Authors: Taylor Andrews
Tags: #Women Sleuths, #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction, #Literary
"Wait a damn minute, Miss Finer-Than-Silk. What you want me to do with the package I just got?"
Adriana speaks in a hushed voice. "Move it at twenty percent discount. I'll be in touch when it snows in Denver." Adriana stands up and moves quickly out of the restaurant.
Reggie sits there, blown away by this chick, and says aloud, "Now isn't that a mother fucker."
***
Dana is sitting at the kitchen table with her dad, eating ice cream from the carton with her leg on another chair that she is sharing with her father as he sips scotch.
"I got real nasty with Matt today. I feel bad."
Her dad says, "We have two other attorneys trying to find out where they are holding David. I have his father on it from his end in Chicago, and Matthew has the head of his firm, Joe, the ex-DA, looking into it as well. I think this thing is a case of the whole damn world gone crazy."
She looks at her father. "Dad, how much did you have to spend with Matt and his firm to get us help?"
Her father says, "I called Matthew because you asked me to, and he was the closest to David and you, and I knew we needed someone that we could trust. When he answered the phone, I think I had interrupted him from a personal setting. It was late, but as soon as he heard what had happened, he said he would get right back to me. He called me back in about fifteen minutes and said he was getting in the shower and would let me know what he found out, and that he was going downtown. I said to him, 'What do you need to handle this matter?' He said, 'I just want to make it go away.' He told me not to worry; that you had already retained him." Her father looks at her with concern.
"Dana, why did you retain an attorney if you did not know anything about all of this, honey?"
She realizes where he is going with this. "Daddy, that was on a different matter not related to this craziness, and it wasn't criminal, for God's sakes."
Richard says, "Thank God, my mind was haunting me with fear that you had gotten yourself into something so bad and felt you could not come to me for help, and for the life of me, I hope you never feel that way, Dana."
She smiles. "You are my number-one go-to man for everything in my life Daddy, that will never change, I promise." Dana gets up to put the ice cream away and kisses her dad on the forehead as she sits back down. "What did David's father say about all this?"
He shakes his head. "Jerry was very quiet while I described to him what had happened here, and then he said to me, 'Richard, where is David?' I told him that I did not know; just that the FBI told me his son was also in custody and he asked me many questions. He then told me that he was going to call the law firm that handled all of his business and that he would provide any funds necessary. He then asked me if I thought this had anything to do with David being Jewish, and I told him I did not think so, but he seemed to have his own conclusion. I've talked to him three times since then, and he told me that he had a top guy out of Chicago retained, and that he was trying to find out what is going on, and where David is being held."
She stares at her father. "Daddy, you remember yesterday when we talked about being scared? I hope and pray the sun is planning on coming up tomorrow and the birds are going to sing."
***
Adriana arrives at her apartment and rushes to the elevator from the parking garage. The meeting with Reggie has sparked more fear in her. She enters her apartment and walks through, checking for any disruption or evidence of a search. Satisfied that her apartment is not compromised, Adriana pulls some bags from the hall closet, and throws them on her bed and unzips them.
She chooses items for her wardrobe carrier and shoes to match. She packs quickly as she pulls the drawers out of her dresser, removes three passports with credit cards and driver's licenses to match each passport that are taped to the bottom of a drawer, as she dumps the contents into a bag. She packs her lingerie and underwear, then zips the bags and sets them by the door. She goes to her desk in the living room and searches through a business card book and finds the ones she is looking for.
She dials a number as she looks at her watch. "Is this Carl Hauser? I'm sorry to disturb you so late this evening. This is Adriana Pucci, from the Pucci Ranch in Bozeman." She pauses as he acknowledges her. "Right, and you had contacted me several times, representing a buyer who was interested in my family's property. In addition, you told me if I ever changed my mind, to call you. Well, I have changed my mind, if your buyer is still interested and is willing to give a fair market value price. Yes, then I would be interested in closing as fast as possible."
She listens to the realtor, "Uh-huh. Yes, that is perfect. I will send you the information and my contact info and what title company I wish to use for the closing, and a power of attorney for signing on my behalf. By the way, what is your commission on a transaction like this? I see, would you come down a point since I'm just calling you exclusively? A half a point is fine. Please include that in the contract. Thank you Carl, good night."
Adriana snaps her phone shut and falls back on the bed as if crucified. A thought slams her mind: what if her phone is tapped, or tracked? Shit, she needs to change phones as soon as possible.
Her phone rings and she is startled, but she recognizes the ring tone and answers seductively. "How are we this evening?"
The man is sitting on the plane awaiting his car. "Are you angry with me for breaking our arrangements?"
She thinks of the two escorts and smiles.
"How could I be angry when you send me such wonderful gifts. I was just disappointed like a schoolgirl. I miss you."
The man answers Adriana, delighted by her response. "I promise, I will make it up to you."
"I will hold you to that promise, when will you make it up to me?"
"Can you get away next week, after the children are enrolled in their new school, maybe for a week or two?"
Adriana is relieved, but does not let on. "I will try, but must I wait a week after I tend to the children?"
"I'll tell you what, my darling. You can meet me where we watched the birds soar. They will be expecting you at your leisure. I will make all the arrangements and I will arrive as soon as I can if you so wish."
She senses something in his voice. "I adore your ways; a girl's wishes come true. I'll leave after the children are seen to. I cannot wait to see you."
Adriana hangs up, moves into the bathroom, and gathers her makeup and toiletries. She checks the apartment for anything she may have missed. She loads the elevator with her baggage and heads for another hotel; she will come back to tie up loose ends here later.
Chapter Eleven
David is sitting in the same interrogation room with his head now covered. His condition has diminished greatly. The concrete floor is now covered with his urine. His eyes are red from the tears and exhaustion. He tastes dried blood in his mouth as two other men dressed in fatigues are now conducting yet another more physical interrogation. There is a man dressed in a shirt and tie sitting in a dark corner of the room who has been silently observing the entire time, and leaving the room occasionally.
The CIA interrogator in fatigues grabs David by the hair and rips the hood off to keep him awake. "Bloomfield, open your eyes. There is no rest, and there will be no sleep. You understand me. You will share everything that you know and you will share it now." He pushes David over for the umpteenth time and kicks him in the ass.
David slides in the urine on the floor to the end of the chain, the handcuffs cutting into his wrists. "I do not know anything, and screw you. How can I tell you anything that I do not know? God, somebody help me."
The CIA interrogator leans down and pulls David's face to him. "Remember my face, David. I am trying to give you your last chance. You need to listen to me, you spineless, pathetic little worm. The president is considering sending all of you in custody to Guantanamo Bay or some other facility on foreign soil so we can take this party a step farther, for those of you who think that you cannot be persuaded to cooperate. Let me tell you, Mr. Enemy Combatant, once we have you there, you can kiss this world goodbye. You understand me, maggot?"
David begins to tremble. Then something, deep inside him explodes. "You cannot make me create shit in my head that does not exist. You should just chamber a round, and blow my brains all over this floor. Fuck you!"
The FBI agent sitting in the corner observing stands up and storms out, motioning to the two interrogators to the hallway as he exits.
Outside, the FBI agent spins around as they exit behind him. "I will not be part of this anymore. This man does not know anything; we have been at this for thirty-two hours. Jesus Christ, that is obvious as the moon in the sky. He has been violated way beyond repair here. Do you hear me? I will do what I have to. This interrogation stops now." The FBI agent places his hand on his sidearm.
The CIA interrogator stares at the FBI agent and shakes his head, implying that the agent is weak. He pulls an encrypted cell phone from his pocket, hits speed dial and places the phone to his ear, still staring into the agent's eyes.
It is twelve forty-five in the morning. Leo Matz has just arrived by chopper from the White House and is walking down the hallway in the Homeland Security headquarters with a file in his hand. His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he answers it. "This is Deuce."
The CIA interrogator turns from the FBI agent in the hallway. "Sir, this is Bull-Rider at location Falcon Three. The affiliates have problems with our methods, and frankly, we are flat here. Nothing is forthcoming. I call it a dead fish, sir, with no value."
Leo Matz snaps back, "Deuce calls the values, Bull-Rider. What method level did you achieve with the principle?"
"Level three, sir, and thirty-three hours, seventeen minutes to present duration, with three separate sessions."
Leo Matz enters the briefing room while still on the phone to his interrogator. "Deuce will hold you to your call, Bull-Rider. Move forward with other principles in custody, and conclude present interview at this time. Subject is to be segregated and healed, with no contact privileges, all other privileges restored to maintain subject's overall health."
"Roger that." The CIA interrogator turns to the FBI agent. "He's all yours Special Agent Torres, and he is to be segregated with privileges to maintain health only, but zero contact restriction applies, and we are out of here. We are heading to room six across the base, where maybe we will get something of value. We'll see you over there after you're done squaring Bloomfield away." The CIA guy smiles. "The poor guy looks tired. Take good care of him. He's got balls."
***
The room is buzzing with small talk in the early morning at Homeland Security as Leo Matz takes his seat. He wonders if the senators and the United States attorney general will show. They are not present, although the secretary of defense told him they would be at his meeting with the president earlier.
The phone buzzes and Karen Satriano clears the room of all aides and support staff before she answers. She hits the speaker as the room clears, "Yes?"
A voice fills into the room. "The attorney general is on his way in, Director Satriano."
Kevin Anderson, assistant director of the FBI, hears the voice on the speaker and adjusts himself for his boss's arrival.
The door opens and Robert Hastings, the United States attorney general, enters the room as Karen Satriano directs him to a seat and asks him if he would like coffee; she pours him a cup from the one of the decanters on the table.
The buzzer on the phone sounds again. Karen Satriano answers, and a voice announces, "Senators Rothstein and Donnelly are on their way in, Director Satriano."
The director of Homeland Security opens the door to greet them and direct them to their seats. Leo Matz studies the senators as their accommodations are met. He knows he needs to win their support and confidence. They hold the purse strings in their committees that will fund what he is about to propose. Otherwise, the money would have to come out of Pentagon defense funds, and he does not want to battle with the military machine of debate and opinion.
The phone buzzes and Karen answers. "No more calls."
The voice announces over the speaker, "Sorry, chief, but Steven Rafferty, the director of the Defense Intelligence Agency, is here for the briefing with clearance documents from the White House."
"Well, send him in." She glances at Leo and Kevin Anderson to see their reaction.
Leo maintains a nonchalant expression, but he is boiling internally as to why his ace in the hole is there. He and the secretary of defense had agreed to keep that agency separate as part of their internal political strategy.
Steven Rafferty enters the room and shoots a look toward Leo that unnerves him. Karen Satriano greets him like the others and then directs him to a seat at the table.
Karen Satriano calls the briefing to order and reads a brief presidential directive for the record. Leo assembles the large pile of files he was carrying and readies the copies for distribution as she speaks.
Karen Satriano knows that this could be the most important event in her lifetime, let alone her career. She addresses the powerhouse group assembled before her. "Thank you all for coming at such a late hour with short notice, gentleman. I wish this meeting were under different circumstances. We have a task before us that is unprecedented. The president has placed his confidence in each agency represented here today in cooperating in a joint effort to succeed in securing the territories of the United States, and to dismantle and crush the organizations responsible for the recent attacks and the mass murder of our citizens. The senators and the attorney general have just arrived from a briefing with the president and have asked to sit in with us and give their support. Leo Matz of the CIA will address the table first."