Divine Fury (48 page)

THE FIRST THING that Lee noticed about Sarah Armstrong when he returned to the News newsroom from an extended coffee break was the way she primped her hair, running her hand through the short brown hair styled to slant along her forehead and graze her left eye. She had high cheekbones, almost a model’s face. He guessed that she had a smile that could light up a room. But, Lee could tell he’d have to wait to see it – if he ever did - because her lips were compressed in a manner that suggested impatience, annoyance or both. Her eyes were gray, luminous yet direct. Lee guessed she could be hell on department store clerks and uncooperative reporters.

The other thing that Lee noticed was that she was sitting in his chair. Seeing a stranger sitting at his desk amid the clutter of notepads, phone messages, press releases, and with the partially written story about the pierced-body parts record holder on the computer screen, made him nervous.

“You’re in my chair,” he said

“Are
you
Enzo Lee?” She spoke briskly and in an irritated tone.

“No. I’m Duffy. Who are you?”

“I’m Sarah Armstrong.” She looked puzzled and miffed. “I wanted to talk to Enzo Lee and they told me to wait here.”

“Okay. I was just kidding. You’ve got the right man. But, I don’t have much time. I’m on deadline. And…do you mind if I sit there?”

“By all means.”

As she stood up, Lee took stock quickly. Medium height. Slender but full breasted. She was wearing a moss green sweater that reached her mid-thigh, black pants tapered at the ankle and slipper-like black shoes. She moved quickly, efficiently. He guessed she was 30. Lack of confidence didn’t seem to be her problem.

While Armstrong walked through the space on one side of the desk, he went around the other side and sat down. Lee clicked his half-written story off the computer screen. She took the chair opposite his desk and folded her arms across her chest, her posture ramrod straight.

“Okay,” said Lee. “Let me guess. You want to talk about Judge Miriam Gilbert.”

“How did you know?”

“Join the crowd.” Lee nodded at pink message slips strewn about his desk. In the story that had hit the newsracks the previous afternoon, Lee had complied with Ray Pilmann’s instructions and mentioned the half-empty bottle of Darvon prominently in the story. His article said pointedly that the police had not eliminated suicide as the cause of death.

The messages were from friends and acquaintances of Miriam Gilbert, irate about any speculation that the judge had taken her own life. His phone had been ringing off the hook when he arrived early in the morning. This was the price he was paying for letting himself be sucked into this story. Pilmann had said to tell them all to fuck off. Lee had finally instructed the receptionist to refer all his calls to the city editor. He considered all this Pilmann’s fault anyway.

“Look. Every word in that story is true,” said Lee. He started gathering up the messages, forming a small mound in the center of his desk.

“I know,” said Armstrong.

“You do?”

“I know she had a bottle of Darvon with her. She always did. She had migraines and her doctor prescribed it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Lee made a show of sweeping the messages into his wastebasket.

“And, she didn’t have much of a life outside of her work.”

“Well, that’s what I wrote,” said Lee. He began to fiddle with his computer. He looked up at the newsroom clock.

“What you didn’t say was that she was an incredibly happy woman who valued her work,” said Armstrong, showing no response to his impatience. “She felt very fulfilled. She was finding ways to speed up the courts. That’s what she had been working on so hard. She was looking to the future.”

“Okay, I give up,” said Lee. “What are you? Her psychic? Her personal trainer?”

“I’m her niece. I guess…I just wish you had found out more about her. You read this, and it’s just so cut and dried. You reduce her to six facts and make her seem so lonely and…almost afraid. That just wasn’t her at all.”

Armstrong was silent for a moment. She stared at the wall of the newsroom.

“Dammit!” Her fist crashed on the end of Lee’s desk so suddenly that he involuntarily jumped out of this chair before catching himself and sitting back down. “You don’t care! It was a mistake to come here.”

Lee was trying to think of something to say when Armstrong stood abruptly and walked quickly to the door of the newsroom, her shoulders back and her head held high. As she passed the copydesk, all the old geezers stopped what they were doing and looked.

Lee watched her disappear out the doorway. A couple of the copy editors looked his way. Lee shrugged. Then he turned to his computer. What had she expected, anyway? A retraction? An admission that he was a creep?

After staring at the pulsating cursor for a minute, Lee stood up and walked over to the windows facing 4th Street.

He waited until she walked out of the building’s front entrance. Armstrong stopped at the curb. Her head turned left, then right. Then she walked purposefully across the four-lane street.

***

THE BURLY GERMAN with long blond hair had slimjimmed the door and hotwired the ignition in less than three minutes. With any luck, the stolen vehicle report wouldn’t show up in the police computer until midday.

Hans Dietrich had waited patiently since six in the morning for Sarah Armstrong to emerge from her home. He had stolen the maroon van the night before from one of the dark, quiet residential neighborhoods in the Sunset district.

When Sarah Armstrong came out of the house Dietrich got a good look. She was attractive. He knew she was a lawyer but she was dressed casually. She moved athletically. Maybe a tennis or soccer player in her youth. Dietrich filed all this in his mind as she drove away in a yellow BMW and he followed.

When Armstrong parked across the street from the newspaper building and headed for the entrance, Dietrich parked the van with the engine running a half block from the building entrance and waited with a hunter’s watchfulness. It was a half an hour before he saw her emerge again. He could see that she had no idea that she had been followed or that she had any reason to be afraid. As he pulled the stolen van away from the curb, Dietrich saw her crossing the street quickly.

As Dietrich drew near her and shifted into second gear, he saw the terrified expression on Armstrong’s face as she looked at the oncoming van. She began sprinting to reach the other side. Dietrich twisted the steering wheel hard to the right and floored the accelerator.

Available at
Amazon

ACCLAIM FOR ROBERT B. LOWE’S

PROJECT MOSES

Best Indie Books of 2012 Finalist
- Kindle Book Reviews.

“
A thriller with an ideal fusion of wile and wit.
Lowe’s taut thriller is fronted by a likable protagonist who retains his sense of humor. The story’s long-reaching conspiracy is elaborate but never overwhelming, so readers can appreciate the stockpiling of secrets, elusive characters and murders committed to preserve those secrets.” –Kirkus Reviews

“
PROJECT MOSES
is a fast-paced hard to put down thriller.”
– Midwest Book Review

“This story is a fast paced and highly inventive mystery/thriller that grabbed me right from the start. I highly recommend this fascinating and fast paced mystery/thriller.
 
It is a thought provoking page turner
.”–Kindle Book Reviews

“This story starts off fast, grabbing the reader, and never lets up …
this is a book you need to read this year.
”–Rebecca Graf, A Book Lover’s Library

“
PROJECT MOSES
had my attention from the very beginning to the end
. There were times I was laughing and even crying. This was loaded with plenty of action and definitely a page turner! I would definitely recommend it to all mystery and thriller readers.”–Arlena Dean,
Arlenadean.blogspot

“It’s one of the better books I’ve read all year. It’s a gripping, non-stop action thriller with a touch of romance. Just the sort of book I’d love to see made into a movie!”–Cheryl Free, The Lucky Ladybug Blog

About the Author

ROBERT B. LOWE was a newspaper reporter for 12 years for publications in Arizona and Florida.
 
He won a Pulitzer Prize for his investigative reporting. He attended Harvard Law School and practiced law in California’s Silicon Valley before turning to the business side of high tech, both managing and founding young software companies.
 
He applies his background in the journalism, legal and business worlds to his fiction.
 
He resides in the Bay Area with his wife and daughters.
 
Divine Fury
is his second novel.

Divine Fury and Time Travel – A Comment

Time jumping has become a popular technique in fiction and movies and I’ve taken such a leap between the first two Enzo Lee novels from
Project Moses
to
Divine Fury
.
 
Specifically, the former book was set in 1994 while
Divine Fury
is set ten years later.
 
Remarkably, Enzo Lee is only two years older. Oh, that I could figure out a way to bottle that trick.
 
The early setting for
Project Moses
came about for a simple reason.
 
I started writing it then although it was finished and published in 2012.
 
Divine Fury
is set in 2004 partly because it felt right for the story line but also because it predates the most dramatic upheavals that still are transforming the American newspaper industry.
 
That story deserves a book of its own. – R. Lowe

Acknowledgements:

I am lucky to have a huge network of friends and family who have been extremely supportive and encouraging of my author ambitions.
 
They have bought books, given me feedback and suggestions, attended book signings and celebrated successes.
 
My wife Candace and daughters Chenery and Halle have picked up the slack in household duties, told me which characters, chapters and book covers don’t work and patiently endured the author’s distractions and self absorption.
 
My parents, sisters, in-laws and a small army of cousins have rooted me on.
 
Old and new friends – including many authors and bloggers I’ve only met since throwing my hat into the publishing ring – have given generously of their time and help.

In particular, I’m grateful to Laura Pepper Wu who provided invaluable help in getting me up to speed in the social media realm and helped me learn the ins and outs of book marketing in the constantly evolving landscape of independent publishing and electronic distribution.
 
Also, Linda Lee who grew up in San Francisco’s Chinatown showed me some of the out-of-the-way nooks and crannies there and was generous with her time.
 
She has operated the All About Chinatown Tours for nearly 30 years and I know I’ll be calling on her for more insights. – R. Lowe