Jackal

by Jackal in the Mirror (retail) (epub)

  23

  The Gathering

  The sirens drew closer. Sarah turned to find a stream of flashing red and blue emergency lights headed up the driveway. Behind the police cruisers, a big man leapt from a slow-moving car and sprinted toward them.

  “Sarah!” Conrad yelled.

  The intensity of the fire behind her muffled his voice and she remained motionless until he got close enough for the flames to illuminate his face. “Conrad!” she shouted and flew into his arms.

  “Are you all right?” he asked without breaking the embrace.

  “Yes. I’m fine. How—”

  He kissed her with such force that she winced and pulled back.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “Yes. But in a nice way.”

  A fire truck pulled up between the burning house and the lake, and several firefighters jumped out to assess the fire.

  Ignoring the activity around them, Conrad cupped his wife’s face and glared into her eyes. “You drive me mad with worry—”

  “But I get results and that’s why you love me.”

  Conrad laughed in spite of himself. “That I do.” He kissed her again, only this time with a tender and gentle touch. “You’re sure you—”

  “Yes, darling, I’m all right. Look.” She stepped back and turned around as he inspected her. “And so are Karla and Andrew. Although he’s pretty banged up.”

  The battalion chief approached them. “Good evening, ma’am. Can you tell me where the fire started? We need to find its origin and identify any specific risks before we send anyone in there. Is there anything flammable?”

  Sarah gave the chief a rundown of the events and possible dangers. “Thank you, ma’am.” He returned to his team and relayed the information.

  Moments later, the men raced off to carry out their designated tasks with the expert precision that only years of training could produce. Several firemen aimed hoses toward the blazing structure, while others focused on the back of the house.

  “Those guys running to the back will be applying dry chemical agents,” James told them, “to interrupt the chemical chain reaction in the cellar, in an attempt to stop the flames.”

  “James!” Sarah turned and hugged him.

  “Dear girl,” he grinned, “what will your husband say?”

  “That he’s eternally grateful to you.” Conrad rested a hand on James’ shoulder.

  As the firemen trained their hoses on the cabin, much of the water, brought to its boiling point by the flames, converted instantly into vapor.

  “Look up there,” James said, pointing toward the top of the cabin. “The conversion to vapor dilutes the oxygen in the air above the fire and removes one of the elements the fire requires—that’ll help put it out more quickly. With the constant application of water it will extinguish the flames by smothering them.”

  “Is there anything you don’t know?” asked Sarah.

  “Plenty. I have no idea what was going on before the big bang. But I’m working on it.” He motioned in the direction of Karla and Andrew. “Is that—”

  “Yes, that’s Karla, the intended victim, and Andrew, one of the twins. The other one, Daryl, died in the flames.”

  They watched as the paramedics placed a warming blanket over Karla, and attempted to place Andrew on a stretcher.

  “I don’t need to lie down!” he protested with a mixture of anger and frustration.

  “Yes, you do.” Karla pressed him down. “Let the paramedics help you. Please.”

  As they pushed the stretcher toward the ambulance, Andrew cried out. “No! Don’t take me away. Not yet, please. Do your work here if you must. I can’t go. Please.”

  Karla approached one of the paramedics and whispered into his ear. The man nodded.

  “Andrew?” Oscar approached him tentatively.

  “Oscar,” Andrew smiled. “How—”

  Oscar gestured to Sarah. He patted Karla’s shoulder. “Miss Karla, you found your man.”

  “I did.”

  The paramedics inserted an IV and Andrew winced. “I don’t need that. Please bandage my head and let me be.”

  “Always the rebel.” Oscar shook his head. “Let them do their job, my boy. You’re pretty banged up.” He turned to Karla. “Where’s Daryl?”

  Karla shook her head and indicated the burning cabin.

  “Oh, no.” His eyes welled up. “That’s a shame. Hell,” he said, wiping away his tears, “I’m too old for this crying business.”

  Andrew, tears rolling down his own cheeks, reached for Oscar’s hand. “No, we’re not. We never will be.”

  The paramedics undid the bandages on Andrew’s head. “You’re a lucky fella,” one of them said. “Whoever bandaged you saved us lots of trouble. You’ll need stitches up at the hospital, but for the time being, you’ll be fine.”

  “Miss Sarah’s doing, I’d venture.” Oscar winked at Andrew.

  “Who is she? Where did she come from?” Andrew asked.

  Oscar leaned toward him. “I just met her. She came to the store. Followed Karla and Daryl. She’s someone real special with an extraordinary talent.” He turned in her direction. “Miss Sarah,” he called out, “would you be so kind as to come and have a chat with this rascal?”

  Without relinquishing Conrad’s hand, Sarah approached the stretcher.

  “Thank you for saving me.” Andrew held out his hand. “These gentlemen tell me you did a great job with the bandages.”

  With her free hand Sarah took Andrew’s. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re going to be okay.” She looked up at Karla. “That goes for you, too.”

  “Sir,” one of the paramedics said as he stepped up to the stretcher, “we have to go. We need to get you to the hospital.”

  “No, please, I need to stay with my brother. I need to—”

  James touched his shoulder. “Andrew, I’m James Horton. Your brother—”

  “You said James Horton?” Karla interrupted.

  He nodded.

  Her eyes lit up. “The James Horton?”

  James smiled uncomfortably. “I’m not sure what—”

  “The James Horton of The Hague. That James Horton?”

  Sarah laughed. “Yes, the one and only James Horton.”

  Karla’s gaze fixed on James. “I researched you once for a story.”

  “Well,” James shrugged, “I hope you weren’t disappointed.”

  “Are you kidding? It was amazing. You’re a legend.”

  “Well, I’m not sure—”

  “You were going to say something about my brother,” Andrew interjected. “What about Daryl?”

  James turned to face Andrew. “I can tell you that he’s all right. He’s at peace. He’s joined your mother.” He shot a quick glance at Sarah and winked.

  “How could you possibly know that?” Andrew asked with a hint of contempt.

  “It’s a long story, and I’d be happy to tell you all about it once you’re taken care of. For now, please accept that his sacrifice made your mother very happy and liberated Daryl.”

  Tired and confused, Andrew glanced at the people surrounding him, seeking some kind of explanation. He saw none. “How in hell could you know about his sacrifice?”

  “Like I said. It’s a long story. I promise to relate it all to you in due time, but we need to allow the paramedics to take you to the hospital. There’s nothing left for you to do here.”

  Andrew stared at Oscar for a moment, then turned his eyes toward Sarah. She gave him a reassuring smile. Karla placed her hand on his shoulder and nodded.

  They rolled the stretcher toward the waiting ambulance. Andrew leaned back and closed his eyes.

  24

  The Art

  “Iam so looking forward to this escapade of ours.” Sarah tightened her grip on Conrad’
s hand as they walked down Powell toward Geary Street in San Francisco.

  “I’d say. We’re more than a year overdue.”

  “Better late than never, to quote a cliché.”

  Smartly attired in a navy pinstriped suit, light blue shirt, and royal blue tie, Conrad attracted considerable attention from female passersby.

  “It’s great to see how much I’m envied,” Sarah said. “You look so handsome all dressed up.”

  “News flash! They’re actually eying you all decked out in that sexy multi-colored dress.”

  “It’s not multi-colored; its varying hues of iridescent blues and greens.”

  “Okay, Miss Hoity-Toity, whatever it is, you look stunning. You can dress like this anytime, as long as you don’t run away again.”

  “C’mon, we’ve been through this. I didn’t run away.”

  “Yeah, yeah, Martha this, Martha that. The fact is, you scared the daylights out of me. Let alone poor James. He felt responsible for you, and then he went and lost you. To top it all off, not a sign of a single spirit to offer the poor man any help. I thought he was going to lose it at one point. And that investigative team, they couldn’t come to terms with the fact that he’d reached an impenetrable barrier. James simply felt incompetent.”

  Sarah stopped and faced her husband. “What? This is all news to me. Incompetent? James?”

  “He did feel that way. It’s true.”

  She shook her head and resumed walking. “This is all about you tooting your own horn. Just because it was your idea to dial Oscar’s number doesn’t make you the hero of the story.”

  This time Conrad stopped, grabbed her arm, and stared at her. “And why not?”

  She laughed. “Granted, it was a good idea, but—”

  “Good? Brilliant, that’s what it was. You won’t admit it.”

  “Fine. But James and the team had already found the family and the twins.”

  “Oh, really? Well, let me remind you, Miss Know-It-All, they had no idea where to look until I came along.” He took Sarah’s hand and continued walking.

  “They would’ve figured it out sooner or later.”

  “But they didn’t. I did.”

  She threw her arms around his neck. “So you did. My hero.” She kissed him.

  “Sarah,” he protested between kisses, “we’re in the middle of the street.”

  “In San Francisco.” And she kissed him again, and again.

  They resumed their walk as Conrad looked around. “No one even noticed two old fogies kissing on a crowded sidewalk.”

  “Told you. Hey, there it is.”

  Moments later they entered the gallery. The name Andrew Strand, etched in large black letters on a diagonal white wall, greeted them.

  Sarah shook her head. “Good old Martha, she fed me ‘Stuart’ instead of ‘Strand.’ Real names, only garbled.”

  “She did everything she could to protect her family. What a burden she carried.”

  Karla spotted them when they entered the gallery, and headed their way. She wore a white pantsuit with a black blouse, and black patent leather high heels. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun adorned with a small black bow. “We’re so glad you could come,” she said, embracing them.

  “We wouldn’t miss it. I’m excited to see Andrew’s paintings in real life,” Sarah said.

  Karla laughed. “I can’t wrap my head around the fact that you’ve experienced—or lived or—heck, whatever it is you did.” She grabbed Sarah’s hand. “C’mon, let’s find Wonder Boy.”

  They made their way through the crowded gallery toward Andrew, also dressed entirely in white with black shoes. His white jacket set off shoulder-length black hair. He looked uncomfortable surrounded by a throng of admirers. When he caught sight of Karla dragging Sarah, he smiled politely at his fans, excused himself, and came toward them.

  He gave Sarah a bear hug that lifted her off her feet. “I’m so delighted that you’re here.”

  “Me too, but I’d like to breathe,” she gasped.

  “Sorry!” He set her down. “I can’t tell you enough how much I’ve been looking forward to being with both of you again.” He turned to Conrad and effusively shook his hand. “Thank you for all your help.”

  “C’mon, Andrew, you’ve thanked us plenty,” Conrad said.

  “It’s not often that one meets people willing to risk their lives to save yours.”

  “Well, they’re here, so now we can get on with the program. The sharks are beginning to circle.” Karla took Andrew’s hand and attempted to pull him away.

  “We need James. He’s not here yet,” he protested.

  “He’ll be here soon. Come on, it takes time to gather everyone and get them to hush up.”

  Andrew caught sight of James entering the gallery and lit up. “Hold on, Karla.” He bolted past the Thompsons and reached him in a handful of steps. “James, thanks for coming, man.”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Andrew leaned toward James and whispered, “Are they here?”

  Understanding exactly whom Andrew was referring to, James smiled. “Your mother is.”

  “Daryl?”

  James shook his head. “I haven’t seen him since the night of the fire.”

  Andrew’s frown made his disappointment obvious.

  Karla joined them and wrapped her arms around James. “What a treat to have you here.”

  “The treat is all mine. I’m looking forward to viewing Andrew’s work.”

  They threaded their way through the crowd toward the Thompsons.

  James embraced Sarah. “How’s my favorite psychic?”

  “Doing well, James. Quite well. And you?”

  “Perfect.” He turned to shake Conrad’s hand. “Hi there, partner.”

  “Man, it’s good to see you.”

  “Program time,” Karla announced. She grabbed Andrew’s hand and turned to Sarah, Conrad, and James. “Follow us, and park yourselves right in front of the stage.”

  They did as directed.

  Karla climbed onto the riser that had been set up and tugged Andrew up to her side.

  “Hello everyone,” she called out. The crowd quieted down and gave her their full attention. “Thank you very much for joining us. As many of you are well aware, Andrew Strand—despite his success—has always shied away from the limelight.” She turned to him and smiled. “Today, however, he’s agreed not only to be here with us, but also to say a few words. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Andrew Strand.” She stepped back.

  Andrew looked around at the crowd, blushed, and reluctantly stepped forward. “This is not easy for me. Like Karla said, I don’t do well in crowds and I don’t like to speak in public. It’s even more difficult because I’m a part of the opening of this magnificent new gallery that has chosen to showcase my art exclusively. For that honor I am indebted to the gallery’s owner and all-around good guy and art connoisseur, Lucien Montenegro.” Andrew pointed toward Lucien and applauded. “Thanks for all your support, Lucien.”

  The audience joined in the applause as Lucien bowed.

  “I’m not good at chatter or social talk, my art is my voice, and many of you have experienced me at my best,” he said sheepishly, “which is when I don’t engage in conversation.”

  The audience chuckled and murmured.

  “But who can say no to the indomitable Karla Jourdain?”

  Laughter rippled through the room.

  “I certainly can’t,” he went on, “especially now that she has agreed to be my wife.” He reached for her hand and pulled her to him. The spectators applauded. Karla blushed.

  “Well,” he laughed, “this is a first, Karla actually can blush. Who knew?”

  “C’mon. You’re embarrassing me,” she chided.

  He put his arm
around her shoulder. “Today is far more than the opening of this gallery and this exhibit, it is also the opening of my heart.” He paused to compose himself as he tightened his hold on Karla. “As you’re well aware, almost a year ago, my studio was ransacked, and many of my paintings were vandalized,” he sighed. “Numerous sculptures were broken or destroyed. In this room, you’ll find the paintings and sculptures I had in storage, but as we open the doors to the adjacent rooms, you will observe many of the damaged pieces—reborn.”

  A collective gasp and murmur erupted.

  “You may ask why I didn’t get rid of them. The simple truth is, I couldn’t. So, I recreated them, to show not only the damage they suffered, but to give them a new life full of forgiveness, despite the attempt on their existence.”

  The audience applauded respectfully. Andrew signaled for them to quiet down. “After that, you’ll walk into a third room. That room is dedicated to my mother, Martha Trenton McKinney, a woman with an uncanny ability to love. And forgive. The work you’ll observe there is a departure from my usual style, and the portraits you’ll view—”

  Several people reacted and a general murmur ensued.

  “Yes, you heard me right, portraits. Although they’re not as good as Jeremiah’s.” He winked at his friend.

  “Loads better, I bet,” Jeremiah yelled out.

  The audience applauded.

  Andrew laughed. “No, not true at all. The portraits are my private collection. They depict my family, my twin brother, Daryl, my mother, her sister, Jennifer, my father, Robert, and my uncle Gabriel, all of whom have sadly passed on. The portraits embody my feeble attempt to keep them close to me, to keep them alive.”

  Gasps came from the spectators.

  “As you make your way through that particular gallery, you’ll notice that I have incorporated several poems alongside these portraits. These are poems from a book my mother loved, written by my uncle, Gabriel McKinney. Thanks to this book of poems I am here with you today, opening up my soul by way of my art. I hope you enjoy them. Thank you.”

  The room broke into thunderous applause. Andrew looked behind him and signaled. The double doors into the second showroom of the gallery opened, and the crowd made their way in.