THE BRIDGE TO CARACAS: A DOUGLASS CRIME AND ROMANCE THRILLER SERIES (THE KING TRILOGY Book 1)

by Stephen Douglass

  Eventually, Karen stopped and pretended to stare at the reflection of the late afternoon sun in the windows of the Texaco Building, which was then one of Bloor Street’s tallest structures.

  Mike used both hands to straighten his tousled blond hair and frowned. “What are you staring at?”

  Karen turned to glare at him. “I’ve had all I can take, King!” she retorted, eyebrows furrowed.

  “All you can take of what?”

  “I’m sick of your brooding,” she responded, squeezing his hand. “It’s obvious something’s bugging you, and the longer you hold it inside, the more damage it’s going to do. You’ve got to talk about it.”

  “Talk about what?” Mike glowered, daring her to discuss the topic he’d been so blatantly ignoring.

  “Medicine. It’s obvious you’re unhappy with it. Spit it out. I promise—it’ll be therapeutic.”

  Mike chuckled. “You’re beautiful. I think you’d make a much better doctor than me.”

  “Talk!” Karen insisted, poking Mike’s ribs.

  Mike raised his hands in surrender. “Okay… I don’t know… I’m confused. Or maybe I’m disillusioned,” he admitted. He felt an immediate and pleasant surge of relief. “I want out, Babe. I hate leaving university, but I hate medicine even more.”

  “So get out of medicine! But that doesn’t mean you have to leave school. Just take a different course or something.”

  Mike shook his head. “I don’t have the slightest idea where I belong. What’s the point in studying something if I find out it’s wrong for me in another two years? What then—skip on to a different subject? I think I’d be better off doing nothing,” he said, wrapping his arms around her as if a strong force was pulling her away. “I’m going to quit,” he said with firm conviction. “I’m just not prepared to spend the rest of my life living someone else’s dream.”

  Karen snapped her head back and fixed her eyes on Mike’s. “What are you going to do?”

  “Travel. I’m going to stay out of school until I know where the hell I should go next.”

  “Then I’m going with you,” she insisted.

  “It wouldn’t work. You know I want to be with you every waking minute, Karen, but I’ve got to get my priorities straight. I’ve got to clear my head.”

  “I thought I was one of your priorities.”

  “You are, but what do I have to offer you, other than a lot of maybes?”

  Tears had appeared in Karen’s eyes. “You can’t just walk out on this thing, King,” she protested. “You’re in far too deep.”

  Mike wiped her tears with his fingers. “I have to,” he’d said.

  As if arranged by the perversity of fate, Jim Servito was also crossing the border into Canada on the same day of Mike’s triumphant return. But there were no customs inspectors to greet the twenty-two year old draft dodger when the boxcar he occupied raced northward across the invisible line separating Montana and Saskatchewan. The wind whipped his coal black hair and watered his eyes as he leaned out to scan the flat terrain. He had sharp features, as austere as granite and marred by the scars of his tough years. His steel gray eyes showed deep bitterness and his thick black eyebrows glowered like storm clouds above.

  He flicked his draft card into the wind, and then raised his right hand in mock salute. “God bless America!” he shouted, his sharp lips forming a cynical smirk.

  CHAPTER 3

  The skies had cleared and the sun shone brightly when Mike reached the outskirts of Oakville. While his car raced eastward, his mind once again drifted back, this time to a conversation he’d had four months earlier.

  After quitting his job on the fishing vessel, he had traveled directly to Vancouver. There, he visited Doug McAllister, an old friend of his father’s and the general manager of Canam Petroleum Limited’s Western Canadian marketing department. Canam was one of the largest oil companies in the world.

  McAllister, balding and in his late forties, sat in the large, brown leather chair behind his desk and was dressed in a tailored blue suit. He exuded corporate perfection. “Have a seat and tell me about yourself,” he’d said, pointing to the chairs on the opposite side of his desk. “Before you begin, I should tell you that I’ve been expecting you.”

  “How did you know I was coming?” Mike blurted.

  “Your father wrote to me over three months ago. He said you might come to see me.”

  “Did he tell you why?”

  McAllister nodded. “He said you had lost interest in pursuing a medical career. He also mentioned that you had decided to quit school, and to stay out until you knew what you wanted to do with the rest of your life.”

  Mike had nodded. “That’s pretty much the whole story.”

  “I hope you’ll eventually return to university. I think it’s extremely important. Without a degree, your chances of significant advancement in any pursuit will be limited, at best.”

  “I probably will, but I still haven’t decided what to study or where to study it. Dad told me you might be able to shed some light on that.”

  McAllister displayed a sympathetic grin. “I hear you. I had the same problem when I was your age. The choice must be yours, of course. You’ll never be completely committed unless you make it yourself.”

  “Any suggestions?”

  McAllister had given Mike an idea that would change his life. “Get an engineering degree.” He steepled his fingers. “If you do, I can arrange for you to work in the most exciting and fascinating business in the world. I doubt you’ll ever find a career more exciting than one in the oil business.”

  Mike was jolted from his musing by the loud horn blast of an eighteen-wheeler that had come up behind him.

  Thirty minutes later, he arrived at his parents’ home in Oakville. The door was opened by Mike’s very surprised mother, who was a tall and attractive woman to whom age had done no harm. She stared at her son in disbelief, and then a happy grin appeared. “You should have told me you were coming home. I would have killed the fattest calf.”

  Mike stepped forward and hugged her. “It’s good to see you again, Mom,” he said. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine and I missed you. Too much,” Mike’s mother replied. She snapped her head backward and stared at Mike’s face. “You haven’t shaved,” she scolded.

  Mike smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “I promise I will. As soon as I’ve had something to eat,” he added.

  “Well then you’d better come with me to the kitchen, young man,” she ordered, grasping his hand. “I’m going to feed you and ask you a million questions.”

  She pulled ham, Swiss, and bread from the fridge and began to lay out two sandwiches while Mike scuffed his feet against the kitchen tile.

  “Have you decided what you’re going to do with the rest of your life?”

  Mike nodded. “I’m going back to school in September… for chemical engineering.”

  “Why engineering?”

  “I had a long conversation with Doug McAllister when I was in Vancouver. I’m not sure he realized it at the time, but he did me a favor. He gave me a focus.”

  “Are you saying that medicine is out of the question?”

  Mike nodded, his eyes showing remorse. “I only hope you and dad will understand.”

  Mike’s mother smiled and placed her hands on his shoulders. “It’s okay. Your father and I have learned to live with your decision. I think your father understands how difficult it was for you.”

  “Someday I’m going to justify it to both of you, in a very tangible way.”

  “I’m sure you will,” she said, and then changed the subject. “Do you have any idea why Karen Taylor’s mother would have called here?”

  “When did she call?” Mike asked, his heart pounding.

  “Yesterday. She sounded very anxious to talk to you.”

  Mike was torn between a happy reunion with his mother and a gripping curiosity. “Would you mind, Mom?”

  “Go,” she ordered, pointing to
the telephone on the kitchen wall.

  Mike jumped to his feet and hurried to the telephone. He dialed Karen’s home number as fast as he could. “May I speak to Mrs. Taylor, please?” he asked.

  “Speaking.”

  “Mrs. Taylor, it’s Mike King. I understand you called here yesterday.

  “I did, and thank you for calling, Mike,” Mrs. Taylor said. “Are you in Toronto?”

  “I’m at my parents’ home in Oakville.”

  “Could you come here as soon as it’s convenient? There’s something I must tell you. It would be best if I told you in person.”

  “I’ll be there in an hour,” Mike said. He hung up and turned to face his mother. “I’m going to Toronto, Mom. I’m so sorry.”

  She displayed an understanding smile and pointed to the door. “Just get your ass back here as soon as you can.”

  Mike’s Chevrolet trundled up to the large iron gates straddling the entrance to Karen’s parents’ house, which was located in the exclusive Rosedale area of Toronto. His heart pounded as he rang the doorbell. A deep foreboding gripped him as the heavy oak door opened.

  An elderly maid dressed in a light blue uniform led Mike to the large, maple-paneled study. “Mrs. Taylor will join you shortly,” she said without expression.

  Mike paced and waited.

  Karen’s mother entered, extending her right hand as she approached. In her early fifties, she was still attractive and showed an amazing resemblance to Karen. Her flowing gray hair was swept back and fastened at the back of her head with a black velvet ribbon. She wore a black dress. Her eyes showed pain. “Hello, Mike. I’m Jean Taylor… it was good of you to come.” She pointed to a red leather couch to her left. “Please come and sit with me.”

  Once they were seated, Mrs. Taylor turned to face Mike. “A little over a month ago, Karen went to Europe with her friend, Patti Arthur—did you know Patti?”

  Mike shook his head. “Karen talked about her occasionally, but we never met.”

  “We were able to track Karen’s travels because she wrote often.” A hint of a smile appeared. “Your name appeared in all of her letters. She didn’t hide the fact that you’re very important to her.” Tears began to stream down her cheeks. She removed a white handkerchief from the pocket of her dress. After wiping her eyes, she looked away.

  “Is something wrong?” Mike asked.

  “Karen is dead,” Mrs. Taylor replied, her voice breaking.

  “No!” Mike shouted, sickened and stunned. He closed his eyes tightly.

  “The plane they were on was about to take off from Athens when it was hijacked by terrorists. When the terrorists didn’t get what they demanded, they forced the pilot to fly the plane to Syria and… they blew up the plane with everyone on board.”

  “What? No…” Mike whispered.

  Karen’s mother nodded. “There were no survivors. The Greek authorities have confirmed that both Karen and Patti were passengers.”

  Mike sat rigid and motionless for a moment. Then he moved closer to Karen’s mother and hugged her. He wept while memories of Karen flashed through him. When the ultimate reality of the news began to sink in, he began to blame himself. Karen would still be alive if he had taken her to Vancouver with him.

  Karen’s mother interrupted his thoughts. “I have something for you.” She walked to a large desk near the couch, opened the middle drawer, and removed an unopened letter. “Karen sent this here because she didn’t know where to reach you.” She handed the letter to Mike.

  Mike stared at the letter. “Would you like me to read it to you?”

  “I would like that very much.”

  Mike opened the letter and began to read.

  Dear Mike,

  The very first thing I want you to know is that I still love you. I always will.

  When you read this letter, you will learn that I really did go to Europe. Patti Arthur and I left Toronto on May 10. We spent the first week in England. Even though it rained every day, we had a blast. Now that we’re in Italy, I can appreciate how much easier it is to be in a country where people speak English. It takes so much longer to communicate. Italy is an incredibly beautiful country, however. I wish you could be here to see Rome with me. In fact, I think you and I should live here. It’s absolutely the most romantic place I’ve ever seen.

  You have left an enormous gap in my life. I ache to be with you again. Now that you are no longer that wonderful emotional and physical part of my daily existence, my job, my apartment, and Toronto have lost all of the excitement they once had. I miss you desperately. So many times I wanted to pack my bags and follow you west. Each time, however, I remembered our last night together and how important it was to you that you go alone. Now that I’ve had time to reflect on your decision, I applaud it, but I still don’t like it.

  I sincerely hope you find the future you’re looking for, and hope that whatever it is, it still includes me. I can’t wait for the day when we never have to say good-bye to each other again.

  With all my love forever,

  Karen

  Mike’s eyes filled with tears. He had dreamed of one day reuniting with Karen, too. Now that dream was shattered.

  Karen’s mother’s covered her face.

  Mike summoned every ounce of mental strength to put aside his own grief. The reading of Karen’s letter had devastated Mrs. Taylor. He sat beside her and put his arms around her once again. “How could someone so young and so innocent be taken so senselessly from this world?” he asked aloud, startled by a sudden rush of anger.

  CHAPTER 4

  After a brief and uncomfortable layover in a sleazy Regina motel, Servito raised his thumb on the Trans-Canada Highway and hitchhiked to Toronto. Even though his pockets bulged with wads of stolen and untaxed cash, he immediately commenced a search for an opportunity to make real money. Pumping gasoline at a Canam service station in the core of the city was not exactly what he had envisioned, but it was a start.

  The aging and trusting owner of the station, Pop Williams, liked Servito. He allowed him to live in the bedroom at the rear of his office and was pleased to teach him the honest rules of the gasoline game.

  Mike’s deep sleep was brutally terminated by his mother when she shouted, “It’s for you, Mike!”

  He slowly lifted himself from his bed and struggled to the telephone in his parents’ bedroom. “Hello,” he groaned.

  “I hope I didn’t wake you up,” Paul Sanderson said. Paul was one of Mike’s fraternity brothers and his former roommate. They were still close friends. The two had played many all-night bridge games and consumed far too much beer together.

  “It’s time I got up anyway,” Mike replied with a wide yawn. “How are you, Paul?”

  “Almost insane. I’m twenty-five, still in meds, and working my ass off. If I play my cards right, I might make my first honest buck by the time I’m thirty.” He groaned. “How are you?”

  “Fine and not the slightest bit envious.”

  “You always did have a way with words, King.” Mike could hear the smile in his friend’s voice. “The reason I called is to invite you to a cocktail and dinner party at The Dominion Club next Friday night. For you, I have two tickets and a blind date.”

  “Who is she, Paul?” Mike asked with extreme trepidation.

  “Her name is Barbara Larkin. She’s beautiful and you won’t be disappointed.”

  “How beautiful?” he mumbled.

  “Ten, without even trying”

  “Paul, I…” Mike’s return to the University of Toronto had changed his attitude toward study and commitment. He had purposefully avoided social functions, particularly the frivolity of weekend parties, which had previously been a standard feature. His focus and determination were therapeutic, sparing him from the despair and loneliness that had threatened to consume him in the months following the loss of Karen. “I thought the Dominion club didn’t allow women?”

  “Well they are making a special exception, Mike. You won’t believe
the guest speaker.”

  “Who?” Mike asked.

  “Jack.”

  Mike racked his brain for a moment.

  “Miller?” he guessed, pulling from a mental roster of their fraternity brothers.

  “Kennedy.”

  Mike was suddenly wide awake. “How the hell did you get tickets?”

  “Relative ability. Amazing things happen when your father’s the Ambassador to the United States. I should also mention that this is a $500 a plate dinner.”

  “So the evening’s going to cost me a grand?”

  “Not a dime. The tickets are free.”

  Mike chuckled. “The ever-so-sweet talking Sanderson. You’re very persuasive, as usual.”

  “Then you’re in?”

  “Sure.” How could he miss an opportunity to hear and see John F. Kennedy in person?

  “Great! See you at the front door of the Dominion Club next Friday. Cocktails are at five and dinner’s at six. It’s black tie, if you can find one.”

  Mike hung up with care. Then he paused, wondering what it would be like to be with a girl who was not Karen.

  CHAPTER 5

  After paying ransom to the parking lot attendant, Mike walked eight blocks to The Dominion Club, a men’s business and social organization with members among Canada’s most important business leaders. Their building was a venerable old stone structure on University Avenue, near the heart of Toronto’s financial district. To honor the visit from President Kennedy and his wife, numerous Canadian and United States’ flags adorned the front wall of the building. Police were everywhere. A large contingent of Royal Canadian Mounted Police was positioned at both sides of the entrance to the building, each guard dressed in the red tunic and broad-brimmed hats of antiquity.

  Mike met Paul Sanderson, Paul’s wife, Florence, and Barbara Larkin outside the opened front doors. Mike realized that Sanderson’s assessment had been very accurate—he was not at all disappointed with Barbara Larkin. She was beautiful, tall, and slender with long, flowing blond hair and intoxicating blue eyes. She wore a tight, black satin evening dress with a very low cut neckline. Three elegant strands of small white pearls adorned her lightly freckled neck.