Gardener: The Roots Of Ancient Evil (7 page)

              “Let me go ask, you OK here?” Tommy asked Viviana.

They had gone back upstairs to the lobby when she realized she would need to make funeral arrangements. Something would have to be done with the body.

“I need to go back downstairs,” Tommy said to the officer at the desk. He nodded. Tommy made his way back down to the room and looked through the glass. The body had been returned, and it took Tommy a few moments to flag down one of the technicians. She saw him and came out to the hallway.

              “She needs to know what to do about the body. Are you guys finished, or, I’m not sure how that works,” he said. She made a quick call and told him to wait for the lead detective in the case. He came down momentarily.

              “Sorry to bother you, I just need to know how to handle the body, for the funeral?” Tommy asked awkwardly.

              “Well, this appears to be murder, but we won’t know for maybe twenty-four hours, then we’ll need to see about any forensics we can, uh, get from the body,” he explained delicately.

              “How long will that take? Her sister is probably going to have to fly back to her parents, arrange for the funeral,” Tommy guessed. He really didn’t know what Viviana’s plans were.

              “I can only guess, but based on a first-pass check, I don’t think we’ll need it for more than forty-eight. Tell, uh…” He paused, embarrassed.

              “Viviana. Viviana Berg,” Tommy said.

              “Yes, sorry. Tell Miss Berg that we can coordinate with whatever funeral home she chooses, and it shouldn’t be more than a couple days,” he explained.

Tommy thanked him and went back upstairs, where Viviana was still sitting and staring off into space.

              “Come on, I’ll take you home,” he said, startling her.

              “What should I tell them?” she asked back in her apartment.

              “Just tell them what happened. She came out to meet somebody, you don’t know who, and she was going to meet with you afterwards. Then the police found her, and now they’re looking for whoever did this,” he said slowly.

She nodded. He stood behind her, hands on her shoulders, while she sat and called her parents. It didn’t sound like they had much to say. She did most of the talking. After that she called Bradley, explained she would be out for a week. After she’d made both calls, Tommy walked with her to her couch, where they sat together for several minutes.

              “This is my fault,” she said, finally breaking the silence.

              “Nonsense,” Tommy said strongly. “How can you say that?”

              “I don’t know. Maybe if I forced her to take money or talked her into going to school here and living with me,” she said.

              “She wouldn’t have done that, nobody can predict the future,” Tommy said, wondering if even he believed that. Who was he to talk? He still held a grudge that was over fifteen years old.

              “I’m sorry; do you need to go to work or something?” she asked, looking at him.

              “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I’m going to be here when you get back. I’ll help you get through this, I promise,” he said. “OK?” She nodded. He waited while she packed her things, and then took her to the airport. Parked in the parking structure and walked with her to the security screening.

              “Call me when you get there, and any other time you need to talk, OK?” he said before giving her a hug goodbye. She nodded, and turned to go through the gate. Tommy stood watching until she was out of sight. Back in his car, he made a call.             

              “Mr. Shea, please,” Tommy asked.

              “I’m sorry but he is unavailable, may I leave him a message?” she asked politely.

              “This is Thomas Ricker. I was calling to accept the offer Mr. Shea extended to me. This is the only number I have,” Tommy said.

              “Oh, Mr. Ricker, that’s splendid. He was hoping you would call. Unfortunately, Mr. Shea is frequently unavailable, so I’ll be handling all of the details of your employment. When would you be available to start?” she asked.

Tommy paused only slightly. They were expecting him to bolt at any time from the restaurant, so he didn’t feel any obligation give a lot of notice. He also didn’t feel like taking any time off.

              “Tomorrow, if that’s OK,” he said.

              “That’s perfect. Just come to the same place where we had the screening interviews, and we’ll get you set up. Welcome aboard, Mr. Ricker,” she said.

Tommy thanked her and drove home. He felt a little better, but not much. This wasn’t how he expected to celebrate his first real job out of university. Driving home alone to his drunk dad whom he avoided as much as possible, while the girl he was falling for was flying home to explain why her sister was found naked and dead.

              He didn’t know what to wear, so he wore the same suit he’d interviewed in. Same white button-down shirt but a different color tie. Hopefully they wouldn’t notice. If Shea had been honest about his salary, then he’d be buying a lot of new things soon.

              “Hello, Mr. Ricker, thank you so much for accepting,” Cristina Robson said, standing and extending her hand as soon as Tommy walked in.

              “Thank, you, Miss Robson,” he said, noting how much friendlier she was than in the screening interviews.

              “Please, call me Cristina,” she said. “This will actually be your office.” She motioned to where the pre-screening applicants had sat and waited for their turn. Tommy looked around. There was a receptionist desk in front, and space for about fifteen chairs, no tables. Behind the receptionist desk was the large office where Christina had talked to him before.

              “All mine?” Tommy asked.

              “Yes. Mr. Shea did say you would be largely on your own, strategy wise, correct?”

              “Yes, that’s correct. He said the main task would be the acquisition of several properties, but the details would be up to me,” he answered.             

              “Well, the office layout, I’m afraid, is up to you as well. This back office will be yours. Right now all that’s there are all of the documents pertaining to your employment, several tax forms you’ll need to fill out. But once that’s complete, you can proceed as you wish. Use this office however you’d like, and there are details of your operating budget, for whatever assistants or support staff you may need,” she explained.

              “And you will be?” Tommy asked.

              “Oh, I’m sorry. Mr. Shea only brought me here to secure this position. Once you’re up and running, I’ll be going back to Virginia,” she explained.

Tommy nodded and went into his new office. Thumbed through a stack of papers. Everything was just like Shea said. Salary, commission structure, the parameters of whatever deals he wanted to make with the homeowners. And an operating budget of half a million dollars a year. With that he could hire a couple of research assistants, get a state-of-the-art computer system in here, and who knows what else. This might not be so bad after all.

              Maxwell Emerson walked carefully through the mall. He’d arranged to meet her here, but there were far too many surveillance cameras. They were scheduled to meet at noon, but he’d been here since eleven, carefully walking around, trying to find the ideal location. The south entrance, which exited through the large bookstore, had two large blind spots. It would be possible to meet her in the bookstore, and then walk out with her to the car. He was dressed in a plain gray suit, and had taken several hours that morning to have his hair temporarily altered from the close-cropped jet black to slightly unkempt gray. He was of above average height and had a strong physical presence, so if he was seen on security footage, which was a high probability, he had to take great measures to avoid identification. When he was sure he could handle all contingencies, he sent her a text.

              “I’m in the bookstore. Gray suit. Gray hair,” he sent, and waited.

              “Where?” came the reply a few minutes later. She was likely approaching, and perhaps even in the bookstore. He didn’t look around, as he didn’t want to give the cameras a shot of his face. When she approached him, he would look specifically in a direction away from the cameras.

              “Travel section,” he responded. He’d spent the last several weeks reeling her in after she’d replied to a Craigslist advertisement looking for models. She’d been wary at first, not wanting to send photos. But once he’d sent her several prepaid gift cards through the mail worth several hundred dollars, she’d relented with a few head shots. Then he began spinning the tale of who he was, and who he represented.

              “Mr. Wallace?” she asked shyly, coming up beside him, standing a few feet away. He looked at her; very pretty. The boys must go crazy for her at school.

              “Hailee, thank you for coming. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, extending his hand. She shook it briefly. He could tell she was still a little nervous. “Would you like to go somewhere else to discuss this?” he asked. “You said you wanted to keep this a secret from your parents,” he reminded her.

              “I have pepper spray,” she said cautiously.

              “Good for you. Please use it if you need to. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you,” he said calmly. “Now, if you’d like to follow me we can discuss business,” he said plainly. She followed him out into the parking lot. He paused as they passed his car.

              “This is my car, and I’d like to take you to the location now, or we could have a cup of coffee and discuss this further,” he said, motioning to the small restaurant in the corner of the parking lot.

              “Is there anybody else in the car?” she asked.

He smiled and shook his head. Opened the door and rolled all the windows down.

              “We can sit in the back to discuss the details, and you can hold your pepper spray out just in case,” he said, smiling. “But as I mentioned before, if you agree to our terms, you will be paid up front.” He patted his pocket. After a moment’s thought, she got into the back seat. He sat opposite her.

              “As you know, we are looking for young models for a European designer. In Europe the age of consent is only sixteen, so you don’t need your parents’ permission. The photo shoot will take two to three hours. You will meet with Mr. Jacobson, the U.S. representative of the designer. The photo shoot is non-nude, and you will be wearing mostly evening dresses. I’ll have you back here by six PM today,” Max explained, repeating the highlights of what he’d carefully explained to her via email over the past several weeks.

              “And the pay?” she asked, eyes bright.

              “Five thousand dollars cash,” he said, and pulled out a white envelope. “All you need to do is sign this release, which gives us the right to use your pictures however we like, and the money is yours,” he said, smiling. He pulled out a model release form, accurate down to the finest detail. She looked over it quickly, and signed at the bottom. He took it back and handed her the envelope of cash.

              “Now, if you’ll just relax, there are some refreshments in the small refrigerator here, and I’ll have you at the studio within an hour,” Max explained. She nodded, and Max went around to the front. As soon as he’d started the car, he activated the internal cell signal scrambling device. Her phone would appear normal, but any incoming calls would be dropped, and her GPS signal would not be traceable. The windows in back were tinted, so it would be difficult for her to realize where they were going. The only troublesome spot was the small gated entrance to an unmarked access road to Shea’s property. After that he would pull into an underground garage. From there it would be exactly as she’d expected.

When they arrived, he opened the door for her, and she excitedly got out.

              “I’m afraid you won’t be able to take any pictures, but once the photo shoot is publicized, you will receive a copy,” he explained. She nodded, excited. Max walked her to the elevator, which took her up to a small room with two sofas and a wet bar. She was told to wait for Mr. Jacobson, who would arrive shortly. Once she seemed to be calm and relaxed, Max left her alone.

              “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” Shea said as he entered. “Wow, you are pretty, they are going to love you in Europe,” he said, standing and admiring her.

              “Thank you,” she said timidly.

              “Here, let me get you something to drink” he said, going behind the bar. He came back with two glasses of sparkling cider.

              “Don’t worry, no alcohol. You Americans don’t drink until you’re twenty-one right?” he said, wondering if she would ask why he didn’t have an accent.

              “That’s right, but a lot of people do anyway,” she said, sipping the cider.

Shea relaxed into the sofa opposite her. Asked her about her classes. Whether or not she had a boyfriend. Whether or not she used drugs, but was certain she didn’t. Shea was specific with Max. They had to be clean, no alcohol, and no drugs. Max understood that while they would certainly lie, especially with five grand on the line, he would receive a $50,000 bonus if they were true virgins. That would be determined later by Shea himself. But for now, his only priority was keeping her calm and relaxed. Until the drug took effect, and she passed into a relaxed, happy, and blissful sleep. And nobody she knew would ever see her again.