Ultimate Betrayal

by Joseph Badal

  The investigators interviewed several bank employees. Some remembered seeing David Hood. A couple saw Hood and several other men walk down to the safety deposit vault. A couple others thought they saw Hood and another man leave the bank through the 5th Avenue exit. But no one could identify the other man. The investigators thought they caught a break when they learned Hood and a second man had been locked in the safety deposit vault. But when they tried to interview the woman who managed the vault, she became hysterical and had to be hospitalized. The bank’s security cameras clearly showed David Hood enter the bank alone. The second man came in later. But none of the lobby cameras provided a good picture of his face. Hood claimed he didn’t know the identity of that man and never got a good look at his face. There were no cameras in the safety deposit area.

  David never mentioned to anyone the two million dollar reward that would come to him from Switzerland. He also never mentioned the bag Gino took from Bishop’s dead hand and later gave to him.

  David and Peter became closer than ever as they worked together to nurse Jennifer. David found it ironic that something good could come from the evil perpetrated by Bishop. David asked Peter to come live with him in Bethesda. Peter thought for a day about David’s proposal. “Only if I can return to Philadelphia if I ever feel like I’m in the way,” he said. “Let’s give it six months. After that, if we’re still talking to one another, I’ll sell the place in Philly.”

  After Jennifer had recovered enough from her wound to return to Maryland, David drove her and his father to Bethesda. After he dropped Jennifer off at her apartment, David and Peter stopped at the cemetery where Carmela, Heather, and Kyle were buried. David cried as he never had allowed himself before.

  The two million dollar reward paid from Bishop’s Swiss bank and the ten million from the sale of the bearer bonds in Bishop’s leather bag all went into a trust for the widows and children of Bishop’s victims.

  PART III

  NOVEMBER 24

  CHAPTER 1

  “Can you believe that lucky bastard in the White House survived the Bishop fiasco?” the Senator from Kentucky said under his breath. “And they called Reagan the Teflon President!”

  The Senator from South Dakota laughed and hoisted his glass in the air. “To the President,” he toasted. “May he outlive his enemies and survive despite his friends.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” the Kentuckian said. He drank a half-inch of scotch and placed the glass down on the white tablecloth. He leaned forward and whispered, “Anything new from the Senate Intelligence Committee?”

  “Shit!” the South Dakotan cursed. “That bastard Bishop made Saddam Hussein look like a rank amateur.”

  “I’ve seen the briefs. Some hero!”

  The Senator from South Dakota scrunched up his eyes. “Have you heard anything about whether that fellow Hood will bring a lawsuit against the government? After all, Bishop had already been nominated to the CIA position when he had Hood’s family murdered.”

  “From what I’ve heard, that’s not Hood’s style. Actually, I expected his father-in-law, Bartolucci, to sue the city of Philadelphia, but apparently he didn’t want city lawyers to look into his past activities any more than they already had.”

  “I guess not.”

  “One thing did come out of the investigation that was kind of interesting,” the Senator from Kentucky said. “The Intelligence Committee interviewed all of Bishop’s assistants, clerks, you know, all his support people. One guy mentioned a call that came to Bishop’s office a couple days before Bishop got shot. Some cop from Bethesda: Cromby . . . Cromwell. That’s it. Cromwell called and said he had information about Hood. He put the call through to Bishop, but didn’t know what the guy told Bishop. Turns out the cop may have given Bishop information about where to find Hood in Philadelphia.”

  “What an asshole! Anything happen to the cop? Should have been fired, at least.”

  “Yeah! His boss tried to fire him, but the union intervened. The District Attorney down there started an investigation, but now that’s irrelevant. Somebody whacked the guy. Put a bullet in his brain.”

  NEXT YEAR

  JULY 16

  CHAPTER 2

  Jennifer Ramsey knew David’s wife and kids had loved Cape May, New Jersey. How could she not know it? David mentioned it often enough. The beautiful Victorian village off the tip of New Jersey catered to families, bird watchers, and history buffs, he’d told her more than once. Jennifer didn’t care if she ever saw the place. Every time David brought up the subject, she felt as though someone twisted a dagger in her gut.

  She and David would take in a show every once in a while; maybe have dinner once or twice a month. Jennifer felt as though they connected on those “dates.” But then the damned weekend would come around and he’d retreat deeper within himself. She tried to get him to spend weekends with her—in D.C., Williamsburg, Alexandria, Rehoboth. Anywhere but Cape May. To no avail. And every time he visited Cape May, he became melancholy. He’d return to Bethesda more depressed, more withdrawn. His visits there rekindled the anger and depression he couldn’t seem to get past. Instead of healing the hole in his heart, the memories the visits generated seemed to tear him apart.

  Jennifer had never been more frustrated. There was no one she could talk with about it, so she bought a diary. A red, leather-bound volume that became her sounding board. And every time she pulled it from the nightstand, self-contempt wrapped a cloying cloak around her. What kind of life do you lead? she asked herself over and over. You’re in love with a man who doesn’t know how you feel and couldn’t care less about you, and now you talk to a goddamn book. It was another Thursday night. Another sleepless night. He’ll leave Bethesda after work tomorrow and drive down to Delaware. Take the ferry from Lewes, Delaware over to Cape May. She read what she’d written the past Monday:

  We’ve become friends over the past twelve months, but the friendship has cost me in ways he’ll never understand. David seems oblivious to how I feel about him. I’m tormented with the desire to put my arms around him, to make his demons disappear. But all I am to him is a wall against which he tosses his pain and sorrow.

  I don’t know if it’s accurate to say my soul is hurting. Can souls feel pain? And now David appears to have spiraled even further downward, into a state of depression that frightens me beyond any fear I’ve ever known. I’ve held off saying the words, but the thought has been with me for months. There is no question in my mind David is suicidal. He can’t seem to get past the death of his wife and children, or to see that life could still be wonderful.

  I love him with all of my being.

  Jennifer slammed the diary closed and tossed it in the nightstand’s open drawer. She shut the drawer and nearly toppled the bedside lamp to the floor. “One last try,” she groaned. “I’ll give it one last try. I can’t go on like this.”

  The clock radio showed 11 p.m. There was no doubt David would still be awake. She knew he rarely went to bed before midnight. She dialed his home number.

  “Hello.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Peter,” Jennifer said. “Is David there?”

  “Hi, Jen. Why are you up so late?”

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  “Huh,” Peter grunted. “I suspect neither of us can sleep for the same reason.”

  “Is he still up?”

  “Of course! God forbid he should get a good night’s sleep.”

  “Can I speak with him?”

  “Certainly.”

  Jennifer expected David to come on the line. But a few seconds passed and then Peter said, “Think how you’d feel if you blamed yourself for the deaths of your brother, wife, and children.”

  She’d heard from Peter about the murder of David’s brother, Tommy, and how David blamed himself. And she knew David had been the target of the killer who murdered Carmela, Heather, and Kyle. M
ore blame. “I’d feel like crap, Peter.”

  “Don’t give up, honey. You’re just what he needs.”

  Peter’s words sounded to Jennifer like the plea of a desperate man. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that giving up was exactly what she planned to do. If her plans for this weekend failed. She honed her argument while she waited for David to pick up the phone.

  “Hello, Jen,” David said in a desultory tone.

  Afraid she’d lose her resolve if she got diverted into small talk, she blurted, “Are you going to New Jersey this weekend?”

  “Yes, well I planned—”

  “What time will you leave?”

  “About four o’clock. Why?”

  “Swing by my place and pick me up. I’ll go with you.”

  “Whoa, Jen,” David said. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I mean—”

  “One way or the other, I’m going to Cape May. You don’t pick me up, I’ll follow you in my own car. It’s about time I found out what’s so special about that place.”

  Jennifer heard David sigh. Then a five-second silence.

  “I’ll see you at four,” he said, and hung up.

  JULY 17

  CHAPTER 3

  Thank God for the radio, Jennifer thought while David parked the car against the side of the elevated blacktop boardwalk that separated Beach Drive from the sand and the Atlantic Ocean beyond. She’d barely been able to get fifty words out of him on the two-hour drive and seventy-five-minute ferry ride. He was obviously angry she had insisted on joining him. Not an auspicious start to the weekend.

  David fed the parking meter and hopped up on the boardwalk. He left her standing in the street beside the car. Well, this was my idea, she thought. She jumped up on the boardwalk and rushed to catch up with him.

  The blacktop ribbon ended about fifty yards ahead where groups of people stood and looked at the setting sun. Thirty yards of sand continued from the end of the boardwalk to the shoreline and a huge black rock jetty. Across a shimmering bay, maybe a mile wide, stood a red-topped, white-walled lighthouse. The fiery setting sun seemed to lean on the shoulder of the lighthouse. Layers of pink radiated from the ball and cascaded into the sea.

  David stepped off the walkway to the beach and set off diagonally toward the jetty that extended into the pounding surf.

  Jennifer tried to keep up, but the deep sand sucked at her sandals. She stopped to kick them off and then hurried to the rocks. Wet from the surf and greasy with lichen, the rocks were treacherous. She placed a foot on one, only to skid off the surface. She fell between two giant, squared off boulders and skinned both shins and an elbow.

  “Damn!” she shouted. She looked up at David, but he either hadn’t heard her or had ignored her. “You bastard!” she muttered. “If you think you can get the best of me . . . .”

  Jennifer extricated herself from the space between the rocks, retreated to the sand, and walked away from the shore until she found a dry spot. She mounted the jetty, then, with mincing steps, wound her way to where David now sat, Atlantic Ocean to his left, the Delaware coastline in the distance.

  The sun set, inch-by-inch, behind the lighthouse. Despite the drama of the enormous red globe as it descended toward the water, Jennifer couldn’t help but question why she had come here. She looked over at him and somehow knew his thoughts: How he used to come to this very spot at sunset with Carmela, Heather, and Kyle.

  Tonight, while nature put on a spectacle, Jennifer came to the conclusion she had wasted her time. The longer she stayed around David, the worse her heart would break. She blew out a shuddering sigh and turned back toward the sunset. This was probably all she would get out of this weekend. What an idiot you are, Jennifer Ramsey, she thought, as tears streaked her cheeks.

  The sun finally touched the horizon and seemed to dissolve in the water. Tears now flowed down her cheeks. Jennifer sat there, mesmerized by it all, yet bereft of spirit and hope. Then she spontaneously applauded nature’s show. While her tears flowed, she clapped in appreciation of the sunset.

  “What!” David said.

  Jennifer jerked around and stared at him. His face was a collage of confusion, anguish, and anger. Jennifer felt a shaft of sympathy pierce her heart. She sensed the emotion that coursed through him and was suddenly concerned she’d disturbed him. After all, this was the place he’d come with his family. Their place. A lump formed in her throat and she felt like an interloper. She should never have pushed herself on him. If he couldn’t love her, if he couldn’t see how much she loved him, that she’d risked her life for him, she would just butt out.

  David saw the tears in Jennifer’s eyes; teardrops spilled down her cheeks. As though he’d been struck in the head, a flash of bright light seemed to go off behind his eyes. And in that instant, a thought penetrated his cocoon of self-pity. He’d become so absorbed with his memories, with himself, he hadn’t had room in his heart for anyone else. He and Jennifer had become friends. They’d had dinners together over the past year, and even talked occasionally on the phone. She’d been a wonderful listener. She’d invited herself along on this trip to Cape May on the spur of the moment and he’d treated her like an intruder. With overwhelming clarity, the thought hit him that he’d been a royal asshole. He’d treated this wonderful woman like her role in their relationship was to be a sponge that absorbed whatever he poured on her. He’d given her nothing over the past twelve months; only took.

  David felt warmth envelop him. It was almost as though Tommy, Carmela, Heather, and Kyle had wrapped him in their arms. He smiled at Jennifer and saw her face suddenly metamorphose. Her wrinkled brow and trembling mouth were replaced by laughing eyes and a sparkling smile. A deadness he’d carried within him too long started to dissipate, like oppressive hands had suddenly released their grip on his heart.

  “Pretty spectacular sunset, wasn’t it?” he said.

  “What?” She daubed tears with her fingers.

  David stood up and brushed the sand off his jeans. He reached out a hand to her and smiled. “You hungry?”

  “Yes.” She took his hand and looked into his eyes as she stood up. They walked along the top of the jetty until they found a place no higher than three feet from the sand. And jumped down to the beach.

  They meandered along the beach for a while, hand-in-hand, in a comfortable silence; listened to the waves break on the shore and gulls cry overhead.

  “Are the sunrises as beautiful?” she asked.

  David stopped, turned toward her, and gently swept back a few loose strands of her hair. Maybe there was good in the world, he thought. Good that eventually defeated evil.

  “Jennifer, you’re going to love tomorrow’s sunrise.”

  THE END

  To My Readers:

  Thank you for reading “Ultimate Betrayal,” my seventh novel. Writing this book was an adventure for me as it brought back memories of experiences I had in Vietnam and allowed me the opportunity to research a variety of subjects, including the War in Afghanistan, CIA organization, and narcotics trafficking. “Ultimate Betrayal” was inspired by both personal experiences and historical events.

  If you enjoyed this novel, you might want to read my other books, including “The Pythagorean Solution” (my first novel, released in 2003), “Shell Game” (a financial thriller released in 2012), and the 4-book Danforth Saga (“Evil Deeds,” “Terror Cell,” “The Nostradamus Secret,” and “The Lone Wolf Agenda,” all released between 2004 and 2013).

  I would appreciate you writing a brief review on Amazon.com of any of my books which you have read. I value your opinion. The link to that site is: www.amazon.com/author/josephbadal.

  I am currently working on my first mystery novel, “Borderline,” and the fifth book in the Danforth Saga, “Death Ship.”

  Thank you for your support of my work.

  Joe Badal

  http
://www.josephbadalbooks.com

  badalbooks@gmail.com

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Prior to a long finance career, including serving as a senior executive and board member of a NYSE-listed company, Joseph Badal served for six years as a commissioned officer in the U.S. Army in critical, highly classified positions in the U.S. and overseas, including tours of duty in Greece and Vietnam. He earned numerous military decorations.

  He holds undergraduate and graduate degrees in International Finance (Temple University) and Business Administration (University of New Mexico). He graduated from the Defense Language Institute, West Coast, and from Stanford University Law School’s Director College.

  Joe now serves on the boards of several companies.

  He has had six suspense novels published, including “The Lone Wolf Agenda,” which was released in 2013, and which was named the top Mystery/Thriller novel in the 2013 New Mexico/Arizona Book Awards competition. His next novel, “Ultimate Betrayal,” will be released in April 2014. He also writes a monthly blog titled Everyday Heroes, and has written short stories published in the “Uncommon Assassins” and “Someone Wicked” anthologies.

  Joe has written dozens of articles that have been published in various business and trade journals and is a frequent speaker at business, civic, and writers’ events.

  “EVIL DEEDS”

  DANFORTH SAGA (#1)

  “Evil Deeds” is the first book in the Bob Danforth series, which includes “Terror Cell” and “The Nostradamus Secret.” In this three book series, the reader can follow the lives of Bob & Liz Danforth, and of their son, Michael, from 1971 through 2011. “Evil Deeds” begins on a sunny spring day in 1971 in a quiet Athenian suburb. Bob & Liz Danforth’s morning begins just like every other morning: Breakfast together, Bob roughhousing with Michael. Then Bob leaves for his U.S. Army unit and the nightmare begins, two-year-old Michael is kidnapped.