The Complete Donavan Adventure Series

by Tom Haase

  “Bridget, it's Matt. I'm just outside the door so don’t move when I come in.”

  He pushed open the door with care, and took in the entire scene. A typical run down, shitty motel with brown-papered walls, the smell of cigarette smoke, and one large bed.

  “Where did you get the gun?”

  “From Jonathan,” Bridget said. “He gave me one when we realized we were dealing with somebody who might use deadly force. I'm glad I had it.”

  “What you did showed bravery, but a little stupid. You always were a charger, but it's caused some complications. You are not a law enforcement officer nor do you have a permit to carry. This is not like when we were overseas and licensed to kill the enemy. I have a plan that I want you to execute and I want to have Mr. Shultz there to hear exactly what I'm saying and nod his agreement when I'm finished.”

  Schultz nodded his agreement to this proposal, but he remained gagged.

  Matt signaled for Liz to enter the room. He moved her and positioned her right beside Bridget. He took the weapon from Bridget, wiped it clean with his handkerchief, and then handed the gun to Liz.

  “Mr. Schultz, your daughter is out in the car with Scott Donovan. She is safe. She'll be in after we conclude our arrangement. Now we have a serious problem facing us. You must now agree that my partner here is the one who fired the weapon and killed Mr. Jake. That is the only thing that changes in the story you will tell about this whole event. Jake held the gun to your head and threatened to kill you and my partner shot him when she broke through the door. I kicked it open when we saw you through a small opening in the drape over the window. Your life was in deadly peril. We have our own account to tell of how we arrived here with the help of your daughter. So that's the only detail that we're asking you to agree to, and we'll change our account to agree with yours that Special Agent Garcia shot Mr. Jake as he held a gun to your head and threatened to kill you. If you agree to this shake your head.”

  He seemed to be mulling it over. Higgins wondered what took him so long to make up his mind when he’d been saved from a man who tried to kill him. After a moment, he nodded agreement.

  “Bridget why don't you go out to the car and switch places with his daughter. I want Mr. Schultz's account to be accurate in every detail except for the one about who shot Jake. Now his daughter will come in.”

  Bridget left the moment Gerti appeared in the door. She ran past Liz to her father, who still remained tied to the bed. She jerked the tape off his mouth.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Yes, but really pissed off.”

  “Father, even though Bridget saved your life you must remember what Special Agent Higgins has worked out is for the good of all. Their special teams will be arriving here in a few moments, and they and the press will want all kinds of statements from you. Please get them straight in your head. Do you have any physical injuries?”

  “No, but I'm a little bit foggy on everything that happened since Jake hit me on the head a few times. The bastard also forced some sleeping pills down my throat. When I came to Jake stood over me with a gun pointed at my head saying he intended to kill me and that lady over there shot him,” Shultz said.

  Higgins looked at Liz and smiled.

  Blue and white lights filled the room and the crime scene personnel and the local police had arrived.

  * * *

  Bridget joined Scott in the car. She now comprehended all that Higgins did for her. The old army ties were great thing to have.

  “What are we going to do now?” asked Scott.

  “While I was waiting for you to arrive I came up with a plan. I know how we're going to get that Bible.”

  62

  Motel in Lorton, Virginia

  Bridget and Scott sat in the FBI agent's car for a while and watched all the activities going on outside and inside of the motel room. No one paid them any notice.

  “What happened to Jonathan?” Bridget asked.

  “We left him and the captain at Jake's house, being certain the Bible wasn't there. I’d guess he made a house search after we left. He told the FBI guy that they were going back to Rome.”

  “That's bullshit. He's on a mission and he'll not give up.” Bridget took out her cell phone and dialed Jonathan McGregor. He told her that they were planning on heading back to Rome since they had not found the Bible and she didn’t have it and no one knew its location. She wished him good luck and said goodbye.

  “I don't think they're going to Rome. We need to be careful in what we do over the next two days,” Bridget said.

  “Why the next two days?” Scott asked.

  “Because that's when we're going to get the Bible.”

  “How do you figure that?” Scott asked.

  “Jake came to his house as close as we can figure at 8 o'clock and left at 8:15. He could've been there at any time he wanted but he was—I'm only guessing here—doing it at a specific timeframe. I could be wrong, but my best guess is that he might be waiting for someone to deliver a parcel. I think that's how he hid the Bible, since it is nowhere on his possession and not in his house. I don't believe he had time to hide it anywhere else after he arrived. If Jonathan found it, he would've said that he did and returned it to Rome. That's why I think our monsignor is not going anywhere, and he'll be following us to find out what we’re doing.”

  “Okay, so what do we do?”

  “We're not needed here anymore, and if there's nothing else we can do, I think it's time to get out of here,” Bridget said.

  She opened the door, Scott followed, and they casually walked over to Route One. A McDonald's sign shone in the distance, and they started walking toward the golden arches. They phoned for a taxi to pick them up. From there they headed to Reagan airport.

  “I'm tired. Let's get a motel room,” Scott said. “I don't think it would be smart to go to my place.”

  “I agree. Tomorrow morning, I have to find an old bookstore. You can sleep in.”

  “You need something to read?”

  “No, but I have an idea,” Bridget said.

  * * *

  At the motel, while her father suffered interviews by the various law enforcement agencies, Gerti ordered a limousine and their private plane brought down to Washington. Earlier, she went out to the FBI agent's car to talk to Scott, but he wasn’t there.

  She wondered where he could have gone. She decided that they just needed to get away and not be involved in any way with the scene as she and her father had to be. They could take care of themselves and she would contact Scott in the morning. She viewed him as turning out to be something special. She didn't want that to happen, but she didn't seem to have any control over her feelings.

  The limousine arrived and she went back in to the motel room to see if she could get her father released.

  They walked out together and got into the limousine. She told him what she'd done and that they were heading back to New York. The FBI would have to interview him again but after he saw his doctor in New York. They would contact him tomorrow to arrange for a formal statement.

  “Thank you, dear daughter. Could you tell me all that's happened since you left Jerusalem?”

  On the ride to the airport, she filled him in on all the details of the events since her arrival in the United States. Once on board their aircraft, Schultz poured himself a large scotch. Gerti waited for a reaction from her father. She knew him and knew he now processed something, but she needed to wait to hear him express it. He’d hardly spoken since they left the motel. He gave her no reaction to her story of all the transpired events. Something bothered him in a manner she never before observed.

  “What's wrong? I know there's something wrong. Tell me what it is,” Gerti said. She waited to the end of her patience.

  “I'm never told you this before, but I guess it's time. I needed to take some time in that motel to process that the woman I've hated for many years saved my life.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? Bridge
t saved your life and you have hated her?” Gerti nearly shouted.

  “I've been trying to eliminate Bridget Donovan ever since your brother was killed in action,” Schultz said. He lowered his head and placed it between his hands. He raised up to face his daughter. “From reports I got out of the Pentagon, I was given to understand that she let your brother die. I just found out more about her from that FBI special agent who served with her in the army. I don't think that I received the right information from the Army. And I’ve done her a grave injustice.”

  “What did you do? What kind of injustice?”

  On the flight home Shultz related to her all of the things he had done to try to get Bridget killed. When he finished, Gerti did not say a word. She went to the bar and got herself a drink. On returning to her seat, she looked at her father.

  “Your actions almost got me killed in Jerusalem. That Kesi murderer you hired happened to be the one who stuck the knife in me. He could've killed me. I have you to thank for that.” She took a sip from her drink. She saw her father look down at the floor and shook his head.

  “A man couldn't ask for a better daughter. From this day we go forward. We have a business to run and a Bible to get. And you are an equal partner from now on in all of our ventures. No more secrets.”

  He crossed his fingers behind his back.

  63

  Alexandria, Virginia

  The next morning, Bridget went shopping on a cold morning so she borrowed her brother's jacket. At ten o'clock, she arrived outside a quaint old bookstore in old town Alexandria. Bridget knew what she searched for as part of her new plan. An hour later she walked out with a heavy tome bound in a thick leather cover, large in size, and weighing about fifteen pounds. Probably someone's old family bible, but it would suit Bridget's plan.

  She smiled as she went into a luggage store. There she purchased a briefcase to hold the book. Then she stopped at a restaurant on King Street and ordered coffee. She called Scott to meet her for coffee. While she waited, she inserted the book into the briefcase to ensure a proper fit and that the cylinder locks worked. Bridget reset the locks from the manufacturer’s numbers to ones of her own.

  “Whatever are you going do with those things? Why did you traipse around to find them?” Scott asked when he arrived.

  “Remember the last time we worked with Jonathan? We were duped, actually hoodwinked into giving up everything. I don't want that to happen this time,” Bridget said. “Remember, they took all the hard evidence of our find, and we were left out in the cold when we tried to publish our work on it, with the Vatican repudiating our claims and saying they were a hoax.”

  “So what's the plan?”

  “I'll tell you if it works. Don't worry so much.”

  “I think I know what you're planning,” Scott said.

  “Maybe, maybe not. We'll see.” They finished their coffee and left the restaurant.

  “Now then, brother, we wait. We'll go to observe the house this evening from the inside. No police presence will be there in the evening, as I’m sure they have already searched the place with the FBI after the kidnapping. I want us there by seven.”

  * * *

  Jonathan and Grossman stayed in the Holiday Inn on King Street. Jonathan ordered Grossmann to move their aircraft to Washington.

  “You seem absolutely certain the Donavans will get this Bible,” Grossmann said at breakfast.

  “I am. They're after it, and they'll find it. We have to be there when they do. Where are they now?” Jonathan asked.

  When he checked the display on an iPad, he said, “Scott is walking around in a downtown area a few blocks from here.”

  “Let's go. We need to follow them.”

  Grossmann tracked them on the display. He asked Jonathan, “What do we do now?”

  “We wait until they make a move. We'll be right on their tails. I want to go everywhere they do. Visit every place they do. Ask questions of anyone they talk with.”

  64

  Alexandria, Virginia

  At seven o'clock that evening, Bridget and Scott arrived at Cornelius Jake's house. Bridget shimmied the back door, and they went in. She brought in the briefcase, and they sat in Jake's living room. She decided to turn on a small light in the kitchen to indicate that someone’s at home.

  “You think somebody will come here?” Scott asked.

  “I don't know. I don't have a better idea. I just thought it unusual that out of the whole day he came here to his house for only fifteen minutes. Why didn't he stay longer? Why didn’t he come earlier? He didn't have to be back to the hotel since he had Schultz tied up. He could have taken his time to do anything here at the house. My supposition is that he waited for someone at a specific time. There is no other conclusion as far as I can see. It may be a leap or a jump to a conclusion, but it is all I have.”

  Scott went over and looked out the front door window.

  “Don't do that. Someone might see you.”

  He turned and Bridget felt him studying her. “You have killed before. Did shooting Jake cause you any problems afterwards?”

  She gave him a stern look. “I don't like to shoot anyone. As far as shooting someone, every time I have, it served to save either myself or someone else. That includes you, like in the museum in Warsaw. Remember?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don't lose sleep over it, and I don't have nightmares about it. I guess my actions are the result of my army training and the campaigns I served in. Jake attempted to kill Schultz. I had no choice but to act. I couldn't take the chance that he only bluffed.”

  The doorbell rang. They both jumped and headed toward the door. When Scott opened it there was a little elderly lady standing there with a box.

  “Oh, I'm sorry. I thought Mr. Jake might be here.” The woman wore on a single piece black dress that covered all of her shoulders all the way down to her heels, with shinny silver hair and silver rimmed glasses. Bridget noticed in her eyes that she had questions.

  “I'm his niece. We just arrived today to visit him since we hadn't seen him in years. Do you want to come in? Are you a friend?” Bridget asked.

  “I'm pleased to meet you. I'm Sylvia from next-door. Mr. Jake asked me to pick up his mail whenever he goes away without having time to notify the post office. Would you mind giving it to him?”

  “Not at all. Thank you very much,” Bridget said.

  The lady bowed, said goodnight, and departed.

  Bridget put the box down in the kitchen and didn't even bother looking at it.

  “You going to examine it?” Scott asked.

  “No. They're all letters, and it's not heavy enough.”

  They waited till eight thirty and left.

  * * *

  Jonathan observed Jake's house from the time the tracker led them here. He saw a little old lady carry the box to the door. He realized it couldn’t be the book since it didn't appear heavy as she carried it in one hand down by her side so no use in searching the house again. They trailed the Donovan's back to their motel and then returned to theirs.

  “What are we going to do now, Monsignor?”

  “We'll give it one more day. If nothing happens, then I think we'll have to return to Rome. I believe I know what brought the Donavans here at this time. It was the same timeframe that Jake was here. They must think that he expected something or someone during that time.”

  “So if anybody shows up tomorrow, we grab them,” Grossman said. He was a soldier and wanted immediate action.

  “No. We'll execute my plan.”

  65

  Jake's House

  At seven the next evening the Donavans were again ensconced in Jake's house. They again turned on the kitchen light. Bridget opened a kitchen cabinet door and placed the briefcase from the old town shop in it. She joined Scott in the living room and sat in silence. At a minute to eight, Bridget got up.

  “I need to go to the bathroom,” she said. She returned in a few minutes.

  “Were you talking
to somebody in there?” Scott made glances, from time to time, toward the front door.

  “Let's just focus on our purpose here.”

  At ten minutes after eight the doorbell rang. Bridget went to open it. When she did, she faced a young lady with long flowing hair and glasses.

  “Hi, I'm Bridget. I'm Cornelius Jake’s niece. He's been taken to the hospital, but he asked me to be here to get the package from you. Is that okay?”

  “I guess so. He already paid me, but I hoped to get a little more.” She offered the briefcase to Bridget.

  Scott listened to the conversation and rushed over to the door. He pulled out his wallet and produced three twenty-dollar bills. He handed them over. The girl accepted them, didn't say a word, and left.

  Bridget shut the door and locked it.

  “We have to move fast. They'll be here any second. Guard the door.” She rushed into the kitchen. After retrieving her briefcase, she placed the two cases side by side. They probably couldn't see the exact briefcase the girl delivered and her briefcase resembled it. She left out her locked briefcase, and the one from the girl she put into the cabinet. She successfully switched the briefcases in ten seconds. She held the briefcase in her hand and reentered the living room.

  At that instant, the front door burst open. Scott reeled backward from his sentinel position. Grossman came in with his gun out, Jonathan right on his heels.

  “We saw you get the briefcase. I know the Bible is in it,” Jonathan said.

  Bridget acted as if she had been going to the kitchen, whirled and glared at them as she stood in the passageway into the kitchen with the briefcase in hand.