3 Lies (6 page)

The phone rang at Abe’s home in Boston. He returned there whenever the Supreme Court recessed. A woman answered.

“Hello. This is Clint Masters. I’d like to speak with His Honor, please.”

“One moment, sir.”

Clint hoisted himself up on the bar. Louie collapsed in a heap on the floor beside the exit and stretched his front paws out for a headrest.

“Mr. Masters. I’m sorry, His Honor is not available.”

“I see. Do you know when he might be?”

“I’m sorry, sir. That’s all the information I have at the moment.”

“Please let him know that I called. Thank you.”

His unrest ticked. No Beth. No Abe. Only Paige. And a baby.

Then there was Todd.

Paige said Todd wanted to talk to him. A familiar voice might give him some solace. Even if Todd was still pissed.

He dialed the office.

“Good morning. CatSat Laboratories. How may I direct your call?”

Todd tried to put in an automated system to answer their phones. Clint would never let him. A high-tech company in particular needed a human touch.

“Todd Westerfield, please.” Clint hopped down from the bar.

Louie’s lips fluttered as he snored.

“One moment, sir. I’ll put you through to his assistant.”

The music entertained him with a jazz version of
All of Me
. A smile sneaked across his face.

“Mr. Westerfield’s office. How may I help you?”

“Hey, Bren. How’re you doing, darling?”

“Clint?”

“Who else?”

Her voice rose two octaves in shrill excitement. He pulled the phone from his ear. She continued to prattle, but he kept the clamor at a distance until he knew his eardrum was safe.

“It’s good to hear your voice.” Clint paced the side of the bar as far as the cord would go. “I’m returning Todd’s call. Is he in?”

“Yes. Has the board tried to reach you?”

“Almost daily.”

“They’re getting nervous without you here to steer R&D. Todd’s a genius at public relations, but that’s not enough to keep them happy.”

“It’s only been three months.”

“And if you cared one whit about us, you’d come back today.” Her voice lowered. “Todd’s been in one long foul mood since you set sail. The board wants you back because you make them money. The rest of us just spend it.” She paused. “We miss you.”

He heard a sniff. Brenda’s sentiment was genuine and mutual.

“Thanks, Bren. I miss you too.”

“Enough of this, let me get Todd.”

The phone system played a marriage of strings and sax in
Just Friends
while he waited. Another of his imprints that remained on the place. The wailing sax riff soothed.

“Clint. You old rotter.”

Todd sounded cheerful. That was good. Bad humor only spread.

“I walked out on Senator Plendergraff to take your call.” Todd said.

“He’s still alive?”

“Spent an hour with him, and I’m still not sure.”

“Paige came by today.”

“Ahhh.” Todd’s voice trailed.

“Did she tell you she’s pregnant?” Clint landed on a barstool. He propped his feet on another chair.

“I guess that concludes the small talk.” Todd exhaled. “Yeah. She told me. She’s been dumping on me about you since we were eight. Seems it’s my burden in life. I did mention that her timing sucked.”

“You think?”

“I heard you were dating someone. Serious?”

Clint kicked at the carpet. Everyone asked him that. “Early. What about you? On the cover of a Hollywood rag with Emma Barnett? Do you even watch her TV show?”

If it didn’t entail technology, politics, or finance, Todd didn’t watch it. Even if he owned stock in the channel.

“I tried watching one episode, but I think I sprained something.”

“At least you made an effort.”

“I know a Russian banker that will love her. He doesn’t speak English. Hey, we need to talk. I’m coming by your tub tomorrow. What’s a good time?”

“I’m not coming back.”

“Even a rich guy like you needs a day job. What with a baby on the way.”

“Do you seriously think it’s mine?”

“Doubt, eh? I’m sure Paige was flattered.”

Clint leaned over to rub Louie. “C’mon. She left me long before she packed.”

“It’s a wonder you noticed. I’m still coming by tomorrow. What time?”

“You’re the one with the schedule. You tell me.”

“I’ve got an early meeting with a European ship builder. Call my cell midmorning. Or I can chuck a pigeon in the wind with a message strapped to his leg, if you prefer. Your choice.”

“I’ll call you, asshole.”

Clint hung up and checked the clock behind the bar. Eleven-thirty. He wandered back to the populated end of the bar for company, leaving Louie asleep on the floor. A retired Army oncologist with red hair kept company with several locals. They met here daily around noon though Clint never saw the ruddy doctor with any drink stronger than coffee. He greeted everyone and ordered an iced tea to kill some time.

He tried listening to the doctor regale the gathering, but his thoughts drifted. Made entirely of glass, the ocean-side wall encouraged drifting. The sun, at whatever wattage, was the only source of light. Today it hid under sparse cloud cover and arched toward a hazy peak.

He dug in his pocket for more change and walked back to the phone. He dropped the coins down the chute.

“The Melinger residence.”

The same woman answered as nearly an hour before. Beth once mentioned a full-time housekeeper. Apparently, Abe’s wife died ten years back.

“This is Clint Masters again. Is His Honor available yet?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Masters, but—”

He heard muffled talking on the other end, as if her hand were over the speaker.

“I beg your pardon, sir. His Honor will be right with you.”

No hold music on this phone. Too bad, jazz typically elevated his attitude.

“Clint. How are you?”

“I’m fine, sir. Thank you for taking my call. I—”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t get out on the bay today. I hear the fishing is spectacular this time of year. I would appreciate going boating with you.” Abe cleared his throat. “You know. Once Beth gets back.”

Clint flinched. “Excuse me?”

“Perhaps next month would be better. I’ve got a stack of briefs the size of Kilimanjaro to digest. You understand.”

“Yes. But.” His thoughts swirled. “Gets back. Back from where? Where did she go?”

“Oh? Didn’t she tell you?” Abe’s voice thinned. “Her cousin in, uh, San Diego had another baby, and she went out to stay for a few weeks. Beth wanted to give her cousin a hand around the house until she can manage on her own.”

Gone.

She left, and she didn’t call him. He found a barstool for support.

“I, no. I didn’t know she had a cousin in San Diego.” He groped for meaning. “When did she leave?”

“I’m not certain of all the details, but she got a call late last night and then left early this morning. It was all quite a rush. I’m sure she’ll contact you when she has some free time.”

“But what about her treatments. She’s supposed to have them three times a week. ”

“I’m sure she took her equipment.”

“No, sir, she didn’t. I saw Dracula in her living room. How—”

“She must have made arrangements for a machine in San Diego.”

When? When did she make arrangements? Time to book a flight and arrange for a portable dialysis machine. Time to talk to Abe. Time for everything except him.

“When did she call you, sir?”

“I’m sorry, Clint, but she can fill you in on the details.”

“It’s just that I’m a bit surprised she never told me about the trip to see her cousin. I’m sorry, sir.” He took control of his mounting anxiety. “Thank you for your time. I won’t keep you any longer.”

He expected a quick goodbye from Abe, but the silence lingered. Abe didn’t hang up. And Clint couldn’t. One didn’t hang up first on the Chief Justice of the United States. It wasn’t good form.

“You know, Clint—” Abe hesitated again.

He sounded exhausted. Even during recess, the Supreme Court Justices reviewed cases of national, global, and historical significance. Clint felt ashamed that he bothered a man of Abe’s stature with his trivial-by-comparison concerns over a missing girlfriend. He was also embarrassed at appearing so freakin’ needy.

“Beth is a very special young woman to me. My wife and I didn’t have children of our own, and Beth never met her father. While I was familiar with your name and reputation before you met my niece, it meant nothing to me personally.”

Clint sat up straight on the barstool.

“But it has become abundantly clear that Beth is quite fond of you. She holds you in the highest regard. Now that, that does mean something to me personally.”

Clint didn’t move, didn’t twitch, didn’t inhale.

“While it’s not exactly my business, it does seem that you have some consideration for her, and that pleases me.”

The silence expanded. Uneasiness of a different kind poured into his chest until it fairly burst. “Thank you, sir. I certainly agree that your niece is very special. Special to me.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He hoped it didn’t sound completely lame.

Abe cleared his throat again. “I’m sure she’ll reach you when she can. Her cousin has several other children and will likely keep her quite busy for a while. It may take her a bit to get back to you. But you’ll hang tight. Right?”

Clint felt the cautious intensity of Abe’s voice, the care inflected in his final word. It wasn’t a question or even a command. It was a plea.

The other reluctant guests that Amir collected from around the country waited on the open-bowed Grady White packed in ventilated dock boxes. Amir passed the last box to the other man aboard the skiff. It weighed very little compared to the other three.

About five miles offshore, a seventy-foot Hatteras motor yacht anchored in the surf. The smaller boat’s outboard chugged at ten knots against the incoming tide. When they arrived, the small boat’s pilot helped Amir unload the cargo onto the stern cockpit of the Hatteras before returning to shore. Jaman, still wearing his blue ski mask, came out to help Amir drag the heavy boxes up the five steps into the salon deck.

The fiberglass ship, built in 1974, recently enjoyed a major overhaul of the navigation and communications system, generators, the twin Detroit 675 HP diesel engines with electronic fuel injection, as well as new fuel tanks with a marked increase in range. From strategically placed cameras, the crew could watch the hostages in their cabins, or any vessel approaching the ship, via the onboard monitors while radar kept a constant sweep for any longer-range traffic. The retrofit cost more than the new yacht back in ‘74.

The attention and money plied in the tactical areas did not spill over into the living quarters. While the salon sported none of the sumptuous furnishings that yacht owners expect, utilitarian furniture abounded: folding chairs, lightweight tables, cots, even a few sturdy couches. Non-essential windows wore black in permanent mourning. Covers could be battened over all the other windows for a complete ship blackout. Though upgraded with a microwave and new appliances, the original galley remained. Comfort be damned. This ship prepared only for duty.

Salif met them in the salon. “The doctor is on his way to check the latest delivery. We have a full house now, gentlemen.”

Amir opened the first white box. “We encountered a complication.”

The men looked down at the tiny girl. Amir collected her from the box and laid her on a cot. His large fingers searched her neck for a pulse.

Salif’s eyes flashed. “What happened?”

“The intelligence was inadequate. We were lucky to bring her. The target was armed. I neutralized him, but he was unworthy of travel. Instead, I brought a secondary target.”

Salif let him speak without comment. Amir and Jaman opened the other containers. They laid two more men and a woman on cots. Like the girl, all three were unconscious but alive.

“Jaman, get some blankets on these people.” Salif turned his attention to Amir. “The mission may have been compromised because of your decision. Who is she?”

Amir felt his chest float in white heat. “The report said he would be alone and unarmed. He was neither. When the information is bad, plans change.”

It was a foolish place to snatch someone. Except for killing the target, the job was a success. He refused to have Salif think he was not up to the challenge. “She called him ‘Uncle Myron.’ My orders were to bring back a live body. I brought back a live body.”

“You were told to bring back an old man. Not a child.”

“The old man had a gun and a girl. Both of these facts were surprises. Perhaps he brought the gun to protect the girl. In any event—” His eyes set on Salif. “The old man strenuously objected.”

Salif studied him a moment but said nothing more about the girl.

Jaman brought out several wool blankets from a storage compartment and laid one around each of the hostages. He checked their pulses again and announced each to be steady and strong.

Salif looked at his watch. “The doctor should be here by now. Once he checks her out, get one of the women to attend to her.”

“Where is Binard?” Jaman said.

“Below deck with our other guests.”

“The man is undisciplined. He is fawning over the pretty one. He must be watched.”

“That is my concern. Not yours.” Salif snapped back. “Go to the galley. Prepare some food for those people.”

Jaman stood for a moment as if he intended to say more, then retreated from the deck.

Amir began to understand the reason for Salif’s reputation. Salif was a big man, but out of the field and growing soft. No matter. This was just another job.

The whine of a two-cycle outboard motor signaled the doctor’s arrival. Amir and Salif went aft to meet him. The operator of the small boat stayed on his craft while the doctor came aboard.

“We have the final visitors aboard. Please conduct your examinations.” Salif showed him into the salon where the patients waited. Amir followed.

The doctor took several steps then stopped. His attention focused on the small girl. He looked back with worry at Amir and Salif, but he made no comment. It was not his place. He took his stethoscope from his bag and laid it on the girl’s chest and a fairy’s cheek. He listened as the wings on her nightgown rose and fell in attempted flight.