Covert Reich (25 page)

Kelly didn’t respond. Her mind was racing. The girls who had come into the hospital were minorities. The idea of actually murdering minorities simply because they were a minority seemed far-fetched, but seeing the blatant racism standing in front of her, it was also oddly plausible. “Okay. I get it,” she said. “Maybe this whole thing is race motivated. But what do we do now?”

“Go have a drink and figure it out.”

They walked up to Powell and Market and caught a cable car to Fisherman’s Wharf. “Might as well do the tourist thing while you’re here,” Julio quipped with a smile. They jumped off at the end of the line and walked half a block to the Buena Vista Café.

The old-fashioned bar had a cozy, warm vibe that instantly cheered Kelly. She removed the wool pea coat Julio lent her. He took off his coat and placed them both on a nearby coat rack. They tried to find a place to sit at the crowded bar.

“Is it always like this?” Kelly yelled above the din.

“Always,” he replied.

They squeezed through a mass of people and by sheer luck, found a young couple standing up to leave. Julio sat down and placed his hand on the stool next to him. Kelly sat on the leather seat and swung herself around to take in the ambience. She liked it. There were groups of people sitting at various round tables, chatting. The walls were lined with walnut and painted in green trim. Everyone appeared to be drinking Irish coffees. The bartenders were expertly mixing the drinks and sending them hurtling down the bar at patrons. Julio ordered two. He winked at Kelly. “It’s what they’re famous for.”“I sort of got that.”

The coffees came and after a few sips, she felt noticeably more relaxed. Kelly decided to dive into the deep end. “You think there is some kind of conspiracy to wipe out pregnant minorities?”

“I think when you want to destroy a group of people, the easiest, most vulnerable targets are young women and children. And by starting with pregnant women…” he shrugged. “Well, yes, I think it is plausible.”

“But a government thing?
It just sounds so…well…crazy.”

“We are headed into an election year, my friend, and many have not been happy with the current administration. On top of that, lots of people feel the country has gotten too liberal, bordering on socialist.”

“Okay, but there’s a big jump from not liking liberals to killing off entire groups of people simply because they’re minorities.”

He nodded. “Maybe. Maybe not. What you think looks like basic civil liberties, may look like communism to an extremist. And as we’ve seen here…people with extreme viewpoints don’t seem to have a problem sharing it publicly. The anger is palpable. It doesn’t take much to imagine someone taking the obvious next step.”

“You think we have people in Congress or the senate who are that extreme?”

He smiled sadly at her. “I have a difficult time imagining
any
politician fundamentally believes in any one philosophy. They seem to go whichever way the wind blows. However, if more and more of your constituents seem to be spewing anti-immigration rhetoric and expressing a desire to return to the “good, old days”, you’ll give them what they want, especially during an election year like this one.” He took a long sip from his coffee.

“So what do we do now?” she said. “I mean, we’re still talking about “what if” but we don’t have any proof, any leads…just a growing body count and some creep chasing me around the streets of L.A.”

“We start with the missing doctors. You said one of them was in the Caymans?”

“Yes, Dr. Brightman.”

“Okay. You feel like taking a quick trip to the Caribbean?”

Kelly laughed out loud, “What? Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“Wow. Okay then.” She cocked her head to the side. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because Eric said you needed help and I’ll do anything for a close friend. Also, I don’t like the sound of this business. If I can remove some more assholes from this planet and help restore the balance, I’ll do what it takes.”

“You’re a good guy, Julio. A hero.”

“Nah, just a guy who wants to get the bad guys.
You game?”

“When do we leave?”

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

Since hanging up from her chat with Jeanine Horner, Gem had been busy gathering information. She had immediately Googled Melanie Schneider plus murder. A handful of stories popped up.

The New Jersey Centennial read:

Local Mother Murdered in Cold Blood, Baby Abducted

Melanie Schneider (38) was found shot to death outside her home in Bergen County this evening. Her nine-month old son Oliver Schneider is missing and believed to be with her long-time friend, Jeanine Horner, of Balkinese, Germany according to Mrs. Schneider’s husband, Robert. The two women were spotted having dinner at The Franciscan Country Club earlier and left together. Police believe Horner was involved in a plot to murder Mrs. Schneider and abduct the child. A search is underway for Horner who is also traveling with her twin daughters. Her husband, Dr. Ryan Horner, has not been reached. Police are also looking into the possibility of another assailant who helped Horner.

Gem had sat back in her chair as if sucker punched, shaking her head. Holy God, what a mess. What in the hell is going on?

Think. Think. Think. She leaned back over the desk and Googled Frauen Pharmaceuticals, then Peter Redding, and finally now—after two hours—she once more opened her file on the Petersen case, and started to connect the dots.

When Gem finally looked up from her computer screen and saw the darkened hall, she felt momentarily uncomfortable. No wonder, considering all she’d been involved with lately. Thankfully she wasn’t completely alone…she could still hear the janitorial service cleaning the office next door.

Gem leaned back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the facts swimming around in her head. Dr. Hamilton had been murdered in cold blood. He’d also had a grant funded by Craig Johnson. Craig Johnson hung himself on his yacht two days prior. Her neighbor, Chad Wentworth—nephew to Senator Wentworth—shot himself the same night as Johnson’s suicide. Johnson and Chad Wentworth shared the same radical views. Wentworth and his high-brow, white cronies apparently hung out at an estate out in the boonies doing who knows what.

A week ago she’d received an e-mail from Chemmadderhorn telling her to keep an eye on her neighbor. Now, Chemmadderhorn’s wife, Jeanine Horner, tells her his real name is Dr. Ryan Horner. The woman claims she is on the run and her friend Melanie Schneider has been murdered. Okay, confirmed. The original e-mail also mentioned the horrific Petersen murders.

Damn. Dr. Ryan Horner…her brain was searching memory bank because she knew she’d heard the name before.

Details.

Gem took a swig of her cold coffee and rubbed her tired eyes.

And now, the kicker.
Peter Redding and Frauen Pharmaceuticals. The one thing she could find on Redding was he owned the private pharma company that mainly produced products for women…pre-natal vitamins, meds for menopause, an anti-anxiety med, a med for depression. Frauen Pharma’s returns were good. They’d shown high profits for the past five years.

The one tie-in she’d found to bring this whole thing together was Redding was a major supporter and contributor to Senator Wentworth’s campaign.

There were two things Gem needed to do. One was fill Pazzini in on what she’d learned, and then find Jeanine Horner. Because Gem had the distinct feeling Mrs. Horner was in serious danger.

As for Dr. Ryan Horner who called himself Chemmadderhorn there was not much on him at all. He’s a chemist, as his wife had said, and works for Frauen. Then it hit her. That detail part of her brain. She remembered exactly who
the chemist
was and where she had met him—in that town car, three years ago just after The Petersens’ murders, in front of her townhouse. In front of Chad Wentworth’s townhouse. Jesus! What was going on here?

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

Redding reached across the bed and twirled Susan’s long blonde hair between his fingers. She was glorious. And she had been pivotal in moving the Covert Reich Project forward. Funny how things have a way of working out. Who would have ever thought meeting Susan Hamilton at a bar after an argument with her then-husband would have worked to his benefit?

Susan rolled over onto her side and faced him. The fireplace in his room still crackled with the last embers. Susan had certainly done the job of alleviating his tension for the past few hours. She propped herself up on the pillow. “You know it’s been a lovely evening, Peter, but we need to talk.”

“I say we talk over breakfast.” He reached his hand out and caressed her breasts.

She gently pushed his hands away. “No, this is important. That cop. That detective. Pazzini. He was at my house asking me and my daughter all sorts of questions. I’m afraid, Peter. I’m afraid he could tie us together and somehow discover I am an accomplice to Jake’s murder.”

“That won’t happen, Love. I’ll take care of him.” He kissed her lips hoping to quiet her.

“How do I know that?”

He sat up now. “Because you trust me. We have a relationship based on trust.”

“Yes well, I want more. I’m no longer content with being your convenient fuck buddy. Jake is dead. The cops are on me and I want them off because I plan to move into this house with you.”

“Excuse me?” Redding said.

“You heard me. I’m done being ignored until you need something from me, especially sex. You’re not going to get the milk for free any longer.”

A wicked smile spread across his face and he started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” She asked, pulling the sheets up around her bare chest.

“You, dear.
You’re hysterical.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. “I’m glad you think I’m keeping you entertained…but let me remind you, I’m the one who made this all possible. Without me, your little project would never have made it off the ground. If I don’t get what I want, there will be hell to pay.”

“You’re not only hysterical, Susan, but you’re delusional as well. I would think twice before you make threats toward me. I’d watch your step.

“Out of control?!
I am not out of control and I won’t allow you to continue to treat me like this. I demand respect from you, Peter.”

“Oh Susan.
You’re nothing but a whore who I used to help me get something accomplished. I appreciate your help. You’ve been compensated quite well, I might add. You’re lucky I remained interested in you after I got the information I needed about your ex. If I wanted you out of the picture, all it would take is a snap of my fingers and you’d be history. So let me give you a word of advice. Threats don’t work with me. If you don’t want to wind up in a plot next to your ex, you’d better be a good little whore and keep your mouth shut.”

Her eyes were wide with disbelief. “Sounds as if you’re threatening me now.”

“Simply stating a fact.”

“And what if your facts don’t impress me?”

“Then you’re being a fool.” Redding stood up and headed to the bathroom. On his way there he called back to her, “You know the way out, Susan.”

A few minutes later, Redding came out to find Susan still in his bed. “I told you to get out,” he said.

Tears were in her eyes. He sighed.

“I’m sorry, Peter. I am. I just panicked. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll do whatever you need me to do. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. How he hated groveling. Disgusting. And for a minute there, he’d been mildly impressed at the spine Susan appeared to have developed. He walked over to her and leaned down as if he was going to kiss her. She looked up at him with her big, tearful blue eyes. “I really am sorry, too.” He placed a hand on either side of her neck and then snapped it. Her eyes were wide with shock as she died within seconds.

God, he was tired of problems. At least Susan Hamilton wouldn’t pose one any longer. She should have left when he’d told her to.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

Ryan couldn’t believe it. He’d made it to Heathrow and so far no one seemed to be taking any notice of him. Now he needed to find a flight back to the States. He still had the hunting knife he’d bought at the pawn shop. He would have to get rid of it before going through security but until then, he thought it prudent to keep on hand.

He checked the flight schedules and saw one was leaving in two hours for Newark. It would take a miracle to get on that flight. He had to try though. It would get him to New Jersey by 3:00pm and if he made it through customs and rented a car, he could be with Jeanine and the kids by nightfall.

Of course those two hours would give Redding’s men two additional hours to find him in Europe. Once his name went onto a flight manifesto, it would raise certain flags. Ryan was not so naïve as to think Redding’s boys couldn’t find him anywhere at any time. They had means, methods, and more members than anyone imagined. But he had to take that risk.

The first thing Ryan did was head to the money exchange counter at the airport where he exchanged his spare Euros for Pounds to pay in cash for his ticket. Thank God he’d had the foresight to set a little cash aside every week for the last several months. But now he didn’t have much money left after the purchase, and he knew once he was in the States, he’d have to use his credit card. But at least he would be one step ahead of the game.

He walked toward the security line and then remembered the knife. Backing away, he headed in the other direction toward one of the airport pubs. Ryan walked into the men’s restroom towards a stall. He didn’t have much time since the security lines were long. He had to act fast.

There were a couple of men at the urinals. Ryan closed the stall door behind him. He opened up his backpack and reached in for the knife.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He hadn’t heard anything out of the ordinary but something didn’t feel right. Maybe he was being paranoid but better safe than sorry. Ryan grabbed the knife and put both feet on the toilet, raising himself just high enough to discretely peer over the stall door.