Duty Bound (1995) (8 page)

"Naw, it's not that, Bonita. It's just I've been hangin' around too much. I gotta stay more focused is all."

"Am I distracting you from business, Teddy?"

Backing up a step, Ted stammered, "Uh . . . I . . . well, yeah, sometimes you do."

She moved closer. "What do I do that distracts you, Teddy?"

"You're doin' it now with that look you're givin' me.

Stop it, will ya?"

"This look? What kind of look is it, Teddy?"

"You know."

"No, I don't. Tell me," she said, standing just inches away, looking into his eyes.

Ted backed up another step. "Lonely . . . it's a lonely look," he said, vowing to himself to regain control.

"I am lonely, Teddy. And I was wrong about you . . . you are smooth, very smooth, in your own way. I like it; I like it a lot."

Exhaling, Ted reached out, took hold of her shoulders, spun her around, and began walking her toward the couch.

"Uh-uh, you sit down and watch your movies. I'm leavin'."

She angrily shook off his grip. "What is it with you? I thought we had something going."

"We do, an op."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"See ya." Ted was feeling good about taking charge.

As he began walking away, Bonita said, "Don't you want to know about the message I got from the FBI agent?"

Ted stopped and turned around. "What are you talking about?"

"A message. He left it for me. I'm C. Citizen, remember?"

"He can track it back to you?"

"No, he doesn't know my e-mail address. He left the message for me in a closet, a room that only I can get into because I know the password. Anyway, you'd better start watching that bank. His questions tell me they're about to move on the Yona Group. He wants me to meet him in person, and he guarantees my safety."

"It's started? Okay, I'll get my guys watchin' it."

Bonita moved toward him with a questioning stare. "It's not about the money, is it?"

"Huh?"

"We've talked every night for the past week and you've never mentioned the money once. What is it, Ted; why are you doing this?"

Ted turned away from her and walked toward the hallway.

Bonita followed him. "Why, Ted? It's going to get you killed. You know that, don't you?"

Ted stopped when he reached the steps, and faced her again. "Money isn't everything, Bonita. Look at your exboyfriend. He has enough to buy Florida, but he can't live like other people. The asshole needs an army to protect him."

Bonita searched his eyes as she moved closer. "Why, Teddy? Why are you putting your life in danger to try and kill him if it's not for the money?"

Ted avoided her stare for a moment by leaning over and patting Baby's head. "Enjoy the movies, Bonita, and don't forget to rewind them. They charged me a fee last time. I'll see ya tomorrow."

Ted turned, but Bonita was close enough now to grab his arm. "Don't go, Teddy. Please stay awhile. I'm sorry. I won't ask any more questions. Just stay with me awhile."

Ted looked into her pleading eyes.

Bonita suddenly released her grip and narrowed her welling eyes. "Go on, Faircloud. I can see it in your face.

You think all I care about is the money. You're right, damn you. It is all I care about. I'm just what you thought I was, an over-the-hill whore. Wait, take these." Bonita stormed over to the coffee table, picked up the two video cassettes, marched back, and slammed them into his chest. "Take these with you! Don't do anything nice for me again. I'm just a whore; don't waste your time!"

"Ah, come on, Bonita, don't get--"

"To hell with you, Faircloud! Baby, come here! Get away from him. Go on, Faircloud, and don't worry--I'll do my job. You just do yours and don't screw it up. I want my money."

Not knowing what to say or do, Ted turned and walked up the steps, thinking to himself, Uh-oh, I don't think that was acting.

Chapter 5.

11:10 A. M., Apalachicola River, Northern Florida.

Stephen Goodnight, freshman senator from Georgia, patted his eldest son's shoulder as he stepped back to let him take the wheel of the forty-two-foot cruiser. "Keep her speed down, son; no telling what's around the next bend."

Twenty-six-year-old Chad Goodnight struck a stiff pose and elevated his chin. "Aye-aye, Captain Hornblower! Keep her slow as she goes. Ahoy, all hands, French fleet about!

Beat to quarters! Clear the quarterdeck! Open the gun ports and sand the decks. Mr. Mike, fire as the guns bear!"

Mike Goodnight, at twenty-two the youngest son of the senator, rolled his eyes and stepped up beside his father.

"Dad, I think the sun has gotten to Chad; or maybe it's the beer."

Chad glanced over his shoulder at his younger brother with narrowed eyes. "Belay that talk, Mr. Goodnight. Have you never read the Hornblower series? I'll not be havin' insubordination on the captain's ship. Captain, I think the ensign needs a good keelhauling."

The senator grinned. "Aye, and the cat-'o-nine-tails might lick his back as well."

Seated on the leisure deck behind the three men, Chad's wife, Susan, leaned closer to her mother-in-law and asked, "Is this a guy thing?"

Mary Rigney Goodnight, the senator's wife of thirty years, smiled and patted the attractive young woman's bare leg. "They're having a good time, Sue. It's good to see Stephen smiling and laughing again. After a year in Washington I was afraid he had forgotten how."

Janice, Mike's girlfriend, scooted closer to the two women. "I had my doubts about this trip, Mary, but I think they all needed it. Just look at them. They're sunburned and acting like fools-it's wonderful. I'm glad the senator insisted we all come."

Mary held her smile. "I told Stephen we should all go to Disney World if he wanted us to get away for a while, but he was set on this 'expedition,' as he calls it. He said it would be just like the jungle cruise in Disney World but it would last three days instead of thirty minutes. I think he was right. We haven't seen another living soul or any semblance of civilization since we broke camp this morning. I don't know about you girls, but I'm in desperate need of at least the sight of a shopping mall. Heck, I'd settle for a 7-Eleven."

Janice laughed and put her hand to her forehead as she looked toward the banks of the river. "Not even a golden arch."

Drawn by the laughter, the senator turned and stepped down to the deck, where the women were sunning themselves. Dressed in tennis shorts and a dirty University of Georgia T-shirt, he flopped down by his wife and gave her a gentle hug. "Are we havin' fun or what?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah, lots of fun. Are you checkin' up on the rest of your crew, Captain Hornblower?"

"Aye, that I am, matey. Me and the lads be gettin' hungry and be wantin' to know what the wenches be cookin' after we sink the French fleet."

Mary shrugged. "As I remember, good Captain, you said you and your lads would be catching fish on this expedition.

Well, where are they?"

Stephen's smile faded. "Ahh, heck, Mare, the darn fish are all Democrats and won't bite. How about puttin' some steaks out and marinating them? We'll put in about ten miles downriver and set up camp."

Janice canted her head. "We were thinking more along the lines of pizza, Senator. Any towns up ahead where we could stop for carryout?"

The senator gave her a fake scowl. "No, fair wench, no towns up ahead. You don't eat pizza on an expedition. Just look out there at those tree-lined banks and this unpolluted river. You're witness to true, unspoiled native America; how could you possibly think of pizza?"

Janice shrugged as she did what she was told and looked toward the far bank. "Okay, how about a Long John Silver fish'o' more meal with french fries?"

The senator stood and barked, "Lads, they're talking insurrection here. Prepare the keelhaul lines!"

11:28 A. M., Georgetown, Washington, D. C.

Thirty-four-year-old Matthew Wentzel, staffer for Senator Stephen Goodnight, rolled off his assistant and tried to catch his breath. He was nude and his body gleamed with sweat.

Dana Cooper smiled as she ran her fingers over his damp chest. "Now, wasn't that better than walking along the canal?"

Matthew spoke between gasps. "A . . . a lot . . . better.

Aren't . . . you winded?"

"You did all the work," she said huskily. "And it was great work, I might add."

Matthew was about to respond when a man's voice said, "I thought you two would never stop. Have you got everything, Dana?"

Before Matthew could react, a fat man stepped up and pressed a pistol barrel to his forehead. "Easy, Matt. Just lie back down and stay nice and quiet. You need your rest after all that rutting. Thata boy."

Matthew shook uncontrollably as he stared at the silenced pistol.

Glaring at the obese man but not the least embarrassed about being nude, Dana got up from the bed. "It took you long enough. He wanted to go for a stroll!"

The man wrinkled his brow as if apologetic. "I didn't want to walk in during the action--just didn't seem right.

So, do you have everything?"

Dana nodded as she picked up her bra. "I have it all on disks. I erased the hard drives and the backups in the office, just the way you showed me."

"What about the paper files and documents?"

"All of it is in my car. They won't find anything about the investigation . . . I made sure of it. I even checked the computer here in his apartment, erased it, and reformatted all his disks. It's done; let's get out of here."

Trembling, Matthew tried to speak. "Wh-What is . . . is going on? Dana, what have you done?"

The fat man sighed. "You've been screwed, Matt. And you thought you were the screwer, didn't you? It doesn't work that way." The fat man squeezed the trigger. Matthew's head jerked back into the pillow from the impact of a .22 bullet that blew through his left eye. The killer casually lifted the weapon and pointed the barrel at Dana. "Sorry, honey, but I don't need you anymore."

The weapon coughed. With her hands still behind her to fasten the bra, she crumpled to the floor. The man stepped closer and fired another bullet into her head. He looked around the room, slid the pistol into his belt, picked up Dana's purse with his gloved hands, and seconds later had her car keys. Putting the purse back on the dresser, he put the keys in his pocket, pulled his pistol from his belt, and began unscrewing the silencer. A minute later he shut the apartment door and began walking down the steps, shaking his head in disgust.

Women, they're ten times worse than men. And they always talk about how much more sensitive they are. Dana gives me the key to his place, bolls the guy, and tells him how wonderful he is, knowing full well he's going to be offed, and that's sensitive? Not a tear for the guy, not even a wince when I pop him. She didn't even look, just kept putting on her bra as if he were nothing. She should have winced at least.

.

11:32 A. M., Apalachicola River, Northern Florida.

Chad Goodnight steered the cruiser around the bend. A large bass boat lay up ahead just off a small island in midchannel. On the craft's deck two men were waving their arms. "Dad, looks like we've got company on the river after all."

The senator nodded as he held his gaze steady on the distant boat. "Looks like they're in trouble; they've got their motor pulled out of the water ... probably a busted prop."

Hearing the conversation, Mary rose from her cushioned seat. "What is it, dear?" she asked, putting her hand to her forehead to block the glare.

The senator motioned ahead. "A couple of fishermen who ran out of luck. We're going to stop and see if we can help them."

On the cruiser bow, Mike Goodnight yelled toward the fishermen, "What's the problem, guys?"

A tall, thin blond in his early thirties motioned to the motor. "The prop is fouled with wire. Sure glad you guys came by when you did. We were getting worried. Can I borrow a pair of pliers? I dropped mine in the river when I was trying to pull the wire free."

Chad reversed the engine to decrease their speed even more as Mike nodded and yelled back, "Sure, no sweat.

Y' all catch anything?"

The blond grinned. "We've caught some nice stripers. We'll give you some for helping us."

Mike looked over his shoulder at his brother and father.

"Looks like we can forget the steaks. Janice gets her fish'o' more after all."

The senator walked toward the cushioned seats. "I'll get the toolbox."

Janice got up so the senator could lift the hinged top of the seat and she headed for the cabin door. "I'll put the steaks back in the fridge. Mary, Sue, you want anything while I'm in the cabin?"

Mary lifted her empty bottle. "I'll take one more wine cooler while you're up."

Sue shook her head. "Nothing for me, thanks."

Janice opened the narrow hatchway door and stepped down into the cabin.

Paddling closer to the cruiser, the blond man placed a bag over his shoulder and lifted a stringer with eight stripers.

Mike tossed down a line to the sunburned blond and whistled. "Man, those are huge. What kind of bait are you using?"