Renee Simons Special Edition (22 page)

"Okay, we'll stop."

"There's a small diner up ahead about a mile. Been there practically since the Flood, but the coffee keeps a body at attention and the apple pie is the best I've eaten anywhere. If you're really hungry, Gus'll dish you up a hefty portion of moussaka."

"I love moussaka, but not today."

Gus' Diner, Augustine Trikonis, Prop., stretched invitingly beneath its neon sign. Three patrons at the counter turned briefly as Ethan and
Jordan
entered. At a table to the right of the entrance, a couple smoked and filled their cups from a large coffee carafe. At the rear of the stainless steel and yellow Formica room, four young men in their late teens flirted with three girls of similar age seated in a booth opposite them.

A burly, olive-skinned man came through the swinging door from the kitchen with three steaming platters on his arm. He glanced at Jordan and Ethan.

"Hey, there,
Caldwell
. How goes it?" He slid the plates onto the counter and poured coffee for the men before reaching out to shake Ethan's hand. "Ain't seen you in a dog's age."

"Haven't had much time lately to come out this way."

"Sorry about your trouble up to
Boston
. You workin' your way out?"

"It's too early to say."

"Well, you got a bunch of friends, me included. So don't be afraid to ask for help."

"Speaking of friends," Ethan said, turning to her, "here's one you've never met.
Jordan
, meet Gus."

After hastily using his apron to wipe his hands, Gus took hers. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am. Ethan, here, needs us all right now."

Ethan hadn’t lied about either the coffee or the apple pie. They lingered over the carafe Gus put on the table, neither wishing to end the tenuous truce that resulted from tackling double portions of both. Tenuous because although they hadn’t reached an agreement, they hadn’t argued, either. Once again, Ethan made the first overture.

"I don't want to start up our argument again, but there are a couple of things that still need saying. Will you listen?"

She nodded and leaned back against the yellow vinyl cushion lining the booth.

"You've been alone for a long time, taking care of yourself, not having to account to anyone for your actions. I understand how that is. I lived that way for a long time myself. But you're not alone any more. That carries a different kind of responsibility with it.

"Whatever you do from now on affects others. You can't hurt without them hurting and you can't get yourself killed without part of them dying right along with you."

His tone had turned harsh. She glanced at him, surprised by the raw emotion glittering in his eyes.

"All I ask is that you please think about the rest of us the next time you beard the lion in his den, or go marching off to tilt at windmills. Or any other fool thing that fertile mind of yours can invent to put its owner in harm's way."

He rose, dug in his pocket for money to pay the check and tip and walked out to the car. With her mind spinning around his short but potent speech,
Jordan
had no choice but to follow him and complete the trip back to
Boston
.

He was right about one thing, though. She’d been alone so long it hadn’t occurred to her that anyone would care what happened to her.

* * *

They found the house nearly deserted when they returned. The Willises had left to visit their married daughter and everyone else had gone home to see family or friends on an abbreviated R & R. One lone communications officer remained at his post monitoring the phones. Conlon's call came in at nearly eleven o'clock that night.

"Who's there with you?"

"Ethan."

"Good," he said. "He might as well hear what I have to say. I'll be there momentarily."

The bell rang shortly after he'd hung up. They looked at each other in surprise.

"He must have called from the limo," Ethan muttered as he went to the door.

Jordan
rose when they entered the room. Genuinely glad Conlon had survived whatever he'd encountered in the
Caribbean
, she knew from his stony expression she might not be so lucky.

"I ought to wring your neck," he announced without preamble. "Have you any idea the damage done by that little grandstand play of yours? The man is absolutely obsessed by the idea of tracking you down. And you should know you're not that difficult to trace. There's a clear trail back to your date of birth.” He paused for a breath. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I did what I needed to do. What I wanted to do. If I was wrong, then so be it." She closed her eyes for a moment, then stared at the man glowering down at her. "Besides, he’ll find out about me once we start hyping the book in the media."

“What book?” His lips narrowed and two deep lines bracketed his mouth. He seemed to know the answer before she spoke.

"I guess it’s time you heard how things are."

"All right," he said slowly. "How are they?"

"The article I told you about was a ruse to get me into the site to gather information for Ethan. The information you gave me later was so monumental, I took Drew into my confidence. We've been incorporating your disclosures into a book he’s been writing to clear Ethan’s name."

"Who says you're not your father's daughter?" With a rueful smile, he joined Ethan at the fireplace and stared down into the empty well. One hand rested on the mantle and the other in the pocket of his linen slacks.

Ethan turned to the older man. "Suppose Volpe does discover
Jordan
’s identity? What's he likely to do?"

Conlon gave him a sideways glance. "Use your imagination."

"That's a lot of trouble to go through, don't you think?"

"For Volpe," Conlon said with dry emphasis, "it's a minor inconvenience."

Ethan rubbed his jaw and grimaced. "Too bad we can't find a way to make it a major inconvenience, too major even to consider."

Conlon looked at him with interest. "How?"

"Hell, Terence, you know the bloke better than I do." Ethan nodded in
Jordan
’s direction. "What makes her such an attractive target in the man's mind?"

"Her vulnerability. Her lack of importance. In his mind, to eliminate
Jordan
would be akin to - swatting a fly - no more, no less."

She bit a nasty remark. Dominique had made the same comparison but by now, the image appeared uncomfortably accurate.

"If that's the case," Ethan continued, "then we need to make
Jordan
so important that all hell will break loose if she's hurt in any way."

“Would you two quit talking about me as if I was in another room?”

Terence looked at her. "Then make a contribution to this discussion.”

“Okay...what do you think about my going public during Drew’s book tour?”

Ethan spun around to face
Jordan
. “Are you bloody out of your mind?”

Terence laid a hand on his arm. “Let her finish.”

Jordan
shrugged. “Being in the public eye might provide some security.”

“More than staying under wraps could?” Ethan asked.

Terence chuckled. “Look where being under wraps has gotten us so far.”

Ethan smiled. “Might’ve worked if we’d just stayed there.”

“You started it,”
Jordan
said. “I’m just looking for a way to turn this to our advantage.” Still seated, she stretched her legs out before her.

Terence glanced at Ethan. "Can we trust your brother?"

"Yes." His immediate response pleased
Jordan
.

Conlon walked to the window and parted the sheer curtain panels to look out before turning back to them.

"We should meet with Drew and his publisher tomorrow, to discuss their plans for advance publicity on the book." He pointed at her. "Maybe your protection is to be so visible that Tony won't dare harm you."

"As visible as Alan Blakeley?" she asked softly.

Terence stared at her. "How did you make that connection?"

"Drew made it. But it's an apt comparison, don't you think?"

"Did you ask Tony about Blakeley?"

"Yes."

"No wonder he's out to get you." He threw up his hands in exasperation. "Couldn't you find something less sensitive to talk about?"

"He was so self-contained and full of philosophical baloney, I just wanted to shake him up a little and see his reaction."

"All this," Ethan said, "while we sat out front sweating over what kind of trouble she was getting into up there."

"By the way," the older man said, "do you still want to get into the site?"

"I already have - several times."

"That doesn't surprise me." Conlon grinned at Ethan. "Did you see everything you wanted to see?"

"No, but I can't get the prosecutor's office to issue the paper I need to get it done."

"I'll arrange it," Conlon promised and left.

Chapter 12

A strategy meeting took place at two p.m. the next day. Drew's editor and the publicity director outlined a campaign for the book that included print ads, commercials on radio and television and talk show appearances. When they completed their presentation, Terence spoke, addressing his remarks to Drew.

"I know that your goal is to sell books. Ours is to introduce
Jordan
to the public and, if we’re lucky, cause Volpe to think twice about going after her. If she can share a bit of the limelight with you, people will get to know and, maybe, sympathize with her. She must be seen as an innocent party caught in the fallout of mob politics. How can we do that?"

Drew had been writing on a yellow pad while Terence talked. Now he looked at the older man. "We can give
Jordan
a credit of some kind on the book - either as co-author or as a contributor, either of which would be appropriate in view of her contributions." He glanced over at the publishing team and received a nod of agreement. “Then the two of us will write an advance article with dual bylines and photos. That sort of thing usually gets picked up by local news, sometimes with interviews, which should give us the exposure you want without being too obvious or manipulative.”

“Just so long as we don’t portray me as some poor misunderstood mob princess.”

"My dear,” Conlon said with a wry smile. “You don't have the status of a mob princess. If you did, you wouldn't be in danger because no one would dare touch you. The fact is, you're a nobody, who has made herself a very annoying nobody, and unless we change Tony's perception of you, you're too easy to eliminate."

"Thanks a lot, Terence. You're a terrific ego builder."

"Building your ego is not my concern. Helping you out of the mess you created is. And," he looked at her pointedly, "finishing the job we started. If we do this right, the plan will seem like any other campaign to hype an explosive new book and not a scheme targeting Volpe."

"Well, I hope I can carry this off."

"Your father did it for sixteen years, not only because it was his job but also to protect you and your mother. I suggest that if you want to see some justice for him, you use what you inherited of his talents and stick it out the few short weeks we'll need to finish this.”

He gave her that special look of his, the one telling her she'd lost the debate. Resigned, she sat back in her seat, withdrawing from the talk that went on without her as her mind grappled with what lay ahead.

She and Drew wrote an article for the Boston World, the daily with the largest circulation in the city. The paper ran it with a four column headline in 36-pt type and a double byline bracketed with their photos.

The article discussed the accident and its causes, including the findings of union corruption, kickbacks and the bid rigging scheme that had cost the city millions of dollars. It went on to summarize the background of the partners in VolTerre, including their "alleged" mob ties.

Once done, she and Drew went back to the book without knowing what the ending would be.
Jordan
received her third and, she hoped, last lecture when A.D.A. Santorelli discovered what they were planning.

"I can't help wondering what kind of sins you think you're expiating," Dominique commented.

"Please spare me the amateur psychology. I've already been through years of the real thing."

"I'm far from being an amateur, Jordan. In addition to the law degree, I also have a doctorate in criminal psychology."

"Is that what you think I am?"

"No, of course not, but I did some clinical work with crime victims and I'm not unfamiliar with the drives that can motivate someone with your experiences."