Just Dreams (Brooks Sisters Dreams Series Book 1) (8 page)

“How much do you know about the new case I’m working on?” Kathy asked. 

Erin smiled.  “Well Annette told me about the tall, dark, and handsome widow you’re representing.  Office gossip and news coverage told me the rest.”

“I’m going to bring you in,” Kathy said.

Erin’s smile grew wider. She rubbed her hands together in anticipation.  “Yes! Working with you on such an exciting case and for such a fine client – what else can a girl ask for?”

Kathy frowned.  “I wouldn’t be so excited if I were you. I’m bringing you in on a limited basis for discrete assignments only.  This case might be a career ender, not to mention dangerous.”

It was Erin’s turn to frown.  “What’s going on?” 

“Peachtree Consulting and the government are putting all kinds of pressure on GRH to get the client to settle the case.  He has no interest in settling – not for any amount of money,” Kathy said. 

Erin let out a low whistle.  “That’s a bit of a problem.”

“You bet.  As your friend and mentor, I want to keep your name out of this mess as much as possible.  You don’t want to be associated with this case if we can’t find anything to get the government to back off.  It could become very unpopular – especially if it causes the firm to lose business.  The backlash could affect you too.” 

Erin sat quietly for a moment.  “Given everything you just said, why are you asking me to do any work on the case?”

“Because I need someone I can trust.  Peachtree and the government have unlimited resources.  If they can put pressure on the law firm like this, they could easily bribe an associate to leak information or worse yet, sabotage the case,” Kathy said.

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t step in to help you when you so obviously need it?  I’m in. But I’m not coming into this case half-assed.  If I’m in, then I’m in all the way or not at all.  Damn the consequences,” Erin said. 

“Okay, but I don’t want to hear about it if you and I are out on our behinds looking for jobs as a result of this damned case.”

Erin just smiled.  “What do you need?”

“I need for you to run down any information you can find on this wrongful death suit filed against Peachtree in New York,” Kathy said.  She picked up the printouts of the articles and handed them to Erin.  “Work with the investigator to track down potential witnesses and see if Jim can get copies of pleadings, depositions, affidavits, etc. from the court file or the opposing counsel.  Also, see if there were any other lawsuits filed against Peachtree anywhere in the country.  You know the drill.”

Erin nodded.  She jotted a few notes onto the legal pad she had brought with her.  “Yes indeed. When do you need this by?”

“I need it yesterday.  I don’t know how much time we have before the firm starts losing clients.  In that event, Bill might shut us down and force me to file a motion to withdraw from the case,” Kathy said.  “Plus, the end of the discovery period is coming up soon and we have a lot to do.  This case is going to be all consuming.  You’re going to have to clear the decks.”

“I’ll get on this right away.  Luckily, my other cases aren’t so busy right now.”

“Thanks,” Kathy said.

Charles parked his car and walked into Elaine Gordon Park on 135
th
street.  The park was an oasis from its decidedly urban surroundings.  Men, women and children rode bicycles on the bike paths, unmolested by the cars that usually threatened to run them over.  A young couple enjoyed a picnic under the shade of an oak tree.  They seemed more interested in sampling each other than any food contained in the picnic basket sitting next to them on the blanket. 

Charles appeared to stroll aimlessly through the park.  In reality, he was looking for any signs of surveillance. He spotted a young guy with dark hair, sunglasses and a mustache walking behind him.  He looked familiar. Charles stopped abruptly at a water fountain and took a drink. The guy pretended to head in another direction. Charles sauntered off.  When he had put enough distance between himself and the operative, he ducked into a maintenance shack. He saw the operative pass by through a small window in the rusty metal door.  He waited a moment breathing in the fumes of the noxious cleaning liquids to see if any other members of a surveillance team appeared.  Seeing none, he slipped out of the shack and headed in the opposite direction from the operative.  

When he was sure that he was no longer being watched, he headed toward an empty bench, shrugged off the backpack and sat down.  He extracted a newspaper and opened it up.  After a moment, he lifted his gaze and checked to see if anyone was paying him any attention.  Seeing nothing untoward, he reached down with his left hand and slid it along the underside of the bench until he encountered what felt like a thick padded envelope.  He pulled the envelope free and tucked it into his backpack.  He folded the newspaper, donned the backpack and headed toward the park entrance.  He passed a garbage can next to the playground and dropped the newspaper inside.  He then strode out of the park and headed toward his car.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the operative heading toward him, faced flushed, breathing heavily.  Charles caught the younger man’s eye, nodded and sent him a cocky smile.  The operative’s flush deepened as he hurried past. 

***

Back in his home office, Charles extracted the package from his backpack and slit it open with a letter opener.  Inside were two CD’s, a manual on how to use the Concordance program and a handwritten note giving him instructions.  He brewed some coffee, installed the program and uploaded the documents. 

He skimmed the manual and then, with it open in front of him, experimented with pulling up documents, searching for them and reviewing them.  Two hours later, he sat back in his chair and closed his eyes.  He must have reviewed at least five hundred pages without finding anything remotely useful.  His eyes burned from staring into the computer screen for so long.  He could see why Kathy and her people were taking so long to review the documents. 

He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced.  It was cold and down to the dregs.  He got up to brew a fresh pot.  He wasn’t concerned that it would keep him up all night. In the Corps you learned to sleep when you got the opportunity to.  He’d drop off to sleep when he was ready no matter how many cups of java he consumed. 

He seasoned a steak and put it under the broiler and threw a pack of frozen broccoli into the microwave.  All the while his mind worked on the task at hand.  There had to be a more efficient way of extracting the information he needed from Peachtree’s documents without reviewing each and every page.  He thought about the types of documents that might contain information about the government agencies that hired Peachtree or mission details.  He searched for documents containing the word “mission” and came up empty.  He searched for the word “agency” and came up empty. 

He thought for a moment.  Peachtree and his employees were former military.  They probably used military jargon in their protocols.  He typed in the word “report” and came up with a thousand documents.  He smiled.  He was getting a little closer.  His smile faded as he began to review the documents pulled up by the search.  They were heavily redacted.  He pulled up a report dated the day of the accident.  The only parts of the report that were not blacked out were Wilkes’ name, the date, a report of the accident and the fact that the report had been sent to someone named “Manning.”  Who was Manning?  The name was vaguely familiar.  Charles searched his memory.  His eyes widened when the answer came to him.

He’d once run an op with a man named David Manning during his stint in the Corps.  Manning was with the C.I.A. back then - a maverick who’d nearly gotten Charles’ whole team killed.

The name took him back.  He remembered peering through the scope of his rifle out of the twenty-fourth floor window of an office building in Geneva and cursing at the circus taking place below.  Swiss police vehicles blocked the entrance of the hotel across the street.  From what he could see, the place was completely surrounded. 

What the hell had happened?  They had a foolproof plan.  His men and the C.I.A. operative, Manning, were just supposed to make sure the mark left the hotel through the front entrance.  They were to get in and out, undetected, and let him take care of the rest.  Now, the Swiss police were on high alert.  With all the big shots attending the conference at the hotel, they’d most definitely lock the place down and check the identity of every man, woman and child in there. 

He wasn’t worried about his men maintaining their covers.  But if they were arrested and photographed, their ability to perform future operations would be severely compromised.  As team leader, he couldn’t allow that.  It would be the end of their careers and his.

He pulled up the schematics of the hotel in his head.  He and his team had gone over them dozens of times.  There was no easy exit strategy once the building was cordoned off.  The only way out was by air.  Since there would undoubtedly be security on the roof of the hotel, they’d have to fight their way out.

“Rocking Horse to Royal Blue.  Do you read me?” Keeping his voice low, he glanced over his shoulder.  The Swiss executive whose office he was using for the operation was still sprawled across the couch where he had fallen after Charles had tranquilized him. 

“Loud and clear, Rocking Horse.  Go.”   It was Tyler. 

Charles breathed a sigh of relief.  “Mission abort.  Repeat, abort the mission.  Swiss police have cordoned off the hotel and are blocking the entrance.  Do you copy?”

“Roger that,” Tyler said.  “What’s our exit strategy?”

“By air.  Get the team up to the roof in fifteen minutes and clear the runway,” he said. 

“Roger that,” Tyler said.

Charles radioed command to call in the chopper then he broke down the rifle and packed it away.  He checked the area around him, pulled out a clean cloth and wiped down any surface he might have touched. 

He looked at the Swiss executive sleeping peacefully on the couch across the room. The tranquilizer would keep him under for two more hours or so.  He picked up his leather briefcase and left the office. 

The Swiss executive’s assistant looked up at him and smiled.  He smiled back at her. “Goodbye, Emma. Your boss took a call on his cell phone.  He asked me to tell you not to disturb him.”

Emma grinned.   “It’s probably his wife.  She’s away in America on business.  They must be having a romantic conversation.  You know what I mean.”  She wiggled her eyebrows.

Charles’ smile turned into a grin.  “Yes I do.  My wife and I have those romantic conversations sometimes when I’m away.  Well, it was a pleasure to meet you Emma.” 

“The pleasure was all mine.  Have a safe trip home, Mr. White.  Do you need for me to call you a taxi?” she asked.

“No need thank you.  I have a car waiting for me downstairs.”  He walked away and pressed the elevator call button.  

The telephone rang on Emma’s desk.  His heartbeat sped up as he watched her turn away to pick it up.  He relaxed a little when he heard her tell the caller in French that Mr. Johansson was unavailable.  As she took the message, the elevator arrived.  He took it up to the top floor, exited the car and walked swiftly down the hall to the stairwell.  No-one paid him any attention.

He climbed the stairs until he reached the roof access door.    It was already propped open.  He peered through the doorway and saw a young man smoking a cigarette on the roof.    Charles stepped out onto the roof and joined him on the ledge.  Apparently, it was a popular smoking spot.  Ashes and spent cigarette butts littered the area.

The kid looked at him curiously.  Charles smiled at him and used two fingers to make the universal signal for smoking a cigarette. 

“Do you speak English?” he asked.

The young man nodded. “Yes.”

Charles feigned a sigh of relief.  “Thank God.  My German is dreadful, my French lousy and my Italian non-existent.  I’ve been in meetings all day with Mr. Johansson. I’m dying for a smoke.  Would you happen to have an extra cigarette?  I’d be happy to buy it from you.”

The young man pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket and offered them to Charles.  “Here.  You don’t need to pay me.”

“Thanks.” Charles extracted a cigarette, lit it with the lighter he found inside the pack and took a puff.  Willing himself not to cough, he aimed a smile at his new smoking buddy.  “That hit the spot. Thanks again.”  He put the lighter back into the pack and handed it back to the kid.

“You are welcome.” 

Charles scanned the roof for security.  There appeared to be none.  He could hear the faint whoosh of the helicopter approaching from a distance.  It would be there in seconds.  He turned to watch the young man.  As the helicopter drew closer, the kid turned to look at it. Charles moved fast.  He tossed the cigarette down and grabbed the kid in a chokehold, cutting off his air supply.  He then gently laid his unconscious body down onto the rooftop. 

He picked up his briefcase and ran to the helipad in the center of the roof.  When the chopper landed, he climbed in and strapped on his headset.  He then picked up the tranq rifle lying on the seat next to him, flipped off the safety and told the pilot to head to the roof of the hotel. 

As they approached the hotel rooftop, Charles could see that his team was in trouble.  They were pinned down in the northwest corner of the roof by Swiss police.  He counted seven hostiles.  The helicopter distracted the hostiles for an instant.  It was all Charles and his team needed.  He put three of them to sleep with his rifle.  His team made short work of the rest.  They then climbed aboard the helicopter one by one. 

The hotel roof access door opened and more Swiss officers began to pour out.  Charles and those members of his team already aboard kept them at bay as best they could, but they were outnumbered and outgunned.  The police offers shot live ammo instead of tranqs.  Charles ducked as bullets bounced off the side of the helicopter.  One of them caught Tyler as he boarded the chopper.  He fell, his legs dangling outside.  Charles pulled him the rest of the way inside.

“Get us out of here,” he shouted into his headset.

The pilot didn’t have to be told twice.  The helicopter lurched violently as it took off and made its way into the air.  The metallic ring of bullets ceased as they increased their altitude and put some distance between themselves and the hotel.

“Are you alright, soldier?” Charles asked.  “Where are you hit?”

“My shoulder,” Tyler said, hissing through his teeth.  

Charles extracted a pair of scissors from the helicopter’s emergency kit and cut away Tyler’s bloody suit jacket and shirt. He took a look at the bullet wound and smiled. 

“The bullet went right through,” he said.  “You’ll be okay.”  He applied pressure to stop the bleeding, cleaned the wound as best he could and bandaged it tightly.  He then grabbed a sweat suit from a small suitcase tucked behind the seats of the helicopter and helped Tyler get into it.  

“What the hell happened in there?” he asked once Tyler was settled.

Tyler grimaced. 

“Manning decided to take the mark out himself.  A hotel maid walked in on him and screamed bloody murder before he broke her neck.  Someone called security. They discovered the bodies and locked the place down tighter than a drum.  It’s a miracle we got out of there alive,” he said.

Charles cursed.  He looked at the men on the chopper.  Manning was not among them. “And Manning?  Where is he?”

Tyler shook his head.  “I don’t know.  The man is a ghost.  He just disappeared.”

Charles returned to the present, his mouth tightened into a grim line.  If the Manning referred to in Peachtree’s documents was the same guy who’d screwed up that mission and exposed his team, he’d have a lot of explaining to do.  Peachtree Consulting would also have a lot of explaining to do. That is, if Manning was still C.I.A.  A lot could change in eleven years.  He could have left the C.I.A. and joined the F.B.I., the N.S.A., the D.E.A. or any number of government agencies authorized to operate domestically. 

He picked up the telephone and made two calls – one to his best friend Tyler and the other to leave a coded message for Darryl to arrange another meeting. 

***

The next day, Tyler sat at his desk reading a file on Peachtree Consulting.  The Bureau was already investigating the company which was suspected of conducting rogue clandestine operations.  However, every time the Bureau investigated a suspicious operation, some government agency would vouch for the company.