by Matt Lincoln
I’d stopped at a red light at the end of the onramp, and the street light above the car revealed Tessa’s face as it paled several shades. “That’s how he knew where I was staying,” she rasped. “And if he really told his friends what he knows…”
“Yeah. Exactly the reason I wanted you out of that hotel so fast,” I said. “In fact, I’m thinking you shouldn’t go back there at all.”
She shuddered. “Where should I go? Donald just extended my room so I could finish the assignment, but now… I don’t know anything.”
“I’m not sure yet, but we’ll figure it out. I think having a nice, quiet dinner will do us both good right now,” I said. “We can talk after we eat.”
Tessa gave a slow, absent nod. “This is all so crazy. Speaking of crazy, I forgot to mention something about Donald.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“I don’t know. I guess that depends on whether or not you know him because he seems to know you.”
A note of disquiet pumped through my veins. “I don’t know your editor,” I said carefully, even as I recalled the first time she’d mentioned the National EcoStar, when I thought briefly that I knew someone who worked there. Still couldn’t remember who, though.
“Are you sure?” Tessa cocked her head slightly. “I told him that Agent Marston was working on the case, and he knew your first name was Ethan without me saying it. He was in the military, too. My father’s best friend. Donald Farr?”
“Holy shit,” I blurted without thinking. “Your editor is Admiral Farr?”
“So you do know him,” she said with a touch of awe. “I never knew he was an admiral.”
“Technically, he was a fleet admiral,” I managed, still blown away that Farr was her Uncle Donald. He’d also served a term on the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and last I heard, he was retiring to “dabble” in civilian journalism.
Apparently, his idea of dabbling was to become the editor of a national magazine.
Tessa watched me with mild concern. “Are you okay, Ethan?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I shook off the shock and paid attention to the road since I’d almost missed the turn for the restaurant where I planned to take her. “I didn’t know him well, but he was tight with my CO, so I ended up working with the admiral on a few missions. Didn’t think he’d really remember me.”
“I guess he did,” Tessa said. “Who was your CO? I might know him. I’ve met quite a few of Donald’s military friends.”
I smiled at the memory. The CO had been a great man, an exceptional officer, and an even better friend. Our whole unit had been close with him, including Holm. He’d retired soon after the end of my last tour, but unfortunately, he’d passed of a heart attack three years ago. I was still pissed off that I’d been out of the country on a case and unable to attend his funeral.
“His name was Hawkins,” I said. “Captain Dean Hawkins. We called him Hawk.”
Tessa gasped. After a long pause, she whispered, “He was my father.”
24
Tessa was too shaken to talk much more, so I figured I’d wait until we got seated and had something to drink before I pressed her for anything else.
The restaurant was called Columbo’s Bistro. It was a low-key place with a weathered plank exterior that didn’t look like much from the outside. Despite its less-than-swanky appearance and the strange Italian-French name combination, both the food and the service were excellent. More importantly, the place was quiet, even on weekend nights.
I requested a booth near the back and shepherded Tessa to the table. Her shock was just starting to abate as we took seats and the hostess laid out menus and poured two glasses of ice water. When prompted for her drink order, Tessa mumbled something about house wine and lots of it.
I asked for a Coke. No alcohol for me tonight, thanks to my personal alert level being pushed through the roof by recent developments.
“Okay, I have to know,” I said once the hostess left, attempting to break her mood. “If Hawk is your father, how is your last name Bleu?”
“Bleu is my mother’s maiden name,” she said with a little laugh. “I only use it for my byline and press credentials. It was actually Dad’s idea.” She gave a sad smile. “He said if I was going to have my name out there, he didn’t want any of his enemies to be able to trace me back to him. I always thought he was exaggerating a little.”
“Maybe he was, but only a little.” I grinned and shook my head. “I just can’t believe you’re Hawk’s daughter. He was a hell of a commander… and a friend.”
“He was a hell of a father, too,” she said with a smile. “I’m still shocked, but I’m glad you knew him.”
“So am I.”
Tessa dropped her gaze to the table, playing absently with her menu. “So, what does this mean?” she asked. “As far as the case.”
“Well, it doesn’t mean that it’s over, or I’m off it, if that’s what you’re asking. I also don’t think it’s entirely a coincidence.” As I considered the possible connections, the light dawned with regards to at least one thing. “It does mean I’ve got a better idea of why it was assigned to me in the first place.”
She looked curiously at me. “You didn’t want the case?”
“It’s not that I didn’t want it. I just shouldn’t have been assigned to it,” I explained. “Holm and I were in the middle of wrapping up a current case when this one came in, and there was another pair of agents who should’ve taken it. Instead, the director had them take over the tail end of our operation and sent us out to the murder scene instead.” I shook my head. “When I asked her about the switch, she basically told me that my clearance level wasn’t high enough for answers.”
“So, an admiral would have a lot higher clearance than you,” Tessa put in.
“Exactly.”
“Uncle Donald.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Speaking of my overprotective godfather, he’d like you to give him a call.”
“What, now?” I asked.
“He said as soon as possible.”
“That means now.” I sighed.
Just then, a waitress came to the table with the drinks and asked for our orders. I knew what I wanted without looking at the menu, but Tessa hadn’t even gotten the chance to read hers.
“What’s good here?” she asked.
“Everything,” I said.
The waitress beamed at both of us. “That’s what I like to hear. If you’re not ready to order yet, I can come back in a few minutes?”
“No, it’s fine,” Tessa said as she scanned the menu quickly. “I’ll have the chicken strozzapreti with cream sauce, please.”
I couldn’t hold back a grin. “Make that two.”
“You got it,” the waitress said as she scribbled the order down and collected the menus. “We’ll have that out for you soon.”
After she left the table, Tessa gave me a look. “Were you planning to order that?”
“Yeah. That’s what I always get here,” I told her. “Did you know that ‘strozzapreti’ means ‘priest-stranglers’ in Italian?”
She snorted a laugh. “No, I did not. By the way, I know what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?”
“You’re stalling with small talk because you don’t want to call Donald.”
Honestly, I hadn’t even realized I was doing that, but she was right. “Okay, you got me. Getting reamed out by angry, overprotective male relatives is not my favorite activity.”
“I would imagine it’s not, but please, call him,” she said. “Otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Well, okay, since you asked so nicely.”
I got my phone out and dialed the number as she read it to me. The call connected, and it only rang twice before a gruff male voice answered with, “This is Farr.”
“Admiral,” I said. “Special Agent Marston. I believe you requested a call?”
A relieved exhale filled the line. “Ethan. It’s good to hear from yo
u,” Farr said. “Been a long time.”
“Yes, it has, sir. I’m surprised you remember me, though.”
“Of course I remember you, and don’t call me sir. Only my staff does that now.” Though his tone was hearty enough, I could hear the strain running through his words. “Are you with Tessa now?”
“I am. She’s right in front of me,” I told him.
My comment drew a huff from her. “Tell him I’m still fine,” she said.
“She says she’s still fine,” I repeated dutifully.
“Good, and you’re going to make sure she stays that way.”
I decided that went without saying, so I wouldn’t bother acknowledging it. “Admiral, did you request to have me assigned to this case when you found out Tessa was involved?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Still blunt as ever. I always liked that about you.” He paused to blow out a breath. “I did, in fact. Is that going to be a problem?”
“No, sir, it’s not.” I didn’t bother correcting myself. The “sir” was automatic, a product of years of titles and service and respect. “I’m just not fond of being told my clearance isn’t high enough to question my orders.”
The look on Tessa’s face suggested that she’d never heard anyone talk to her Uncle Donald this way. She was shocked… and if I wasn’t mistaken, impressed.
“Well, you have my apologies for that,” Farr said. “To be honest, it wasn’t my call to invoke clearance. I just wanted to make sure that my goddaughter had the best people to help her through this unfortunate situation.”
I decided not to mention that I considered gang murders and double-crossing private security agents that had nearly gotten Tessa killed a bit more severe than an unfortunate situation. Instead, I said, “That’s what I’m here for.”
“Thank you,” he said heavily before he lowered his voice as if he thought Tessa might overhear him. “She’s Hawk’s daughter, you know.”
“Yes, she mentioned that.”
“Then you know how important she is.” The retired admiral cleared his throat. “Listen, Hawk knew the end was near. Before he died, I promised him I’d take care of his daughter like she was my own, and I intend to do just that.”
“I understand. So, is that why you hired the private security?”
Tessa watched me closely as if she was expecting to hear the answer to that one.
He took his time responding. “Can we keep this between you and me?”
“I can’t guarantee that, sir,” I said.
He sighed. “No, I suppose you can’t. If I know Tessa, she’ll pry it out of you about two seconds after we hang up.” The fondness apparent in his voice went a long way toward diffusing some of my bluntness.
“The truth is, I always have some kind of protection detail on her when she goes out on assignment,” he admitted. “My usual company couldn’t get anyone to Miami in time for this one, but VeriSafe said they could. It’s the first time I’ve used them.”
I cut my gaze away from Tessa. “In that case, I suggest you make it the last time, too.”
“Don’t worry. I will,” he said.
I heard Tessa drum her fingers on the table. “Ethan, what’s he saying?” she demanded.
“I heard that,” Farr laughed, “and I suppose you’d better tell her. Let me just say that I’ll sleep a lot more soundly, knowing you’re protecting my goddaughter. I owe you one, Ethan.”
“You can count on me, sir.”
“I know I can.”
We ended the call, and I tucked my phone away and looked at Tessa. She seemed a little miffed, to put it mildly.
“So what is it?” she asked. “I know he told you something I’m not going to like.”
“Yeah, he did.” I smirked. “Apparently, this isn’t the first time he’s had you followed on an assignment.”
“Oh, come on,” she groaned. “How many times?”
“Well… all of them.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she nearly shouted.
I held up a placating hand. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”
“Ugh. You’re right,” she breathed, “but Donald and I are going to have serious words when I get back to New York.”
I could definitely see that happening. Tessa had more or less calmed herself down when the waitress returned with our meals. Just before I could dig in, my phone went off in my pocket.
“That better not be Uncle Donald checking in already,” I grumbled as I pulled it out and looked at the screen.
It was Holm.
“My partner. I have to take this,” I told Tessa, turning away slightly before I answered. “Yeah, Robbie, what’s up?”
“Oh, you know,” he said, “just interrupting your dinner with work.”
I grunted. “Mission accomplished, then.”
“How’s that going, by the way? I mean dinner.”
“Largely uneaten, at the moment,” I said. “Do you have an actual reason for calling, or am I about to hang up on you?”
“Easy, tiger.” He chuckled. “I do have a reason, and you don’t even have to do anything about it for a few hours.”
I waited a beat. “Are you going to tell me sometime tonight?”
“Oh, right. I set up a meeting for you with Dollar Store.”
I groaned inwardly. Wendell Muskie, otherwise known as Dollar Store, was a small-time grifter who divided his time between here and the Bahamas, shuttling back and forth on an ancient, rust-eaten speed boat that always seemed a breath away from sinking. He mostly sold shoddy but harmless street merchandise to tourists, but he was occasionally contacted by the gangs to help move heavier things.
The first time we’d busted him, we cut him a deal, and he’d been working for us as an informant for over two years now. His information was almost always good. Unfortunately, he was also a pain in the ass to deal with.
“Ethan, did you just drop dead to get out of meeting up with Dollar?” Holm said in my ear.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Why aren’t you meeting with him? He’s your informant.”
“Hey, he’s your informant when I’m off duty,” he shot back cheerfully. “Somebody told me to take the night off, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. So, why’d you contact Dollar if you’re not working?”
“I had a hunch,” he said, “and it panned out. He claims he’s got details about Cobra Jon’s recovery operation.”
That cheered me right up. “Okay, you’re forgiven. When and where?”
“Tonight at Mike’s, nine o’clock.”
I frowned. “Who’s Mike?”
“Did you hit your head tackling that guard at Calabar’s place?” he snorted. “Mike’s Tropical Tango Hut. We were just there less than twenty-four hours ago.”
“Oh, that Mike,” I said. “How does Dollar know about the place?”
“Apparently he’s been going there for years. Fertile tourist grounds, and all that.”
That made sense, at least. Just this once, I’d let the coincidence slide. “I’ll be there. Thanks, Robbie.”
“No problem. Enjoy the rest of your date.”
“I’ll enjoy it more when you stop talking and let me eat.”
He laughed. “Later, partner.”
I said goodbye and hung up, then took a minute to consider what to do from here. The idea of sending Tessa back to the Palm Bay didn’t sit well with me, even with full police protection in place. That location was too compromised. Truthfully, I didn’t even want her out of my sight unless it was absolutely necessary.
Depending on how much info Traynor had gathered and turned over to Benta, it was possible that his friends who may or may not have been in town knew my home address… at least, the one that was on file. I owned a nice little two-bedroom house, the one my grandfather left to me, but I rarely went there. Holm was the only one who knew I actually lived on my boat.
She would be safe there.
“Ethan?” Tessa asked, gently interrupting my thoughts. �
�What did Robbie want?”
I put the phone away and turned back to her. “Got a new lead on the case. How do you feel about going with me to talk to an informant?”
“Wow, really? That sounds… kind of fun, actually.” She smiled, but then her expression faltered. “Are we going right now?”
“Nope. Not until nine o’clock,” I told her. “Still plenty of time to eat.”
Her smile reformed. “Thank God. I’m starving.”
“Copy that.”
At least dinner was still warm when we finally got to it.
25
The Sunday crowd at Mike’s was just as dense and frenetic as Saturday’s had been. Apparently, these people didn’t have to be at work tomorrow morning. It made sense, considering this place catered to tourists.
Dinner had been nice once Tessa and I had finally been able to eat in peace. I’d even send Gilliam and Burks back to the hotel to wait for a call from me. They hadn’t protested too much. Stakeouts and protection details were always exhausting, and I figured everyone could use a break for a while tonight.
Tessa had decided to go easy on the wine at dinner since she was excited about meeting an informant, and I was still sober as a judge. I noticed that, as we wove our way through the crowds at the bar, the party atmosphere wasn’t quite as tolerable without a single drop of alcohol in me.
One of these days, I’d have to hang out here when I wasn’t on the job.
The stools that Holm and I had occupied last night were empty, so we took seats there. It wasn’t long before a familiar, grinning face bellied up to the other side of the bar with a glass tumbler in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.
“Two nights in a row counts as a regular,” Mike said. “Evening, Special Agent Marston. Whiskey sour?”
“Not tonight,” I said with a smile, impressed that he’d remembered both my name and my drink. “I’m on the clock right now, so I’ll have to go with ice water.”
The bar owner raised an eyebrow. “I hope no one’s in need of a free mint julep.”
“Haven’t been shot at yet today.” I laughed.