Ruthless (10 page)

CHAPTER 33

After sharing the new plan with Pam, Chelsea called her friend. “Hello, Sylvie?”

“Hi, Chelsea—how are you?”

After exchanging pleasantries for a few minutes, Chelsea asked, “Can we make this our girl’s weekend? My schedule just opened up unexpectedly. I know I’ve been putting you off, so I thought I’d give you a call.”

“I’d love to, but I’m in Cleveland this weekend for my parents’ anniversary. I thought I mentioned that on Wednesday.”

Chelsea felt a knot in her stomach. “That’s right, you did. I totally forgot. But we’ll work out something soon.”

After wrapping up the call, Chelsea remained in her bedroom for a minute, pondering her choices. Before calling Sylvie, she had initially thought of asking Pam to spend the night. After looking down the hall and observing Pam’s forlorn expression as she sat rigidly on the edge of the couch, though, Chelsea was glad she had decided against it.

Chelsea doubted Pam would be much help.  Her timid apartment-mate would be more likely to run for the hills at the first sign of trouble. “If something bad happened,” mused Chelsea, “I’d probably be the one rescuing her.” She wished David and Fahima were already back in town. Even though she don’t know them well, Chelsea knew they would have been the ideal people to call.

Determined to make the best of her predicament
,
Chelsea emerged into the living room with as genuine a smile as she could force. “Well, I’m all set. What time will you be heading out?”

“As soon as you’re ready, I guess. Do you want to leave together?”

Chelsea had decided against trying to explain the new arrangement to Pam. “No, that’s okay. As soon as you leave, I’ll be two minutes behind you.”

Shortly thereafter, Pam left. As soon as the front door closed, Chelsea firmly drew both locks. She toured the apartment, methodically tightening the lock and drawing the curtains of each window. She finished by closing her bedroom door and eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.

Chelsea’s heart raced, and she strained her ears to detect any noise.
There’s someone in the apartment. I locked the door. I know I locked it. Maybe I only dreamed I heard something.

Out in the darkened living room, which lay between her bedroom and the front door, a muffled thud and curse provided an ominous confirmation of an intruder’s presence. Chelsea stifled a scream. As quietly as possible, she rolled out of bed, stumbling a bit as her feet hit the carpet.

The security bars on her bedroom window precluded that route of escape. She hurried across the floor to the adjoining bathroom and locked herself in it, praying the intruder would think the apartment empty.

Several minutes elapsed without any new sounds, but Chelsea was too fearful to exit her sanctuary. She wished she had grabbed her cell phone on the way in.

Was the intruder gone? After listening a few minutes more and hearing nothing, she decided to crack the door just enough to peer into her bedroom. As she reached for the knob to unlock it, a furious pounding erupted from the other side of the door.

Chelsea reflexively leapt backwards, wincing as she struck her left hip on the bathroom’s pedestal sink.

“Are you all right?” cried a voice. “It’s Victor from one-oh-five. I was coming home just now and saw your door busted open. That didn’t seem like a good thing at one in the morning, so I figured I’d better check and see if you’re okay.”

“Victor, can you call the police?” asked Chelsea, her voice trembling. “Thank you so much for your help, but I can’t leave this room until the police arrive.”

There was silence from the other side of the door for a moment.

“Uh, sure…what’s your name, anyway?”

“It’s Chelsea. Thank you, Victor.”

Three police investigators and a lieutenant converged on the location within minutes. Chelsea removed her hastily-constructed barricade and emerged from the bathroom. As Victor stared at her, the policemen hovered nearby, clearly anxious to obtain a statement.

“Thank you again,” said Chelsea, gingerly meeting Victor’s outstretched hand.

“I’m uh…glad I could help.”

After an awkward silence, Chelsea said, “I think the police want us to tell them what happened. Perhaps we should go do that.”

“Yeah…sure…right,” said Victor, still staring at her.

They separately described their version of events to the police. As they finished, Victor approached Chelsea.

“I was wondering,” he said, “if you’re not doing anything tomorrow, would you like to come over to my apartment for a little while? I play the guitar. Maybe I could play something for you.”

“I’m sorry, Victor,” said Chelsea. “I can’t even think about that right now. This whole break-in business has me shaken up. Can I take a rain check?”

“Sure,” said Victor, who managed a brief smile before lumbering back to his apartment.

Chelsea used the opportunity to call Alton. It was only when she started explaining the night’s events to him that she started crying.

CHAPTER 34

As he listened to Chelsea’s description of the night’s terrifying drama, Alton felt a bit flustered. A part of him wished Chelsea had called Mallory rather than himself. At least she would have known how to soothe their distraught friend.

Despite his misgivings, however, Alton’s words of comfort—expressed with such sincere concern—were so skillfully chosen that the worst of Chelsea’s anxieties seemed to be alleviated.

A few hours later, Alton, Mallory, and Chelsea convened in Chelsea’s living room. The police had left only minutes earlier. Appearing more composed than she had earlier, Chelsea carefully described the evening’s events up through the break-in.

“So Victor said he was coming home and just happened to see the front door smashed open?” asked Mallory.

“That’s right,” confirmed Chelsea.

“It seems pretty coincidental that he just happened to walk past the door within minutes of it being forced open, don’t you think?” asked Mallory. “Especially at one in the morning.”

“It sure does,” said Alton. “Assuming it wasn’t a coincidence, why did he stop once inside? Not to creep you out, Chelsea, but why break in and then act the part of a hero?”

“Maybe my being in the bathroom messed up his plan,” suggested Chelsea. “Maybe he thought I’d be in bed. When I wasn’t, perhaps he started acting like he was here to help.”

“That’s possible,” said Alton. “Once he saw you in the bathroom, he wouldn’t have known whether or not you had a cell phone with you. If you had, the police could have been right on top of him before he could leave.”

“Now that he’s given us plenty of personal information as part of his statement,” said Mallory, “I can do a little digging into his background. Perhaps that information will point us in the right direction.”

CHAPTER 35

“You don’t have any surprises for me this time, do you?” asked David with a smirk. In a case of near-term déjà vu, Alton and Mallory had waited for him and Fahima at the top of the subway escalator in the Atlanta airport, the same location at which they had reunited only weeks earlier.

“No, but don’t let your guard down,” replied Alton with a grin. “You never know when I might pull one out.”

“How was the visit with your dad?” Mallory asked David.

A collage of emotions flickered across David’s face. “The
visit
was great—Dad and Fahima loved each other, as I expected.”

“Yes,” confirmed Fahima, nodding emphatically. “Jacob is good man, like David. They like to laugh together.”

“But…?” asked Mallory, who—like Alton—seemed to sense more to the story.

David shook his head. “Dad’s been sick over the last few years, but I swear he looks a little worse than he did just last month. Maybe being out of town and not seeing him for a few weeks just made it seem that way.”

Alton pursed his lips in concern. He and Mallory had visited Jacob, the elder Dunlow, on several occasions during Alton’s frequent travels to Washington. For his age, Jacob had displayed a surprising degree of vigor. David had credited his father’s health to a lifetime of cattle ranching in Wyoming.

“Hopefully he’ll be better soon,” offered Mallory with a sympathetic gaze. So,” she continued, turning the subject, “do you all have plans for tonight?”

They looked at each other and shrugged. “Not really,” replied David.

“Could you join us at Chelsea’s apartment for dinner?” asked Mallory. “We’re on guard duty there, so we probably shouldn’t leave her place for too long.”

“Do you think Chelsea and her roommate—Pam, right?—would mind?”

“No, not at all,” said Alton. “They still talk about your last visit.”

“Is that okay with you?” David asked Fahima.

“Yes,” she said. “I would like to see them again, too.”

Later, the friends gathered around the dinner table in Chelsea’s apartment.

“So, have you all made any specific plans for your pending nuptials?” asked Alton.

“Yes,” said Fahima. “We marry in a little over a month.”

“Holy smokes!” exclaimed Mallory. “I didn’t know it would be
that
soon.”

“We’ve been dying to tell you,” said David, grinning from ear to ear. “We figured it’d be our turn to surprise you all.”

“I’m surprised, all right,” said Alton, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. “That’s awesome.”

“Remember how I asked about the next time you’d be coming up to Washington?” asked David. “And I told you I was buying tickets to the Wizards game? There’s no game—that’s our wedding day. I had to make sure you both had that weekend blocked off.”

“Pretty sneaky,” acknowledged Alton. “Nicely done.”

“Are you guys super-busy getting ready?” asked Mallory. She turned to Fahima. “I’d still be happy to go dress-shopping with you, as soon as I return to Washington.”

“I would like to go shopping with you,” confirmed Fahima. “Other than that, we do not have much planning left.”

“It’s not going to be a big affair,” said David, “just Dad, you guys, a few friends from work…and you all are welcome to attend, too, if you like,” he said, turning to Chelsea and Pam.

Chelsea appeared surprised but pleased. “That’d be great. Maybe we could travel together,” she suggested, turning to Alton.

Alton began to affirm the suggestion, but—noticing Mallory’s disconcerted expression—opted to provide a more vague answer. “Let’s see how it works out.” He knew Mallory would have a reason for her reluctance. He couldn’t guess what that reason could be, but he trusted her judgment, knowing he could check with her later.

“So what wedding arrangements are left to make?” asked Alton.

“Always the planner,” joked David. “Actually, we’re about finished. There wasn’t much to do. We’re having the ceremony in a little church down the road from my place, and the reception will be a barbecue at Dad’s house.”

Alton recalled the barbecue he and Mallory had attended at Jacob’s house a few months ago. David had moved too close to the grill, and the string on his “Kiss the Chef” apron had ignited. Jacob had laughed until tears had rolled down his face as his son had sprinted for the garden hose. Alton wondered if they would have more free entertainment of this nature at the reception.

David continued, “Yeah, we just have to mail in the church’s deposit and…” he paused. “Crap. Fahima, we didn’t turn in your immigration form yesterday.” He turned to Alton with a mournful expression. “We were so busy getting ready to come here…”

“Does the form have to be submitted in Washington?” asked Alton.

“I’m not sure,” replied David. “We were planning to turn it in there, so I never checked to see if we could submit it somewhere else.”

“The paper say ‘State Department’,” supplied Fahima. “It does not say where.”

“There’s a State Department office here in Atlanta,” said Mallory. “I’ve had to call them a few times for a couple of my cases.”

“The deadline is tomorrow,” said David, “at least to be assured we’ll have the final State Department paperwork needed to get the marriage license.”

“Dang,” said Alton, scratching his head in thought. “The timing stinks. The Jana and Aegis project teams are having a joint all-day working meeting tomorrow. I can’t miss that—you can’t either, Chelsea.”

“Sorry,” said Mallory as Alton swiveled his gaze to her. “I can’t. I promised Agent McElroy, the FBI’s supervisory agent of the Atlanta office, that I’d come first thing in the morning to debrief him on the latest facts I have surrounding the murder investigations. I might finish well before the State Department office closes, but there’s no telling. I’d hate for you to count on me for a ride and then be stuck in the FBI office until it’s too late.”

“Pam, you’re not part of tomorrow’s joint team meeting, are you?” asked Alton.

“No, Mr. Lewis wants me to stay focused on the bluebird code—the part that frags viruses embedded in incoming e-mail attachments.”

“If I helped you with the code tomorrow night, could you run David and Fahima down to the State Department in the morning? I’d be happy to tell Winston—excuse me, Mr. Lewis—what’s happening.”

“I don’t mind, but my car is in the shop,” replied Pam, seeming a little surprised but not resentful at having been asked to help.

“That’s right—you were going to ride with us tomorrow,” said Alton. He thought for a moment. “Perhaps we could all ride to Kruptos in my Explorer,” he suggested. “You could drop off me and Chelsea at work and then take David and Fahima downtown. When you’re done, just drop them off at my place and head back over to Kruptos.”

“This is feeling a bit convoluted. We can just rent a car,” volunteered David.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” said Pam. “I was going to get a ride with Alton and Chelsea tomorrow anyway. It won’t be too much trouble.”

“Thank you,” said Fahima. “If we finish this tomorrow, we will not have to worry about whether we get the marriage license in time.”

“You got that right,” added David. “It’d be a load off my mind.”

“It’s settled, then,” said Alton. “Thanks, Pam.”

The group of friends conversed until late that evening.  The boisterous David and social Mallory regaled the gathering with tales from their jobs. Alton and Fahima threw in a few stories of their own, but the reserved Pam limited her conversation to a few murmured words of affirmation.

The next evening, Pam joined Alton and Chelsea in the Kruptos lobby at the end of the work day. Pam handed Alton the key to his Explorer.

“So, how did the trip to the State Department go this morning?” Alton asked as the trio walked toward Alton’s SUV.

“Fine, as far as I could tell,” replied Pam. She offered no other information.

“Do you know if they were able to get their forms turned in?” prompted Alton.

“I think so. Fahima seemed really happy.”

“That’s good. Thanks for taking them. I’m sure it’s a relief to David and Fahima to have this taken off their plate.”