Toxic New Year: The Day That Wouldn't End: The Day That Wouldn't End (Alex Desephano Series Book 4)

by Judith Lucci

  “Can you get me in close so I don’t have to walk so far? Last thing I want to do is trip on one of these broken sidewalks and have to start over,” Jack admitted as his body quaked inwardly at the possibility.

  “Yeah, that would totally suck,” Jason agreed. “And then I’d have to quit because I couldn’t start over with you being crippled again.”

  Jack scowled at him and grunted, “Really?”

  Jason turned and smiled at Jack. “Just kiddin’. No problem. I’d probably hang in there. I’ll get you in as close as I can.”

  Jack shook his head and laughed, “You’d quit too? Come on, that’s what Monique said. Have I really been that bad?”

  Jason hesitated, but decided to tell the truth. “To be honest, sir, it hasn’t been a picnic. Nevertheless, I’d probably do it again,” he conceded, giving Jack a smile.

  Jack gave him an appreciative look. “Hey, you’re better than Monique. She said she’d leave me before she put up with a one legged Jack again.”

  Jason laughed. “I believe it. She’s a good lady … a no nonsense lady, but a good one,” he said as he pulled behind the closest police car. “Here we go sir. Do you need help?”

  “Nah, I’m not planning to use my cane either,” Jack answered in a defensive voice as Jason stared at him and shook his head.

  Jack was soon spotted by the press and they moved in on him like buzzards. He groaned and pushed forward, waving them away. “I’ll tell you something when I know something,” he growled at them. Dozens of questions pelted his ears, but he ignored them all.

  “What do we have,” he asked the officer in charge.

  Chapter 57

  Alex was stretched on a chaise lounge on the veranda of Louis’s chateau in Chamonix-Mont-Blanc, France, a ski and sportsman paradise that overlooked Lake Geneva. Towering mountains surrounded her and the waters of the lake gleamed and sparkled like diamonds. The sun was warm on her face and she felt peaceful, more than she had in a long time.

  She’d been in France for almost a month and needed to be getting back to New Orleans soon, but seemed frozen in place with no desire to leave. She had talked with her grandmother an hour ago and everything in Virginia was going well. She smiled to herself. How lucky I am to have found my father after all these years and be visiting his home in the Rhone Alps. The wine is the best I have ever had. This has to be the most beautiful place in the world, with the mountains, rivers, and lakes.

  Alex continued to drink in the beauty of her surroundings as she thought of all the wonderful things in her life, particularly Jacob Stark. Her cell phone rang and the digital outlay identified a call from Robert. She chose not to answer and clicked dismiss on her phone. As she daydreamed about Jacob, she felt a pang of guilt about Robert, but shrugged it off. Robert was her friend, he would always be, but she was infatuated with Jacob Stark.

  As she continued to think about Stark, she tried to analyze her affection, well, passion for him. Of course he was handsome, but so were so many of the men she’d dated in her life. It’s, well, it’s as though he’s been hurt badly and injured, and needs someone to comfort him. And I also think it’s the way he loves his daughter and the respect he has for his mother-in-law.

  She reminded herself that Jacob’s wife had only been dead a little less than six months and she was certain that was the cause of his reticence. Alex knew in her heart that Jacob cared about her, but he seemed to exit gracefully each time they were left alone together. If was as if he was afraid of her. She checked her watch as she remembered her photography lesson later on in the day. There was just enough time for a nap.

  She didn’t move when Louis came onto the veranda a little while later and asked, “Alex, my dear, I am planning to motor over to Turin tomorrow because I have business with Fiat. Would you like to …” As Louis looked down at his sleeping daughter, a great love welled in his heart. I am so lucky to have her, even after all of these years. What more could a father ask for?

  As Louis moved back into his office, he saw a dark figure running away from the side of the house. Squinting into the sun, Louis didn’t recognize the man and decided to check the surveillance cameras. He looked at the grandfather clock on the mantle in his office. Jacob and Shooter should be back anytime. They’d gone over to Stark’s house in the village to do a little maintenance.

  Louis eased into his favorite Queen Ann chair and reached for his 38 special as he contemplated the intruder. He placed the gun in the chair beside him, and continued to peer out of the French doors onto the terrace and the woods beyond. He saw nothing.

  “Sir, is there anything I can do in preparation for tomorrow?”

  Louis jumped and turned to see Mrs. A., his assistant who had accompanied him to France. He smiled, “Oh, no, I don’t think so. I am planning to see Umberto at Fiat. I will probably invest with them a bit more. I may wait a couple of days though before I go, as I am hoping Alex will accompany me.”

  Mrs. A. nodded. “She would love that. There is plenty there for her to photograph,” she added, smiling at him.

  Louis smiled back. “Yes, her work is quite good. Almost as beautiful as her paintings.”

  Mrs. A. nodded. “Yes, she is most accomplished in many things,” she said and quickly changed the subject. “I have the files together for you for your meeting, along with an executive summary of your current holdings, you know, the whole package,” she promised as she handed him the file.

  She looked down and saw the gun in Louis’s lap. “Is something wrong?” Her voice was low and thick with alarm. Mrs. A. was not an attractive woman. In fact, she was quite dumpy, with thick, ethnic features, an overweight body, and skin scarred from acne. But, her mind was one of the brightest Louis had ever encountered and she was his right hand. Mrs. A. was dedicated to Louis Destephano like no one had ever been in his entire life.

  Louis put his finger to his lips and shook his head. “I don’t think so. At least I hope not. I thought I saw man dressed in black running through the back garden. When are Jacob and Shooter due back?” Louis’s voice was steady, but Mrs. A. recognized the edge in it that she had learned to identify years ago when things weren’t OK.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I am not really sure. They’ll be here for dinner. Do you want me to call?”

  Louis shook his head. “No, I am sure it is nothing. I think we’re pretty well hidden here. Anyway, keep your eyes open and let me know if you see anything.”

  Mrs. A. pursed her lips and said tartly, “Now, Mr. Destephano. It’s only been four months or so, and you know people can find us. We still don’t know who was after you in New Orleans.”

  Louis felt anger bubble up and said sternly, “I know all of that, and I don’t want you repeating it. Now, don’t you have anything to do?” His voice was harsh and gruff.

  Mrs. A. knew she needed to back off, so she did. Nevertheless, she left the room and texted Shooter on his cell phone. She and Shooter had been friend since Shooter was about five years old, and they both loved Louis. Shooter would take care of it, he would never let any harm come to Louis.

  Chapter 58

  Jacob and Shooter sat drinking a chilled bottle of white Rhone wine as they observed the new paint job on Jacob’s lovely cottage. Haley played on a swing nearby, and Sarah was in the kitchen preparing a cheese tray.

  Shooter held his glass up for a toast and said, “Cheers, Jacob. What can’t you do? I never figured you for a house painter, dude.”

  Stark’s eye were as blue as the mountain sky as his glass met Shooter’s glass with a clink. He smiled ear to ear. “Me neither, man, but I did a pretty good job. It looks just about perfect.”

  Shooter nodded. “Everything about this place is perfect. I don’t want to leave. I am considering staying around a while longer. I love the U.S. but man, this place is the best. Hiking, skiing, and every kind of water sport in the world. What’s not to like?”

  Stark gave him the once over and laughed. “Are you sure it’s the sports? I r
ather think it’s the beautiful, dark headed lady over in Montroc.”

  Shooter blushed a bit. “Yeah, Adele could be a large part of it,” he admitted, “But its Louis as well. I love Louis – he’s like my farther and he really isn’t well. That poison did a number on his heart and I can see him slowing down more every day.”

  Stark raised his eyebrows. “Really, do you think so? I think he looks pretty good. He gets around OK.”

  Shooter nodded. “Yeah. But he’s slow. You should have seen him five years ago. He was amazing. He beat the cancer and that took a lot out of him, but I really see the change with the heart. He’s slower and a little short of breath.”

  Stark laughed. “Dude, we’re all short of breath. We are at an elevation of 3500 feet. Maybe that’s it. We’re in perfect physical shape. We’re just slower up here. Cut the guy a break.”

  Shooter shook his head stubbornly. “Nah, I think I need to stick around and watch out for him. Besides, who knows what my dumb ass father is up to,” he ended in a disgusted tone.

  “You’re hanging around for Adele. I know what you’re up to, Shooter P.,” Jacob teased, as his eyes twinkled with mischief.

  Shooter was silent for a moment and finally broached the subject that had bothered him for a few weeks. “Yeah, you’re probably right, but … speaking of the fairer sex, what about you and Alex?”

  A line of white anger crossed Stark’s lips as he said, “Nothing. There’s nothing with me and Alex. Nothing at all.”

  “That’s your fault, Jacob. Don’t you see how she looks at you? I think she’s in love with you. Why do you avoid her every chance you get? What more could you want in a woman?” Shooter watched his friend intently as a multitude of emotions passed over Stark’s face.

  Stark was silent. What the hell is he questioning me for? He picked up his wine glass and drank deeply, trying to decide whether to get up and leave or answer.

  Shooter persisted. “Dude, she loves you. That should be all you need to hear. And besides, Haley adores her and vice versa.” Shooter could feel the heat of anger surrounding Jacob’s body, but his friend remained silent and poured himself another glass of wine. Shooter reached into the silver chiller and removed a second bottle and a foil cutter, then expertly cut the foil and removed the cork in several fluid motions.

  Stark observed him and said, “You’re getting pretty good at this wine stuff. I thought you were a brew man.”

  “Not any more. I’m a wine-o-phile or whatever it’s called. Let me fill your glass,” he offered.

  Jacob held his glass out and watched, mesmerized by the golden color of the wine.

  Shooter settled back in his chair and waited, “Now, what about Alex?”

  Stark shook his head and said, “Man, there is everything wrong with a relationship like that. She’s the boss’s daughter, I’m on the run from the Feds and the jihad, I tried to blow up her grandparent’s farm, and my wife has only been dead for six months.”

  Shooter was silent for a few moments as he considered Jake Stark’s excuses.

  “You may have had a part in the stuff at the farm, but you didn’t blow anybody up. As a matter of fact, you saved the lives of a few hundred people by disabling the second bomb,” Shooter said defensively.

  Jacob shook his head. “Appreciate the vote of confidence and the support, but I am responsible for the death of the horse trainer and the injuries that Alex and her policeman friend suffered …, not to mention the emotional damage the explosion did to all of them. I’m more than culpable. Seth’s death is also my fault.”

  Shooter shook his head, “Come on, Stark. If it hadn’t been you out there, it’d have been someone else. The jihad always finds someone. That other person would have blown the whole place to pieces and killed three hundred people, plus no telling how many first responders. In many ways, you saved the day for the Lee family. You never got paid, did you?”

  Stark shook his head. “No. No money. I’d be paying Helen’s final medical bills if I had.”

  “Yeah, you probably will pay those bills, but this farm stuff, it’s still not your fault. Yeah, you participated but in truth, you saved a lot of people too. No one else would have run back in a blizzard and stopped a massive bomb from exploding.”

  Shooter was convincing, and Jacob had to admit it sounded pretty good to him. He could almost buy half of it.

  Stark responded, “Nice try, Shooter. In my eyes, I’m still guilty. I went in there to do damage for money. I did, in fact, betray my country.” Jacob’s voice was firm, adamant.

  “Haven’t you done similar things when we were doing black ops? I certainly have,” Shooter reminded him.

  Stark was pensive. “Yeah, I guess I have, come to think of it,” he remembered. Even though the argument was a bit over the top, Stark paused to consider how many lives he had saved. “However, the fact remains, I’m still guilty,” he concluded.

  Shooter pondered Stark’s excuses for a few moments before he replied. He shrugged his shoulders and ran his hand through his dirty blonde hair. “Well, Louis wants Alex to be happy. He’d never stand in your way.”

  Stark said nothing and focused on his wine glass.

  Shooter continued, “Alex never needs to know about your part in the attack on Wyndley Farm, and you and I both know that Helen would like nothing more than for you to find someone to love, marry, and settle down with. Haley needs a mother and Alex would be perfect. Haley worships Alex. They’re like two peas in a pod.”

  Stark nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I know,” he said with some chagrin. “Haley has already asked me to marry her.”

  Shooter hooted, laughed, and stomped his feet. “That’s so funny. There’s not much that gets passed that little girl.” He was quiet for a minute. “Well, there you have it. What’s holding you back?”

  Stark’s face turned dark with anger. “Are you insane? I’m a wanted man. I’ve got the CIA and just about everyone else in the world barking up my ass. Besides, how do you think she’d feel when she found out she was married to a traitor,” Stark said bitterly, his dark eyes full of fury.

  Shooter shook his head. “She would probably never know. You could live in Europe, move over to Sweden, or go deep into Asia. You know there are countries that don’t extradite to the U.S.”

  “Yeah,” Stark snorted. “Most of them are in the Middle East, and they’d love to have me closer. I don’t think so, Shooter. Forget it. It’s not happening.” Stark’s voice had a note of resignation.

  “How about Indonesia? Bali, maybe? That’s a pretty romantic place. It is growing steadily and lots of Americans are investing there.” He paused for a moment and added, “I think Louis has pushed a lot of his assets into Indonesia. It’s beautiful there, I hear, and Jakarta is supposedly a great place to live.”

  Stark stood up to stretch his long legs and laughed, “Nice try, buddy. I wish, but I think that in many respects I’m a doomed man.”

  “Not so, we just need a little time,” Shooter said, his voice defiant as he pulled out his cell phone. “Oh, no. We’ve gotta go. Mrs. A. says that a man was lurking around the Chateau.”

  “Damn, let’s hit it,” Jacob said, his voice hardened as he reached for his Glock.

  “Text Haley and Sarah and tell them we’ll be back to pick them up for dinner,” Shooter instructed. “Haley is looking forward to it.”

  Stark nodded, and reached for his phone as they ran toward the car.

  Chapter 59

  Travis Stoner and John Cole sat in a small D.C. bistro several blocks from the Capitol, munching on veggie wraps. The Bistro was a favorite of federal agents and often a meeting place for information exchanges. They’d learned soon after the attack on Wyndley Farm that Yassar had been part of a terrorist cell based in Yemen and linked to Al Qaeda. Since then there had been nothing, although there was internet chatter that suggested the jihad was looking for an American who had foiled the attack and murdered an operative.

  “It’s been over six months since th
e attack at the Congressman’s farm. It’s unusual the terrorists aren’t stepping up to take more credit,” Stoner observed, taking a bite from his tuna sandwich.

  John stirred his coffee absentmindedly, his handsome face shaded from the bright sun by the café curtain. “Yeah, I don’t get it. Usually they tell the world for months and tout it from the highest treetops, but there’s been nothing in the press anywhere. We’ve been monitoring the internet, websites, media, and there’s just not anything out there -- at least that we’ve seen.”

  “I know, it’s frustrating,” Stoner agreed, shaking his head. “I talked with the Homeland team and they’ve got nothing as well … at least that’s what they’re telling us,” he added as he pushed his potato salad around with his fork. He looked over at John, “Your sources say anything different?”

  John shook his head and starring into Stoner’s eyes asked, “You still think Jacob Stark had a part in it?”

  Stoner shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I have no idea. All we know is that he was into a Saudi Prince with terrorist connections for a bunch of money … to pay for his wife’s medical bills …, but we have an eye on his financials and there’s no large amount of money being funneled into his accounts. As a matter of fact, there’s no activity in his American accounts and hasn’t been since before Christmas.”

  John scratched his head, his forehead furrowed. “Are you sure it wasn’t a gift? Years ago, one of the Saudi Royal family members rewarded him handsomely for preventing a coup against one of their cousins … I can’t remember his name, now,” John offered.

  Stoner smiled. “Who can remember all of the Saudi Royal family? There are dozens of them and they switch allegiances every day. It’s frustrating to say the least,” he said jokingly. “And to answer your question, I don’t know if Stark is involved. He has the security expertise, that’s for sure. He could have carried it off,” Stoner admitted, his voice unsure.