Never Go Home

by L. T. Ryan

  Pretty simple. Only a couple turns and a few miles to drive.

  Alessandro drove to the end of the dark residential street. He made a right and headed further away from town. Everything was dark. Houses, businesses, streetlights even. The town and surrounding areas shut down in the middle of the night. He couldn’t imagine how people lived like this. He would go crazy.

  The navigation system said he was close. It counted down from a quarter-mile, five hundred feet, one hundred feet, turn left. He did so, and pulled into the mostly empty parking lot of a senior care facility. The entrance was in the center of the long building. Two wings extended out on either side. All of the lights were off, except for a desk light beyond the front doors. A woman sat behind the broad counter. She glanced up, her gaze meeting the headlights that shone in on her.

  Alessandro took a deep breath. He’d killed plenty during his time on the job. At the very least monthly. Often weekly. Sometimes daily. He liked that the best. Continuity, he’d learned at a seminar one time, was the key to success.

  He leaned over, grabbed the bag on the seat, reached inside, pulled out the explosive device and remote.

  The woman stood.

  Alessandro cut his headlights, leaving the parking lights on. He exited the Impala and walked up to the door. He kept his left hand behind his back, hiding the explosive. The sliding doors didn’t move for him. He knocked against the glass with the knuckles of his right hand.

  The woman approached. She looked concerned. She had on pink scrubs and white tennis shoes. Her black hair was pulled back tight. She looked to be early forties. A wedding ring adorned her left ring finger. She probably had kids. Worked here part-time to bring a little extra money home each month while they slept, safe at home.

  He did his best to appear panicked. He bit his lip, shook his hand, shuffled from right to left and back again.

  “What is it?” she called out to him from behind the glass doors.

  “My father,” he said. “He called me. He thinks he’s dying.”

  She looked over her shoulder.

  “Please,” he said.

  She puffed out her cheeks and blew the air through her lips. “OK.” She reached out and grabbed something. The lock, he presumed. Her forearm turned. He heard a click. She stuck the fingers of both hands into the crack between the doors and slid them open manually.

  “What’s his name?” the woman said.

  Alessandro didn’t answer. He threw a quick punch at the woman’s face. Her head snapped back. She dropped in place. He walked over her still body. The hallways were empty. Were any other workers there? He placed the explosive behind the desk. The woman rolled over on the floor. She crawled toward the door. He ran to her, grabbed her by her hair and dragged her to the desk. She flailed her arms and kicked with her legs. She tried to scream, but it sounded like her throat was clogged with her own fluids. He pressed her against the desk, hit her twice in the head and let her fall to the ground.

  Alessandro didn’t stay around long enough for anyone to come to her aid. Amid the whirring and beeping of machines hidden in rooms beyond the hallway entrances, he fled through the open double doors. He didn’t bother to shut them. Waste of time, he figured. He got in the car, backed up, turned toward the road. He hit the highway and pressed the button on the remote, setting off the explosive.

  He watched the rearview mirror. After a five second delay, a fireball erupted in the center of the building. He assumed that was only the beginning. A facility like that had oxygen tanks. He wondered what else? Additional explosions ripped through the building, sending another fireball into the air. He stopped a mile down the road. The flames rose high. The smoke higher. It’d be several minutes before a fire truck responded.

  By then it would be too late.

  Chapter 42

  Marcia seemed panicked. She insisted that we leave the house. I didn’t object. Whoever did this could possibly have the resources to track me down in London. Or track Sean and his family down wherever they went.

  “I don’t like this, Jack.” She stepped backward, out of the kitchen. “How did they know? What else do they know?”

  I had the same questions. Perhaps Glenn had said something. But to who? As far as I knew, the man who killed Craig had fled. It wasn’t as if Crystal River was the type of place someone could hide out for weeks on end. Everyone knew everyone. A strange face did not go unnoticed. If you murdered someone there, it’d be stupid to return.

  For the moment, I had to work under the assumption that Glenn knew more than he let on. Matt and Jed were meat shields and too stupid to have anything to do with it. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Killing all three was an aggressive move.

  I’d have done the same thing.

  “Whoever’s responsible is over there,” I said. “Thousands of miles away.”

  She shook her head. “You think they don’t have connections here? Didn’t you listen to me last night? This has something to do with me, Jack. These people are everywhere.”

  “You keep telling me that, Marcia. But you’re not telling me everything. What are you hiding?”

  She turned and took a few steps away. Her head dropped back. Her hair cascaded down to her waistline. She wrapped her arms around her chest. I saw her fingertips curl around her triceps.

  “Jessie was terminated. We had contact in the past. It had been some time. I can only assume she still had information. Perhaps someone was trying to get her to come out, reveal me for who I was.” She paused, then turned around. “Who I am. The threats I’ve received, Jack, they say they’ll out me. That will ruin my chances of a political career.”

  “Why kill her then? If she’s dead, she can’t help their case.”

  Marcia nodded. Her eyes glazed over. She steadied a quivering lip. “What I said is what I hope is happening. They know who I am, my past, what I did. They know she was connected to me. They killed her. She’s not the first. I don’t think she’ll be the last. They are trying to erase every connection to me. They want to terminate me and everyone I ever came into contact with while undercover.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged, shook her head. “Any number of reasons. Take your pick. I know too much about things that happened, the corruption behind the scenes. I could use my position in government to bring them down.”

  “Who is ‘them’?”

  “It’s a collective them, Jack.”

  On the one hand it made sense. On the other, it sounded like a story made up with the intent of pulling wool over my eyes. I didn’t have the luxury of time to debate it.

  “Did you ever meet Glenn?” I said.

  She shook her head. “Like you said, he stumbled onto something. It cost him his life. I would assume that the man who killed the cop discovered this. He had to lay low for a day or two, then he returned to finish the job.”

  It made sense. Loose ends were all around. Time to clip and burn them off.

  Her expression changed from scared to steeled. “We need to get out of this house, Jack.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “And I need to go back to Florida.”

  “What are you going to do there?”

  “Put an end to this.”

  “How? You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

  I walked up to her. “Do you?”

  She didn’t move, budge, or respond.

  I leaned in. Our eyes were inches from each other. “If you know something, then you better tell me now.”

  “I don’t know for sure, Jack.” She blinked, stepped back. “You’ll be dealing with people who operate outside of the law, but with backing from certain high ranking officials.”

  “That’s nothing new for me, Marcia.” She had described the last decade of my life. My phone rang again. “I need to get this.”

  She turned away and went to the bedroom.

  I answered the call. It was April, and she sounded frantic. I hurried to the back door and stepped outside.

 
; “April, calm down.” The sun hovered over the trees. Bright rays stabbed at my eyes. “What happened? Are you at the murder scene?”

  She took several breaths. They started ragged, then calmed down.

  “I’m at the scene. It’s bad. Blood everywhere. All three of them are dead. There was a struggle with Matt. In the end, two of them took a bullet to the head. Matt took several.”

  I pictured the scene. The guy hadn’t hesitated in doing his job. He misjudged the men, though, and it nearly cost him.

  “Don’t tamper with anything,” I said. “If there was a struggle, some of that blood could belong to the shooter.”

  “Jack, wait. Listen to me.” She paused. Someone said something to her. She responded to them, then came back on the line. “We just received a call from dispatch. There’s no easy way to say this.”

  “Then say it.” I braced for the news that Sean, Deb, Kelly and Dad had been found murdered.

  “Someone blew up your father’s retirement home.”

  I nearly dropped the phone. Marcia had said I was in danger, but backtracked on the statement. I told Sean to get his family and Dad out of the state because of what she had said to me. If she hadn’t made it seem like the end of my life was imminent, I might not have taken that step.

  “He wasn’t there,” I said. “He left with Sean.”

  “Oh, thank God.” The words were breathy, part of a long, deep exhale.

  “April, I need to make some calls. You keep me posted. I’ll be in touch soon.”

  “OK.”

  We held the line for a moment.

  “Jack?” she said.

  “What?” I said.

  “I love you.”

  I hesitated. “No, April. You love an image of me. I’ve told you. I’m not that man.”

  She started to say something else, but I ended the call before she got the second word out. Perhaps there was something between us. Or maybe, there was something to end. Either way, that required the appropriate time. This wasn’t it.

  I placed a call to Sasha. She answered on the first ring.

  “Where the hell are you two?” she said. “We’ve been by her place and yours and wherever the hell you ditched the car. We found it, but not you two.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I need you to get me a jet.”

  “Why?”

  “Something’s happened. I need to go.”

  “Where?”

  “Home, Sasha. I’m going home again.”

  “Christ, Jack.” She paused, groaned. “How long till you can get to the airport?”

  “It’ll take close to an hour.”

  “OK, good. That gives me enough time to arrange it.”

  “Thank you.” She’d proven time and again I could trust her to come through for me.

  “You’re going to owe me big time. I’m talking porterhouse steaks.”

  I tried to smile. Couldn’t. I ended the call and went back inside. Marcia stood in the living room. She looked worried.

  “Our arrangement is over,” I said.

  “What?” she said.

  “I’m going to Florida.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “Not a chance in hell.” I walked past her.

  “Jack, I’ve got the skills and contacts you need for this. I know people here, there, in D.C.”

  “So do I.”

  “I’ve got something you don’t. I can be something you can’t.”

  I stopped, looked back at her. My hand was on the doorknob. All I had to do was turn it and walk out. I’d be done with her. Instead, I said, “What?”

  “I’m the best bait you can find. Someone wants me worse than they want you. If I’m there, you’ll get your man.”

  I let go of the knob. More than anything, I wanted to find Jessie’s killer and make them suffer. Chances were he was the one wreaking havoc on the rest of town. If I was to believe Marcia’s story, whoever wanted Jessie dead also wanted her dead. A tangled web, she had said. I saw it now.

  I was near the center. She was stuck in the middle of it.

  “Get your things. We need to head to the airport.”

  Chapter 43

  Vera said, “Go to the sheriff’s office. Kill anyone that enters. Afterward, go to the airport and get on a plane to Boston.”

  Alessandro said, “OK.”

  Chapter 44

  I took the M4 to the M25, London Orbital motorway. The entire stretch of motorway spanned one hundred and seventeen miles around the perimeter of the city. I had to drive just under half that distance. I elected to go south. In either direction the drive would take an hour. This kept us moving and not sitting in traffic. I held the speedometer at ninety miles per hour. The trip took just over forty-five minutes. After exiting the motorway, we had to backtrack seven miles to the airport. That took close to twenty minutes.

  Sasha met us at the airport. She stood next to her Audi. I pulled up next to her. She glanced at the car, then me.

  “Can’t believe you ditched the car I gave you.”

  “You found it safe, right?”

  She nodded her head.

  “I should be the one upset,” I said. “You gave me a car you were tracking.”

  “Give me a reason I shouldn’t keep tabs on you.”

  I didn’t. “If I don’t make it through this, it won’t matter.” I followed it up with a smile.

  She pressed her lips together and looked away.

  Marcia exited the vehicle and joined me. She said, “I’m ready whenever you are, Jack.”

  “What’s she doing?” Sasha said.

  “Coming with me,” I said.

  “No way. I’m not letting you drag her along,” Sasha said.

  “It’s her choice, not mine.”

  “Sasha,” Marcia said. “I have to apologize. There are things you don’t know about me.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sasha looked at me. “What is she talking about, Jack?”

  I said nothing. It wasn’t my place.

  Marcia stepped forward. She said, “Operation Patheos.”

  Sasha’s expression didn’t change. The name appeared to mean nothing to her. She glanced at me again. “They’re ready for you guys.”

  Marcia walked toward the jet. I stayed behind, waited until the woman neared the stairs.

  “I feel like I should go with you,” Sasha said.

  “You’ve got too much to do here,” I said. “Did you uncover anything on the threats against her?”

  “I’m still working on it. I think I have a few leads. If they come through, this is way more than political corruption and local criminals.”

  I looked over her shoulder. Marcia climbed the stairs to the jet. The sky behind the plane was clear. Clouds hovered overhead.

  “Do you think it has anything to do with that Operation Patheos?” I said.

  “First I’ve ever heard of it.” She paused, looked toward the jet, then back at me. “Do you?”

  I nodded. Sasha hadn’t uncovered the woman’s background yet. Letting her figure it out on her own would uncover more than I knew. If I said anything, it would distort her view.

  “Do me a favor?” I said.

  “What?” she said.

  “Send me any information you find. Can you make sure to do that?”

  She reached into her purse and pulled out a cell phone. She held it out. “Take this.”

  “I have a phone.”

  “This is more powerful than that old piece of junk you carry. I’ll be able to relay the data to you on this.”

  I took the phone and stuck it in my left pocket. My cell was in the right.

  “Fancy pants two days in a row?” She gave me a half-smile.

  I forced one in return. “I’m only wearing them so I can give them back to Sean.” We stared at each other for a moment. “Can you arrange for a car?” I added.

  She nodded, reached out and grabbed my arm. “Be careful, Jack.”

  “Always.”

  I
jogged toward the jet and boarded. It looked like my first flight. Marcia had claimed the couch. I saw the flight crew, didn’t recognize any of them. We departed soon after I took a seat. A man said it would be close to nine a.m. in Florida when we landed. I didn’t want to be groggy when we touched down, so I did pushups in the aisle every half hour, and paced the length of the cabin.

  Every fifteen minutes or so, I checked the phone Sasha had handed to me. If she had found something, she hadn’t sent it yet. I planned to call her for an update the moment we landed. I’d have to get away from Marcia for a few minutes to do so.

  The trip took just over five hours. After three Trans-Atlantic flights in a Gulfstream, I never wanted to cross on a commercial flight again. I could sit on the floor surrounded by roaming livestock and be happy about arriving in record time.

  Marcia followed me to the exit. Hot, humid air blew in. I stopped, turned and told her I needed to use the restroom. She stepped aside and allowed me to pass.

  Inside the cramped bathroom, I checked the phone again. Still no documents. I called Sasha on my cell. She answered right away.

  “I can’t get into the file,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  “Security.”

  “Don’t you have the highest clearance possible?”

  “I do. That’s what’s so frustrating. I’m stuck waiting for an answer now.”

  “OK. We’ve landed. Did you arrange a car?”

  “There should be a Lincoln out there.”

  “No driver this time, right?”

  “What?”

  “Last time, the car that you had arranged had a driver waiting.”

  “It shouldn’t have. The car should have been left for you.”

  “It wasn’t. There was a man who insisted on driving.”

  She paused. “Someone screwed up, Jack.”

  It didn’t sit right, but that was a couple days ago, and I didn’t have time to worry about it now. We ended the call with promises to share information and be careful. I exited the plane. Marcia waited for me by the Lincoln’s passenger side door.

  I glanced around the deserted airfield and jogged toward the car. A large hangar lingered in the background. Small single prop planes lined the outer edges of the runway. Anticipation built with every step. I expected a sniper’s rifle to send a sub sonic round through my skull at any moment.