Murder Inc.: A Sci-fi Thriller: Book 1 (43 page)

“I gave it to Fox when he caught me in his office. Jennings took it off him when he busted in on us.”

“Did we check the bodies?” He asked Camilleri.

She started off. “I think so, but I’ll go there myself and double check.”

As she left the room, a dapper man in a light grey suit with dark, slicked back hair and a little moustache entered. He had chiseled features and pale eyes that hooked Tabby’s attention for longer than normal. When she looked away, it was to look at Tom, who was staring at her with his brow furrowed. Gutterson identified the man as Bruce Logie, who had been with the DHS for five years.

“I’ve spoken with my superiors at length,” Logie said in a slow Yankee drawl. “And we all agree that this thing needs to be kept quiet for now while we plan our next move.”

“Quiet in what way?” Tom asked.

“Quiet as in business as usual.”

Tabby laughed, glancing at Tom and Gutterson. “How is that possible?”

“Well,” Logie said, “At this point—outside of select employees—the exact nature of this company's operations is limited to this room and a handful more. According to a court of law, however, we have nothing but a ton of speculation and the testimony of you two without any physical evidence to back it up.” Gutterson could only stare at the floor. “As far as we know, the chiefs in Washington don’t know Tom—or you for that matter—have been compromised. Tom’s had a series of missed calls from a number we’ve identified as the headquarters for Janefield Investments. They’re going to want to talk to him soon and decide for themselves whether he’s cooperated with us.”

Gutterson chimed in. “Technically, Tom is in charge of the New York division of Janefield Investments.” Tom’s tanned face reddened. “He’s the most senior person working here.”

“They might choose to bring someone else in,” Logie said, looking at Tom, “or he might just be able to convince them to let him take over.”

“You want Tom to be… like a double agent?”

Logie spread his hands before him. “If they bring someone else in it will be tough to extract the information we need. They’ll change process, add security protocols—shake the place up after what has happened.” Logie sat on the edge of the table.

“How can you guarantee Tom’s safety?” Tabby asked.

“We can’t,” Gutterson said, standing. “And we can’t for you, either.”

“Me?”

“You’ll need to continue working for Janefield, too.”

She scoffed. “I am not working here.

Tom said, “Tabby—”

“No.” She stood, stiffening, her face masked by anger. “After what I’ve been through today? You want me to come back here and put myself at risk again?”

“If they think anything else, they’ll try to kill you,” Gutterson said. “We can offer some kind of witness protection, but…”

The pain that had been lumbering in her temples flared. She needed to get out of there. She started for the door. “There’s not a thing in this world that could make me come back and work for this company. Not a thing.” She turned to Gutterson and Logie. “Am I done here? Can I go?”

Logie nodded. Tabby turned and headed for the door.

“Tabby?” Tom called out in a sympathetic voice.

But the circumstances had well exceeded her tolerance for the day. Maybe even for her life. If she never saw the inside of Janefield again, it would be too soon. She no longer cared what happened, and was prepared to face whatever they decided. She’d had her life threatened twice, her father was in the hospital, and the startling revelation about her mother still had not sunk in. She might never be able to process that. And for the first time in her life, Tabby thought that maybe her mother’s death was the best outcome.

“Ma’am, we’ll be ready to fly in twenty minutes,” Tico Mamori said, his bronze islander skin gleaming with sweat despite the air-conditioning in the private lounge. “You can board whenever you are ready.”

The middle-aged woman sipped tropical punch through a straw and thought how much she would miss him after she was gone. “Thank you, Tico.” She had come to think of him and his family as her own, since arriving on the island many years ago. He knew most of her secrets and had counseled her the few times she'd needed it. Her only disappointment was that he couldn’t leave his family behind and go with her.

Tico slipped into the cushy sofa chair on her right. “You really have to leave? We can cancel the plane trip.”

The woman nodded. She drew the tip of a photograph from her personal carry bag and stared at it as she had done countless times since receiving it in an envelope via FedEx from New York. Initially, looking at the woman standing with the man in the cemetery had brought tears to her eyes. And she could not remember the last time she had cried.

“Will she recognize you?”

The woman considered this, narrowing her lovely green eyes. “No. Not with the changes to my face after the accident.”

“What about her father?”

That was another question and another she had not thought about in years. “This is not her father. Her real father is dead.” Tico’s eyes narrowed. “This man will not recognize me either… if he survives long enough for me to see him again.” She put the photo down. “You’re the first person I’ve ever told that little fact. Including him.”

Tico spoke in a low, disquiet tone. “When did her real father die?”

“Yesterday.”

The woman, once known as Cassandra Louisa Fulton, who had married Ethan Alexander Marks, stood, letting her chestnut hair cascade out of its bun. She supposed she had known this day would come, although she felt no anxiety about what lay ahead, even after so many long years of absence. In a way, she had been preparing for it, sewing the seed of her revenge with controlled patience. But she was alert and ready, and now the buzz was back and her strategy clear.

She had received a message the previous night with a summary of the changes in New York and a full briefing on the situation. She was sad to learn that her old friend had passed away. He had held the Company together for many years without her—but she had known his gentle soul would not outlast the bloodthirsty maniacs that had forced her into hiding for so long.

“Will you be back?” Tico asked.

“Maybe. Either way, you and your family will continue to live here even after I’m gone.”

“Oh, no, ma’am. We can’t—”

She patted his shoulder. “I’ve seen to it. You treated me beyond expectation before you knew I had money. If you and Lyara hadn’t taken care of my injuries, I would have died.”

Tico looked off into the distance, beyond the lazy palms swaying at the edge of the runway, to where gentle waves with the hint of baby blue lapped on prehistoric sand. “We will always be here, waiting for you, if you ever decide to return.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, for everything.”

She collected a small carry-on bag and left the private lounge, crossing the tarmac with Tico at her side. There were no other planes or passengers in sight. She entered the modest aircraft where two pilots and several hostesses waited. She had used the jet sparingly over the last few years. Her work did not require much travel and she had not undertaken such a long flight since arriving all those years ago.

She would clean up the mess and then fly to Washington and take back control of the U.S. Division of the company. But instead of having her old friend at her side as they had promised all those years ago, this time, she would have her daughter.

“Ready to leave, ma’am?” the pilot asked.

“Yes, Franco.”

Cassandra Marks, who would now go by another name, settled back into the leather seat and thought about the reunion she had planned with her daughter.

THE END

Authors Note

Firstly, thanks for getting to the end of the story and I hope you enjoyed it. There were times when I thought I'd get it finished.

It began as an idea way back in 1999. I was sitting at work one day when I asked myself the question: what if there was a secret going around that 99% of people had no idea was happening. It started as a man who was at the bottom of his luck and witnesses one of the company-orchestrated auto accidents. He ends up recruited and having to face the question of morality—would he take the money and riches or save his family member? I messed around with it for a couple of years but it never really went anywhere.

It fell aside for some years, but never really left my thoughts. Sometime around '09 or '10, I picked it up again and tried turning it into a script. The story changed, again and again, but fell aside until 2013 when I was waiting for edits on Aftermath. I wrote it as a short story, focusing on Charlie only, from the point where he finds Samantha on the list until his death. It received excellent reviews so I thought I’d push on, and here we are. I hope it met the expectation of those initial readers.

There are quite a few details that I haven’t yet revealed, and I think it’s set up nicely for a second book. That will depend on reader response, though.

I’d be grateful if you’re able to leave a review for this book on Amazon, and my thanks to those that have done so for my other books. It doesn’t have to be a story, just a sentence or two about what you liked (or disliked). Right or wrong, people purchase based on the number of reviews a book has, so the more reviews, the greater chance of it getting into a new reader’s hands. And for an Indi writer, that is everything. Click here to leave a review for
Murder Inc.

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Thanks again for reading,

Owen

Melbourne, Australia, December 2015.

 
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Nuclear war has destroyed human civilization.
 
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Darren Wearmouth
~
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Alone in a foreign land.
The radio goes quiet while on convoy in Afghanistan, a lost patrol alone in the desert. With his unit and his home base destroyed, Staff Sergeant Brad Thompson suddenly finds himself isolated and in command of a small group of men trying to survive in the Afghan wasteland.
Every turn leads to danger
The local population has been afflicted with an illness that turns them into rabid animals. They pursue him and his men at every corner and stop. Struggling to hold his team together and unite survivors, he must fight and evade his way to safety.
A fast paced zombie war story like no other.

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