fortunately, Claire, novice that she was, didn’t know until the end what danger they had been in. She thought the many problems they had were normal.

  Jack was the tour director assigned them by Kingdom Coach Tours. But of course, as it turned out he had a bigger role than just tour director. Claire didn’t know who he really worked for but assumed it was the C.I.A. Somehow it hadn’t seemed appropriate then to ask him a lot of questions, and he wasn’t given to volunteering much.

  “Vern and Mike are scheduled to go to Paris for Christmas. They said they didn’t know why they hadn’t done more traveling over the years and felt they had to make up for lost time.” She continued, trying to remember if she covered everyone.

  “And, Lucy? How is she doing? I still want to meet that lady some day,” Jack inquired as he dipped into the steaming cobbler with a large scoop of ice cream melting on top.

  “She’s really remarkable. You know Rosa didn’t verify any of the data in the book which was, of course, the initial purpose for the trip. Lucy about had heart failure when she found out. But desperation drove her to be creative and she contacted Kingdom Coach Tours and hired them to verify the data. She was determined to meet her deadline. She’s a professional. I really admire that in her.”

  Jack’s eyes had darkened at the mention of Rosa, and Claire asked him for an update. He shook his head, an expression of disgust on his face.

  “Still no clues. It’s like she walked off the edge of the earth. But don’t worry, we’re looking for her. She almost got away with her little plan. But thanks to you, she’ll think twice about trying anything as bold as that again.

  “And we had her, that’s what’s so frustrating. We had her and she still got away!”

  Claire paused between spoonfuls of the delicious soup. “But surely, you can’t believe you’re at fault for that. They stopped at nothing.” She paled, remembering the horror she felt when she heard about the ambush in Miami, which facilitated Rosa’s escape. “They killed all those people just to rescue her.”

  Then, she made a determined effort to think of more pleasant things. “Look,
let’s not talk about it. Tell me more about your daughter. Where does she live? What does she do? How often do you see her?”

  So they finished their meal talking of personal things and gradually Claire relaxed again.

  Finally Claire remembered her ten o’clock appointment in the morning would seem like seven to her because of the time difference. She pulled her windbreaker off the back of the chair. “I need to get back, Jack. Tomorrow is the meeting at Vantage Airlines and I need to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

  ”It was so nice of the Lickmans to invite me. I just can’t believe a Fortune 500 corporation would do something like this. It’s so thoughtful. I wasn’t interested in traveling again so soon, but I just couldn’t turn them down.”

  When they were in the cab she continued as if there had been no interruption. “I’ve never been to a Board Meeting before. I don’t even know the protocol. Do you?”

  “Not really, but by this time tomorrow we will. Doug will be there. You remember him, don’t you?”

  “Doug Levine? Of course, but I thought he lived in London.”

  “Oh, he does from time to time, but he spends a lot of time here and he’s been acting as the liaison with Vantage for the State Department. So of course he was included.”

  “Now I’m getting a little nervous, it sounds like this is a big deal.”

  “Are you kidding? Of course it’s a big deal! If it hadn’t been for you, Vantage would be in dire straits right now, say nothing of the 335 people who were on that plane. The Board of a big corporation usually meets only certain times of the year and apparently they intend to show their gratitude to you, albeit, quietly. And as well they should.”

  They finished the ride in silence; each thinking back to that time in London when Claire, convinced that Rosa had planted a bomb on their plane, insisted the flight, already on the runway in line for takeoff, be aborted.

  She had been horrified at the seriousness of what she had done and was terrified she had acted foolishly, afraid it was all her imagination. When she was informed the bomb had indeed been found she didn’t know whether to be hysterical or relieved. Then there was the danger to herself for being the main witness but she had been assured, when her deposition was captured on video, it would no longer be of benefit for anyone to eliminate her to prevent her being a witness.

  But, of course, Claire had to assume Rosa and her friends knew of that videotape. Otherwise they might mistakenly rid themselves of her anyway. Hence a strange man with a knife might approach her out in the Mall.

  Jack got out of the cab with Claire at the door of the hotel. “Look Claire, get some sleep and don’t worry about this incident. I’m sure it was just a coincidence. Washington, D.C. has a very high crime rate, they are in a crisis. And you know I’ve warned you about walking alone on dark deserted streets.”

  She nodded. She knew. She knew, but she was probably still going to be worried for this whole trip. She wished she hadn’t come. In California she had managed to put the whole London incident behind her. Now it was all back, including the worry about where Rosa was.

  “And while you’re here, I hope you’ll have dinner with me. Remember, we never got the one we planned in York?”

  “But you just bought me dinner.”

  He shook his head, “No, I mean a dinner date. Okay?”

  She nodded, smiling, and got into the elevator, more than ready to end this day.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Darn!”

  She jumped at the shrill ring and dropped the tiny back to her earring. She tried to see where it fell at the same time backing up to reach for the phone on the bedside table.

  “Ms. Gulliver, this is Ramon downstairs. Your car is waiting for you,” the polite voice announced.

  She smiled broadly at the message. She wasn’t used to this kind of service, but she was learning to like it. Still she had to find the back of her earring, so she got down on her hands and knees and combed her fingers through the nap of the carpet until she found it. Finally, the earring in place, she took one final survey of herself in the mirror. Her friend Lucy was right again. Her suit was perfect for this meeting. Cut out of navy gabardine with tiny white stripes, the white linen collar and cuffs made it very stylish. She had bought it at Loehmann’s discount store more than three years ago and, while she seldom wore business attire, she knew she had to have it. And she told herself then its classic style was not likely to be out of fashion soon. Today she wore it with a simple navy silk blouse, Lucy’s borrowed pearls and earrings and a jaunty red silk poppy pinned on her lapel. Her red soft leather pumps and red fabric tote bag kept her from looking too somber.

  She smiled at her reflection. Not glamorous, not young, but she thought she looked good. And, she admitted to herself she was a little excited about attending a Vantage Airlines Board Meeting. She felt like one of those people she saw in Fortune Magazine, a mover and a shaker. She tucked the plastic key card in her purse and sailed out the door, ready for anything.

  “Good morning, ma’am. I’m Charlie Watts. Mr. and Mrs. Lickman asked me to drive you to the meeting this morning.” He smiled, transforming his sober face to friendly. He then inquired with interest, “How are you enjoying your stay?”

  “Oh, it’s a wonderful city. I just got in last night, so I haven’t seen much. But I’m looking forward to it.”

  Charlie ushered her out the door and into the long, dark blue Lincoln Town Car. When she was settled on the buttery cream-colored leather, the car pulled smoothly out into the traffic. Claire watched enthralled.

  This was the political hub of the nation. The streets were crowded with pedestrians, including power brokers in business attire, bicycle messengers in their eclectic garb, tourists in shorts and sandals gaping and pointing, with taxis zipping through the melee and wall-to-wall cars. This city was teeming with life. It had a vitality that seemed present only in the truly great financial centers. It certainly was different than the pokey little street her bookstore sat on in Bayside California.

  Charlie pulled to a stop in front of a solid Art Deco building where Vantage Airlines was etched deeply into the granite above the doors. He came around to open her door and help her out. She felt like a gawking tourist herself as she entered the building, trying to take in the details of the ornate lobby all at once. But remembering Charlie’s instructions, she approached the young woman at the reception desk and gave her name. She was issued a name badge which she attached to her lapel. Meanwhile a young woman was summoned to whisk her up to the top floor in a private elevator before leading her into a small tastefully furnished conference room where Jack waited with Doug Levine.

  “Doug! How nice to see you.” Smiling, she grasped his hands warmly. Then, “And, Jack, how are you this morning?”

  The men were both dressed in somber suits, but that’s where the likeness ended. Jack, shorter, lean, sporting graying blond hair, was attractively tough looking. While Doug, tall, dark hair peppered with distinguished gray, and a dark tan, looked as if he could be an international playboy.

  She smiled fondly at these two men who had cosseted her through her ordeal in London during the earlier part of the year. Jack had hovered protectively about making her feel physically safe in spite of the danger which seemed to abound. But then she knew him, having just come off of a two week tour with him acting as the official tour director for Kingdom Coach Tours. Of course, by then she knew he was really an agent along for the ride and to watch everything they did. It hadn’t done much good as no one noticed anything amiss on the tour. It wasn’t until she was on the return flight, waiting on the runway that it all came together. She had almost blacked out with fright, but somehow she got to the stewardesses in the front of the plane and insisted they abort the flight. That had been scary. And until they determined she was correct and they found the bomb on board, she had visions of spending a long time as a guest of the British prison system.

  Doug, on the other hand, had been a complete stranger when he appe
ared at the request of Vantage Airlines. His role was to make sure she was accorded the proper respect and comfort while working with the British authorities. He was with her whenever the British authorities had talked to her, and during the long hours of videotaping when her testimony was recorded. He said he was there to protect her rights and she felt he was fully capable of doing just that. He was attached to the State Department and he made her feel, and the Brits, too, that he had the authority of the entire United States government standing behind him. She had quickly come to trust him and was very grateful for his support.

  She and Doug chatted as one does on seeing someone familiar far from home and then Jack inquired, “How are you this morning, Claire? Did you sleep well?”

  She smiled wryly. “I’m fine. But I have to admit I didn’t get much sleep. With the excitement of this meeting looming and the letdown from my adrenaline rush I didn’t expect much more. To tell you the truth, at about 3:30 this morning I was seriously thinking about forgetting the whole thing and just going home.” She looked sheepish. “But I changed my mind. It would have been terribly rude.”

  Doug looked at them both puzzled. “Adrenaline rush? Did something happen?”

  “Claire had an incident on the Mall last night.”

  “It was scary.” Claire closed her eyes a moment then looked at Jack, carefully composing her face.

  Jack nodded, agreeing with her, and proceeded to tell Doug about the attempted mugging, only to be interrupted by the door opening.

  “Hi, I’m Suzanne Queensley. Claire Gulliver?” She approached Claire with her hand outstretched. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”

  Claire clasped her hand firmly, surprised to find the strong authoritative voice from her phone conversations belonged to this wispy, dusky, thirtyish woman. Suzanne’s physical presence might have been more diminutive than her voice indicated, but her professional manner wasn’t a disappointment. She was obviously in control as she turned towards the men.