Tick tock, p.4
Tick Tock, page 4
“Thank you, Anthony.” Jack nodded, and Nikki followed with a smile and a nod.
“Oh, I just love the smell of this place.” Nikki took in a long inhale. “White tea?” she mused.
Anthony couldn’t help but overhear her and ordered a scented candle to be sent to her room with a note indicating it was compliments of the house.
Anthony wasn’t the only one observing Nikki and Jack. A skinny, nervous guy watched the two of them cross the lobby and walk down the far corridor. He shuffled to a section of the lobby where no one could hear him. He parked himself behind one of the potted plants, as if no one could see the conspicuous man crouched under a palm tree. He dialed a number.
“Hey boss. They just checked into The Tides Inn.” He listened for a moment. “They walked to the other side of the building, and I watched the bellman bring their bags down the hall just like you said.” He listened some. “Got it.” Another pause. “Okay. I’ll meet you at the motel tonight.” He slipped the phone into his pocket and left his posh surroundings.
* * *
Nikki strolled into the bedroom of the suite. Jack followed. “This is beautiful.” She turned and put her arms around his neck.
“I wanted something private but also with amenities, so you can be pampered.”
“Really, it’s spectacular. Look at this view.” She motioned to the beautiful trees and vegetation that surrounded the creek that led to the bay. She gave a sigh. “The best part is that we are together. Alone. Far away from the chaos.”
Jack held her close. A knock on the door indicated their luggage had arrived. “Okay, sport. Let’s unpack, freshen up, and head to the veranda and have a glass of champagne.”
“I love the way you think.” She pecked him on the cheek.
Jack went to the door and ushered the bellman in. There was a small shopping bag atop the two suitcases. The bellman handed it to Jack. “Mrs. Emery mentioned she liked the scent in the air. This is from the concierge. Compliments of The Tides Inn.”
Jack was impressed. “Thanks very much.” He motioned for the man to bring the bags into the bedroom. Upon his return, he handed the man a twenty-dollar tip.
“Thank you, sir. Enjoy your stay.”
Nikki emerged from the bathroom.
“Look what they sent.” Jack handed her the shopping bag with the scented candle.
Nikki took a deep inhale. “I’m loving this place already.”
* * *
Leroy got in the rental car and drove to the motel a mile away. He knew something was going to go down, but he wasn’t sure what it was. He chewed his nails in suspense. Then his mind wandered to the money they were going to make. He wondered when that was going to happen. Maybe Darius would know. He’d ask him later.
Chapter Nine
Pinewood
Myra walked into the atrium, where Charles was tinkering with one of his laptops. “What are you doing, dear?” she asked.
“Something isn’t right with this.” Charles pointed to the screen. “It keeps fuzzing up.”
“What do you mean ‘fuzzing up’?”
“I wish I could replicate it, but it seems to happen periodically.” Charles sat back and crossed his arms. “These machines are supposed to be bugproof.” Charles shook his head. “They have been through the most stringent tests, and the firewall is supposed to block out everything.” He flipped the computer shut. “I’ll have Fergus take a look when he gets back. I’m stumped.”
Myra looked at him in surprise. “You? Stumped? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you utter that word.”
“Technology moves incredibly fast. We’ve been radio silent for several months. Much can change in a short period of time.”
Myra stood behind Charles. She stroked her pearls. “Charles, I’m getting that odd feeling again.”
He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “You just have the jitters because Nikki and Jack are on a long-overdue holiday. You don’t like it when your chicks aren’t in the roost.”
Myra chuckled. “Oh, you know me too well.”
“Did they check in with you?” Charles asked, referring to Nikki and Jack.
“Yes, she sent a text. They are settling in.”
“There now. Feel better?”
“No, not really. She said she and Jack are going to put their phones in the safe.”
Charles let out a guffaw. “I can’t say I blame them!” He could tell Myra was uncomfortable with the inability to instantaneously contact her adopted daughter. “The hotel has phones, my love. Please try to relax.” Charles stood. “Come, I’ll fix us something to drink.”
* * *
Several hundred miles away in Alabama, Cooper, a very unusual dog, was pacing the floor. His owner, Julie, knew that meant something was not right. “What’s the matter, boy?” She crouched down and looked him in the eyes. He gave a soft woof. Julie motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen, but he wouldn’t budge. He hunkered down on all four paws. “Coop? Are you okay, pal?”
He gave another woof and scurried toward the closet, where his “go-bag” was stashed. Julie knew that was a sign of trouble. The dog was known for his psy-tracking ability. Most tracking dogs were trained in one of several areas: drugs, cadavers, weapons. But Cooper had extraordinary talents. He could sense something from miles away. It was as if he possessed some kind of psychic ability. Some people thought it was absurd until he helped solve a few situations with the Sisterhood. Julie tried to keep his special talent under wraps. She didn’t want to be harassed by the media or put Cooper in any kind of jeopardy. There were a lot of crazy people out there.
Cooper began the ritual of piling his gear by the front door. The only option Julie had was to call Myra. Maybe something was going on and they needed help.
* * *
Myra was beginning to relax when the phone in the kitchen rang. That meant it had to be one of the Sisters or someone closely affiliated with them. Her hands started to shake.
“Hold on, love—I’ll get it.” Charles kissed her on the top of the head and walked into the kitchen.
Myra could hear Charles’s voice in the background. “Hello, Julie. How are things?” There was a minute of silence. “I see. When did this start?” More silence. At that point, Myra was by Charles’s side. She had a look of panic in her eyes. Charles put his hand on her shoulder and continued to speak. “Of course. Jack is away for a couple of days. I’ll ring Harry to see if he can meet you in Atlanta. Right-o. Will do.” He hung up.
Myra was about to burst. “What is it?” She clutched her pearls.
“Evidently, Cooper is pacing. Julie said he pulled out his gear and piled it by the door.”
“Oh, my. What do you suppose it means?” Myra was starting to shake.
“It means the old boy is on to something. Let me call Harry and make arrangements. Once Cooper gets here, maybe he can tell us.”
“Don’t be funny, Charles.”
“Myra, darling, you know what I meant. You have been very jumpy lately.”
“See—I told you I was having a bad feeling about something. Now Cooper is, too, and he’s over eight hundred miles away! I’m calling Nikki.” Then she remembered their phones were locked away. “I’ll leave a message with the front desk. They couldn’t have wandered too far.”
Charles pulled up the phone number of The Tides Inn and dialed. “Good evening. Can you connect me to the Emerys’ room, please?” The phone rang several times, but no one answered.
The operator returned. “I’m sorry, there’s no answer. Shall I take a message?”
“Yes, please. Can you ask them to contact Myra and Charles?” Myra gave him a wide-eyed look. He punctuated his sentence with “It’s important.” He listened for a moment. “Yes, that would be much appreciated. Thank you.” He hung up and turned to his nervous wife. “She is going to have someone check the loggia and the restaurant and hand-deliver the message.”
Myra let out a long exhale. “Now, please, call Harry.”
Charles pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial for Harry Wong. Harry was married to Yoko, one of the Sisters. He specialized in training law enforcement officers for the FBI and CIA. He had a love-hate relationship with Jack. The source of their complicated dynamic went way back, but they would both kill for each other. Not all that different from many brother-to-brother relationships, although they were not brothers in blood. Only in spirit.
“Harry? All good with you? Yes, it’s been a while.” Charles smiled at Myra. “Listen, old boy, we need you to fetch Cooper.” Charles listened for a few seconds. “That’s just it. We don’t know what’s gotten into the pooch, but Julie insists he’s pacing and is ready to go.” Charles was nodding his head. “Let me see if I can get Annie’s plane ready. That should get you back here in time for your afternoon training session. Right-o. Will do.”
He turned to Myra. “He has a training session tomorrow afternoon. Can you get in touch with Annie so Harry can borrow the plane? That would make this a whole lot easier. Otherwise, I’d have to drive to Atlanta, and I have some important tech work to catch up with.”
Myra pulled out her phone and punched in Countess Annie de Silva’s number. After two rings, she answered.
“Myra? Everything all right?” Annie’s voice was tense.
“Annie, I’m not sure what’s going on, but we just got a call from Julie. Cooper is pacing. He piled his gear by the door. Jack and Nikki are away, and Harry’s schedule is in a crunch. May he use the plane to fetch Cooper?”
“You know you never have to ask,” Annie said calmly. “I’ll send it down tonight. Tell Harry to be at the airport by six o’clock. That should give him plenty of time to get to Cooper and turn it around.”
“Thank you, Annie.” Myra’s voice was still shaky.
“Myra? What is going on?” Annie knew her friend all too well. “Tell me you’re not clutching your pearls.”
Myra brought her hand down from her neck. “Oh, Annie, I had one of those goose-bump feelings earlier today, and now this thing with Cooper has me a bit spooked.”
“I’m sure it will be fine. Maybe Cooper just needs a change of scenery.” Annie was trying to soothe her friend’s anxiety. Annie knew when Myra had one of her spooky feelings, something always followed. Good and bad. “Call me tomorrow. Call me anytime. Stop fretting, please.”
“I’ll do my best. Thank you, my friend.” Myra clicked off the phone. “The plane will be back from Maine and ready to go by six o’clock tomorrow morning. Harry should be back well in time for his session.”
“See? That worked out.” Charles put his arms around her. “Let’s not worry about something until something happens to worry about.” Charles guided Myra back to the atrium, where Lady and her pups were lazily wagging their tails. “You’re going to have company,” Charles said in an upbeat tone. The dogs jumped up and gave howls of approval. Yes, dogs could have a vocabulary of 200 words. “Company” was one they understood.
Charles poured Myra and himself a glass of sherry. “Come, sit. We’ll wait to hear back from Nikki and Jack.”
Myra sat in her favorite chair, her dogs gathered at her feet. Charles pulled a cashmere throw from a nearby bench and wrapped it around her. He rubbed both her shoulders. “Don’t worry, love.”
But Charles knew something was indeed afoot. It was simply a matter of time.
Chapter Ten
Darius and Eric
While in prison, Darius had spent many hours studying the mechanisms and instructions for 3D printing. A 3D printer cost about 2,000 dollars. He didn’t ask why Darius wanted a printer, but Eric fronted the money. He’d deduct it from the final payout. Eric had some cash stashed somewhere. Not a lot. Just enough to get them to the next level. Tying up loose ends and then getting away.
The things Darius needed to manufacture to do the job weren’t complicated. In order to fly under the radar, they knew they could not leave any kind of trail, whether it was on paper or footprints, digital or actual. They each had their agenda, and one wrong move could blow the entire operation.
Darius was almost giddy when the carton with the 3D printer arrived. A new toy. A toy to make toys with. It couldn’t get better than this when it came to tinkering. He could create almost anything with that fine piece of technology. And the parts he would create were almost impossible to trace. He nodded his head as he popped the bubble wrap between the thumb and forefinger of his latex-gloved hand. This was going to be a whole barrel of fun.
He shredded the carton and all the packing materials with a Sheetrock knife and divided it into several piles, shoving the pieces into separate trash bags. Later, he would drive around town, depositing the bags in commercial dumpsters in different locations on the north, south, east, and west outskirts of town. No fingerprints, either. The plan was that they would be long gone before anyone could put it together. Timing was everything. Speaking of which, he wondered when he would get the call from the once-and-probably-still-rich pretty boy.
He turned on the local news. Nothing much to report. That was good. It meant everyone was in a more relaxed state. The past couple of years had been hellacious, whether you were incarcerated in prison or at home during the lockdown. People were bouncing off the walls. Mass shootings, drive-by shootings, stabbings. Road rage. It was crazy. For those who got caught, you prayed you didn’t end up in a maximum. That meant everything from murderers, rapists, thieves, and perverts.
He considered himself fortunate to have been transferred to a medium-security facility, but he still had to watch his own back while watching someone else’s back. He needed to form an alliance, and the two new dudes presented that opportunity. Then came Leroy, and things started to fall into place. Each had a goal for when they got out, and they either gained a new skill or perfected one. Compared to everyone else, they were saints. At least none of them had murdered anyone. Not yet, anyway.
Eric
Not too long before he got caught, Eric knew his luck might run out, so he made a contingency plan. He rented several storage units under his wife’s maiden name. The paperwork was easy enough to fudge, and the storage facilities were more than happy to take a few years’ rent upfront. In cash. He stashed $250k across five different locations throughout Los Angeles County. He also packed a set of clothes in each bag. He didn’t want to look like a schlub when he got out. He needed to be better-than-normal respectable.
After his arrest, he gave his lawyer specific instructions to continue to pay the storage rental fees should he not be released within the next five years. He told his lawyer it was personal stuff he didn’t want his wife to know about. Attorney-client privilege.
Once Eric had been released from prison, he made his first stop at the Budget Car Rental in Pasadena. He didn’t want his own vehicle passing through the security cameras at the storage facility. He wore the obligatory baseball cap and sunglasses, and a fake mustache, just for the heck of it.
Pasadena was an upscale community. Very little crime. The storage company was almost as impenetrable as the prison where he’d spent a good chunk of his time. He figured out the math. Almost fifteen percent of his life had been spent behind bars. He was only in his late forties now, actually closer to fifty, but he had plenty of time ahead. He had planned to retire by age fifty, so in some ways, he was still on track.
He punched the passcode into the box, and the security gate opened. He looked around. There was no one in sight. He went to the small unit and opened one lock with a key and a second with a combination. Sure, the town was safe, but he wanted to be doubly sure; hence, the double locks. Looking around, he realized he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Make it harder for the criminals. He chuckled to himself. You’re the criminal.
He pulled the duffel bag off the only shelf in the unit. Unzipped it. Everything was exactly the way he left it. The clothes needed to go through a wash—maybe also the cash—but that was minimal in the scheme of things.
He hadn’t counted on shelling out a couple grand for a 3D printer. Darius said he needed it. Eric didn’t question him. He wouldn’t dare. When you are in jail, you have to reassess your situation, and project future situations. This was one of those future situations. Eric didn’t want to cross Darius. The guy had too much rage.
Thinking back five years, Eric recalled how much his plans had changed after meeting the other three. But it was a matter of necessity. He had to make friends, or he could easily have become mincemeat.
The inmates were rough, but not murderous. He hoped. There was a small handful of tattoo-covered good ol’ boys who liked to mess with those who were a bit shorter, thinner, prettier. The thought made Eric’s knees weak and his stomach turn. Nope. He didn’t want to become anyone’s substitute girlfriend. Eric had thought he might end up in one of those “country club” detention facilities. Nope. And what was worse, he was in with the general population. He didn’t know what to expect. It could mean a bevy of bad guys. A crowd of criminals. So Bennie had served as Eric’s protection. Then there was Leroy. A bit dim-witted, but not a terrible person. He never hurt anyone.
And Darius. Out of the three, Darius was the one Eric feared the most. He had the most anger. Plus, he had been in the place more than twice as long. Five years was grueling enough. Eric understood how someone could become embittered. Darius had an ax to grind. Probably several.
All Eric cared about was getting out, getting his cash, and getting the heck out of the country. He had known his time in jail was finite. He simply needed to keep his head down and work on his computer skills. He would come out with a boatload of money and then disappear into the sunset. There was no time for bitterness. He was on the move. The only sketchy part was relying on Leroy to follow instructions. It was unclear what Darius’s ultimate plans were, but Eric knew they couldn’t be anything close to benevolent.
Eric locked up the unit and returned the rental car. He drove his car to a second car-rental company so he could go to another storage unit and pick up more cash. He’d already gone through half of the $50k from the first bag. Eric knew Leroy needed to hotfoot it to the island, which meant new identities had to be formed.
