Magic Moment (30 page)

“Oliver had a fit when he heard the stunt you pulled, arriving on the boat, running his men off,” Dick said with an ironic grin. “It took a fifth of my most expensive bourbon and a romp with Rachel to calm him down.”

“Rachel?” Chase nearly choked on the woman’s name. “Your secretary? With Oliver Daniels?”

Dick nodded. “You may ignore her, but most men welcome her invitations. Rachel likes her lays rich, and she doesn’t give a hoot about the age difference. Frankly, my boy, I can tell you first hand, you don’t know what you’re missing.”

Oliver Daniels and Rachel. His father
and
Rachel. Chase’s digested breakfast revolted.

“Nothing surprises me anymore.” Despite the grave situation he was in, Chase suppressed a laugh. In all the years Rachel had worked for his father, she always referred to Dick as
Mr. Donovan.
He wondered if his father was
Mr. Donovan
while the pair engaged in a sex romp.

“I was able to cover for you good,” Dick said. “I told Oliver you dated Laura a few times, gave her a tumble.”

Chase said nothing.

“It was harder to convince Chuck to wait while Laura went through her pregnancy,” Dick went on. “But I convinced all parties you could keep her mouth shut. I used the boat excursion and hiding Laura in Sea Tower, away from those agents, as evidence of your loyalty.”

Chase sighed. “Dad, this is crazy. We’ll pay off Laura. She’ll go away.”

Dick became agitated. “Suppose she decides the amount we give her isn’t enough,” he insisted. “She’ll hang her federal friends over our heads. She’ll threaten to take the baby, your son, my grandson. Her threats will be a constant. Besides, Chase, we don’t have money to waste on her.”

“I said I’ll get it.”

Dick continued. “Think of us as a family, Chase. The three of us, the Donovan men.”

Dread filled Chase at the prospect of not having Laura in his life. “After the baby’s born, we’ll discuss my sham of a marriage,” he said in keeping with Saunders’ program.

“We’ll take care of it now,” Dick demanded, his gray eyes hard like steel. “You’ll listen to me. You’ll do what I say. You’ll let me fix this mess you’ve gotten us into.”

Chase hid his smirk well. This was the father he had anticipated.

Dick’s cell phone chimed, and he excused himself. Chase recognized the caller as Rachel. Considering what he had learned this morning, he wondered if the call was business or pleasure.

“Chase, I need to get to the warehouse,” Dick said, returning the phone to his inside jacket pocket. “Rachel set up a meeting with a new customer. Apparently, I’m late.”

Chase laughed, a tactic to return a cordial note to the conversation. “Dad, how did you get Rachel to keep your trysts quiet? She’s got the mouth that roars.”

“Her mouth is good for other things, too,” Dick said with a wink, and slid from the booth. “She’s too fond of keeping her job to blab.” He reached inside his jacket pocket.

Chase held up his hand. “My treat, Dad.”

“Rachel aside, we’re not done talking.”

Chase nodded. “I can only stay another day before Laura gets suspicious.”

“I understand,” Dick said. “We don’t want her suspecting you’re cheating. Next she’ll hire a private detective. Get a lawyer who will really take you for a ride.” A whimsical look passed over his features. “See how inconvenient divorces are.”

Chase replied with a frown.

“Why don’t we have dinner tonight?” Dick proposed.

“Sounds good.”

Dick smiled. “I’ll call you later with the details. We’ll make a real night of it.”

Chase gave his father the hotel where he was staying, and the cell phone number Saunders had given him. “I got this phone without telling Laura,” he repeated the cover tale. “I left the other on the bureau. On purpose. I don’t need her calling me for every little baby kick.”

Chase watched his father leave the diner. He silently bemoaned last night’s restlessness without Laura and their hyperactive baby, the latter who generally woke his parents at two in the morning while he practiced his field goal kicking.

• • •

In the small hotel room, Saunders, Morgan, and Chase sat at the square table by the floor-to-ceiling window eating Philly cheesesteak sandwiches and discussing their progress so far.

Morgan swallowed from his water bottle. “First off, we don’t know how the money’s exchanged. And we need to find out how the stuff’s getting in.”

“If the airports are out, it’s coming by boat,” Chase said.

“How’s that work?” Morgan asked.

“The fruit arrives on a ship and gets unloaded at the waterfront,” Chase said. “Customs inspects, but not every little nook and cranny. They may even be paying someone off. You’ll need to check that.”

Morgan nodded his head, acknowledging, and Chase went on.

“Even without someone on the inside, if the coke bags are small and sandwiched among the fruit, they would be difficult to detect.” He turned to Saunders. “You guys are so worried about undesirables busting the airports, start paying more attention to the seaports.”

Saunders nodded, filing the comment before returning to the current discussion. “We have to find out who their contact is in South America.”

“It’s either the supplier or the shipping firm. I might be able to get that information tonight.” Chase took a generous bite of his sandwich.

“You’ve done great so far, Chase,” Morgan said.

Saunders agreed. “That was good stuff on Caldwell and Kent. They’re not walking from anything. What about this Rachel broad? She in on what’s going down?”

At Morgan’s more raunchy interpretation of the secretary’s role, the small group laughed. Chase munched on his fries as he gave a verbal dossier on Rachel.

“If you told me she banged the warehouse guys, I’d agree.” Chase laughed. “Oliver Daniels? My father? Incredible.”

The cell phone on the nightstand rang, interrupting their amusement. Chase excused himself. He sat on the bed’s edge and flipped the top.

His father sounded in good humor. He had ordered a car, legit and not from Leisure Limo.

“The Donovan men deserve a guys’ night out,” Dick insisted. “I mean big time. Dinner and gambling in Atlantic City. I’m looking to pick up some skill at the blackjack table before we grab a couple of girls.”

Chase controlled his wince. Girls? Hookers? He hoped Saunders had some notes in his manual on getting out of
that
situation. There was no way Chase was cheating on his wife. “Dad, sounds like a night,” he said as if there were no place else he’d rather be. “I have the best luck at The Nile.”

“That’s where we’ll go. Meet me at the warehouse around six,” Dick suggested.

Chase ended the call and briefed the two men.

“I don’t like it,” Morgan said immediately.

“What don’t you like?” Chase asked. Everything seemed casual enough.

“All of it,” Morgan replied. “The warehouse. Driving in a car, Leisure or otherwise, to Atlantic City. Why can’t you take the Honda?”

Chase sipped from his soda can through a straw. A Honda wasn’t Dick Donovan’s style.

“We got time to get a team in the hotel,” Saunders said.

“Suppose they don’t go to The Nile,” Morgan said.

“We’ll follow the car,” Saunders countered.

“I don’t like it,” Morgan repeated. “How do you feel, Chase?”

“I didn’t give the invitation much thought until I looked at your gloom and doom expression.” Chase said matter-of-factly. He paused. “My father won’t hurt me if that’s your concern. If anything, I’ll be brow-beaten into giving up Laura.”

“Chase, I’m not saying it’s your father who would set you up,” Morgan said. “We’ve seen how gullible and loyal he is to these people. You and your father could be walking into a trap where you’ll both end up on a slab.”

Saunders considered before agreeing with Morgan. “They believe Laura’s in Sea Tower. Remember what Daniels and Hunter planned for her, Chase. What’s to stop them from killing you and your father? Then going after her. No waiting for the baby to be born.”

Morgan and Saunders, in a black van with two other special agents, followed the yellow cab carrying Chase to the warehouse at a safe distance. Daylight savings time had come and gone. Tonight’s sky was in full twinkle with a shadowed half-moon hanging over the area.

Earlier, Chase had given Saunders duplicated keys to the Food Mall’s front gate, the Donovan warehouse, and Dick’s office. Now putting his own key in the lock, Chase pulled open the gate and stepped inside.

He wore his jeans, and a blue button-down shirt. His denim jacket protected against the autumn night breeze and kept the transmitter hooked to his belt looking discreet. He also had a companion; his revolver tucked in the back of his pants. Chase had argued against it. But he was entering a dangerous situation and held a permit, Saunders had reminded him. The special agent ordered Chase to carry the weapon.

He walked up the loading dock stairs, stepping into the faintly lit warehouse. The silence and scarcity of people wasn’t unusual. What was unusual to Chase was the clear sound of his heart pounding wildly. He had ignored the tension all day, but at this moment, his gut screamed loudly, and his day-long unease revolved into full-blown fear.

The outer office was empty. Rachel flew out the door at five. Laura’s replacement appeared to have acquired that same skill. Laura … the love of Chase’s life. Saunders had arranged a phone call to her before leaving the hotel. Apprehension, due to Morgan’s irksome reservations over tonight’s meeting, had overwhelmed Chase. He had feared that the call might be the last time he heard Laura’s voice. She had been ecstatic to talk with Chase. And how well he knew the woman he loved. When she prattled on about knitting Baby Donovan a blanket, how nice the motel was, Aunt Lonnie was catching up on her reading, and that Special Agent Newrome made the best pancakes, Chase knew her nonstop talking was her way of hiding her own anxieties.

Dick’s office door was closed. He heard muffled voices. One voice, his father on the telephone, wasn’t odd. Two voices chatting together, when Chase expected his father to be alone, was peculiar. Pressing an ear to the door, he listened, attempting to gather pieces of conversation and the owner of the other voice. He was unsuccessful at both.

“Someone’s in the office with my father,” he whispered, cluing in those in the nearby van.

Chase knocked.

“Chase? Come on in,” Dick called.

Irish whiskey, sweet smelling and expensive, hit Chase as he opened the door. Dick sat leisurely behind his desk, holding a nearly empty glass. Dressed in the same suit as the morning, his jacket was draped over the back of the chair and his gently shaded gray tie was loose at the knot. A half-filled Irish whiskey bottle was on the desk.

“Chase, my apologies for starting without you,” Dick said. “Let me pour you a drink.”

Since when did his father apologize? Let alone for a trivial detail as having a drink without him.

Chase then noticed the man lying on the leather sofa; short, stout, and completely bald. Dressed in his customary greasy denim overalls, it was Oliver Daniels. His smooth head rested on one arm of the sofa, his sneaker-clad feet were propped on the other. His arm dangled to the floor, a full glass in his hand.

“Chase, you remember Oliver?” Dick handed Chase his drink. “You haven’t seen one another in a while.”

“How you doing?” Chase asked with a mannerly nod. He put the glass to his lips, prepared to take his usual gulp, then stopped. This scene bothered him, as did the drink.

Dick scrutinized his son. “Chase, you’re hesitant to accept a drink from your own father?” he asked with a laugh.

The corners of Chase’s mouth curved in a grin. “We have a packed night ahead. I should nurse this one.” He eased himself into the chair across from the desk.

Daniels had yet to acknowledge Chase’s presence.

Dick turned to his friend. “My son has spent the last few months in a bad family oriented sitcom.” He laughed. “It’ll take him a while to join the real world.” Dick returned his attention to Chase. “I invited Oliver to have a drink with us.”

“You know, Chase, you gave me some shit to handle.” Daniels let out a laugh that was a little more than a grunt. “I got two boys real pissed off at you. Your daddy and me promised them a good ride on that little filly.”

At least Daniels got down to business quickly. Chase put the words together for a noncommittal response, but didn’t get the chance to offer one.

“The filly he’s talking about is Laura,” Dick said to Chase. “Ron Caldwell and Lou Kent had never killed anyone before.”

“We needed to give them an incentive. A good hump job always works for me.” Daniels laughed, a loud, snorty sound, and gulped his drink. “Laura looks like she gives a first-rate jaunt, too. Slim, sleek, maybe a bit wiry. You had her, Chase. She any good?”

Chase maintained a stoic expression despite the fury festering. Daniels’ impudence toward Laura ate at Chase, leaving him unable to reply without sarcasm. His rescue came from a surprising source. His father.

“Oliver’s referring to the evening Ron and Lou abducted Laura, then took her to your boat to rape and kill her,” Dick said. “Neither man was happy with the foiled plot.”

Oliver grunted. “Or your measly hundred dollars.”

The elder Donovan went on. “When Ron and Lou returned to the warehouse and told me what you had done, saved Laura and ran them off the boat, I called Oliver. He pitched a fit, and I didn’t have any answers for him at the time. It wasn’t until you confided in me Laura was pregnant. I told Oliver you had been desperate to save your unborn child.”

Chase kept his facial expression blank, his cool intact, and his mouth shut.

Daniels concentrated on his drink, looking lovingly at the glass, either not hearing or not comprehending Dick’s words.

“Isn’t that correct, Oliver?” Dick addressed his friend. Daniels perked up and Dick repeated his words.

“Oh, yeah. Your daddy insisted you had a right to your baby. Lucky for her.” Daniels snickered. “You knocking up that broad bought her some time before turning her into shark food.”