Ruthless (6 page)

CHAPTER 19

“Alton!” cried Mallory, now running through the house. She burst into the back yard and saw him calmly talking on his cell phone.

“Hi, Mallory,” he said. Noticing her wide eyes and accelerated respiration, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

With a look of relief spreading across her face, she replied, “What are you doing out here?  You had me worried.”

Covering the mouthpiece, he whispered, “I can’t get a good signal inside, so I had to come out here to talk. I’ll be done in a minute.”

True to his word, he quickly finished the call. 

“I’m sorry I scared you. It didn’t even occur to me you’d be worried when I wasn’t inside, but I should have anticipated that.” He put his arms around her. “Will you be angry if I tell you it felt kind of good to see your reaction just now—not seeing you worried, of course, but rather seeing how much you care?”

She picked at a button on his polo as he held her close. “No, of course it doesn’t bother me. And you’re right. I do care.” Her expression changed to one of vague concern. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Alton hugged her once again. “So, did you have a nice trip to the store? I hope my sisters didn’t talk your ear off.”

“Yeah—it was a good trip. I love them. They’re big fans of yours, you know. And I learned about Ruso,” she said with a laugh. Glancing around her shoulders, she continued, “I talked with Stewart while they were in the store. Is this a good time to debrief you and Chelsea on the latest progress?”

“Sure, let me go find her.”

To avoid upsetting the members of Alton’s family with the somber topic of their discussion, Alton, Mallory, and Chelsea met out of earshot in the back yard.

“So, what’s the latest?” asked Alton.

“Unfortunately, the Organized Crime Division hasn’t made much progress.” Mallory described Ortega’s visit to Doug Mancini’s bungalow. “After spotting the airline boarding pass, Ortega has been trying to track down Doug Mancini’s itinerary, but she hasn’t discovered it yet.”

“Couldn’t they simply review the airlines’ passenger manifests?” asked Chelsea.

“They did. Not surprisingly, Doug’s name didn’t appear. That’s not unusual. The mob is pretty skilled at forging documents. A well-made counterfeit passport would be sufficient to board a flight under an assumed name. The Los Angeles FBI office is working that lead and trailing Doug’s current movements. Other than that, they’ve hit a dead end.”

“Surely the circumstantial evidence has to point to a homicide either carried out—or at least commissioned—by the Mancini family,” said Alton.

“Yes, but as you said, it’s circumstantial. There’s no direct, forensic evidence to link a member of the family back to either crime. Unfortunately, that’s not unusual, either. The mob is good at covering their tracks, which leads me to my next point.

“On one hand, the Mancini family knows it’s being watched, so it has to be very careful to at least
appear
to conform to the law. On the other hand, if the family’s leaders believe we’re getting too close to the truth, they may consider a strike at a potential witness a less risky strategy than doing nothing.”

“A ‘fight or flight’ reaction, huh?” asked Alton.

“Yes, and that means that we have to continue to be on our guard. The Los Angeles FBI office will keep tracking the Mancini’s movements, but if the family has gotten away with murder twice, we have to assume they may try to get away with it again if it could silence someone—like Chelsea—who they believe could turn state’s evidence against them.” 

“So it doesn’t matter that I don’t know anything,” said Chelsea. “They’d kill me just to be sure.”

“Yes, it’s a possibility,” replied Mallory, “so stay on your toes.”

When they returned inside, Mallory asked Ruth, “Do you know what your bird said to me a few minutes ago? ‘And then you die!’ It scared me half to death.”

Ruth broke down into giggles. “That’s from the story I’m writing. Every bad guy has to say that at some point.”

“I see. Next time, can you write about rainbows or unicorns or boyfriends? At least until I leave?”

CHAPTER 20

While Alton and Chelsea resumed work on their respective Kruptos projects, Mallory found Gail relaxing in a rocking chair on the front porch and sat down in a second one facing her.

“It must be nice to have Alton home,” said Mallory.

“Yes, it’s wonderful, of course. I can see you’ve made a change in him, my dear.”

“Really? What kind?”

“I don’t need to tell you that Alton isn’t very demonstrative. I mentioned yesterday that he liked the woods as a youngster. But even in his teens, he still enjoyed his solitude at times. He liked to relax by going out to the back yard or in the forest to read or study.

“He has strong, passionate feelings, but he’s always kept them buried under the surface. You don’t see them come out very often, not at their full strength, at least. It seems to me, Mallory, that you’re more inclined to express yourself openly, and my impression is that Alton is opening up more than he used to. I attribute that to your influence.”

Sweeping her mind across the past nine months, and remembering Alton’s declaration of love back in her hospital room, Mallory replied, “Yes, now that you mention it, he does open up more now than when I first got to know him back in Afghanistan. It’s still not very often, but when he does open up, he’s very eloquent—maybe even a bit old-fashioned.”

“You have me to blame for that,” said Gail, smiling. “I got him hooked on the Victorian classics at a young age—Dickens, Austen, the Brontë sisters. He took all those books to heart, their messages of honor and fidelity and good triumphing over evil…and of love, of course.”

“Speaking of fidelity, Kayla told me about Sheila, Alton’s high-school sweetheart. It sounded like that was a tough breakup.”

“Yes,” said Gail with a sigh. “He took it pretty hard. From the ideas espoused in the books he loved, Alton had formed strong ideas about love and honor. That’s not unusual, you know. I find that high-school students can be some of the most idealistic people…in a good way. When Sheila broke it off with him, the ideals Alton had formed took a blow. The break-up left him wondering what he lacked. I told him it was Sheila, not him, but I’m not sure he ever believed me.”

“So what happened to Sheila? Does she still live in Tifton?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. She ended up marrying the quarterback right out of high school. A few years later, they divorced. I guess there’s more to picking a good husband than finding a guy who can throw the game-winning touchdown, huh?”

A few minutes later, Alton and Chelsea joined them on the porch. Chelsea asked Gail a few details about Alton’s younger years, and Gail provided an overview of the hardships he had overcome to help his family and attend college. Mallory noticed Chelsea patting Alton on the arm sympathetically at times during the narrative.

“It seems like after all the stuff that happened when he was a kid, Alton has been pretty lucky since then,” said Chelsea.

“To some extent, yes,” replied Gail, “but frankly, hard work—especially towards specific goals—is more important than luck. Or, as Alton likes to quote, ‘luck favors the prepared.’”

Kayla walked onto the porch. “Chelsea, a man called for you just now.”

“For me? Did he leave a message?” ask Chelsea.

“No, he said he’d try again later…and that it would be a surprise.”

Mallory and Alton had just enough time to trade worried glances before Chelsea’s cell phone rang.

CHAPTER 21

“Put it on speaker,” said Alton.

Chelsea nodded and answered, “Hello?”

“Chelsea, this is Mr. Lewis. I’m glad I finally got a hold of you. I tried your cell and it went straight to voice mail. Then I tried the land-line number you gave me and got some kid.” The relief Chelsea seemed to feel in recognizing the voice as her manager’s soon gave way to irritation, the reaction an unanticipated weekend call from one’s boss is likely to produce. It was a surprise all right.

“Hi, Mr. Lewis. Yes, the cell reception in the house is hit and miss, but I’m outside now. What’s up?”

“I reviewed your request to take some time off. I’d like to say yes, but our backs are already up against the wall to hit our project deadline. If we lose one of our key programmers for a week or two, I can’t see how we’ll ever make it on time. I’m sorry, but I’ll need you to come back to the office on Monday.”

“Mr. Lewis, I understand what you’re saying, but I’m already four hours away from Alpharetta. Can I work from here for the next week or so? I’m with…some friends.” She smiled at Alton.

“Let me check the project schedule,” replied Lewis. They could hear the clatter of typing on a keyboard. “I’m fine with your remote work arrangement for Monday and Tuesday, but Wednesday is our team roundtable. We’ll be discussing the beta test results. I’ll need you here in the office for that.”

“Okay. Thanks for the extra days, Mr. Lewis,” said Chelsea. “I’ll see you then.”

After she hung up, Alton asked, “Is this really a good idea—going back to work? Doesn’t this put you right back in the path of danger?”

“Assuming I live through this, I still need a job. You either play by Mr. Lewis’s rules, or you don’t play at all—at least not at Kruptos.”

“What’s with the ‘Mr. Lewis’? Since when did we start using formal titles at work?”

“Since
Mr. Lewis
set his sights on making VP,” said Chelsea with a roll of her eyes.

“This is a bad idea,” said Alton, “but if we’re going to go back to Alpharetta, we’ll at least need to devise a plan to keep you safe until the culprits behind Jay and Louise’s murders are caught.”

With a thoughtful look, Chelsea asked, “What if I had a bodyguard? Maybe an ex-soldier who would stay with me until the FBI cracks the case?”

It wasn’t exactly what Alton had in mind, but he saw no way out of it. He had raised the safety concerns himself.

“Sure.” He glanced at Mallory, but she was looking out the window. “Can we wait until Tuesday afternoon to return?  That would give me more time with my family.”

“Of course. I already told Mr. Lewis I’d work from here through then anyway.”

Buster wandered up to them, wagging his tail.

“Does your apartment complex allow dogs?” asked Alton.

“No,” said Chelsea, “but maybe we can sneak him in.”

“No, that’s okay,” said Alton. “I’ll just bring him back to my place. He loves it there, anyway, don’t you, Buster?”  Buster wagged his tail harder as Alton scratched him behind his ears.

Alton walked over to Mallory. “Would you like to take a walk with me?”

Although she agreed, Mallory appeared ill at ease.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the gentle breeze and verdant colors of the bucolic lane.

Alton broke the silence. “I wanted to talk with you alone. You understand that I’m just helping a friend in need, right? I’m not thrilled about this arrangement, but we both believe Chelsea may very well be in danger. I wouldn’t feel right refusing her request for help.”

“I understand, Alton.” She appeared to be on the verge of making one of her teasing remarks but remained silent. She didn’t seem to have the spirit for it.

“Can you come to Atlanta?” asked Alton. “I know it’s not what we planned, but I’d still like to spend the time together since you’ve already taken the days off.”

“Sure,” replied Mallory. She smiled wanly, but a troubled look clouded her eyes.

The remaining days in Tifton flew by. Alton, Mallory, Chelsea, and the other members of the Blackwell family passed the time in those happy pursuits—sharing cherished family stories, paging through yellowed photo albums, visiting old haunts—that in their own, quiet way, constitute some of life’s most pleasant moments.

All too soon, Alton, Mallory, and Chelsea found themselves on the road back to Alpharetta. Mallory had returned her rental car and rode with the others on the bright, crisp morning.

Alton concentrated on sounding nonchalant. “Say, Chelsea,” he asked, “you don’t mind if we make a detour to the airport, do you? I promised a couple of friends I’d pick them up.”

“No—not at all,” replied Chelsea.

Upon approaching Atlanta, Alton proceeded directly to the airport. Once inside the main terminal, he studied the “Arrivals” board and announced, “It says his flight is on time. Next stop: the main subway escalator. He’s arriving in concourse A in about thirty minutes, and he’ll have to come up the escalator to leave.”

The trio made their way to the appointed spot and positioned themselves behind the security line.

Mallory leaned over to her companions. “Excuse me a minute. I’m going to go freshen up.” She smiled knowingly at Alton.

A few minutes later, David’s familiar countenance appeared. He seemed to levitate as the escalator lifted him up.

“David!” called Alton, waving to get his friend’s attention. The former brothers-in-arms shook hands and then embraced.

“Good flight?” asked Alton.

David shrugged. “A little turbulence, but nothing too bad.”

Alton introduced Chelsea to David, whose eyebrows stayed in a raised position for a good quarter minute. Based on David’s previously rambunctious behavior in Gandamak’s Lodge, the friends’ haunt back in Kabul, Alton half-expected his friend to let a flirtatious comment or two escape, but David played the part of a perfect gentleman. He seemed truly oblivious to Chelsea’s charms. Alton observed his friend’s newfound diplomacy with quiet satisfaction.

After the introductions, Chelsea activated her phone and began checking e-mail.

Alton leaned over to David. “Say, you’re okay with waiting a few minutes for Mallory’s flight, right?”

“Yeah—sure,” replied David. “That’s why I took this later flight. You told me she’d arrive at about seven, right?” He smiled and appeared to reflect on the past. “It’ll be good to see her again. You’d think with both of us working in Washington, we’d get together a lot, but it never works out that way. Other than the times you and she have come over to dad’s place, I don’t think I’ve seen her since the month after all that Rabinil stuff went down.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that. In any case, thanks for waiting. It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“I can’t believe it’s already been three years since you guys met,” said David. “It seems like just a few months ago. You know, giving her this surprise party is a great idea. She’ll appreciate it.”

Alton forced himself to suppress a wicked grin. “Yes—I concur,” he said with as innocent an expression as he could muster.

Alton opened his phone and prepared a brief text message. Keeping his eyes glued to the escalator, he kept his finger poised above the “send” icon. After a few minutes, a familiar figure caught his eye. Alton sent his text message and waited for events to unfold.

David had just glanced down at his phone. Alton elbowed him and said, “Hey, there she is.”

As David raised his gaze, his pleasant smile transformed into an expression of utter astonishment. “Oh my God…”

As the escalator continued to scroll upwards, the lovely visage of Fahima rose into view. When her gaze alighted on her fiancée, Fahima’s dazzling smile seemed to illuminate the foyer, lifting the normally-mundane space to sacred heights in the eyes of the two so long separated.

As the last traveler in front of Fahima stepped clear of the escalator, she ran forward and fell into David’s arms, embracing him with a strength suggesting she might never release her grip. David in turn clasped his beloved with an equal tenacity. For the first time in his experience, Alton witnessed David weep, silent tears of joy running down his friend’s face.

Having received Alton’s message, Mallory emerged from hiding and rejoined the group. For the second time, she and Alton rejoiced in the reunion of their two friends, the first instance occurring in Afghanistan two years earlier, the second here in the terminal. As before, Fahima had been aware of the impending meeting but David had not.

David and Fahima eventually regained their composure, and Alton gently pulled them over to a wall to avoid the crush of travelers who continued to stream from the airport’s subway system.

Expanding the focus of his attention to include a bit more of the world besides Fahima, David started in surprise. “Mallory!” he exclaimed. “You’re already here? When did you arrive?”

Mallory grinned mischievously. “Um…I flew into Georgia four days ago.”

“What?” David tilted his head in surprise.

“I’ve been around the corner over there for the last few minutes, waiting for Fahima to arrive.” Seeing David’s puzzled expression, she continued, “We had to have an excuse to keep you at the airport until Fahima showed up. Alton thought up the idea of the three-year reunion so you all would ‘wait’ for me.”

“You guys…” David shook his head, overwhelmed with unanticipated joy. He turned to Fahima and hugged her once again.

“Surprised?” asked Alton, wearing a face-splitting grin.

“Dude, I was so flashing back to the time Fahima escaped from those Al-Qaeda creeps!”

“That’s what gave me the idea,” admitted Alton. “The day you saw Fahima freed was the happiest I’ve ever seen you. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to stage a repeat performance.” Back in Kabul, Alton had enlisted the aid of his young friend Mastana and an Al-Qaeda double-agent to free Fahima from the clutches of a band of terrorists. Like today, David had been caught off guard by Fahima’s sudden appearance.

David shook his head. “You never cease to amaze me. So…how in the hell did Fahima get here?” A sudden look of concern flashed across his face. “She’s not here illegally, is she?”

Alton laughed. “No—she’s perfectly legal. I’ll explain everything in the car. But first, let’s go pick up your luggage…and hers.”