| Subject: Empty Reflections Part Eleven |
Author:
Karen
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Date Posted: 15:36:35 10/25/08 Sat
In reply to:
Karen
's message, "Empty Reflections-Prologue" on 14:52:42 08/05/08 Tue
A/N: Well finally here’s eleven. Only chapter twelve and the epilogue to go. Now if life will only let me along for a few minutes. Being retired is busier than working for a living.
Empty Reflections
Part Eleven
Chesapeake Grand Hotel
Baltimore, MD
Main lobby
August 2004
Sunday 1255
They rode down in silence. Channah was now in mission mode and nothing would distract her. Morgan was simply overwhelmed. He felt as though he was trapped in one of the outlandish plots from his TV show. He’d done his best to muddy the waters on these deaths, fearing all the while that it might be Polly. It had never occurred to him that his daughter was involved, and the news had devastated him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he dithered, as they reached the ground floor.
“Let’s just say that although my job apparently includes cleaning up your family’s messes, how they behave isn’t my responsibility. You hired me to protect Daphne. I protected her. I won’t travel with you to England. I’ll find my own way. That will give you more opportunity to get away cleanly, and deny any accusations. You will never see me again. But if I may repeat myself, I suggest strongly that you get that daughter of yours to counseling, and it wouldn’t hurt for you and your wife to go as well. The way you’ve been living the past five years has everyone’s head screwed on wrong, if you’ll forgive the ‘Americanism’.” Her voice had lost any respect she might have ever pretended for the man. Her sole objective was to finish the job she’d been paid to do by escorting him safely to his plane.
They stepped from the elevator into the nearly deserted lobby. It was noon on Sunday and few hotel residents were about. Scanning the entrance, they searched the parking area outside for the police or other official looking vehicles. When everything appeared clear, they walked briskly toward the massive doors
“There’s the car I ordered,” she pointed through the hotel’s glass front.
“Harm…Harm…wait a minute. Where are you going?” They heard the tap of Colonel Mackenzie’s shoes as she hurried across the lobby. “Look, here, I think I’ve found something.” Her attention was focused on the photos she was shuffling as she approached the tall actor masquerading as her husband.
Attempting to mimic the particular speech pattern of the Navy Captain, he replied. “What have you found?”
“Right here, look. McGee’s software didn’t pick up the facial similarities, but I’m almost certain the young woman with black hair and heavy makeup is the child Mark told Ben about. Here, look at the shape of her nose in these two photos, and there, it’s a small but significant birthmark on her neck. I missed it before, but while I was waiting for you…” something stopped her.
The actor and his child’s governess exchanged looks. Obviously, on the same page, she nodded.
“Sorry, I…uh…this young woman has something to tell me. I’m taking her down to headquarters. Why don’t you come along?”
This time the imitation of Harm fell like a sour note on Mac’s ears. She looked at him searchingly. “You’re not Harm,” she stated the obvious, then demanded. “What have you done with him?”
At that moment she felt it…the tingle on the back of her neck. She stepped away from him preparing to move quickly, but a hand fell on her shoulder. A dark chill emanating from the point of contact stopped her. Her body tensed, shifting her Marine training into overdrive.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Colonel,” Channah advised. “My training is more than an adequate match for yours, and I’m not pregnant.”
“You won’t kill me here,” Mac bluffed.
“Of course not, you’re coming with us.”
“I don’t think so,” Mac half turned. It was the woman she’d seen on the elevator Thursday evening. The one who had given Mac the first indication that something was very wrong. It was also the nearly unidentifiable second woman from the photos. “Who are you anyway?”
“My official title is governess to Mr. and Mrs. Morgan’s teenage daughter.”
“There is no…” she looked back at Morgan and the chips all fell into place. “The man in black who is actually a woman, and the young girl who is part of your entourage.”
“Yes,” Morgan tried a brave face. “The Captain said you’d figured that out. Bravo.”
“Then you’re the ex-Mossad agent.” Mac returned her attention to the governess.
Channah laughed harshly, but her words were dismissive. “You westerner’s, how you love drama. Don’t you know there is no such thing as being ex-Mossad? There are others who work for Israel that you know nothing about. The Mossad are not the sole protection for our country.”
“And what does Morgan’s daughter have to do with the protection of Israel?”
“Not a thing,” Channah replied, her tone emotionless, her face revealed nothing.
“Channah we have to go now,” Morgan prodded her. He glanced swiftly around the lobby. His nervousness was becoming apparent and they were attracting attention. He was beginning to have serious doubts about this mysterious and dangerous woman. How could Polly have entrusted Daphne’s care to her?
“Of course. Suppose you just come with us, Colonel, and maybe I’ll tell you a little story…if I decide I like you,” the former Israeli commando suggested.
“No. I just don’t think so,” Mac repeated. The short conversation had added questions more than answers, but she wouldn’t make this easy. She tensed again stepping back and setting her body to fight, to run, to do whatever was necessary to escape.
“I wouldn’t do that, Colonel. I’m sure you’ve already noticed we have the Captain’s uniform,” Channah suggested with deceptive mildness, “and I would bet right now you’re wondering what has happened to him.”
“Harm…?” Mac’s voice quavered ever so slightly with fear for the man she loved. She weighed the consequences of a probable escape against Harm’s life. “You wouldn’t dare, he must be in the suite.”
“Perhaps, you could be that lucky,” Channah taunted, “but then consider that I’ve had three days to explore this hotel. There are old hideaways due to remodeling that I doubt even the employees know about. And quite naturally you don’t want to do anything to endanger the baby your brave officer has given you, now do you?”
Mac shook her head stiffly. She had to risk it.
“Good, then we’ll all walk out of here nice and normal and get into that limousine. If you cooperate, then later I will tell you where you can find that handsome Captain of yours. You should find he is not seriously damaged. Of course I’ll have to arrange to inconvenience you until we are all safely away from your lovely country…I may even try not to make you too uncomfortable.”
Mac nodded curtly. She wasn’t certain she believed they’d let her go, and it was difficult to believe that Harm was all right, but if there was any chance of saving him she had to take it. In the few words they had exchanged, Mac had gleaned that she was dealing with a rogue agent of some type. Possibly part of a group. Even people who worked in that world had an honor system of sorts, though the parameters were not generally recognized by those in ordinary social systems.
Whoever she was and whatever she had done, Mac had to gamble it had little enough to do with her and Harm that eventually the woman would keep her word. On the other hand, she would keep an eye out for an escape route if that solution became necessary. Just how far astray this young woman had gone, and for what reason, remained to be discovered. After all, there was no blood on the pristine white uniform…maybe…just maybe.
“Very good, Colonel.” Channah read Mac’s surrender in her body language. “I can almost guarantee that once the Morgan’s are safely aboard their plane and airborne, you and your fine husband can then dedicate yourselves to searching for me. You won’t succeed, but perhaps we’ll have a good game of it.”
They quickly covered the rest of the distance across the deserted lobby and made straight for the long black car waiting outside.
Settling in behind the driver, Channah turned and opened the access panel to the front area as the limousine pulled out of the parking area.
“Anne Arundel County Airport and make it quick. We must arrive before Mr. Morgan’s plane is ordered to take off.”
She directed him to a small exclusive airport that regardless of its name was not located in Anne Arundel County at all. A small modern operation, it was licensed to serve international traffic for both cargo and private planes.
The details surrounding the strange death at the hotel and the ensuing investigation was not unknown to the driver. Professional drivers had an information disseminating system faster and largely more accurate than the Associated Press. But no warning had surfaced that these people were wanted by the law so it wasn’t his business. He cranked the wheel over, turning a hard left across traffic, and hit the gas pedal.
The big black car slid smoothly into the light traffic as he blended with, then passed, most of the other vehicles. He traveled several blocks by the fastest route which was oddly a very small side street, before hitting the freeway and heading north fifteen miles to the small historic township that was home to the small, exclusive airport.
When she shut the dividing window, Mac looked at her. “You won’t get away with this you know.”
Channah laughed. “You should get her a job in script writing, Morgan, her dialogue is almost as bad as what those clowns give you to read.”
Morgan looked at her with his hostility barely controlled. Somehow, this woman who’d been hired to protect his family had taken her job one step too far. Not that he would have had her turn Daphne or Polly over to the authorities, but she should have come to him.
“Why didn’t you come to me?” he repeated his question, dissatisfied with her accusatory reply of earlier. “The first time it happened, when there was still time, why didn’t you tell me?”
Channah just laughed. “Now how was I to know you didn’t approve…or even put her up to it?”
“Who…put who up to whatt? Who killed that woman in Thailand?” Mac interjected
The half-Israeli woman’s face took on that cheery look that some people have when reality has abandoned their world.
“He hired me to protect his family first, and foremost,” she nodded towards the tall actor. “The woman was making threats at the party, and people were listening to her. If she had talked to the press, said the things she was threatening to reveal, his life as an international star would have been over.”
“That’s not a physical threat. Why would you care?”
“I have my reasons. However for simplicity sake, let’s just say I was doing the job as I understood it.” The look on her face was guileless, but her eyes were hard as rock.
“Did you kill her?” Mac pressed.
“Not exactly, I understand it was barbiturates. At least that was the result of the blood test, was it not?”
“You’re a governess, how would you know that?” Mac continued her questioning.
“Don’t be dense, Colonel, after all, they hired me for my background...”
“To protect Daphne from others, so she could have a bit of freedom,” Morgan qualified quickly.
“And this woman was a threat. If it threatened you, then it threatened Daphne and Polly. Although in retrospect, perhaps it would have been better if everything had ended there. She was only eleven then. It’s doubtful she’d have gotten more than a slap on the wrists and six months of therapy. Now she’s so messed up… Of course, it may not have been her that time…I’ve never been really certain …perhaps it was your devoted wife. It’s my guess that it was her sleeping pills the authorities found in the blood of all those people,” she taunted, deliberately revealing his family’s culpability to Mac.
“You said you killed them,” he accused distractedly. Someone had to be to blame for this aside from his beloved wife and darling little girl.
“I actually said no such thing. I said I cleaned up the messes.”
“Then who did kill them?” he shouted at her. He couldn’t accept the answers she’d given. He wanted her to say something different, to accept full responsibility.
“Shhh! you don’t want the driver to hear,” she cautioned as they pulled through the private gate to the airstrip and rolled to a stop near their executive jet. “I suppose that will be a question for our esteemed investigators to sort out, won’t it? It’s time for you to go, Mr. Morgan. If you have any sense you’ll get on that plane and go back to England. Don’t talk to anyone for twenty-four hours, and don’t speak until you’ve talked to your solicitor. You may find a way around this if you handle it correctly. Goodbye, sir,” she opened the door for him, but moved closer to Mac. It would not serve her purpose if the Colonel tried to run.
He hesitated a long moment, wondering if...
“Don’t try to be a hero,” she warned. “You really shouldn’t believe your own press. You are no match for me.”
Lowering his eyes in defeat, he turned his head and looked longingly towards the expensive plane, waiting for him on the tarmac.
“What about her?” he questioned.
“She’ll be fine unless someone does something stupid. I’ll release her unharmed, and even tell her how to find her Captain, but for now she’s my ticket home,” the young woman watched Mac closely. “Now go before that TSA agent gets suspicious,” she ordered, indicating the agent who awaited Morgan on the steps to his plane.
Morgan slammed the door and sprinted for the waiting plane.
As he climbed aboard Channah opened the dividing window and instructed the driver. “Let’s go, we need to get out of their way.”
“Where to?” the driver queried, however Channah’s attention was caught by the activity at the door of the aircraft.
Morgan was being chastised by an unhappy TSA agent. She lowered the window slightly to catch their words.
“You’re late, sir, it makes clearance harder.” The words were respectful, but the tone carried a warning as he checked Morgan’s passport and ID. “Where did you get the uniform?”
Morgan glanced inside towards Polly. Her eyebrows rose in a worried query. He nodded slightly in reply, and showed her the small bear-shaped bag.
“Last minute scene change, I had to re-film something,” Morgan explained with his patented smile to the impatient agent.
“Hmmm, looks real,” the TSA agent was still disturbed.
“Its amazing what the wardrobe department can come up with,” Morgan turned on his famous charm. “Do you watch the show?” he asked the man conversationally.
“Sometimes,” was the guarded reply.
“Well, you watch for our season finale. You won’t be disappointed. Your Navy gave us the utmost cooperation.” The facile lie was delivered with award winning skill.
“Really?!” The man was obviously impressed. “They don’t often do that.”
“Well, I guess they liked the script,” Morgan dissembled. “Was there anything else you need to look over?”
“No,” the agent replied still half-uncertain about something, but not sure what. “Have a good flight,” he offered and helped the attendant close the door.
The TSA agent descended the short flight of stairs, and called his clearance over the radio. As he climbed into the golf cart he used for transportation the pilot punched the button to start the starboard engine.
“Where to?” the driver repeated. Channah breathed a sigh of relief. Once the Morgan’s were airborne it would be easy to make her escape.
“Park over there.” Still somewhat distracted, she indicated the side of the building. Behind them, she heard the port engine power up.
“I can’t stay in here, security will be all over me. We need to leave this area.”
“Then go back through the gate and park on the road. I want to make sure they take off safely.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” he queried.
“I’m superstitious. Now do as you’re told,” she ordered.
He pulled out the gate and turned right towards an open field ringed by trees. A small dirt road ran into the trees between the field and the airport’s security fence.
Pulling off the main road, he drove about a half mile down the dirt road, then asked, “How’s this?
“Fine,” she replied curtly. Looking out the side window she watched as the big corporate jet taxied to the end of the runway. With one eye on Mac, she noted the woman’s tense muscles. It would take little for her to make a dive for the opposite door and Channah wasn’t a fool. She was well aware that this female Marine looked to be a lethal adversary.
“Don’t try it. We still have the issue to resolve of where I left your husband and in what condition.”
Mac looked at her hard. “Do you really expect me to believe you left him alive?”
“No I don’t expect you to believe it, but you want to believe it or you wouldn’t have come with us,” she observed caustically. Then pulling a pair of flexi-cuffs from her pocket, she tossed them at Mac. “Put them on.”
Once again, Mac sized up her chances against this woman. She was obviously desperate and perhaps unbalanced as well. A well-placed guess would be that she was probably running from more than accessory to murder charges.
“I told you don’t try it. Your husband isn’t dead, Morgan wouldn’t let me kill him, but he could go days without being found, and so could you. Once I’m away, a simple phone call will make everything okay.”
“You really think it will all be okay?” Mac asked pulling one cuff around her wrist.
“Put your hands behind you,” the erstwhile governess ordered.
Mac reached behind her and slipped into the other cuff, asking, “Who really killed those people?”
Channah reached behind the Colonel and assured herself that Mac was tightly tethered. Just then, the roar of jet engines as the Morgan’s plane raced down the runway and leaped into the air took Channah’s attention.
“Hey what’s going on?” The driver, who had finally looked in the rear view mirror, found his voice and a small wash of courage, but he discovered a small but lethal looking gun in his face for the effort.
“Do not move,” Channah ordered. “Not even so much as the tiniest muscle.”
With practiced ease, she had whipped the small weapon from the pocket of her pants proving what Mac had sensed. That the other woman had not been bluffing.
Climbing carefully from the car, Channah opened the driver’s side and reached in grabbing for the man’s necktie. Unfortunately, his decision to eschew the clip on ties favored by most uniformed employees worked against him. She really didn’t have time to tear up more clothing, and she needed to get away quickly now.
“Put your hands on the wheel,” she instructed laying the firearm on top of the car. Deftly she bound his hands to the steering wheel with a figure eight and tied the knot tightly on the underside so he couldn’t get to it with his teeth. He might chew his way through in a few hours or security might be alert enough at this airport to realize the car had been parked here for too long, but it would give her time to get away.
Reaching across she yanked the keys from the ignition, then took the butt of her gun and smashed the cars satellite locater system. Finally, she took his cell phone from his belt, and turned away from the car, throwing both as far as she could into the trees ringing the field. Searching Mac’s waistline she found her phone.
“I asked you who really killed those people. It could work in your favor if we have the truth,” the lawyer bargained.
“I doubt it,” Channah mocked her. “At this point, I would take the fall whether I’m guilty or not. I don’t have the money for fancy lawyers like my esteemed former employer. But if it matters, I wasn’t the one who doctored the drinks. I just made sure they were out of the way. We couldn’t have people falling over drugged at the party.”
“What did you do? How far did you go to ascertain that?”
“That, my dear Colonel, is the big question. It’s a very complicated mystery, don’t you think?” she posed the question as she backed from the car.
“Wait…Harm, what about Harm?”
“You’ll find him in the hall closet of Mr. Morgan’s suite. I’m sure he’s very uncomfortable by now, and doubtless has a splitting headache. Oh, and you will have to take him some clothes. He’s probably getting rather cold.” With a final chilling laugh the woman slammed the car door closed, and threw Mac’s phone in the same general direction she had thrown the drivers phone and keys. Retrieving a small travel bag from the trunk, she sprinted through the trees in the direction of the small airport.
Mac waited, watching her until she had disappeared. Once Channah was out of sight, the Marine started twisting her hands. She’d managed to fasten one the handcuffs around the bunched up seat belt, leaving some room and a protective surface. Squeezing her hand together by tucking her thumb against her palm, she twisted until the belt protected the back of her hand. Slowly, she worked the hand until it started to slip through the plastic strap. It was painful as it removed a layer of skin from the sides of her hand, and cut into both her wrists as she struggled, but she’d almost completed her escape when the car door flew open.
End part eleven
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