Warrior

Chapter II

As she walked down the hall, she fought down the panic that lurked just below the surface, the panic that wanted her to run for her life. She had to maintain control. When she reached the elevators, she suddenly realized being confined in a box with no options was not smart. Not smart at all. She could be surprised and trapped when the elevator doors opened in the garage.

Damn it, think! Don’t do something stupid now! She was angry with herself for almost making such a dumb mistake.

She went through the Exit door. In the stairs she at least had some freedom of movement and choice. And there was less likelihood of meeting anyone in the stairs.

At the head of the stairs she took off her high heels. ’Atta a girl, now you’re focused! The high heels would slow her down on the stairs. She ran down the seven flights of stairs to the parking garage under the building. Breathing hard, she stopped before the door leading to the parking garage and put on her shoes.

Carefully she opened the door to the parking level, and looked around. No one was there. She walked hurriedly to her car. She was about to open the car door when she stopped. Damn it! She almost did it again! The car was as recognizable as she was in uniform. Her change of appearance would be useless.

She ran back to the stairs and went up one flight to the door to the lobby. With one hand on the bar that opened the door, she put the other hand in the shoulder bag, and gripped the gun. Then she pushed the bar and opened the door.

The lobby was empty.

Without hesitation, she stepped deliberately across the lobby and out the front door. Then headed up the street. She didn’t dare look around for fear that act would draw attention to her.

The man seated behind the wheel of the car watched her. Not because she was suspicious, but because he was admiring her. She was an attractive woman, and he thought her outfit said something about the kind of woman she was. Exciting. Maybe a little wild.

He saw her stop at the corner and hail a cab. At that moment the two men came out of the building and with a palms-up motion signaled they had not found her. He couldn’t explain what thinking process led him to hit the gas pedal and take off up the street to follow that cab. Coincidence that they were looking for a woman and one popped out the front door at that time? Maybe. Don’t make any assumptions, check everything out? Maybe.

As he drove he flipped open his cell phone and punched the number of one of the men he’d left at the curb.

Yeah? the man at the curb answered.

I think she hopped a cab. I’m following, he said. Then he turned the car around the corner and saw the taxicab near the far corner. At least he hoped that was the cab.

You sure it was her?

No, not sure. She had black hair. Could be a wig. I’ll know soon enough if it’s her.

We’ll hang here in case you’re wrong and she shows up here. Keep me informed.

He ended the call, and closed the phone.

Slowly he maneuvered through the traffic until he was directly behind the cab. He could see the long black hair on the woman passenger in the back. At least it was the right cab. He wouldn’t be able to confirm if that was her until he could get a good look at her face.

A short while later the taxi pulled to the curb in front of Union Station. As he drove by he saw she was paying the driver of the cab.

He hurried around swearing at not being able to find a damn parking space. He couldn’t let her get away! He finally jammed the car into a tight space, leaving the front wheel on the curb, jumped from the car and sprinted to the station. Inside there were a lot of people moving around in every direction. He quickly looked around, hoping she hadn’t already gotten onto a train.

Then he spotted her at one of the ticket windows, and relaxed, relieved that he still had her. He hurried to get in the line behind her. There were two people in line between him and her. He heard her say New York to the man behind the counter. Then paid him in cash and he gave her a ticket. When it was his turn he bought a ticket for New York and quickly took off after her.

He neared the gate in time to see her go through the gate to the platform of the New York train. He stopped, took out his cell phone, and dialed. Then put the phone to his ear.

Yeah? the voice on the other end.

Still haven’t been able to get a good look at her. She bought a ticket for New York. I’m gonna follow her.

Okay. If it’s her you know what to do.

Yeah.

And get her purse. Just in case she’s carrying stuff she shouldn’t. Also, that way it’ll look like a mugging.

Right. He heard the departure call for the New York train. Got to go. As he started walking toward the gate, he closed the phone and put it in his pocket. He reached the train and stepped into the rear car. Then he started working his way forward, looking at the passengers in each car. The train started moving, slowly chugging up speed as it made its way out of the station.

He had reached the end of the third car when he saw her. She was outside on the platform walking back to the station. Damn! She must have picked up on him following her somehow. The train had left the platform and was moving too fast for him to jump off after her.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

Yeah?

I lost her.

I’m listening.

She got off the train at the last minute. Left me on the train on my way to New York.

You sure it was her?

All I got was a profile. She was wearing sunglasses. The profile looked about right, and I did see the mole on her face.

Not good news. And now we don’t know where she is.

Damn! Colonel Austin said into the phone and slammed the receiver down on the cradle. That woman! They should never have allowed women in the Army! They should be at home where God meant them to be.

He let out a deep sigh, getting himself under control, stood and went into General Rhodes’s office.

The General was seated behind his desk working on his computer. He looked up when Austin entered then frowned when he saw Austin’s expression.

Doesn’t look like you’re bringing good news, Charles.

No sir. She got away. We don’t know where she is.

The General shook his head slowly and sighed. Every plan is put to the test. It just never comes in the form we expect.

Austin continued trying to show he had the situation under control. Her apartment is being searched. Might pick up on something that tells us where she’s heading. I’ll have some people check into her background. Friends, family - that sort of thing. Also, we’ll do a check on her credit cards. See if she’s bought plane tickets or made hotel reservations.

Austin nodded with determination. We’ll get her, sir.

I hope we get her in time. There was a touch of recrimination in the General’s voice.

The recrimination hurt Austin but he didn’t show it. He admired this man and the last thing he wanted to do was let him down. Also, I’ll have her passwords and sign-ons blocked so she can’t get into the computer system.

The General frowned a moment, then said, Maybe we shouldn’t be so hasty with that. Maybe we can find her by backtracking to where she’s accessing the computer. We can do that, can’t we? Trace back to the location where she’s signing on?

Colonel Austin nodded. Yes, sir. I believe we can. That’s a good idea, General. I’ll get right on it.

Let’s just restrict her access so she can’t get into the hidden files. But I would like to know what files she’s trying to get into. This woman has had a lot of expert training. She is very dangerous. I’d like to get some idea what she’s planning to do.

Austin nodded.

She hasn’t much time to create trouble. She knows that. And she knows it will be risky to stick her head up where we can see it. He shrugged. So maybe the plan is not threatened after all.

Frank Carson was a big man with a full head of hair more gray than brown, and a face hardened by years of exposure to the worst side of mankind. He was sitting at his desk reading the newspaper and swearing to himself.

It was the ignorance of the reporters and the sloppy reporting that ate at him. It made him damn mad because they wrote with a confidence in their information that was not founded, and threw their own bias in besides.

Yet everyday he still bought the newspaper and everyday he sat there grumbling as he read it over a cup of coffee. Maybe if he had something to do he could avoid the newspaper. But there wasn’t much work coming through that door.

He’d opened his detective agency eight months ago at Jennifer’s insistence. It was her idea, and she pushed it hard on him. She had seen his restlessness growing day by day since he’d retired from the New York City police force. Except restlessness wasn’t the word she’d used. He was getting to be hell to live with was closer to what she’d said about him, throwing in a few expletives for emphasis. She felt this would be a way for him to get back into the action of life, and give her back the husband she loved.

He’d given her a hard time about it, but deep down he knew she was right. He’d discovered that being retired meant being useless. And being useless was worse than death. So when he finally agreed to do it, he jumped into it with both feet. But, with all the advertising he did and the contacts he made, the business rolled in with the speed of a glacier.

He’d expected enough business to give him a reason to get out of bed in the morning. That didn’t happen. Oh, he did get a few jobs. Small stuff. An owner who suspected somebody was stealing from his business. A guy wanted to find out where his wife went every Friday afternoon. That sort of stuff. Nothing earth-shaking. Nothing to pull at his soul.

Most mornings he spent sitting in this little office - decorated in Early Salvation Army, he would say, reading the paper, drinking coffee, and smoking. And putting on weight. His large frame could carry some weight, and he’d continued to exercise regularly to keep that weight tight. But the additional doughnuts he’d been having with his coffee every morning were beginning to add more than he could tighten up.

Though nothing exciting happened with the business, what got him out of bed each morning was the anticipation that something exciting would come through the door. It hadn’t happened so far. And the hope that it would was slowly fading. Hell, nothing came through that door without being preceded by a phone call to set up an appointment. And he’d gotten very few of those. One day he knew the hope wouldn’t be strong enough to get him to the office. Might not be strong enough to get him out of bed.

When the door suddenly opened he nearly jumped out of his skin. Damn!

I’m sorry, the woman said, frozen in the doorway with her hand on the knob, a concerned look on her face. I didn’t mean to frighten you.

He chuckled as his heart calmed down. It’s okay. I scare easy.

Is this a bad time?

He shook his head, still smiling at himself. Please, sit down. He indicated the chair on the opposite side of his desk. Then folded up the newspaper and put it aside.

She closed the door and sat down.

In the few moments it took for her to do that, Frank sized her up. Good looking, shoulder-length black hair with bangs, pretty brown eyes, mole on her left cheek, age around thirty. Short-sleeved tan shirt with epaulets and two breast pockets, and tan shorts. Her bearing was confident and self-assured, but tight - there was an alert defensiveness in her demeanor, someone prepared for a sudden fight.

What can I do for you? he said in the gentle relaxed tone that he used to try and calm people down.

She hesitated as if trying to hold back the words that fought to get out. It’s really not for me. It’s my sister. She needs help.

He nodded. I understand. I’ll be glad to talk with her …Ms.?

Oh, I’m sorry, she said, and smiled nervously. I’m Constance Decker. She extended her hand to him.

He took her hand, shook it gently, and returned what he hoped was a warm friendly smile. Glad to meet you. You can call me Frank.

She nodded. Frank.

Now, he said. Suppose you tell me how I can help you…I mean, your sister.

My sister, Miriam called me last night. She’s in trouble and doesn’t know where to turn.

He nodded that he was listening, but didn’t say anything. Silence becomes a void which people feel obligated to fill.

She’s frightened. There are people out to kill her.

Whoa. He jumped in. Wait a minute. I’m not the person you should be talking to. That’s the job of the police.

She shook her head. They can’t help her.

He frowned. Now he was curious. Why don’t you tell me what you can, and maybe we can find who can help her.

She sighed. Well, she works in the Pentagon. The people she works for are doing something illegal, and she found out about it. And now her life is in danger. I’m very afraid for her.

He shook his head. Still sounds to me like the police or the FBI should be the ones you should talk to.

She can’t prove anything. That’s the problem. She needs somebody to help her gather the proof. The authorities won’t help her there. She’s tried. Oh the FBI did do a cursory look, but didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. They said they can’t just keep going after somebody without some evidence they are doing something illegal.

Maybe I should talk to your sister myself. Is she in Washington now? Do you have a phone number where I can contact her?

She shook her head. She left Washington yesterday in fear of her life. She called last night, but wouldn’t tell me where she was calling from. I’m expecting her to call again sometime between twelve and one to find out if I found someone who’ll help her. I can have her call you after I speak with her.

He nodded. That sounds good.

But, you must understand something first. If you decide to take the job, you’ll have to go to Washington to help her. And you’ll have to go soon - like tonight. Would you be willing to do that?

Hmm. Why doesn’t she contact a private investigator in Washington? I mean we’re here in Bradenton, Florida. That’s a heck of a long way away from Washington.

Well, for one when she called I told her I would try to find someone to help. And I’m here in Bradenton. But mostly, she doesn’t trust anyone in Washington. That city is a sticky web of influence. Everybody is connected to everyone else. The people after her are very powerful in the Washington world. She’s afraid they will find her through anyone she tries to hire up there.

He considered that. He didn’t tell her that his sister Millie was a congresswoman, and had been for fourteen years. It was ironic that of all the people she could have come to, she picked one who did have a connection to Washington. Not that he ever spoke much with Millie. They hadn’t had anything to say to each other for years.

I tell you what. I’ll talk to her, and we’ll take it from there. He’d really like to hear what the sister had to say. Do you have some identification? Driver’s license?

She dug into her shoulder bag and brought out a wallet. She extracted a Florida driver’s license and handed it to him.

He glanced at the license, then pulled over the computer on the small stand near the desk, and slipped the driver’s license in the scanner. Where are you from? he asked as he pressed the button and scanned it into the computer. Most people in Florida were from someplace else. So, the question was as common as ‘hello’ when people first met.

Mitchell, Georgia. But that was a long time ago.

He handed the license back to her. How can I contact you?

That won’t be necessary. I’m flying to Washington this afternoon out of Sarasota at 4:30. Continental. If you take the job, I’ll see you at the airport. If not I’ll have to see about getting someone else up there. But I don’t think Miriam will go along with that.

Why are you going to Washington?

Have to get back to work. I work part time for a security service as a bodyguard in Washington. I come down here every so often to be with my parents. She shook her head sadly. Father’s got Alzheimer’s. Mom’s taking care of him by herself.

Bodyguard? A pretty woman like her, she could guard my body any day, he thought with an inward grin.

She frowned at the incredulity on his face. Who would suspect the pretty girl on an executive’s arm is his protection? Important people who have to attend formal affairs would prefer someone like me next to them, than somebody who looks like a Sumo wrestler.

The icy determined expression on her face when she said that convinced him she was more dangerous than she looked. And that also explained the alert defensiveness he detected earlier. Always on guard.

About your fee…

He interrupted her with a raised hand. If I decide to take the job, we can discuss that. He had no intention of taking the job. In fact he wasn’t sure what the job was. Plus this whole thing sounded too weird. He was beginning to think it might be some practical joke set up by his poker buddies. Especially Wally. Ex-cops have a weird sense of humor.

When the door opened suddenly they both jumped.

Chapter III

I’m sorry. I didn’t know… Jennifer stood there holding the door open, a surprised and questioning look on her face. She held a paper bag in her arm. Jennifer was a slender woman with neatly coifed gray hair and alert blue eyes.

It’s okay, Jennie, Frank said, a smile on his face.

Constance grinned. I guess being scared easily is catching. Then she stood, turned to Jennifer, and smiling put out her hand. Hi. My name is Constance Decker. I was consulting with Mr. Carson.

Jennifer let the door close. Then took Constance’s hand and shook it. Jennifer Carson. Mr. Carson’s wife. There was still a questioning look on her face as she sized up Constance.

I was just leaving, Constance said. She looked back at Frank. I’ll have my sister call you after one. Back to Jennifer. It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Carson. Then she stepped past Jennifer, opened the door and left.

Jennifer frowned at Frank. Maybe this detective agency wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

He smiled. Ah, the green eyes of jealousy. What a nice compliment for a man past his prime.

She grinned. It’s not jealousy. I just don’t want to get a venereal disease.

He laughed. And what have you brought me. He pointed at the paper bag.

She put the bag on the desk. Lunch. Cuban sandwiches, and beer. She took out the wrapped sandwiches and two bottles of beer and placed them on the desk. Then she sat in the chair that Constance had been sitting in.

As she unwrapped her sandwich, she said, So what was all that about? And she nodded at the door.

Weird, he said. He unwrapped his sandwich and took a large bite.

You mean like Weeping Willie weird?

He laughed. No. God, that was so long ago. Wonder what ever happened to poor Willie?

He’s probably still wearing his lady’s nightie and singing from the fire escape.

Yeah. Bad enough he was a cross-dresser. But when he was drunk he thought he was another Brenda Lee and he’d sing these sad songs. He made a damn ugly Brenda Lee. Damn ugly man, too. Some of them I met you couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. Him you could tell. Then he shrugged and smirked. Maybe if he could sing the neighbors wouldn’t have complained so much.

She smiled at that. You saw a lot of weird when you were on patrol.

Yeah. Remember Brenda the Baritone?

She nodded. Still hard to believe that one.

The first time I met Brenda she scared the hell out of me. I was just a rookie fresh on the job. My partner Mitch and I walk in the house answering this call. Mitch knew what this was about because he’d answered this same call a number of times, but the sadistic bastard didn’t warn me at all. I think he wanted to enjoy seeing my reaction. Anyway, there she is - this beautiful blonde leaning back in a chair, her legs crossed like a man - one ankle on the other knee, puffing a big cigar. And she says to me in this deep voice, What the hell you looking at? He shook his head. Weirdest thing I ever saw. That was the first time I ever heard of that multiple personality thing. Wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself.

How her husband put up with that, I’ll never know.

I don’t know either. She’d change on a moment’s notice from the woman he loved to this ‘guy’ who threatened to take him apart. We answered a lot of calls for help from him. Guess he got her some help, because the calls stopped after awhile.

Glad you’re not like that. I have trouble living with one of you. I don’t think I could handle more. She smiled.

He gave her a mock look of hurt.

What about Sleepy? Ever find out what happened to him?

He shook his head and chuckled. "Probably buried in the dump. I caught that call. The damned garbage truck operator was really shook up. He thought he found a dead body. He saw Sleepy fall out of the dumpster into the back of the truck along with the garbage.

"When I got there I climbed up into the truck and checked him out. When I told the truck driver he was alive, I think he wanted to kill him himself for scaring the shit out of him.

"But they got used to Sleepy being in the dumpster. Always checked before hooking up the truck, and wake him up. I asked Sleepy how he could stand the smell of the garbage. He said he didn’t smell anything. I could understand that because no garbage smelled as bad as him. He slept in the dumpster because it was warm and