Thy Kingdom Come: Book One in the Sam Thorpe series (17 page)

Approximately thirty minutes after they arrived, a man about Sam’s height with black hair speckled with gray entered the restaurant. He wore a black leather car coat and carried a black briefcase slung over his ample shoulders. After he entered, he stood by the door wiping water droplets off his small, round spectacles.

Sam glanced toward him. The man looked away and walked to a table in the back.

When the waitress brought their meal, Sam poured another glass of wine for each of them. He chuckled as the young woman at the next table tried to talk. Even though she was speaking French, Sam could tell she was having trouble forming words. She gave up after awhile and put her head on her companion’s shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her.

The wine was excellent; the dinner superb. Sam stayed alert, waiting for his contact. None materialized.

Finally he relaxed. It seemed his contact would not appear tonight. Background music set a romantic mood. Sam reached for Jackie’s hand, but she always seemed to have something else to do with it. Once, he chuckled when he heard the song “The Great Pretender” in French. “I never thought I’d hear that.”

Jackie smiled.

After dinner, they sat and sipped wine, finishing a second bottle. Jackie told Sam about a new couch she planned to buy for the living room of her townhouse. She began to slur her words. They laughed about funny things that had happened over the past year they’d been together.

Sam told her about his trip to Minnesota to see Emily, and his frustration over missing her sixteenth birthday. It felt good to talk with Jackie again.

Finally, Jackie moved around the table and leaned her head on Sam’s shoulder.
Maybe,
he thought.
Maybe we can get past this.

Elizabeth Henley sat on a stool at the bar, sipping her scotch and water. She watched the couple enter the Pasta Basta restaurant. The man had short black hair. Muscular shoulders filled out his sport coat. The woman stood taller than Elizabeth, with black hair and a striking figure. That had to be Colonel Thorpe. Why had he brought someone with him?

The two followed the waitress to a table and laughed at something while they looked at a menu together. How she hated their intimacy when she stayed so alone!

Thorpe looked around, expecting someone to contact him. She smiled, knowing he’d have to wait until she was ready.

Elizabeth sipped her drink and watched, her mind drifting back to that fateful day as it always did. It seemed like yesterday, but it was so long ago. She’d been running along the path through the woods; their path; the trail the two had met on. They later used it to sneak off and spend quiet time together.

The weather had been chilly that morning, but she’d worn an extra sweater. She never seemed to be cold because of the anticipation of meeting him.

The snooty federal agents had surrounded the farm, but that hadn’t stopped the two lovers. They had their secret trail through the forest so they could see each other whenever they wanted. The dumb agents never even knew they were there.

She almost skipped as she neared the crossroad where she knew he’d be. There he stood—tall, sandy haired, tanned, and muscular. He waved to her. She waved back.

He motioned for her to stop. She did. He must have heard a deer. Food was scarce because of the standoff. He had not been able to shoot a deer for days. His little sisters were hungry.

She leaned against an oak tree, her heart full of love. He raised his gun, with purpose, took aim, and fired a shot. The noise made her jump.

He’d raised his weapon again and listened, then fired into a thicket. They’d have deer for dinner. She’d been invited to eat with the family tonight. Deer meat would be so much better than the soup she’d been eating for days.

She ran forward, but stopped when a barrage of shots rang out. He’d dropped to the ground, clutching at his chest.

“No,” she cried, running toward him.

He raised his head and motioned her back. She hid behind a large boulder. What had happened? The sound of footsteps came crashing through the dense underbrush. Three men stepped out of the woods. They looked at the young man prone on the ground.

The tallest one glanced around, moving his rifle in a circle. “It’s the kid. We’d better get the hell out of here before his old man gets here.”

They trotted off through the woods.

She ran to him. Dropping to her knees, she cradled him in her arms. The front of his shirt covered with blood. She could feel no pulse; pulled him to her and cried—deep, wrenching tears. How could this be? So young. So beautiful.

Voices sounded; heavy footsteps moved through the underbrush. Were the bastards coming back? She laid his head on the ground. Ran to the trees. She looked back, she saw his rifle. Started toward it. She’d show them. Too late. The steps were getting closer. She pushed farther into the woods.

The anger broiled inside her and threatened to explode. How could it happen that this beautiful boy was shot dead by his own government? The bastards—she’d get them back.

She finished high school. Boys tried to date her throughout her high school days, but she had armor— her armor of love. No one could reach inside.

She had to leave. No way could she be part of this country anymore. She’d stolen some money from her mother’s drawer and paid for a bus ticket to Canada. The professor had seen her at the bus station. He helped her realize that she had to live. Live to avenge her lover’s death. Finally, she had found someone who understood, knew why she had to strike back.

Her mind snapped back to the present. Thorpe and his friend ate their dinner. No one should be that happy. Not when she was miserable. Pushing her short blond hair from her face, she sipped her scotch. She waited, wanting to make sure the two had not been followed. What should she do about the woman?

Reaching down, she took another sip of her drink. There would be no contact with Colonel Thorpe tonight. She couldn’t afford to let the woman see her without approval.
Tomorrow night. That’s it.
She’d meet Thorpe the next night, and she’d tell him to come alone—no witnesses.

She finished her drink and ordered another. There was no hurry. The couple languished over their food. That was all right. They deserved this tiny space of tranquility, this last time of happiness. She’d ensure they’d never know happiness again. Colonel Sam Thorpe would be trapped, hopelessly pulled into the middle of the plot, and there would be no way out for him.

She reached for her phone to make the call.

Sam slipped the key into the lock of their room and turned it. He kept hold of Jackie’s arm to keep her from falling. “I can’t understand what happened.”

Jackie’s speech was slurred from the two bottles of wine. “Who cares? We’re on vacation. Let’s enjoy it.”

Sam couldn’t relax. Why hadn’t the contact shown up? Were they in danger?

He sat on the edge of the couch and tried to form a plan. Should he call Alex? Had Bob O’Brien seen anything suspicious?

There was a knock on the door.

Sam jumped. He got up and looked through the peephole. A slender dark-haired woman in a blue pant-suit faced him. She had a nervous twitch in her right cheek. He opened the door.

“Good evening, Colonel Thorpe. I have a message for you that just arrived.”

Sam took the envelope. “Thanks.”

He shut the door, took a deep breath, and opened the envelope.

“What is it?” Jackie swayed, leaning against him, and tried to look over his shoulder. Her breast felt soft against his right arm.

Sam read the note out loud. “Yellow Dog Coffee Shop. Tomorrow night at eight o’clock. Come alone.”

“Any signature?” Jackie asked.

Sam shook his head and began pacing around the room. “Now, where the hell is the Yellow Dog Coffee Shop? I hate this game playing.” Maybe he had made a mistake in bringing Jackie to dinner. She had been right though. It would have looked funny if they were supposed to be on vacation and he went out to dinner alone.

Jackie started walking toward the bathroom. She leaned against the wall to stop herself from falling.

“You all right?” Sam asked.

“I’ve never been better.” She yanked the dress over her head, snagging it on her earring, then weaved into the bathroom, pushing the door shut with her foot.

Sam pulled the cell phone out of his coat pocket. He pushed in the number on speed dial. “Yellow Dog Coffee Shop; eight o’clock tomorrow night.”

When Jackie came out of the bathroom, she had put on a sheer nightgown. Her nipples pointed through the fabric. She pivoted around in a circle and managed to get out. “We followed the instructions, and we weren’t late. Well … you’ll just have to relax until tomorrow night. Ask your contact yourself why he didn’t show up.”

Sam looked away and paced around the room, stopping at the window. He pushed back the curtain and looked out. The cobblestone street stayed lined with cars parked on both sides. No one seemed to be watching the house.

“I guess we’ll have to figure out something the two of us can do.” She smiled and wiggled her hips. “The hot tub awaits. Want to join me?”

Sam debated with himself for a long moment. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Jackie stormed back into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Bob O’Brien leaned over the coffee table in one of their two motel rooms at the Montreal Hilton. Agents Sandra Monar and Mark Stoner spread their papers on the table.

O’Brien drew on his yellow tablet, a habit he’d had since college. “What the hell happened? No one contacted Thorpe.”

“I entered the restaurant about twenty minutes after Colonel Thorpe and sat in the back as instructed.” Agent Stoner used a tissue to clean his round spectacles. “I picked a spot so I could observe their table. The place was full of students and some families. No one seemed remotely interested in Thorpe all evening. I managed to snap a number of pictures, which we can analyze.”

“Did anyone seem concerned about you?” O’Brien asked, his voice rising.

“I’m sure no one made me.”

O’Brien turned to Agent Monar. “How about you?”

“All I did was stand outside and freeze my butt off. No one stopped and stood around, trying to look in through the window. Everyone who went inside seemed to be only interested in eating. Something I would have enjoyed.”

O’Brien smiled. “Remind me to put you in for hazardous duty pay.” He tapped his pencil on the tablet. “Neither of you saw a damned thing that made you suspicious?”

Both agents shook their heads.

“Okay, let’s talk about tomorrow morning. Captain Jeffery is to provide two Mounties to help us. I’ll assign one to each of you. We’ll do the normal moving square, alternating teams. Sam told me he’ll start out from his hotel at eight o’clock. Here’s his proposed itinerary. Stay alert in case we need to make changes.”

The two agents nodded.

“We’ll meet back here at six o’clock tomorrow night. Sam is due at the coffee shop at eight o’clock. Any questions?”

“You want me to scout out the coffee shop?” Agent Monar asked.

“Good idea.”

“What about a wire?”

“No. Sam might get frisked.”