Breaking Down Barriers

by Jean Martino

  When it happened Linda would never forget the fear that rushed through her like a tornado, her emotions erupting as she felt Scott’s arm grabbed and twisted away from her waist. Before she could turn around to see what had happened, she felt someone grab her arm and twist it behind her, pushing her forward as the noise of scuffling and shouting broke out behind her. The air was filled with screams and yells as she threw her free hand back over her shoulder trying to hit out at whoever was holding her.

  “Scott!” she screamed, still punching and struggling. “Scott! Help me!”

  Through a fog she could see people staring at her and whoever was shoving her forward, everyone moving sideways, clearing a path. “Let me go!” she kept screaming at the top of her lungs. “Let me go!” Why didn’t someone help her! Where was Scott! Oh God! Let him be alright! “Scott!” She screamed his name over and over as she struggled to get free, and then she felt herself being pulled out of the cruel grip of whoever was holding her, the sound of a fist thudding against something hard and more scuffling around her. But before she could regain her senses, another hand had taken hold of her arm and was pulling her towards the exit doors. She heard her own voice scream in fright again and turned this time to look back at Scott, and for a brief second her terrified eyes saw him on the ground kneeling on the back of a man and cuffing him. “Scott!” she screamed, and the man holding her and pulling her forward didn’t stop. “Scott!”

  They burst through the doors and into the sunlight and she turned to strike out at the man who had her so firmly by the arm. Then she saw Max’s face smiling down at her before he shoved her into a car at the curb. “You’re ok now,” he said.

  “But what about Scott?” she cried aloud in fear.

  “He’s OK,” he said. “He has it under control.” Then he spoke to the driver. “Get her out of here quick.” The driver sped off; Linda’s head turning quickly to search for Scott.

  * *

  Several hours had passed since Linda had been taken to the San Francisco police station. No one was telling her anything. She didn’t know what had happened at the airport. Whenever she asked if Scott had arrived, the police officer in charge just shook his head. If anything happened to Scott now she would never forgive herself for having dragged him into her problems. She tried to remember what had happened to her at the airport but it was all getting fuzzy in her mind and all she wanted to do was lie down somewhere and close her eyes and forget the terror that had swamped her.

  Finally she gave in and curled up on the wooden bench, oblivious to the noise and chatter going on around her as she drifted off to sleep. Her sub conscious took over; images swirling around her, trying to pull her into some dark abyss that she refused to enter. The harder they pulled, the harder she fought them until suddenly she broke through her nightmare and woke up; staring around in embarrassment wondering if she had screamed during her dream. No one was looking at her even. It seemed like she was in limbo somewhere on another planet. She wanted to ask again if Scott had arrived but knew she was only annoying the officer. And then the door at the back swung open and Scott came hurrying in. Her heart leapt in her chest with relief at seeing him.

  “Scott!” she called. “Scott!”

  He looked over at her and gave a small wave of his hand before talking to the desk sergeant. She stared at him in surprise, wondering how he could appear so indifferent to her after all that had happened. She remembered seeing him on the ground at the airport struggling with a man, but to look at him now he looked as immaculate as ever. Had she dreamed it all, she wondered? Was her mind playing tricks on her? She sat up straight quickly and opened her purse, finding her compact and a comb and making a hasty repair to her tousled hair. She looked awful, she thought, returning everything to her purse again.

  She glanced over at Scott again; he was talking to the sergeant, low and unhurriedly, making some point to him that he seemed to keep emphasizing. Then he nodded to the man and turned and walked quickly over to her.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Are you?”

  “We got them,” he said, collapsing on the bench next to her. “Both of them. I couldn’t get here sooner. They are being interrogated separately. Refuse to admit they were working for Denholm. But they know we know they are and it’s only a matter of time now before one of them cracks.”

  “And if they admit to it?” she asked, feeling an urge to touch him and make sure she wasn’t still dreaming and he was really there with her.

  “When they admit to it,” he corrected her. “At that time a warrant will be issued for Denholm to be apprehended. The Palm Springs police have been informed and have staked out his house just in case he gets wind of what has happened and decides to take off. Parkinson has left to return to Los Angeles. He won’t be involved. And he sure won’t talk. He’s covered his ass. Free and clear.”

  “What about that hotel address he gave you?”

  “It wasn’t a hotel address,” said Scott. “He had written on the paper “CD took out RM”.”

  She stared at him puzzled for a minute. “CD? RM?” And then her eyes opened wider. “Carl Denholm took out RM... Roger McLean?”

  Scott nodded. “Without your help today, we might never have known that piece of valuable information.”

  “Then we also owe a lot to this man Parkinson,” she said.

  “Indeed,” said Scott. “He might have become associated with the wrong types since retiring and going into private practice, but he still honors the code between law enforcement officers. And he knew too that whatever Denholm had over him would be obliterated by Denholm being put behind bars.”

  “So what happens now?”

  “The FBI had a man at the airport too. It was their bugs I found in my house yesterday.”

  Linda’s face went red. “Oh Scott, can you ever forgive me?”

  He grinned at her then gently squeezed her shoulder. “Nothing to forgive,” he said. “The LA FBI bureau chief, Thomas Burton, flew up from LA to Sacramento this morning. Right now he is in conference with Chief Mathews and Max, who drove back two hours ago. They will be working out the deal with Burton right now to get Michael off the hook in exchange for the discs and the information we have on the consortium. Thanks to Max’s hard work we’ve been able to identify everyone of those investor aliases Michael was dealing with back to some of the biggest crime lords in this country. In exchange for Michael being exonerated from involvement in the money laundering scheme, Chief Mathews will hand over the discs and other information to Agent Burton.”

  Linda’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God! Scott. When will we know for sure?”

  “Soon, honey,” he said, smiling at her. “Have patience. It’s going to happen. I promised you, didn’t I? Max will call me here as soon as it’s official, but for now I want you to try and relax. OK?”

  She leant against him, too afraid to speak. “OK,” she whispered.

  They sat on the bench without speaking, both of them thinking of all that had happened over the last two weeks, since the day Linda had told Scott on the internet that Cindy had not arrived in Australia as planned.

  Scott was thinking that the last two weeks had been the most exciting and satisfying in his life. Meeting Linda in real life, and this case, that had made him reach deep inside himself to tap skills he had forgotten he possessed, had made him feel alive again. He hadn’t felt this alive for many years now. Perhaps he had been wrong to take early retirement, perhaps he should talk to the Chief after this was over, and see if he could do some outwork for the department. And then there was Linda. He reached for her hand and pulled it over onto his knee. The investigative work had made him feel alive again professionally, but Linda had made him realize how much he had been missing not having a woman like her in his life. How could he cope without her anymore?

  When Scott took Linda’s hand, she felt her heart ache. The thought of losing him now after all he had come to mean to her made her fe
el sad. But he had not given her any indication that he wanted her to stay with him. She knew he had feelings for her, but how deep those feelings were she didn’t know. He never expressed them. But now she had to concentrate on getting Cindy and Michael back safe again. She didn’t know how she could ever repay Scott for all he had done; he had saved her life, and Cindy’s and Michael’s. There had to be some way she could show him how very much she appreciated everything he had done for them.

  For the next hour neither of them said much. Scott went to the vending machines and brought back sandwiches and coffee, but neither felt hungry enough to consume the tasteless food. They sipped on their coffee, waiting, waiting, waiting...

  The noises around them continued. Voices talking loudly, people walking back and forth. Every time a phone rang Linda and Scott stiffened. Neither of them had their cell phones. They had not used them since returning from the lake, and both wished now they had brought them.

  “Detective Walker!” called the desk sergeant.

  Linda jolted upright as Scott leaped to his feet and walked quickly to the counter, taking the phone from the officer. Linda peered at him intently, not hearing what he was saying, praying it was the news they wanted to hear, afraid to breath. When he finally hung up and turned to her, his face was serious. He walked quickly over to her.

  “He didn’t go for it did he?” she said tightly.

  “Max said it was touch and go for a while. Agent Burton argued they needed Michael to testify. Max argued back that it wasn’t needed, that he could give him all the information he needed without involving Michael. Then the Chief told Burton to take the deal or leave it. He wasn’t handing over the discs or anything else unless Burton agreed to exonerate Michael.”

  Linda was holding her breath, staring wide eyed at Scott.

  “He agreed,” said Scott, breaking into a wide grin. “The deal has been made. Michael is free.”

  Linda gasped. “Oh God!” she cried.

  “Max said those henchmen finally broke and told the police Denholm had hired them to kidnap you. Right now, as I speak, a warrant for his arrest in connection with the money laundering, attempted kidnapping, and suspicion of involvement in Roger McLean’s murder is being served. He’ll be behind bars for a very long time.”

  “Oh my God!” cried Linda.

  Scott laughed. “Is that all you have to say?” he said.

  “I... I...” She gulped and dabbed at her eyes, trying to control herself.

  “There’s more,” he said, wiping her tears away with his fingers and grinning at her. “After Burton was handed over all the information on those investor aliases, who turned out to be some of the biggest crime lords in the country, he immediately instructed his agents to start serving apprehension orders on all of them. By morning all hell will have broken loose from Vegas to New York and back. The newspapers will have a field day.”

  “And Michael and Cindy? How will they know?” Linda asked, finding her voice.

  Her question was answered, not by Scott, but by the police officer who came over to where they sat. “Detective Walker?” he said.

  “Yes,” said Scott, standing up.

  “There are some television reporters outside wanting to talk to you and to a Mrs. Rossi,” he said. “You want me to get rid of them?”

  “Hell no,” he said, taking Linda’s arm and raising her to her feet. “You up to this?” he asked.

  “You bet I am,” she replied.

  CHAPTER 25

  Saturday evening…June 28th:

  They sat holding hands on the couch in Scott’s living room, still in the clothes they had worn all day, watching the interview of them in San Francisco opening every news channel.

  “Do you think they saw it?” Linda asked nervously, clutching Scott’s hand.

  “I don’t see how they couldn’t have unless they don’t have a television set to watch, or a radio, or newspapers. Honey, relax, they will see it or hear it somehow.”

  Linda stared hypnotized at the television set, watching her face filling the screen, blushing with embarrassment that the whole world would see her.

  A reporter asked off camera. “Mrs. Rossi,” he said. “It’s understood that your son-in-law was involved in the money laundering scheme at McLean’s Investments. Will the FBI be interviewing him regarding his involvement?”

  Linda glared at the man. “Michael was never involved. He was only doing his job and didn’t realize what was going on behind the scenes. He has been exonerated by the FBI on all counts. He will not be needed for any testifying in any of the cases.”

  “Where is he now?” asked another reporter.

  “Wherever he and my daughter are at this moment,” said Linda, staring steadfastly into the camera, “I hope they can hear me. Cindy, Michael, please contact the San Francisco Police Department as soon as you can. They will tell you where you can contact me. I love you both very much.”

  That had been two hours ago and Linda was beginning to doubt that Michael and Cindy had seen it or heard it even. As soon as the interviews had ended, Scott had driven them back to his home in Sacramento. She had wanted to wait at the San Francisco Police Department but he had convinced her it could be hours before Michael or Cindy saw her interview on television if at all. The waiting was killing her, she couldn’t sit still.

  “I’m going to shower and change,” she said. “I can’t sit here any longer.”

  Scott watched her walking down the hall, knowing the trauma of all that had happened today was draining her. He wanted to shower too but was afraid if he did and the phone rang then they would miss them. He walked down the hall to his bedroom, hearing the water running in the bathroom as he changed into track suit pants and a tee shirt then hurried back to the living room. Neither of them had eaten since lunch so he quickly grabbed things out of the refrigerator and made two club sandwiches. The waiting was getting to him too, even though he knew that eventually Michael and Cindy would call. They had to. There was now no reason under the sun for them to stay in hiding any longer.

  As he carried the sandwiches back into the living room, the phone rang. He stared at it, then yelled loudly. “Linda!” He wanted her to answer in case it was Cindy. He hurried over to pick it up as Linda came running down the hall, pulling on her robe, her hair wet and falling around her face. He held the phone out to her. She stared at it for a second then grabbed it. “Cindy?” she cried.

  “Mom! It’s me!”

  When Linda burst into tears and collapsed on the chair, Scott walked away, giving her privacy, fighting back his own tears as he walked outside and stood on the patio. His Linda had found her daughter and she was safe. He felt the strain he had been under himself over the past two weeks starting to let go as he heard Linda’s tearful voice talking to her daughter. It was over, he thought, his face breaking into a wide grin. Oh yes, it was over! He clenched his hand into a fist and punched it hard into the air, yelling at the top of his voice, “YES!”

  * *

  On the table sat the morning newspaper, the headlines in bold letters:

  “FBI SMASHES MONEY LAUNDERING SCHEME.

  This morning the FBI issued warrants for the arrest of a number of underworld crime lords in New York City and Las Vegas connected to the drug trade and a money laundering scheme headed by Carl Denholm, prominent Palm Springs resident. Denholm, the first taken into custody, is understood to be the linchpin in the consortium of drug traders linked to Denholm’s hotels in Las Vegas, where alleged drug money from offshore underground banks was moved through the Las Vegas hotels and then laundered through into the stock market and the U.S. economy.

  Denholm is currently being held in confinement in Los Angeles prison without bail for questioning in the attempted kidnapping of Mrs. Linda Rossi, mother-in-law of Michael Brampton, a stock broker at McLean’s Investments Inc., who, it is alleged, was duped into handling the Las Vegas consortium stock accounts by Roger McLean, CEO of McLean’s Investments Inc., who was found murdered a week ago.
Denholm, is also being questioned in his involvement in McLean’s murder.”

  Linda had thought it unfair that the FBI got all the credit when it was Scott who had done all the work. But Scott preferred it that way. “I don’t want any of those creeps putting me on any hit list,” he had told her. “This is the best way.”