Speak Now (11 page)
“So,” Brenda cut off what would otherwise have become a full-blown rant. “They got you angry, which distracted you from questioning why they didn’t want you involved. It wasn’t you they were interested in luring, Harry.” Her eyes went to Jack. So did mine. So did everyone’s.
“And another thing,” Brenda continued. “Why did they give you so much notice about the ransom drop? It seems pretty stupid. It gave you enough time to set up an ambush.” She looked around the table. “In the movies they always call the person on a cell phone after he starts driving around.”
“You’re a very bright girl,” Harry said. I did not like the glint in his eye when he looked at her in that robe. “What do you think?” he asked Jack.
“I think they expected to be followed back to Mill Valley.”
His words hung over the table. “Oh, my God!” I remembered. “The note! They told Cece she was going to be rescued!”
Jack nodded. “It was all a little too easy. They let us take her.”
In response I looked pointedly at his bandaged shoulder. They hadn’t let us take her without a fight.
“Although I’m not sure they counted on the full force of the rescue team,” Mike said, a little too sarcastically for my taste, “until you showed up at the Presidio.”
“You knew?”
“First rule of a stakeout, Charley,” Jack said, his eyes twinkling. “Use the bathroom before you get into position.”
Mike muffled a laugh. “And try to park somewhere other than the middle of the road.”
Brenda’s eyes began to glisten. “It was my fault. I drove and I parked, and it was me you all heard—” She clamped a hand over her mouth.
“You just stop teasing this girl!” Harry ordered, putting a protective hand on Brenda’s shoulder.
“I think they were teasing me, Harry,” I seethed. “Sorry Brenda.”
“Sorry, Brenda,” Jack repeated.
“Yeah, sorry,” Mike said.
“Hello? How about ‘sorry, Charley’?” I turned on Jack. “If you had bothered to tell me one little piece of all of this maybe I wouldn’t have felt I had to follow you! Did you ever think of that?”
“Sorry, Charley.” His mouth twitched. Bastard!
“By the way,” Mike offered, “you really were good at tailing me all over town, Brenda. I didn’t notice a thing until we got to the Presidio.”
“Really?” She looked pleased, then startled. “Oh, I need to go get my car! What time is it?” She put her napkin on the table and started to rise. “I have a class at two.”
“Um, Brenda, about your car…” Mike said.
“What?” Then she registered his tone of voice and repeated “What?” with dread.
“I was in position down the road from the house, and I saw you guys in the van on your way back here at dawn.”
She looked baffled. I suppose I did too.
“Jack and I were in contact until he changed into the goon’s clothes and went down to the basement,” he confessed. “He’d told me to wait there.”
I looked at Jack. “I couldn’t risk the other guy seeing the cell phone.” Of all the things he could have explained, that wasn’t high on my list.
“So you saw us in the van,” I prompted Mike.
“Right. And I wanted to give you a few minutes to make sure you weren’t being followed.” He looked at Brenda. “Which is when I saw your car. With five guys crammed into it.”
Brenda’s mouth made an O.
“I followed them across the bridge. They went to the Marina Green, where they transferred to another car. I hung back and followed them, but the early morning commute was pretty heavy by then and…I lost them.” He grimaced. “In the financial district.”
“So my car is at the Marina Green?” Brenda asked.
“Uh, no,” Mike said. “I went back there, thinking they might have left something in it, and it was gone.”
“Gone?” she said faintly.
“Whoops,” Cece said.
“What do you mean, gone?” I demanded. “If all five guys were in the second car, who could have…”
Mike shrugged.
“My purse was in the car.” Panic was beginning to surface in Brenda’s voice. “My wallet, my keys—I left them in the ignition—everything!” She looked at me wildly. “My students’ papers! I graded them on Saturday and had them in the car to hand back today! What am I going to do?”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I assured her, lying. I got up and took her hands in mine, looking into her eyes. “It’s okay. I’m sure all of your students did their papers on computers, and have backup copies, right?”
She calmed a little. “Probably.”
“And we can start making phone calls about your license and credit cards, and everything else you had in your wallet, right?”
She gave an exhausted moan. “Right.”
“And I’m sure we can find a locksmith to make you some new house keys. And I’m sure the school has duplicates for your office, right?”
“Um, about that…” Mike began.
I whirled at him. “Mister, you are parked on my last nerve. Stop saying ‘um’ and spit it out!”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to go home,” he said.
I looked at him, then at Jack. “Jack?”
“They have her wallet, which has her address, and they have her keys.” His voice was perfectly calm, but the look he gave me was filled with meaning.
“Goddamn!” Harry exploded. “Gordon! Get me a phone!” he hollered, then asked Brenda, “What’s your address? I’ll get security over there this minute. Don’t you worry about a thing. Gordon!”
Brenda looked dazed. She sank back into her chair.
Gordon appeared with a phone and Harry’s address book. “Here you are, sir.” Then he turned to me. “And if you’ve finished your breakfast, Mrs. Fairfax, perhaps you’d let me take a look at that lump on your head. Then—” he eyed Jack— “time for those stitches, I think.”
I was pulled away and fussed over, then I stayed with Jack while Gordon stitched his wound. When I returned to the dining room I found Harry holding Brenda’s hand and speaking softly.
“Charley,” Brenda greeted me, “Harry thinks I should stay here for a while. What do you think?”
I looked at my uncle. Certainly it sounded like it might be dangerous for her to go home, but I wondered if another kind of danger lurked for her here. “Why don’t you stay at the hotel with us?” I suggested.
She looked horrified. “You’re on your honeymoon!”
Somehow I suspected the honeymoon was over.
“You and Jack should stay here, too,” Harry said. “I’ve called in a security firm to stand a twenty-four-hour watch. That hotel isn’t nearly as safe as here.”
“Nevertheless,” I said icily.
He held up his hands. “I won’t try to force you. God knows you’re a grown woman now, and make your own decisions.”
“Harry, I’m way too tired for this right now. Jack needs to rest, and so do I. How about we sleep for a few hours and talk about it then?”
He grunted. I took it for agreement.
“Brenda,” I asked, “what about your class this afternoon?”
“Harry talked me into calling in sick,” she said, with a trace of guilt.
“They won’t miss her for a few days at that girls’ school,” Harry said confidently.
“Women’s college,” Brenda corrected him.
“Sure.”
We went back to the great room, where we found Mike and Jack in conference. “I’m outta here,” Mike said. “I didn’t find anything in the van, so I’ll take it somewhere, make sure it’s clean, and dump it.”
“Make sure it’s clean?” I asked.
“The police are looking for it. A neighbor saw it pulling out during all the shooting.”
Oh.
“I hardly think they’ll be looking for a bullet-riddled van in this neighborhood, but we might as well be on the safe side. And we want to make sure if they do find it, none of your prints are in it.”
This time I said it. “Oh.”
He grinned and held out his hand. “Take care, Charley. I hope to see you again soon.”
I shook, grudgingly.
“Sir.” He gave Harry a mock salute. “Brenda.” He nodded at her. “Call me if you need me, Jack.” And he left.
I looked at Jack, propped up where Gordon had left him. “Sleep?” I suggested.
“Sleep,” he agreed.
We wandered into the first available guest room and were asleep before touching down on the mattress. When I woke up the light was dim. I couldn’t tell if it was dusk or dawn.
I rolled over to check on Jack. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, although I wasn’t sure if it was from exhaustion or the shot Gordon had given him. If past history was any guide, though, he’d wake up if I stared at him hard enough. I decided to let him sleep. He’d need his strength. I had a lot of questions for him.
I realized I was still wearing my blood-stained pants and Harry’s shirt over my blood-soaked bra. I left the bed as quietly as I could and stumbled into the adjoining bathroom. I took what was arguably the best shower of my life.
Someone had hung two sets of silk pajamas with matching robes on the towel rack, one creamy beige and about my size, and the other a deep bronze that would fit Jack. I dried off and slipped into the soft fabric. By the time I tied the belt I felt ready to face the world, or at least the household, again.
I slipped out the door and headed for the kitchen, figuring if anyone was awake they’d be eating. A glance at the hall clock told me it was evening after all. I’d slept for about nine hours.
I heard voices coming from the kitchen. It sounded like a private conversation so I hesitated outside the door.
“Do you need anything?”
It was Gordon’s voice. I couldn’t hear the answer.
“Understand this is not a conversation I’ll be sharing with your father.” So the other person must be Cece.
“All right then, the truth. Are you clean?”
Cece hesitated, but I heard her answer. “I’m clean.” Her voice got stronger, and harsher. “Haven’t you heard? I turned my life around for the love of a good man.”
Gordon cleared his throat. “I think it’s best to focus on the result, rather than the cause. Will you be all right here?”
Cece’s voice had the mocking defiance that indicated trouble. “You mean will I go back to my badass ways if I’m back in my old environment?”
“Something like that.”
There was a long silence. Then, “I don’t know.”
Well, at least she wasn’t kidding herself. I felt guilty for listening, so slipped quietly down the hall. It occurred to me to wonder why Cece was having such a personal conversation with Harry’s cook, but then I figured it was better not to wonder too much about Gordon. The man had hidden depths.
I heard Harry’s voice and followed it to his study. He was in position at his desk, feet up, with a half-empty bottle of the Macallan and a plate of sandwiches in front of him. He slammed the phone down as I entered the room. “That useless sonofabitch! Calls himself a security specialist!”
Ah. No doubt it had been the firm of McIntyre and Zipfel on the other end of the line.
“Feel like sharing?” I gestured to the bottle as I slumped into an enormous leather chair opposite him.
He poured an inch or so into a heavy crystal glass and pushed it across the desk. “How are you? How’s Jack?”
“Still sleeping.” I took a sip of the amber liquid. A mellow warmth slid down my throat. “What have I missed?”
“You didn’t answer my question.” He poured himself another. “How are you?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Me? Well, gosh, let me see. My husband has been shot, my best friend is afraid to go back to her own house, I’ve got a lump the size of a golf ball on my head, and the only thing I know about the guy who’s behind it all is that he’s still out there.” I reached for a sandwich. “All in all, I’m pretty good. Mmm.” Rare roast beef and gorgonzola on thick crusty bread.
“Not to mention…” Harry said, leaning back in his chair and rocking.
I nodded slowly and regarded my uncle. “Not to mention, I don’t know who the hell I’m married to or who his friends are.”
“Oh, you know who he is, I guess,” Harry said reasonably. “You’re just not sure what he is. Or was.”
“Right.” What a lovely distinction.
“So—” he gazed at the ceiling— “not too bad.”
We munched and sipped for a while in an oddly companionable silence. I broke it after a while. “Harry, I’m sorry.” It must have been the single-malt talking. “I should have invited you to my wedding.”
He stopped rocking for a moment, then resumed. “Yes.”
I struggled not to get irritated. “I didn’t want you to…but you did anyway…and now I just…” Perhaps I’d had enough to drink.
“Charley, for what it’s worth, I haven’t found out one goddamn thing about that man of yours that doesn’t make me like him more.”
I let that sink in. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what you did find out? Why you got Jack involved in all of this? Why you trusted him with Cece?”
“As far as what I found out…” He seemed to choose his words carefully. “Let’s just say that I am of the firm conviction that Jack Fairfax is less of a pussy than his official records indicate.”
“Right.” I knew Harry well enough not to press it. Besides, I didn’t want to hear Jack’s secrets from Harry. But I damn sure wanted to hear them from Jack.
“And as far as why I trusted him with Cece…” he continued, clearing his throat. “Well, I trust him with you, don’t I?”
I looked him in the eye. He was offering me a truce. “Right,” I nodded.
In other families there might have been a hug at that point. This wasn’t other families. Harry opened his desk drawer and pulled out a box. “I want you to have this.”
A wedding present? I opened the box. “A gun.”
He held up his hands to ward off my expected protests. “Now, I know you don’t like guns, but this is one goddamn situation we’ve got here, and—”
I slammed the lid shut. “I’ll take it.”
He blinked.
“On one condition.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Promise me you won’t…” How to put it? “While Brenda’s staying here…don’t…” Ugh.
A slow grin spread over his face. He reached for a cigar and twirled it between his fingers. “I’m flattered.” He held the cigar up to his ear and listened to the crackle of the tobacco. “But you know I’m just a harmless old man.”
Right.
***
I went back upstairs and looked at Jack, still sleeping, solid and familiar. Or possibly a complete stranger, some action hero I’d met the night before. In any case, I slid back into bed next to him and slept all the way through to morning.
When I woke again I had the oddest sensation. I opened my eyes and found Jack, inches away from my face, staring at me. “Cut that out!” I jumped away.
“See? It’s funny until you’re on the receiving end of it.”
I thought about hitting him with a pillow but decided I’d check on his shoulder first. “How are you?”
“Damn good, or so I’ve been told.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
He must be feeling better. I noticed he’d showered and shaved and was wearing the bronze silk ensemble. “How’s the shoulder?”
He did a Pete Townsend windmill air-guitar move. “Great.”
“Very nice. Now how about the one with the bullet in it?”
He moved his left arm gingerly. “It hasn’t got a bullet in it. The bullet went through.”
“Uh huh. Has Doctor Gordon had a look at it?”
“He changed the dressing after I showered.” Jack moved closer and got that look in his eye. “And I shaved. Did you notice?”
“Just get one thing straight, mister,” I told him. “I’m not having sex with you in this house no matter how cute and clean-shaven you may be.”
He looked at me. “Then let’s get out of here.”
***
Jack had rounded up some clothes while I’d been sleeping. A black jogging suit with a red stripe down the sides and a matching red shirt for me, presumably left by one of Harry’s more fitness-minded conquests, and jeans with a gray sweater for himself.
I scooped my hair back into a ponytail, wincing as I ran the brush over the bump on my head. When I saw myself in the bathroom mirror I was surprised. No makeup, no styling products in my hair, and borrowed clothes, but I didn’t look bad. There was a not-unpleasant flush to my cheeks, and I had to admit, now that the danger was past, I was finding our whole adventure pretty exciting. It was wrong, I knew, because what I’d told Harry the previous night had been true—the person responsible was still out there and we didn’t know why he’d done it or if he’d try something again.
But it was also true that I wasn’t afraid as long as Jack was around. Even the new Jack, who was apparently accustomed to sprinting through a hail of bullets. The idea of figuring out who the kidnapper was and finding him had a certain appeal. I could picture us, Jack and me, as this incredibly cool crime-solving couple. Something along the lines of the Avengers, but with massive amounts of sex. I was wondering if I could pull off a black leather jumpsuit when Jack stuck his head in the door.
“Are you about ready? I’m starving.”
I jumped and dropped the hairbrush. Not a particularly smooth secret-agent sort of move, but, unlike my husband, I was new to this.
***
Gordon offered to fix something for us, but I was bursting to get out of the house.
“Where’s everybody else?” I asked him.
“Your uncle took your cousin and Miss Gee shopping.”
“Shopping?” Of course he did.
Gordon smiled briefly. “The security people sent some of Miss Gee’s things over, but not everything she needs, and your cousin’s things were all lost in the…recent events.”
Cece and Brenda shopping together was hard enough to get my head around, but Harry tagging along behind them was simply too much. I looked at Jack. “Let’s get out of here.”
We borrowed Harry’s Lexus and headed downhill to the little town of Burlingame. There we sat at a sidewalk table and ate mountainous stacks of the world’s best pancakes, while watching what my friend Simon calls “the suburban dog and baby show.”
I wanted to ask Jack some serious questions someplace with no distractions and nobody to overhear us, so I suggested we head over to Half Moon Bay and the beach. Jack looked doubtful. “Will it be warm?”
“Of course not,” I scoffed. “It’ll be foggy and windy, but the fresh air will do us good.”
We took Highway 92 to Half Moon Bay, then turned North on Highway 1. It wasn’t as foggy as I’d predicted, and we stopped at the first of the state beaches that dotted the way up the coast.
We took off our shoes and walked along the beach near the water, where the sand was wet, cold, and hard. We held hands, which was corny but nice. I had to remind myself we weren’t here just to relax and enjoy the moment. I had an agenda. What I didn’t have was a clear idea about how to approach the subject of my husband’s apparent wealth of experience in covert operations. Finally I just took a breath and plunged in.
“Jack?”
“Hmm?”
I pointed to the sky over an outcropping of rocks to the north. “What kind of clouds are those?”
He stopped, shielding his eyes from the hazy light of the sun. “Well, that one looks a little like a pony.” He gestured. “And over there I think I see a bunny.”
I looked at him. “Hilarious.”
He spread his hands. “I hope I wasn’t too technical.”
We walked a little further.
“Jack?”
“Still here.”
“You really do have a degree in meteorology?”
“And physical oceanography. Yes.”
“And when you were in the Navy, on a ship or something,” I pursued, “you predicted the weather?”
“I did.” He nodded. “Here’s an interesting bit of trivia. On a ship, the meteorology officer gets a porthole. It’s very handy to be able to look outside when you’re writing the weather report.”
“This is my own fault,” I said. “I did tell you I liked your line of bullshit.”
We strolled in tandem for a while, with Jack’s arm draped around my shoulders, stopping occasionally to let the water lap towards our toes or to exchange a brief nibble on the neck. We looked just like any of the other windblown couples out braving the elements on a summer day. Then I tried again.
“Jack?”
“Charley?”
“Was predicting the weather the only thing you did for the Navy?”
He stopped and squinted out to sea.
“Because,” I tried, “for a meteorologist, you do a damned good impression of a spy.”
The sand suddenly became fascinating to him. “Don’t spies, uh, spy on people?”
“All right, then, a secret agent, an undercover operative, an espionage…person. Whatever you want to call it.” I turned to face him. “Seriously, Jack. Are you one?”
He pulled me toward him and wrapped his arms around me. “I’m retired.”
“Yes, but a retired what?” I persisted. “And who the hell is Mike, really? And what has Tom Nelson got to do with any of us?”
“If I say Mike’s an old Navy buddy and I have no idea who Tom Nelson is, will you let it go?”
“Probably not.”
He looked at me long and hard. “Charley, I will do everything I know how to protect you.”
That was comforting. The list of things he knew how to do was turning out to be rather extensive. “Jack.” I pulled away. “Do you know who kidnapped Cece?”
He held my eyes with his. “I think so.”
I nodded. “Is he another spy? Because the whole thing seems pretty elaborate for just a run-of-the-mill kidnapper. Is he someone you used to…work against?”
Jack’s jaw tightened. “Someone I used to work with.”
“What?” I reached for the only explanation that made sense. “Does he want money?”
Jack picked up a stray piece of driftwood. “If it’s the guy I’m thinking of, there’s more to it than money.” He squinted into the distance. “If it’s the guy I’m thinking of, it’s more personal than that.”
“Why? Who is he?”
Jack threw the stick into the sea. “I can’t, Charley.”
“You mean you won’t.”
His mouth twisted in frustration. “Look, aside from any other reasons I have for not spilling my guts, I may be wrong. This all feels like something this guy would do, but it can’t be him. It’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s in solitary confinement in a maximum-security military prison.” He paused. “I put him there.”
Oh.
***
On the way back to the city I tried to adjust to my new reality. Imprisoned psycho killer toying with us in order to punish husband. Check. Husband undoubtedly some sort of ex-spy, apparently accustomed to shootouts. Check. Husband’s friend Mike presumably the same. Check. Uncle setting up militia-like encampment with best friend. Check.
