Flawlessly Executed (Dark Horse Guardians Book 3) (23 page)

~ Doctor Duncan Norris ~

Now comfortable in his room on the seventh floor, Norris was lounging on the balcony in the late day sunshine. Ah, it felt good to be in the warmth once again. He was exhausted but hungry and planned to get into his rental car and drive to the best restaurant in town tonight. “The Wild Orchid” was a hot bed of activity, so he was told, and the food was excellent. The concierge told him there were beautiful prostitutes there. That would be dessert.

He was exhausted from the trip, but showered and shaved nonetheless and dressed in the new clothing he had purchased at the Big Buy Store across the street. He wore a Hawaiian style shirt with a bold print and white cotton pants. He even splurged on a straw hat.

As he made his way down to the parking garage beneath the building, Norris looked to the right and the left before exiting the elevator. He knew these places were dangerous. His rental car was parked at the far end of the garage in the corner. He scurried along nervously worried that someone might observe him. But, then he thought,
who would know or care who I am here in this faraway place? I’m just another tourist.

As he hit the key fob to unlock the car, he slid into the driver’s seat and reached down to adjust the mechanism to push the seat back a little more to accommodate his girth. Just as he did so, a hand reached around his throat from the backseat of the car. He tried to yell or scream but the gloved hands were over his mouth and on his throat, choking off his oxygen.

~ Ben ~

This was easier than he had imagined. Duncan Norris was unconscious for a moment and Ben slipped into the front seat of the vehicle. He bound the doctor’s hands and feet with bungee cords and stuffed a bandana into his mouth. Once his captive was conscious, the interrogation began ~ up close and personal.

Ben saw the doctor’s eyes flutter and hissed into his ear, “Where’s Abby? Tell me now or I’ll kill you.”

The doctor’s eyes darted about and the recognizable feeling of raw fear was evident. Good, Ben thought. He’s going to tell me what I need to know. He’s afraid to suffer any pain. He’s already close to his threshold.

Once more Ben glowered at the fat man, “Abby. Tell me now or I’ll slice you open.” Ben held the five-inch blade up so Norris could see it. The doctor nodded affirmatively. Ben pulled the cloth out of his mouth and Norris coughed and made a gagging sound.

“I don’t know where Abby is.” Duncan Norris whispered, now trembling. Ben stuffed the bandana back into his mouth. “Then you’re going to endure some pain, doc, let’s see how much you can take.”

Ben ran through his repertoire of painful methods he could use that wouldn’t leave a mark on the fat man’s body. He wrenched his arm until the shoulder was nearly dislocated. Duncan Norris contorted his face with pain. He was mumbling urgently. Ben slid the bandana out of his mouth. “Ready?”

Norris exhaled. His body was tense and he was sweating profusely. “We had wild sex, it was an accident. I pulled the belt too tightly around her neck and she passed out. I thought she passed out, but she was dead!”

Ben pushed the doctor’s index finger back until it was at the breaking point, “Where is she? I’ll break every bone in your body starting with your fingers.” He exerted major pressure and the doctor squirmed in pain.

Once more the doctor exhaled saying one word, “Marshland.”

Ben wanted more detail, “Go on!” He applied more pressure to his shoulder joint twisting his arm, pushing on his finger ready to snap it.

“Cape Cod, off near Blueberry Lane. There’s a group of trees, an old farm with odd yellow buildings, she’s way in the back, the Simpson place. The owners are on a European trip.”

“Did you bury her?” Ben pressed.

“No. I didn’t have time. She’s in a suitcase, a navy blue one.”

Ben surmised this was all the information he was going to get. He released his grip on the doctor but wrapped his hands around his neck cutting off circulation briefly enough for him to pass out. Removing the bungee cords, Ben started the engine of the car and attached the garden hose to the tailpipe, then duct taped the hose through the slit in the window, which made a perfectly sealed tomb for the son-of-a-bitch. Once or twice he heard footsteps and laughter in the parking garage, but the voices were at a distance.

As the car idled quietly, Ben slipped away and walked out into the sunlight. The shuttle bus was coming back from the airport loaded with visitors. He hopped back on and dropped the coin into the slot. Sitting upon the soiled seat of the bus, he relaxed for what seemed like the sum total of five minutes.

As he approached the airport, he walked through security again talking to agents and passing out a few hundred dollars. Leaving Mexico was even easier than getting in. His boarding gate was separate from commercial flights, thus the agents seemed to think he was a wealthy Mexican, entitled. They treated him like he was some sort of rock star. He didn’t give a shit who they thought he was as long as they allowed him through without delay. Anyone with a pocket full of money in Mexico was entitled all right.

The pilot and co-pilot had remained on board, thank God. Ben hopped inside and said, “Let’s get stateside, Portland International Jetport, pronto.”

The pilot managed a window of opportunity for take-off and within forty five minutes Ben was wheels up at top speed flying back to Lara. He walked to the pilot in the cockpit.

“If you can get me home for Thanksgiving Day, I’ll put in a good word with your boss!” Ben joked.

The young Israeli pilot laughed, “Moshe’s my uncle. I’m pretty tight with him already, but thanks. Don’t worry, Chief. Moshe told me your dilemma. You will be home for Thanksgiving Day. No problem.”

Exhausted, Ben laid back in the reclining seat and immediately fell asleep. When he woke, he called Moshe.

“Hey listen. Mission accomplished, but you and I have some unfinished business.”

Moshe asked, “What do you mean?”

“Rashida,” Ben sighed. “I need to get her back to the states.”

“She’s staying put.” Moshe declared. “I need her and she wants to be an operative. It’s a match made in heaven. My men respect her and she is enthusiastic to help. She will have a good life here. I will watch over her. She knows the danger, but I couldn’t talk her out of it.”

“Yeah, right. I’ll bet you tried!” Ben exclaimed.

“No, man, really. Moshe insisted, “She’s got talent, brains, and is multi-lingual. What she did on this mission was nothing short of perfection. Most guys wouldn’t have the nerve she had.”

“Okay, look, I gotta go. I’m nearly home. And, thanks for the jet, I owe you.” Ben replied.

At cruising altitude with no stops for fuel, the jet landed at Portland Jetport five hours and forty-five minutes after leaving Cancun. Before exiting the aircraft, Ben stuffed his wig into the rucksack and met Rusty at the gate, but he left on the ball cap and mustache.

Once with Rusty, Ben spoke solemnly, “I’ve taken care of business. But need to get Bettencourt. I know where her body is.”

“Yup. But let me get you home, Chief. I must say you look and smell like hell.” Rusty led him to his waiting vehicle. Ben was exhausted and was now thinking of a long hot shower. He glanced at Rusty, “Thanks old man. How’s Lara taking this?”

Rusty didn’t answer right away, then murmured, “She’ll be okay. Call Bettencourt.”

Ben tapped his phone and Bettencourt was given the specific information. It would be another feather in his cap if Bettencourt could somehow come out on top in this investigation. He wanted to make detective and this could be his break.

Pulling into the driveway at Clearwater Farm, Ben noticed his heart rate slowed and his breathing changed to something almost normal.
He was home
.

Rusty lugged his gear into the empty house.

Ben looked at him with panic, “Where’s Lara?”

“She’s at Finn’s. Don’t you remember? They asked her to come for Thanksgiving. Don’t worry, shower and get dressed. We’ve got a few minutes. I’ll drop you over there.”

Ben stripped and left a trail of soiled clothing from the kitchen to the master bathroom. He soaped himself from head to toe and ran his hand over his face. Damn, he’d forgotten to shave for the last two weeks. He hopped out and took his shaving mug and straight edge and got to work. Dressing quickly, he appeared back in the kitchen where Rusty stood waiting.

“We’re off.” Rusty announced.

Ben thanked him again and climbed into his vehicle. In less than fifteen minutes they were pulling into Finn Murphy’s old colonial in Portland. The outside of the house was decorated with pumpkins and Thanksgiving embellishments, obviously hand-crafted by the girls. He inhaled the crisp fresh air of autumn as he walked to the back door.

~ Lara ~

Sitting between Sarah and Molly at the dining room table, Lara was chattering away like a teenager. The girls were talking about fashion and decorating, two subjects close to Lara’s heart. Finn was talking to Marcella asking about dessert. The other children were on the verge of tears in a tug of war over the last of the Parker House rolls, when the room, without warning, fell silent.

Her eyes were drawn to the formidable figure of her husband in the doorway.
It couldn’t
be him!
She thought his mission would be much longer. But it was Ben. He rushed to her side and pulled her into his muscled form with such strength she could hardly breathe.

She couldn’t stop saying his name. She felt it could be a dream and he’d disappear again, “Ben, oh Ben!”

The dining room table erupted. Finn and Marcella began applauding and the girls were cheering, even the baby was making sounds. Lara felt like she was in some sort of old holiday movie. She couldn’t think straight. Sheer joy engulfed her. Ben was kissing her and he was back in one piece. A true Thanksgiving if ever there was one.

Once the fanfare died down, Finn and Marcella put a plate filled with food in front of Ben. It seemed the questions wouldn’t stop.

“How was your vacation, Ben?” Finn jokingly asked.

“You look a bit tired.” Marcella hovered like his new-found mother.

“Did you fly on an airplane?” Molly asked.

“What country did you visit?” Sarah chimed in.

Ben, between mouthfuls of food, politely countered every question with a clever answer.

But Lara could see through his jovial façade. She knew her husband had just been to hell and back and she wanted nothing more than to get him home alone with her.

“Would you pardon us if we left before the football game?” Lara politely asked. She knew Finn and Marcella understood perfectly.

“Let me pack up your desserts.” Marcella went into the kitchen. “Molly, get me that pie.”

Ben’s eyes lit up, “Did she say
pie
? Oh, hell yeah. I’ve been
dreaming
of pie!”

~ Ben ~

It felt surreal, sitting at the dining room table with Lara. Twenty-four hours ago he was stalking a man, marking him for murder. But that was then. He put the thought out of his mind and lived in the moment, glad that he was still among the living.

The details of the past few weeks flashed through his mind. He’d been so close to death, he didn’t think about planning out the next year of his life. There was no planning except for the next day, next hour, next minute of the mission. With the team, he thought about taking his next breath, what was happening from moment to moment. Taking a deep breath, he consciously slowed his mind down.

Taking Lara’s cue and a large serving of apple pie wrapped in tin foil, Ben thanked Finn and Marcella for a wonderful dinner. He slipped Lara’s coat on and escaped into the Mercedes. His eyes were drawn to the window of the house with the five girls waving goodbye to them. Ben smiled and waved and slipped into the vehicle.

“I can’t wait to be home with you, darlin, I missed you so.” Ben said as his hand touched her shoulder while she drove.

“I’m holding myself together. I don’t know what I would’ve done without Mom and Rusty, Bettencourt and Monique, Finn and Marcella. They’ve been so supportive and helpful with the planning of Hawk’s funeral.”

He could see she was shaken and wanted nothing more than to hold her and help her through the pain and loss she was feeling. He knew all too well the awful feelings Lara was experiencing. Many times he had slipped into the pit of depression losing a close friend in combat. It broke his heart each and every time. He slammed his trident into too many caskets.

As soon as the Mercedes pulled into the driveway of Clearwater Farm, Ben’s cell phone vibrated, “Keegan,” he spoke into the device. “Oh God, no!”

~ Lara ~

Lara could not imagine who Ben was talking to on his cell phone. She sat and idled the Mercedes listening to his side of the conversation. He was doing more listening than talking and she could barely hear the voice on the other end of the phone, but knew it was one of his men.

He finished the call and opened the door to the Mercedes.

“What is it?” Lara asked not wanting the answer.