Trust No One (A Lucas Holt Novel Book 2)

by JP Ratto

“Right.” I winced from the pain in my head. “Two FBI agents with an attitude.”

  Mac laughed. “C’mon, man up, Lucas.

  I tested my sea legs, found them worthy, and walked to my Rover.

  “Think you can drive?” Mac asked.

  “Yeah, I’ll follow you.”

  “Good, let’s head back to town. You can catch me up while I have a beer.”

  I shook my head and regretted it. “No, thanks, I’ll take a rain check on that.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Stella glanced around the small coffee shop in downtown Silver Springs. “I hope what you have to tell me is important enough to risk being seen together.”

  Guy smiled at the stunning woman across from him, separated by a square table and two steaming coffees. He could have called or waited for their next tryst, but he wanted to see her. Stella waited for him to respond. She was all business. He followed suit and became serious. “I’ve taken steps to make sure my interests are protected, and I wanted to let you know what I know. Charles Gates has called in Lucas Holt, a New York PI. I think Holt may be a problem. His involvement complicates things.”

  Stella smiled. “It’s sweet of you to keep me informed, but I’m already aware of this. My sources tell me he knows nothing of significance.”

  “It’s a matter of time.” Guy felt Stella’s piercing gaze, as if she could see his thoughts.

  “There’s something else on your mind. You’re looking a bit unnerved. I wouldn’t have thought that possible from an experienced poker player. What are you worried about? Everything’s in place and will go as planned.”

  “You underestimate Lucas Holt. He has a reputation.” Guy fondled the handle of his coffee mug. “He’s known to be smart and tenacious. He was a detective before he turned to private investigative work and is good at what he does.” He lifted the cup to take a sip.

  “Not good enough to find his daughter.”

  Guy held his coffee in midair for a moment before setting it down again. “You investigated the investigator?”

  “Of course. We have to know everything about anyone who plays a part in this mission.”

  “Is that what it is to you? A mission? Can I ask why you’re doing this?”

  “Sure, you can ask,” she said, not offering anything further.

  Guy continued, “You don’t appear to need the money. The risk is enormous. You could go to jail for the rest of your life for your involvement. Why do this?”

  She took her time to answer. Guy wasn’t sure she would. He didn’t know why it was important to know her motivations. That would make the relationship more personal; this was business. Who am I kidding?

  Stella pushed her mug to the middle of the table and leaned forward on her crossed arms. She said softly, “You want to know too much about me, darling. It’s not a good idea. But I too, feel more than I should about us, so I’ll tell you that for me this—what we’re doing—is very personal. It’s more than a mission; it’s an obligation. I lost my father in an attack in Turkey many years ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” Guy said when she didn’t continue. “Innocent Americans are caught in the middle of that region’s tumultuous environment all the time. I don’t think there will ever be peace over there.”

  “My father wasn’t born here. I’m first generation American in my family. He went there to visit his estranged family—to try to connect with them again. I’d hoped to go with him one day to see my relatives and learn about my heritage. As it turned out, we’d never make the trip together. But I’ve done so myself many times. I see what’s going on, and now have the opportunity to help them combat their aggressors. The Russians have weapons that they will not hesitate to use. Their relationship with Syria and Iran are a concern for other countries in that area. We will deliver a product to even the playing field.”

  “So this is an altruistic deed on your part? You’ve offered me a lot of money. I know it’s not your money.”

  “Actually, it is. You’ll be paid a portion of what I receive. I don’t need or want the money, but having it will help me to do more in the future.” Stella laid her palm over Guy’s hand. “Have I satisfied your curiosity? Does knowing what I’ve told you make a difference?”

  Guy held her hand in both of his. “It helps. How do you know you can trust the people we deliver the product to? How can you know they won’t use it against the U.S.?”

  Stella appeared conflicted. “I don’t know. But I have faith.”

  “Counting on Holt not to take us both down is taking a chance. What if he can connect either one of us to the theft?”

  Stella shrugged. “If that happens, we’ll offer him a little diversion.”

  Guy noticed the lunch crowd filling the coffee shop. “Do you have time for a bite to eat somewhere else?”

  Stella stood and buttoned her suit jacket. “What did you have in mind?”

  Guy grinned. “Room service.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Robert Vilari sat on the couch in his office reflecting on the downward turn his life was taking when he heard a soft knock. He opened the door to Halpern’s secretary, Muriel.

  “Hello, Robert. Do you have a moment?”

  “Of course, come in.” He led her back to the couch and offered her something to drink.

  “No, thanks. I started a collection to purchase flowers for Mark’s funeral. Would you like to contribute something?”

  “Definitely.” He pulled a few bills from his wallet and handed it to her.

  “Thank you, this is generous.”

  “Mark was a decent man. I know you and he were together a long time. I’m sorry for your loss. How are you holding up?”

  “Well, I try to stay busy and not dwell on it.” She glanced at her hands clasped tight on her lap.

  Vilari wanted to know more and urged her in a soft tone, “Is there any news…about Mark?”

  Muriel hesitated and then looked up at Vilari, her eyes red and watery. “The medical examiner decided on an autopsy because of the nature of our business, and the suddenness of his passing. They said it was cardiac arrest.” She peered into Vilari’s eyes. “I don’t understand; he was a strong, fit man.”

  He nodded his agreement, remembering the gym bag he’d seen on the floor. The horror of Halpern slumped in the shower flashed in his mind. Vilari’s first instinct when he had recovered from the shock was to see if his boss was alive. He opened the glass door, shut off the water, and placed his fingers on Halpern’s neck to check for a pulse. There was none. He had fumbled with his phone and called 911, and then called Muriel—she would know whom to contact next.

  When the police arrived, he had answered routine questions about discovering the body. They focused on his movements during the day and his relationship with Halpern. He didn’t admit it to the police, but it had been strained lately. Of course, Vilari had his own problems. Halpern also appeared irritable; especially regarding the anti-toxin reports. Vilari didn’t know how much he was projecting and how much was real.

  “Mark may have had stress you weren’t aware of, perhaps from outside the office.”

  Muriel looked away and shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She sniffed and swiped a tear from her face.

  Vilari felt sorry for Muriel. An attractive divorcee, she was devoted to her job and her employer. Mark and Muriel have worked together a long time. Could there have been more to their relationship?

  “But you know…” she paused a moment, “…he was upset the other day after a phone call. I had just come back from lunch and his door was ajar. I peeked in on the way to my desk. Mark was pacing the floor. He was on his cellphone and sounded angry. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I moved away and went to the ladies’ room to wash up.”

  “Do you know who was on the phone?”

  “Not a clue. When I came back, he was done with the call. I went in to go over his schedule, and it was obvious he was still upset. He told me to cancel an appointment. He left the office without a word and w
as gone about two hours. When he returned, he was in a much better mood and told me to take the rest of the day off. Of course, I wondered who he met or what happened to change his mood. Now…could that have something to do with his death?”

  Vilari smiled to relax her, but the thought sent a chill through him. “Muriel, you’re reading too many crime novels.”

  “Yes, I know. You’re right, and I spend too much time thinking about what happened.”

  It seemed like a good time to change the subject. Instead, Vilari decided to press a bit further.

  “Well, Mark will be missed. I know it’s early, and I don’t mean to be crass, but has the board met to discuss his replacement?”

  “Oh! I almost forgot. You have an appointment with Celeste Boxer at two o’clock.”

  ***

  In the last hour, Vilari had gathered as much information as was available on Celeste Boxer.

  The board was concerned about the unfortunate timing of Halpern’s passing. There was a critical need to get the Department of Defense to sign with ADL for their next project. Failing to do so would cause ADL to miss revenue targets for the year.

  Most members of the board were scientists first and business people second. They felt fortunate in finding a candidate with superb credentials. Boxer had an advanced degree in biochemical engineering and was a consultant for the US military. This gave her the business experience and, more importantly, the contacts to improve ADL’s bottom line.

  Vilari made several phone calls and finally found a staff member who knew Boxer. The administrator told him about her managing style and personality. Celeste Boxer’s career came first. She was driven to succeed. If you were on her team, you would go far; if you got in her way, you would fall.

  The board was uncharacteristically quick in approving her for the pro-tem position of CEO.

  ***

  “Hello, Robert,” said Muriel. “You can go in.”

  Vilari paused at the door and watched as Muriel walked down the hall.

  He entered and noticed how swiftly Boxer had made the office her own. Halpern’s awards and framed personal accomplishments were sitting in a box at the far corner of the office. Boxer’s choice of colorful jewel-toned contemporary art replaced Halpern’s dark traditional “men’s club” oils. Vilari smelled something exotic, perhaps incense.

  Celeste Boxer sat behind the large desk. Attractive and smartly dressed in a navy suit, she stood when Vilari entered and rounded the desk.

  Younger than Vilari expected, Celeste Boxer gripped his hand in welcome and gave him a smile, warm and sincere.

  “It’s good to meet you, Ms. Boxer.”

  “Robert, please call me Celeste.” She motioned to the seating area. “Let’s sit. I asked Muriel to bring coffee and tea.”

  They sat on opposite ends of the couch as Muriel entered, pushing a rolling cart. She placed a tray with a coffee urn and cup in front of Vilari. Another tray held a ceramic urn and a tall cup decorated with blue and purple flowers on the inside and outside. A wooden container displayed various teas.

  “A very attractive set,” Vilari said. “You prefer tea to coffee?”

  “Yes, except in the morning.” Boxer selected a tea from the box and set it in the hot water to steep. “I picked up a taste for Cinnamon Anise when I was in the Middle East on business.” Sipping her tea, she caught Vilari’s eye, then set down the cup. “I don’t mean to cut the chit chat short, but I need to get up to speed, and fast. Our top priority is Windstorm. Since the project is ready, I’d like to give it to the Department of Defense in enough time for them to complete their tests. As it affects our bottom line, a quick delivery means we can receive payment and a signed contract in the calendar year. I understand Mark had concerns.”

  Vilari prepared for this topic and felt on safe ground. “Mark was uncomfortable with the reported effectiveness of the anti-toxin and asked me to check my reports. After an extensive review, I learned the problem was contaminated mice infected with a virus that was immune to the anti-toxin. Surprising, but I believe it must be a rare instance.”

  “Are you in the final stages?” Celeste probed further. “What do you still need to do?”

  “At this point it’s a numbers game. The chemists are testing different strengths of the anti-toxin against different strengths of the toxin. We will provide the DOD with a manual detailing how to respond to the toxin and mix the appropriate dosage.”

  “Okay. It sounds like things are proceeding well. I would also like to provide our senior chemist to work with the military’s team to assure their tests are done properly. This has the added advantage of providing us feedback on an expedited basis.”

  “Excellent.” That outside-the-box thinking is what happens when you get new blood in the fold. The normal business exchange with his new boss almost made Vilari forget the dire position he was in. For a few seconds he entertained the idea he might confide in Celeste Boxer. Her intuition startled him.

  “Is something wrong, Robert?” She wore a watch and checked the time. “I have a few minutes before my next appointment. Any concerns you have about the project—other than the contaminated mice?”

  “Uh…” Vilari began, then lost his nerve. “No, no concerns.”

  As much as Boxer’s steady gaze seemed to beg him to come clean, he knew if he did, Abboud would kill him and his family before they could go into hiding. And that would be their only choice—to run and hide.

  Vilari heard the distant sound of Boxer’s voice and brought himself out of his silent reverie. “I understand Mark Halpern recently told you and the staff about chatter in the Middle East regarding ADL,” Boxer said. “It’s why he hired extra security. I have sources at the DOD who tell me there is no such chatter.”

  Vilari became hopeful and asked, “Does that mean you will do away with the guard on the lab?”

  “No. We will keep him for now.” Vilari noticed Boxer’s eyes were once again intent on his. “It can’t hurt, can it?” Before he could respond she asked, “How was your trip to Lebanon?”

  Vilari did not blink or speak. His throat constricted and he wanted to loosen his tie, but thought it would betray his anxiety.

  “Robert?”

  Vilari coughed, clearing the knot in his airway. “Lebanon was—ah—productive. I moved within the usual networking circles.”

  “Anyone in particular?” Boxer straightened her back and folded her arms. Waiting.

  No words came. Focused on his lap, Vilari shook his head. “No, no one. Of course, I have brief conversations with many people. Nothing important was discussed.” Uncomfortable, Vilari stood and began to ramble. “Well, I don’t want to keep you from your next meeting. If there is anything more I can provide, please don’t hesitate to ask. I look forward to working—” My God, I’m talking at the speed of light.

  Boxer rose from the couch. She smoothed her jacket and skirt and moved toward the office door. Vilari nearly tripped over the teacart to catch up with her. She opened the door to let him out and turned toward him. “Robert, I want you to know, I’m not Mark Halpern. I don’t doubt your analysis is correct and we’ll work together to make sure Windstorm is delivered as scheduled.”

  CHAPTER 16

  After returning from my impromptu rendezvous with federal agents, I had gone straight to bed. I declined to watch Mac drink beer and catch him up. While I would debate the issue of whether or not I’d needed Mac’s assistance, I took exception to Gates’s order for Mac to tail me. If he thought I might need someone to “be available,” I wondered if there was something the commander hadn’t told me.

  The next day, lounged in a rich leather chair on one side of Charles Gates’s desk, I waited for him to respond to my report on the investigation so far.

  When I mentioned finding Brandon’s Koran and that he had a relationship with a Muslim woman, Gates remained silent. I saw no twitch of the eye or slight clench in his jaw. Hardened by his years in the military and trained not to react outwardly, Gates was
difficult to read. But I was trained too, and could usually glean any reaction no matter how slight. At that moment, Charles Gates’s face was a blank slate, giving nothing away.

  I glanced around the first floor office, which had a grand Palladian window providing a panoramic view of the lush garden. A few oil paintings of Positano and other villages along the Italian Amalfi coast hung on deep sienna walls. Years ago, Susan and I had visited Italy. The memory tugged at my heart. Though we were divorced for many years, being apart from her never felt final.

  I shifted my legs and noticed the lack of personal items displayed. As in his wife’s sitting room, there were no photographs or personal objects. Perhaps after her death, the commander cleared away all mementos—the opposite of what I would do. We all deal with grief in our own way.

  Gates pushed out of his chair. Hands in his pants pockets, he walked to the window and turned to me. “My grandson is not a terrorist, Lucas.”

  “I didn’t suggest he was. But his connections might expose him to dangerous people and situations.”

  “Are you profiling? There’s no evidence to support that he’s fallen in with a terrorist cell.”

  “I said, ‘might.’ We have to consider all possibilities and the fact that he’s missing and the probable…” I paused and held up my hand before Gates could interrupt. “…probable but not confirmed subject of an FBI investigation casts his disappearance in an unflattering light.”

  Gates’s face twisted in anger. “I refuse to believe it.”

  “I understand how you feel, but there’s no indication that his absence is involuntary. Let’s approach this from a different angle. You called me here, not your son and daughter-in-law. In fact, they seem more worried he’s gone off somewhere because of a relationship he has with a woman.”

  Gates nodded. “Yes, I know about that.”

  “But you think it’s something else. What?”