The Grace Bay Agreement

by D. Alan Johnson

  Seeing no one looking like they were watching Joan, he strode toward the hallway with a purpose. But, as he had feared, a frumpy sales woman stepped in front of him.

  “Sir, only ladies are allowed in the dressing area.”

  “Yes, I know. My wife is in the last room on the right. She wants me to look at the dress that she picked out.”

  “You’ll have to wait out here sir. She can come out and show you.” Pete took her elbow in his hand and pulled her close, lowered his voice, and spoke in her ear.

  “We’re buying this dress for our own entertainment, you see. Not to go out in public. She’s going to show me what it looks like without any, uh, you know, undergarments. So, you see…She can’t come out here.”

  Pete released her. The woman smiled, ran a hand through her hair, and Pete could see the color flush her face.

  “OK. But no hanky-panky in there,” she said, wagging a finger. Pete held up both hands, palms out.

  As he walked down the hall, he was surprised at the intense feelings surging through him. He opened the door, and saw Joan just zipping up the back of the white dress. It was one size too small and looked like it was spray painted on.

  “You like?” She turned around, and he could tell there were no bra or panty lines. His mouth too dry to say anything, he just held out his arms. She came to him and they hugged, her head tucked into his shoulder.

  “Oh, Pete, I was afraid you were dead.” She pushed back and looked up into his eyes. “You didn’t really kill the guard and that girl, did you,” she said as a statement.

  “No, the cartel sent a hitman after me. They found out I was working for the DEA. My bodyguard kept me alive, but the guard and Lillian…” He had a sudden catch in his throat, and brought Joan back into a tight embrace.

  “I knew you couldn’t have done it. And I thought it odd someone so clean cut and straight arrow would be flying for us. You just have that ‘good guy’ aura. I guess that’s why I’m so attracted to you.” She lifted her head, and they kissed for a long time.

  “You’ve got to come and stay at my house. I can help you.”

  “Are you sure—“

  “Nobody’s watching me. I’m useless to the cartels now. I’ll sneak you in. We’ve got an alley entrance to the garage. You’ll be safer there than in a hotel.”

  With both his hands on her slender waist, he knew his thinking was clouded, but she made sense. I can’t make a mistake. I need some time to think this over.

  “I’m at the La Quinta across the expressway. Room 218. Pick me up tonight at eight o’clock.” She smiled and started to take off the dress.

  “I’d better get out of here. I promised the sales lady if she let me in, there’d be no hanky-panky.”

  “See you then.”

  Back in his room, he thought about the dressing room meeting. Why did he contact Joan? To get a location on Jose Leal and find out any information that might help him to avenge his family and Lillian. But that isn’t the only reason, is it?

  And moving to her house? Is that wise? Is that safe? Does that help me with my mission? No, no, no, and no. Then why do I want to go so bad?

  Why am I so attracted to her? She’s so much older than me. I can’t continue to think with my crotch. He paced over to the window, but stopped himself from opening the curtain. Maybe it’s having someone I know, someone I have a connection with. I’ve been so lonely, so out of my element. Memories of his daughter and ex-wife seeped into his thoughts, and the familiar blackness enveloped him like a cloud swallowing the mountaintop. He bowed his head and wept.

  The pounding on his door made him jump to his feet, sleep still clinging to his brain. For a minute he wondered where he was. Then, seeing his suitcase, he remembered.

  “Pete. Let me in. It’s Waldo.” He pounded again. Pete swung open the door. Waldo wore a black Italian suit with his big fedora. Long-toed shoes poked out from the bottom of his trousers and contrasted with Pete’s white running shoes.

  “You look like hell,” Waldo said and walked past and into the room. “What are you doing staying in this dump?”

  “It’s really good to see you, too.” The emotion in Pete’s voice caused Waldo to turn, and they embraced, slapping each other on the back. Pete could feel the Glock under Waldo’s suit coat, and was comforted. Pete released him and pushed him back to look at the thin face.

  “I guess you’re the last person I expected. How did you find me?” Pete asked. Waldo laughed.

  “You’re using my credit card. Steve Joiner called me and told me you were in Houston, so I flew over from Rome this morning. Then I called the credit card company, customer service, and asked for the last charge. The nice young lady told me the La Quinta in Sugarland. Then fifty dollars to the front desk clerk, and I have your room number.”

  “Wouldn’t it have been cheaper just to have him call the room? I would have told you the number.” Waldo stuck out his lower lip, tilted his head and shrugged, as if to say, “I do things my way.” This caused Pete to laugh, washing away his fatigue and grief. Waldo walked over to the chair and sat down. He put his hat on the round table, and ran his fingers through his black hair.

  “Pack your stuff and we’ll get you moved over to the Omni Hotel. We can get a nice dinner before I crash. It’s midnight according to my body clock.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Just after six.”

  “Joan Merkam is picking me up at eight. I was going to move to her house.”

  “I see.” He rubbed his chin. “That might work out better.” Waldo walked over and straightened the painting on the far wall. “Does she have a handle on Jose Leal?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Are you sure she’s not just setting you up?” Waldo looked up and bit the side of his lower lip. Cold water seemed to splash over Pete. How could I be so gullible to miss that possibility? Is Joan still getting paid by the cartel? Is that where her loyalty lies?

  “I don’t know.” Pete turned and started throwing his things into his bag. Waldo let the silence hang. Pete wished that he would say something.

  “I think she’s attracted to me and wants to help me.”

  “She could have the key to getting to Leal.” Waldo sat down again. He could never keep still. “Might be worth the risk. What about her husband?”

  “Died of a heart attack. The loss of the commission for the project put him over the edge, I guess. Croaked on the flight back to Fort Lauderdale.”

  “Too bad.” Waldo seemed to be on the edge of saying something so Pete waited.

  “OK. You’re going with Joan. I’m gonna get some sleep. Contact me in the morning with whatever info you get. Here, I brought you something.” He dug in his jacket pocket and pulled out a cell phone and charger. “Careful what you say. It’s rented, but it’ll work for us to keep in touch. My number is already programmed in. I’ll have a man watching Joan’s house, so I’ll know if you’re taken anywhere. I’ll get to you.” Pete nodded. “Do you need some cash?”

  “No, I did a little job to get here. Delivered some jewels and got paid. So, I’m good, thanks.”

  “Oh. Nice. A little bit of entrepreneurship. I’m impressed. Do you have any weapons?”

  “No.”

  “Here’s a nice folding knife. You can carry it in your pocket. Probably won’t do you any good. But it’ll make you feel better. Well, I have a cab waiting.”

  Waldo vaulted out of the chair. As he swept out the door he said without turning around, “Call me.”

  Pete stood out on the second story balcony and scanned the traffic. The cold mist made yellow halos around the streetlights. Big drops fell from the overhang and clanged on the hoods of the cars parked below. If there are any bad guys, maybe I’ll be able to spot them. No, if I were them, I’d take me at Joan’s. Much quieter than a public place like this. He tried to pick out Joan’s Mercedes, but in the darkness all the cars looked pretty much the same until they came close.

  The white coupe p
ulled into the parking lot and trolled down the lane looking for Pete’s room number. It wheeled into a parking spot just below Pete, and Joan got out wearing a leather jacket against the night chill. She looked up and waved, then went to the back to open the trunk while Pete hurried down the stairs.

  “Where’s your coat, honey? You’re going to freeze.” Pete lifted his suitcase into the large trunk.

  “I’ve got to buy one.”

  “I’m sure one of Wilson’s will fit you. You two are about the same size.” Pete opened the left door for her, went around the back, and then got into the passenger seat. She leaned over and kissed him, started the car and roared out onto the Southwest Expressway.

  *****

  Wednesday

  0945 Eastern Standard Time

  08 December, 1999

  Escuela Abraham Lincoln

  Santa Marta, Colombia

  Renee Hedley-Fields waited for Levi Fernandez. Her foot tapped the hard tile, and she kept staring at her fingernails. I hate the Latinos. They have no sense of time. Levi was due in here at 0930, and I have things to do. My first operation as Agent in Charge, and it is not going well. I can’t get that gringo pilot out of my mind. He’s gonna foul up our whole operation. I just know it.

  When Renee felt these premonitions, she never ignored them. Too many times they proved to be correct and sometimes even lifesaving. Now she had a pain in her gut that this William Peter Douglas was going to be a big, big problem. Her requests for background checks came up blank. Dead end. Must be a fake ID he’s working under. That means government. Oh, I hope he’s not one of those fools from the Secret Service. Or worse, an FBI puke. No, he could dance. Can’t be FBI.

  Levi smiled when he saw Renee. She scowled, and Levi’s smile grew even broader. I hate him, she thought. I’ve got to stop gritting my teeth or I’ll break another molar.

  “Hello, beautiful.” She saw him look at her legs, and she tugged her skirt down over her knee.

  “Levi, you’re late again. I’ve got a schedule to keep—“

  “You know, I love that accent.” She got up and went behind her desk.

  “Don’t change the subject” she said putting both hands on her desk and leaning forward. “I need some answers. You’ve been here over two months and I haven’t gotten anything from you.”

  “This cartel is much quieter than the others, my love. I’ve been going to parties, talking with dealers, everything that’s been successful before. I just can’t crack their outer ring.”

  “Don’t call me ‘my love’. No one else has anything on this guy either. We have a full complement of special ops people here and we haven’t broken into his commo or tracked his movements. We don’t even know who he is. I’ve got to have something to give headquarters, and soon.”

  “I’m doing my best.”

  “What about our mystery man? What have you found out about him?”

  “Oh, he’s nothing. I’m keeping a close eye on him right now. He’s in Houston.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, I sent him up Monday with some jewels to deliver. A man still has to run his business.” Levi put up his hands, palms out, looking very much like a Jewish diamond merchant. “I thought it would help us both to get him out of the country.”

  “This guy is a real problem. I can feel it. We come up to a blank wall when we run a background check on him. When is he coming back?”

  “He’s made his delivery. He wanted a few days in the States. I think his return ticket is for next Wednesday.” She sat down in her big chair, deflated.

  “You let him out of surveillance. You told me nothing about this. We need to know what he’s doing in the States, who he’s seeing. We could have had this solved by now. I’ve got to get to the agency that’s running this guy or he’ll screw up and the new cartel will go to ground. Then we’ll never crack this thing.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.

  “You go back to your job” she said without looking up. “Try to find someone in the leadership of this new cartel. I’ll take over William Peter Douglas.”

  Levi got up and left in silence. Renee knew that was not the way to treat a valuable contractor, but her emotions boiled. She remembered dancing with Pete. There was an intensity about him. He’s not a professional. And amateurs will screw up an operation every time.

  *****

  Wednesday

  08 December, 1999

  1000 Central Standard Time

  108 Harvey Drive

  Sugarland, Texas

  “Wake up, you beautiful man,” Joan said as she shook Pete’s arm. “How do you like your eggs?”

  “Scrambled. With bacon.” He smiled when he saw her in her white silk robe. She had brushed her hair, and looked radiant. Amazing what a little love can do, he thought. She twirled, making the robe open so that he could see her slender legs, and went out the bedroom door.

  A dark purple robe lay across the back of one of the chairs, and he guessed it was for his use. Now, how do I find the kitchen? This house is huge. To his left he could see the hall ended at the stairs, so he turned right. He entered the great room and saw Joan across the way, cooking at a gas range. He sat at the table where a steaming cup of coffee and a glass of juice invited.

  Bringing over two plates, Joan sat so they could look out the glass doors at the birds in the garden.

  “Thanks for breakfast.”

  “It’s so good to cook for a man again. You must be exhausted. You slept almost twelve hours.”

  “This is the first time I’ve felt relaxed in about three days.” Pete looked in her eyes. “You have many boyfriends?”

  “No. No. My husband started having heart problems a couple of years ago. The drugs, well, the drugs made him impotent. He tried, but… This is very hard to talk about.”

  “I understand.”

  “Wilson told me to find a lover. I tried. I slept with a couple of guys, but they were worthless. Worse than being alone.” She reached across the table and took his hand. “When I met you that first time, there by the jet, I just knew you were the one. I told Wilson and he said, ‘Go for it’. But you had other plans.”

  “You were married to the boss. Besides, I was on the job.”

  “I know. I figured I had several weeks to seduce you.”

  “I thought you and Wilson must be swingers.” They both laughed.

  “What are you going to do now that you’re alone?”

  “Well, I’ve got the house up for sale. It’s all I have, but it’s paid for, so I should get enough to live on until I start getting social security. And you? What are you going to do now that you’re alone?”

  Pete pulled his hand out of hers and stared at his plate. He concentrated on eating his bacon. That’s a fair question, he thought. I asked her, and she shared. Why can’t I share my pain? Joan squeezed his shoulder, and then got up to bring the coffee pot over and refilled his cup.

  “I need to find Jose Leal. You know him as David Guaymas.” Her eyes went wide.

  “Yes, I know David Guaymas well. We’ve gone to several parties together. But I didn’t know he worked with my husband.”

  “He’s the hitman who killed Lillian and then took out my family. I’ve sworn to see him dead.”

  “You know they’ll kill you.”

  “Doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I kill Jose Leal and his boss in Colombia.”

  “Don’t do it, my love.” She came over and hugged his head against her breasts. “Revenge doesn’t work. It hurts you more than the person you hate. Stay with me.” She pushed him away and gazed into his eyes. “We can be happy together. We’ll leave here. I’ve got some money. We can live in Costa Rica or Spain.”

  “Can you tell me where I can find David Guaymas?” Joan released him and stared at him for a minute. She turned and carried some of the dishes to the sink. Remaining silent, she washed a dish. Pete saw the set of her shoulders change. She turned, drying her hands, and had a sadness in her eyes.

  �
�His house is in this neighborhood. I can show you.”

  Chapter Five

  Wednesday

  08 December, 1999

  1155

  366 Rancho Viejo Drive

  Sugarland, Texas

  Joan coasted down the street in Wilson’s black Lincoln Town Car. Like many vehicles in South Texas, the back and rear windows were tinted dark green to help keep the car cool during the brutal summers. Pete sat in the back on the right hand side, confident no one could see him from the outside. He studied the big house as they eased past. Since it had a “For Sale” sign in the front yard, Pete figured it wouldn’t hurt to dawdle in front of the house for a minute. No alarm company sign in the yard. A pretty good indicator that Jose Leal didn’t use a monitoring company. He probably depended on a large caliber automatic pistol.

  This was their second pass. The first time Joan drove by at normal speed and Pete checked for any lookouts or cars parked in the street. He was sure no one followed them since the neighborhood looked deserted, and they hadn’t seen a car in the last ten minutes.

  “Go down the alley so that we can see the back.”

  “Yes, master,” she said.

  “Don’t make fun of me.”

  “Just trying to break the tension, hon. I’m not used to this slinking around. Wilson was always in the banking end of this business.” Pete felt bad for snapping at her, but stayed silent.

  She pulled into the wide alley and Pete counted three houses in. Wow, these folks must have money. This alley is wider and better paved than the streets in my neighborhood. This one should be it. Yes, it had the same red roof and pink stucco walls.