Jan Coffey Suspense Box Set: Volume Two: Three Complete Novels: Road Kill, Puppet Master, Cross Wired

by Jan Coffey

  Finley rode in the back seat of the car with them, with the translator—a young woman who introduced herself as Tansu—sitting in front with the driver. Finley’s driver would follow them to the hotel where Nathan was staying.

  Kei looked very pale to him. So far, she’d shown no inclination to ask even one question of the people who were with them. David didn’t know if that was because of his own approach of taking charge or because she wasn’t feeling well.

  Joe Finley broke in on Steven’s thoughts. “To bring you folks up to speed, the Consulate has notified Director General of the Turkish National Police, and Interpol, as well, of your son’s disappearance. I took it upon myself to contact the Istanbul Police this morning. They’ve assigned someone to meet us at the hotel.” Finley looked at his watch. “We’re looking good, as far as time goes.”

  The FSO looked ahead at the traffic before turning back to Steven. “I don’t want to miss them at the hotel. You should know, folks, that police investigations here don’t run with the same…well, sense of urgency…as they do in the U.S.”

  Kei spoke up for the first time. “Their honesty is more of a concern to us than their speed. How can we be sure that we won’t get a bunch of crooks working on the case?”

  Steven knew his wife wasn’t exaggerating. The trouble regarding Turkey’s corrupt police force and judicial system had even made it to American newspapers. The translator turned in her seat and looked intently at Kei.

  “We don’t care how they get the job done,” Steven said to Finley and Tansu. He’d been told that the translator had completed her undergraduate degree at UCLA and was now working on a law degree here in Istanbul. “I don’t care if I have to put half the Missing Persons office, or whatever it is here, on my payroll. I want my son found. That’s the bottom line. We need to make that clear. I’ll be happy to provide incentives, if that’s what it takes.”

  Both of them nodded. Steven figured he’d made his point. Kei reached over and entwined her fingers with his. Her hand was ice cold. He knew he had to pursue every option, turn every stone. Neither of them did well with waiting.

  He turned to their translator. “What are the big newspapers in Istanbul?”

  She rattled off a half dozen names of papers.

  “We want a full page ad in every one of them with my son’s picture. Every day. I want it to state, ‘Missing’ at the top and that we’ll offer a reward.” Tansu pulled a pad of paper from her handbag and started taking notes.

  “What about television?” Steven asked.

  “Yes,” Tansu replied. “We can contact the news offices at the—”

  “Don’t you think we should wait to have police check into this first?” Finley asked, looking surprised.

  “You said just now that the police can’t be counted on to move quickly,” Steven reminded him.

  “Yes, but what happens if he is perfectly fine? He could very well be out on a cruise. It could embarrass him if we jump the gun and put his picture—”

  “I’m willing to take that chance. In fact, I’ll be happy to weather his unhappiness at what we do, so long as we see him safe and sound,” Steven told the other man.

  CHAPTER 19

  STIGMA

  Whatever their strategy was, it was working. They hadn’t called or emailed him for over a week, and Jay Alexei was getting eaten up with worry.

  Jay had lost count of how many nights he’d lain awake in bed. The interview with Mr. Lyons kept playing over and over again in his head. He wished he’d explained things better. He should have shown off more of his technical expertise.

  And he wished he hadn’t stressed how afraid he was of doing anything illegal—of going back to jail.

  Jay had been told up front that there were more applicants and it would be some time before they got back to him.

  All week, he’d gone off to work, increasingly exhausted. His brain, however, wouldn’t stop. All week, he’d seen Padma struggling with the pregnancy, as well. She refused to stop working because they needed the money, but every night her feet were like balloons. Her hands had started swelling, too, and she had back pains.

  They had a baby on the way. Soon, Jay would have more than the two of them to worry about. Unable to sleep, he’d kept trying to work out in his head how they were going to make it. Hour after hour, he’d kept coming back to the fact that, in reality, he was willing to do anything…absolutely anything that might improve life for Padma and their baby. And yes, he’d even go to jail if there were some kind of guarantee that his family would be cared for.

  He wished now that there was a way he could say all these things to Lyons. He wanted another interview, another chance to prove himself.

  Padma moved uncomfortably and made a noise in her sleep. Her back was pressed to his side. Jay rolled over and gathered her closer to his chest. He’d never realized what love really meant until these past few months. Every day, his affection for her seemed to grow deeper. He knew it was a cliché, but the truth was that, every day, he loved her more than the day before.

  Jay felt her tense up in his arms. From deep in her throat came another sighing moan, like she was in pain. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. The shade on the window next to the bed was up and moonlight poured in. He realized she was only pretending to be asleep.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked in a whisper.

  Her head turned on the pillow. She looked up at him. He saw the tears shimmering in her black, moonlit eyes.

  “What’s wrong, Padma?” he asked again.

  “I think it’s time,” she whispered.

  He was slow to understand.

  “I’ve started labor, Jay.”

  He sat up as though someone had poked him with a hot iron. He was out of bed and pulling on his pants in one swift motion. He didn’t bother with socks, but stuffed his feet into his work boots.

  “We have to get you down the stairs…five floors. Maybe I should call an ambulance…your bag…there was something about getting a bag ready.” He turned to her. She hadn’t moved off the bed. “You can’t be in labor. The baby isn’t due for another three weeks.”

  She cried and laughed at the same time. “I wish you could see yourself.” She tried to sit up.

  Jay came to her side of the bed and knelt down. He turned on the bedside light. He tried to remember some of the reading he’d done on the Internet. “Are you sure you’re in labor, honey? First time pregnancies are kind of tricky.”

  “No,” she said shakily. “No doubt now.”

  He followed her gaze. Her night gown was wet.

  “My water broke.”

  “But…this is red! You’re bleeding,” he shouted in panic.

  “It’s okay. The doctor told me about it. I’m fine. But the baby could come really fast now.” She reached for him. “Help me up.”

  Jay stood up. In a total daze he followed every direction she gave him. She needed clothing. There was a bag she’d already packed. It was next to the sofa. He had to call her doctor.

  “I think this is a big one,” she bent over with pain.

  Jay held onto her hand and stopped breathing. She looked up at him when the contraction had passed.

  “Jay, breathe.”

  He did as he was told. He wished they’d taken the pregnancy classes they were offering at the hospital.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he said, totally lost.

  “I’m doing all the work,” she reminded him. “You’ll be helping me.”

  “How?”

  “By not passing out,” she smiled. “Now call the doctor. Tell her the contractions are four minutes apart.”

  Jay realized his hand was shaking as he picked up the phone. His mind was blank. He couldn’t remember where the phone number for the doctor was. He had to wait until Padma got through another contraction before she told him it was staring him right in the face. The phone number was written on a large piece of paper dead center on the refrigerator door.

  Jay
considered himself a tough guy. He’d done jail time. But he couldn’t remember a single moment in his life when he was more frightened than right now.

  They were having a baby.

  CHAPTER 20

  TERROR

  Belfast, Ireland

  “What in bloody hell do you want from me?” Mick asked angrily, hammering his fist on the breakfast table. The dishes shook and the coffee in Finn’s mug spilled over onto the table.

  “First of all,” Finn said coolly, “I want you to shut up and listen to me.”

  He blotted up the mess with his napkin and tossed it onto his plate. He’d had to wait until Kelly and the boys were out of the house before he could start this discussion with Mick, but he was damned if he wasn’t going to have it now. Finn had set the rules. There were changes that had to be made. The biggest one was where the nineteen year old was living. Mick didn’t like giving up the apartment near the University. That was too bad. Finn wanted him sleeping every night under this roof. He wanted to know when and where he was going and when he was coming back. He wanted to know the kind of friends he was hanging out with.

  “What I want from you, lad, is to stay away from the dope. I want your mind sharp, your habits clean. I want you to study hard and act and do as what’s fitting for the name of this family. God’s given you a brain, Mick. You need to start using it. Is that too much for you?”

  “Fitting for the name of our family.” Mick repeated the words in a mocking tone. He shook his head bitterly.

  “The monsignor himself had to take me aside after church because he was wanting to tell me tales of two parishioners who’d seen you staggering about down by Donegall Quay this past week…and totally stoned you were,” Finn said in a quiet voice. “This might come as a surprise to you, but this isn’t what your father and I planned for you when you were grown. This isn’t why I work as hard as I do to keep a roof over your head and money in your pocket. We want you to—”

  “My da is dead,” Mick snapped.

  Not to Finn, he wasn’t. The nineteen-year-old sitting across from him was a constant and angry reminder of the younger brother he’d lost.

  “I…” Finn corrected, gathering his thoughts. “I want you to make something respectable out of yourself. I want to look up at you five years, ten years down the road, with pride and say, that’s my brother’s lad. Made something good of himself. I want to say that Mick did his father proud.”

  “Don’t you think we’re a tad too late to be talking of that?”

  “You’re nineteen years old, lad. Too late for what?”

  “To be saving the family name, for one.”

  “You were given a clean slate the day you were born. You’ve been given opportunities. You might do some good with it.”

  “Doesn’t matter what I do. There is no focking way I can buy yourself and my da a place in heaven,” Mick said in a bitter tone. “I’m not stupid, Finn. Don’t you think I know where that money you put in my pocket comes from? Don’t you think I figured out long ago what my father was involved with and why it was that he died at the age of twenty-nine?”

  Thomas shouldn’t have died, Finn thought. It had been his job to protect his younger brother…to get him out of that station on time. He’d failed that day. He’d failed miserably…and lost his own kin.

  Mick pushed himself to his feet. “You had a closed casket for his wake, and you don’t think I knew why?” He ran a hand through his long brown hair. “My da was blown to pieces. There wasn’t much left of him to see, was there, Finn? He was like the others…the ones he’d blown to pieces himself.”

  “That’s enough!” Finn smashed the table with one hand. Mick turned and stood by the counter, his back to him.

  There was a lot that Finn took for granted. There were so many things that he’d never explained. And that was not only to Mick. It would be the same when Conor and Liam were of an age as this one. This next generation didn’t have to know why he and Thomas lived the way they had—why they had done what they did—why they had taken so many lives. At one time, it might have been easy to explain. Times had changed, though. It wasn’t so easy now.

  In fact, he thought, explaining only made it worse.

  “Whatever you’re thinking that Thomas and I did, it has nothing to do with what you owe me as your uncle and guardian,” Finn said sharply. “I carry my weight. You’ll carry yours. I do my job, and you have yours to do, as well.”

  “And if it so happens that the weight I carry puts me on a crash course with you?” Mick challenged, turning around and facing him. “I sit through classes, I hear lectures, I read crap every day going on about the value of life. Then, the next moment, I sit back and think about the trip you were on to Budapest, or Casablanca, or Frankfurt the month before. I think of the lives that you have taken, all in a name of what, Finn?”

  Finn didn’t know how it was that Mick knew so many specifics. But that was the least of his problems now.

  “Don’t you be worrying about my sins. You live your life. I’ll live mine.”

  “But you see…this is exactly what I am trying to do. Live my focking life in some way that I can stand it, at all.”

  Mick stalked out of the kitchen.

  “Wait just a moment, you,” Finn shouted after him. “We’re not done with this, you and me.”

  No, Finn thought grimly, this argument was far from over.

  CHAPTER 21

  LOSS

  Alanna was two distinct souls trapped in one body.

  One soul lived for passion, love, happiness, driving Alanna to run away at a moment’s notice to join her lover in any corner of the world for all eternity. The other soul fed on reason, responsibility, reminding Alanna constantly of the people who depended on her. The soul of reason placed Alanna’s personal needs last.

  That wasn’t entirely true, either, Alanna thought. She had worked hard all of her life. And she was finally reaping the rewards that reason and responsibility brought. She was an expert in her field. There were many who respected her, counted on her, relied on her knowledge. She was a key figure in a very important chess game. This made her feel valued, proud of the person she had become. Considering her past and her family’s lack of education, she was pleased that she had broken the cycle of poverty and powerlessness that had haunted them for generations. She knew she was a positive role model for many women to follow.

  The battle of souls could be vicious, though, each demanding its own way. That battle was being waged now, too, and she had felt it from the moment she stepped into the elevator. She didn’t see others who were around her. She didn’t speak a word, for the noise in her head was deafening.

  As the elevator reached its destination, the soul of reason took control. A calm assuredness flowed through Alanna the moment she stepped out into the lobby and saw the large group of suits and military people who were waiting there. They were here to learn about the STEREO mission, the project that she had been instrumental in bringing to life. She was the expert, the one with answers. She knew where they’d been and where they were going with this mission. She knew how much money they needed to keep the project intact and moving forward.

  Alanna knew many of the people who were waiting in the lobby. They were NASA people. Others were total strangers.

  “Dr. Mendes.” One of the NASA directors stopped her and made an introduction to a new congressman.

  She didn’t follow politics. She had no clue of this man’s fiscal philosophy or his political objectives. That kind of information was Phil’s specialty. At five feet tall, she barely reached the man’s chin. But she knew that by the time she was done with this presentation, he would think she was seven feet tall.

  She excused herself after meeting the VIPs. She had to get to her people. There were some whispers in the room and soon many eyes were following her as she crossed the lobby toward the open conference room doors.

  Five people from her group, all engineers, were gathered at the front of the room. They all
seemed ready to go. Alanna did a quick check on Phil. He seemed confident. That meant everyone was ready.

  The total length of their presentation was going to be about three hours, with satellite footage, taped interviews, and a video presentation to make it more of a show-and-tell. As the current project manager of the mission, Alanna would start the report, with Phil cutting in with some additional details, and she would finish the first segment. She was also responsible for answering questions that would come at the very end. Two of the presenters were new staff, Jill being one of them. The other three were old-timers like Alanna.

  She turned to the conference room and realized that the crowd outside had followed her in. Every seat appeared to be full. They had more people here today than at any other time that she could remember. Someone closed the doors, and another person adjusted the lights. One of the directors introduced Alanna and her group, spending a great deal of time conveying the particulars of her education and experience.

  The decision shifted even more in her mind. The audience already seemed impressed with all of her credentials.

  The widescreen started with a Star Wars-type of Hollywood opening. In front of the podium, the lights also shined on a three dimensional model of the Earth with the STEREO project’s twin satellites in constant motion.

  She took center stage.

  “The year was 1859. Two hundred thousand kilometers of telegraph wires suddenly shorted out in the United States and Europe. During those long hours, the only means of effective long distance communication in the world shut down. Widespread fires spontaneously began breaking out in Canada and the western United States. As far south as Rome and Hawaii, the skies turned into many shades of red and green. It was like an apocalyptic scene from a science-fiction movie.”

  Some of the audience murmured in surprise. She could tell the NASA personnel from others. Those familiar with her project had heard this segment of the presentation. Others hadn’t.