“So, by acquiring my grandfather’s land . . .” Rose began.
“Mission Mining can expand their coal output by as much as thirty percent,” Love said. “Your grandfather’s property was critical to their timetable.”
“So, they weren’t taking no for an answer,” Rose said.
“Does the management of the company know about this possible takeover?” Red Feather asked.
“Unknown,” Love said. “The mob has three members planted on the board of directors who stand to make millions when the takeover happens. The CEO, C.H. Paulson, is a puppet and the board is pulling the strings. When the takeover occurs, Paulson is out and some joker from Leningrad with a name I can’t pronounce will take over. So, as you can see, you two opened a real bag of snakes.”
“Holy shit,” Red Feather exclaimed.
“I’m still fuzzy on the Monkshood that killed my grandfather. How did he ingest the Monkshood?”
“There were traces of tea in his system,” Love said. “Did your father drink a lot of tea?”
“He did,” Rose replied. “He loved hot tea. He was an Earl Grey man. Why?”
“Because tea or other hot liquids are the most common delivery method for people who wish to administer aconite without the victim being aware of it.”
“Lenkov was very interested in gardening,” Red Feather interjected. “When he and Eli first met, they spent a great deal of time in Eli’s garden. I saw them there together more than once.”
“So, Lenkov was a gardening enthusiast and would have recognized the Monkshood, correct?”
“I’m sure he would have,” Red Feather responded.
“Rose, you said Eli was an Earl Grey man,” Love continued.
“That’s right.”
“Did he ever drink a tea called Ceylon?”
“Not that I know of,” Rose replied. “I’ve never heard of it. Why do you ask?”
“Because in addition to the aconite discovered in Eli’s system, the autopsy testing revealed a high level of polyphenols, a compound found in some Flavonoids used in tea.”
“Why is that important?” Rose asked.
“Because the polyphenols signature is very distinct, which points to a particular brand of tea called Dilmah Ceylon, a tea made in Sri Lanka,” Love said.
“Like I said, I never heard of it,” Rose reiterated. “I’m not following you. What does the brand of tea made in Sri Lanka have to do with anything?”
“Because while Dilmah Ceylon tea is made in Sri Lanka, it is also the highest selling tea . . . in Russia.”
“Oh, shit!” Rose exclaimed.
“Ok, I have to go,” Love said. “You two hunker down and remain in radio silence. No outside contacts with anyone. This may take a few days.”
“A few days?” Rose shot back. “I need to call work. I have to provide some information on a case I’m working to my boyfr . . . a coworker.”
“Sorry, Rose,” Love said. “The only way I can guarantee your safety is for you to not make any contact with anyone other than me or the emergency number I provided.”
“I understand,” Rose said.
“I’ll arrange for some food and supplies to be delivered to your place,” Love said. “It’ll tide you over for a spell.”
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CHAPTER TWENTY
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It had been three days since Love had called or spoken to either Red Feather or Rose. Twice Rose called Love’s number. On both occasions the phone was answered by someone other than Love who merely said, “We’re working on it.”
Rose and Red Feather had used the time to deepen their relationship. The lovemaking continued to get better and better. They took long walks on Yellow Wolf’s property, sharing stories of their lives, their goals, their challenges.
They’d spend hours at a time together in the evenings, naked, sitting by the warmth of the stove, holding each other, touching each other, making love to each other.
By the end of their second full day together Rose knew she was head over heels in love with the incredible Cheyenne man. She knew it was more than just a passing thing. Red Feather was also in love but felt unworthy of her affection. He, after all, was a poor gardener, a common laborer. She was a successful and brilliant lawyer. What could he offer her past an electric physical relationship?
After a long walk on the third day, Yellow Wolf knocked on the door. Red Feather answered.
“Hey man, how goes the battle?” Yellow Wolf asked.
“Still no word,” answered Red Feather.
“As long as you’re here, I could use some help chopping wood,” Yellow Wolf said.
“It sounds good,” Red Feather replied. “I could use the exercise.”
He turned to Rose, “You mind?”
“No, please, go ahead,” she replied. She smiled at him, “I’ll be waiting for you when you come back inside all hot and sweaty.”
He grinned and left. Rose went inside, her mind wandering to her job. She had promised she would call Michael, who had questions about the case he’d taken over. That was three days ago. He had to be pissed and she knew full well she couldn’t count on Michael to have her back with her boss, Matt Miller.
She looked at the burner phone. She was worried about her job. It had been three days now and surely the burner phone could not be traced.
Right?
She picked up the phone and dialed Matt Miller’s private extension.
“Matt, it’s Rose,” she said.
“Rose, where the hell have you been?” Miller demanded. “We’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
“I’m sorry, Matt, it’s complicated,” Rose said.
“I’ll tell you what’s complicated, Rose,” Miller barked into the phone. “The little boy died. Harden has fired us altogether as his attorney. His new attorney has threatened to sue us for malpractice. Where are you?”
“Still in Montana,” she said.
“How soon before you’re home?” Miller wanted to know.
“I don’t know, Matt,” she replied. “I can’t get into details, but matters have gotten complicated and I’m not certain when they will be resolved.”
She heard her boss sighing into the phone.
“This is not good, Rose,” he said, “not good at all.”
“I know. I’m so sorry.”
“The firm’s partners want your head on a plate, you should know that,” he said.
“I figured,” Rose replied. “Am I fired?”
Miller sighed again, “I don’t know. You better have a damn good story when you get back, and be quick about getting back, Rose. I need all your files on the Harden case—all of them.”
Those files were on her laptop, which was now sitting on the dining room table at the Summer Breeze Ranch.
“I’ll get them to you,” she promised.
“Send them to Michael,” he said. “He’s taking point on preparing a defense for the firm if we get hit with a lawsuit.”
Great, she thought. One more thing for Michael to hold over her head.
“I will,” she replied.
“I know you’re dealing with your grandfather’s funeral and estate, and I’m sorry things are complicated for you, but we have a job to do here, and I have to think about the firm’s interests.”
“I understand, Michael,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
Rose ended the call and looked outside for Red Feather. He was nowhere in sight, probably still behind the house chopping wood with Yellow Wolf.
She couldn’t lose her job. It had been three days and there was no word from Special Agent Julie Love. It would be ok if she drove to Summer Breeze long enough to grab her laptop and send the Harden files to Michael, she thought. She decided she wouldn’t tell Red Feather. He would either talk her out of it or insist on coming and she would not allow either to occur. She had to do this, and if something did happen, she did not want to put Red Feather in harm’s way.
She grabbed
her keys and slipped out the door and into the barn, leaving the doors open. She got into the car, started the engine and pulled away.
An hour later, Rose pulled to a stop on the main road about fifty yards from the entrance to Summer Breeze Ranch. All looked quiet. She saw no cars near the entrance and no cars in front of the house. She decided she could get into the house, recover her laptop and get out within five minutes—a five-minute period that could be the difference in whether she got fired or not.
She pulled her rental car up to the house, turned off the engine and ran inside. She saw the laptop still sitting on the table where she’d left it. She bent over to pick it up when she felt a strong force grab her around the waist. An enormous hand covered her nose and mouth with a cloth. She smelled a strong medicinal odor. Chloroform, she thought, as she lost consciousness.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
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Rose felt ice water being poured onto her head. It jolted her to consciousness. She screamed, but her cry was muffled by a gag which had been stuffed in her mouth. She saw that she was sitting in a chair, ropes were securing her arms and legs to it. She was sitting in front of the dining room table.
She saw Lenkov smiling at her, sitting at the table across from her. Beside him was the beast of a man named McCoy and a man with a badge in a khaki uniform. It had to be Tilden. Two more large men were standing off to the side, more of Lenkov’s goons, she thought.
“I am going to have Mr. McCoy remove the gag now, Ms. Summer,” Lenkov said, “but only if you promise to be good. Your screams will not be heard out here as you know, but to be honest, this whole matter has given me a headache, and I simply do not want to hear it. Do you promise to not scream?”
Rose nodded. Lenkov nodded at McCoy, who removed the gag.
“How did you find me here so quickly?” Rose asked.
“We traced your burner phone,” Lenkov said. “We thought you might call Eli’s accountant or call into work. Really Ms. Summers, how many cell phone calls originating from Montana to your law firm do you think there are? That was stupid of you. When you called into work we were able to ping your location. We saw you were headed back to the ranch. We beat you here by ten minutes.”
“What do you want?” Rose asked.
“I am old,” Lenkov said. “As you get older you lose your patience for bullshit.”
He nodded at McCoy who sat two sets of papers down in front of her.
“Mr. McCoy has sat documents in front of you,” Lenkov said. “The first one is a legal agreement in which you agree to sell Summer Breeze Ranch to Mission Mining for the original selling price offered.”
“I will never . . .”
Lenkov raised his hand and flashed an angry glare at her, paralyzing her midsentence, “The second document is the non-disclosure agreement we discussed with you when you so rudely barged into our offices.”
“Like I started to say, I will never sign those papers,” Rose snapped at him, tears filling her eyes.
“Oh, but you will, and you will do so right now,” Lenkov snapped back. “Or you will never leave this place alive.”
He paused, allowing what he said to sink in with Rose.
“Just let me go,” she cried out.
“Gladly,” he replied. “Right after you sign.”
“They won’t be legal, even if I did sign . . .”
“Oh, but you’re mistaken,” Lenkov said. “Our new Sheriff, Sheriff Tilden is a third-party eye-witness, and he also happens to be a notary public.”
“I will not . . .” Rose began.
“Enough talk!” Lenkov screamed. “Mr. McCoy, release Ms. Summer’s right hand and give her the pen. Ms. Summer, sign the documents or die.”
McCoy untied her right hand, leaving her otherwise fully secured to the chair. She gazed into Lenkov’s eyes. He was seething.
“Ok, fuck it,” Rose said. “I’m sick of this whole thing. If I sign these documents will you leave?”
She saw the fire in Lenkov’s eyes turn from raging to a slow burn. He forced a smile, “I promise,” he said. “You sign the documents and we will leave here and you will never have to see any of us again.”
Rose continued to sob, but signed and initialed both documents in all the appropriate places. McCoy grabbed her hand and took the pen from her when the last page was signed. He re-secured her right hand to the chair arm.
Lenkov picked up the documents, carefully folded them and placed them inside his coat pocket. He nodded at McCoy.
“What are you doing?” Rose cried out, her face etched in worry. “You said you’d leave.”
“We will,” Lenkov said. “And I also said you’d never see us again, and you won’t.”
He smiled at her. His leer looked evil, “McCoy!”
McCoy grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back forcing her face toward the ceiling. He used his left hand to force open her mouth. Rose screamed. McCoy poured four pills into her mouth and then forced her mouth closed, forcing her to swallow them.
McCoy released her head. She began to gag and tried to spit up the pills to no avail.
“What was that?” Rose demanded to know.
“Oh, just a little something to help you sleep . . . forever,” Lenkov replied. “You have a heart condition, don’t you Ms. Summer?”
“How did you know that?” Rose barked back.
“Oh, I know many things, Ms. Summer,” he replied. “Did you know the Nitroglycerin you take for your heart condition could actually prove fatal if there is an accidental overdose?”
“You didn’t?” she screamed.
“Oh, but I did,” he replied. “When your body is discovered, there will be a full investigation, of course, but there will be no proof that any wrong doing occurred. In the end, they will have to conclude your untimely death was caused by an accidental overdose of your own medication by your own hand.”
“You’re a monster,” Rose screamed.
Lenkov smiled, “Indeed, I am. And now, I will take my leave of you, Ms. Summer. Mr. McCoy will stay with you until the medication takes its toll. He’ll clean you up and position your body in bed, with your pills right there on your nightstand.”
“No!” she screamed. “You’ll never get away with it.”
“Sheriff Tilden will see to it that we do ‘get away with it,’ and even if some higher authority becomes suspicious and intercedes, they will find no evidence of wrongdoing.”
“So, you’re just going to throw me on the bed and watch me die?”
“Yes,” he replied. “McCoy can take off your clothes if you like. It will all look very Marilyn Monroe, or if you prefer, Anna Nicole Smith.”
Tilden broke out in laughter.
Rose began sobbing freely.
“Goodbye, Ms. Summer,” Lenkov said.
The two men Lenkov brought with him led the way out of the house, followed by Tilden and Lenkov. Once the four men cleared the porch, it was Lenkov who noticed an ancient, beat up truck parked over a hundred feet away. A high-pitched war hoop resonated through the air. Red Feather had positioned himself on top of the roof. The men all turned toward the sound. Red Feather leapt from the roof, sailing downward, seeming to float through the air like a large bird of prey, landing on Tilden, knocking him to the ground.
One of Lenkov’s men pulled his weapon, but Red Feather pulled a large knife from his belt line and in one smooth motion propelled it into the center of the man’s chest. The knife blade sank deeply into the man’s breastplate. He dropped he gun and began to choke, falling to the ground.
Tilden tried to recover and reached for his sidearm, but Red Feather delivered a kick squarely to his face, knocking him unconscious. The second man had pulled his gun and a shot rang out, but the shot did not come from his gun.
Red Feather saw the second man crumble to the ground. Yellow Wolf had appeared from the side of the house and shot the man, using the pistol Red Feather had taken from McCoy a
few days earlier.
Another shot rang out. This time it came from McCoy, who appeared in the doorway. The bullet from McCoy’s gun pounded into Yellow Wolf’s shoulder, knocking him backward.
“Kill Red Feather!” Lenkov screamed.
McCoy turned his gun toward Red Feather but it was too late. Red Feather had taken three steps toward the big man and leapt again, gliding gracefully through the air. As he landed he swung at the big man, crushing McCoy’s left cheek and breaking his jaw with a vicious hammer blow. McCoy was unconscious before his body hit the floor.
“Are you all right?” Red Feather called out to Yellow Wolf.
“The bullet went straight through,” Yellow Wolf yelled back. “It’s not bleeding too badly. The bullet did not hit a main artery. I can make it. Go find Rose.”
“Keep your gun on Lenkov,” Red Feather replied, stealing a glance at the older Russian man. “Feel free to shoot him if he flinches.”
Lenkov raised his hands in the air.
Red Feather ran into the house and saw Rose, slumped over the table. Her eyes were closed. She wasn’t moving. Off in the distance, he heard sirens. When he noticed her missing from Yellow Wolf’s house, he called Special Agent Julie Love, suspecting Rose had returned to Summer Breeze.
“Oh, my god,” Red Feather exclaimed. “Rose!”
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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
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Rose heard the sounds of beeping. She opened her eyes, squinting at the bright fluorescents on the ceiling. She felt a pinch on her arm. She looked down and saw an IV line and tube running into it. She was lying in a bed, with oval rods holding sliding green curtains in front of the door. She was in a hospital.
“They told me you’d be awake soon,” a woman said, sitting in a chair next to the bed. Rose did not recognize her.
The attractive woman was in her mid-to-late thirties, with medium-length sandy-brown hair, tied back in a pony tail. She had a light complexion with a smattering of freckles across her cheekbones. She was well-built. She wore dark, tight pants and a snug top, covered by a light blazer.
Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Summer Breeze (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 10