The White Mountain (16 page)

Randall shook his head.

“This voice, it said the
strangest thing to me, because I’m going on your word that you’re not a part of
this.  It says, ‘Ares confirms that The White Mountain broke the rules, but do
not eliminate him.  I repeat, do not eliminate him.’  That sound strange to
you?  Who’s Ares?”

They were onto him.  Somehow
they knew that he’d sent Mary to find out more, but they didn’t know Enigma was
dead.  Not yet.  Not that it mattered.  “Ares?  I have no idea.”

“Uh-huh.  I thought so,”
Walls said, his tone suggesting
lies
.  “And what’s that mean, about you
breaking the rules?”

“The rules?  I have no—”

“No idea.  I figured as much. 
What ‘broke the rules’ says to me—well, it sounds like you got some prior
knowledge.”  Walls pulled the left side of his jacket open, revealing the
snub-nosed .38 in his shoulder harness.  Less of a threat, more of a reminder
to the bigger, stronger, faster man that he shouldn’t try anything stupid. 
“Maybe we should go inside, have a little sit-down.” 

“Ain’t such a good idea,
Henry.  Alice and Jesse are still asleep.”

Walls chuckled.  “Well now,
see, I imagine that’d be a bit hard to do, considering they haven’t left her
grandma’s house down in Boyd’s Cove since you sent ‘em away last night.  Got
any more good lies for me?  I’ll tell you what, let’s head on down to the
station.  You come easy and we’ll chat over a cup of coffee instead of between
bars.  Work for you?”

Randall tensed and cycled
through his options.  Rush Walls, grab his gun, head for D.C. and get stopped
in a high-speed chase before he made it out of the county.  Rush Walls, grab
his gun, kill him, rescue Mary, and go to prison later.  Let Walls take him
into town, tell the truth, get locked up and hope they would send word to Mary
if he begged.

Or...

Grab him, tie him up, dump
his unmarked sedan somewhere, get Mary, and deal with the consequences when
they got back.  The two dead men in his house, self-defense.  A father trying
to protect his family.  A man trying desperately to save his sister-in-law from
disappearing forever.  Hopefully, in a judge’s eyes, he would be a decorated
and dedicated Marine on a mission, and would do time for nothing more than
kidnapping Walls for a few hours.

That’s your move
, he thought. 
That’s it right there.

Randall straightened, held
his hands up, palms outward and said, “Okay, you’re right.  There may have been
a couple of things I didn’t tell you.”  He took a step closer to Walls.  “Henry,
hear me out—”

“Whoa, stay right there,
Randall.  And, damn it, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. 
That’ll be
Detective
—”

Randall lunged, but before he
could reach Walls, he heard a dull
thunk, thunk, thunk
, like the sound
of a meat tenderizer pounding a fatty piece of steak.

Walls wobbled, took a step,
held out a hand, and fell to the ground, face first.  Three red splotches,
centered by bullet holes, dotted his back in a straight line.

Randall jerked his head up. 

Twenty feet away stood Mein
Kampf, holding a handgun.  He paused for a second, grinned at Randall, and charged
forward, arm outstretched like the barrel of a Panzer tank.

CHAPTER 15

Mary had to push herself up
the walkway with her cane.  The hesitation pulled at her back like she was
attached to a giant rubber band.  Still to this day, years later, she felt a
sense of impending doom whenever she approached a house that wasn’t her own or
Alice and Randall’s.

All thanks to Sledge on the day
he ruined her life and her career as a police officer.  Years ago, after a
long, overnight shift patrolling the streets, she’d been on her way into her
place at the time; a small, two-bedroom home that she’d shared with a Golden
Retriever named Duke.

Sledge had surprised her from
the bushes and crushed her femur with the weapon he was named after.

She’d gotten her revenge—he’d
been decaying under a simple gravestone since last October—but it hadn’t been
enough to cure her lack of confidence or her trepidation of approaching the
unknown.  Her reluctant trips to therapy hadn’t helped, and she doubted
anything would.  Ever.

Mary took one more step, and
then another, eyeing the porch and the dreaded, painful trip up the stairs
ahead.

Back in the car, Chuck had
refused to give her a gun, saying that it was best to let him handle the
“official” parts, if it became necessary.

She’d insisted, but he
wouldn’t budge, so she pressed onward, unarmed and unprepared.  Terrified that
she might actually meet Ares head-on.

Grimacing, wincing, biting
her lip, Mary pushed herself up each step and then crossed the porch.

She rang the doorbell, waiting
with a white-knuckled grip on her cane.

A moment later, Mary held her
breath as the front door swung open.

The man standing in front of
her wasn’t what she’d expected.  She’d created this menacing image in her mind
of a burly, muscled, intimidating war machine with a shaved head and tattoos
and well-defined pecs straining to break free of a camouflaged t-shirt.

Instead, he was short, thin,
and wrinkled with a cotton ball goatee, wire-rimmed glasses, and a gold hoop
dangling from his left earlobe.  The only thing Mary had gotten right was the
shaved head.  He held a steaming mug of coffee close to his chest and wore a
blue tracksuit with white stripes across the shoulders and down his arms. 
Neon-pink running shoes.

His powdery, sensitive voice
betrayed any further notion that he was an elite assassin as he said, “May I
help you?”

Mary’s initial thought was,
Adorable.

Don’t let your guard
down.  Looks can be deceiving.

She composed herself and
said, “Hi, Mr. Richmond?”

The man smiled, shook his
head.  “No, no.  I’m Hans...Herbie’s partn—I’m a neighbor friend.  Just over
for coffee.  And you are?”

“Oh? 
Oooh
.  Sorry. 
I’m sorry.  I’m Ellen Wallace, with the
Post
.  Is Mr. Richmond
available?”

“Why yes, of course.  He’s in
the kitchen.”  Hans leaned back inside and called out, “Herbie?” then cleared
his throat and shouted with a deeper voice, “Hey, Herb.  Someone here to see
you.  I’m heading home, okay?  And don’t forget about dinner with the
Harringtons this evening.”

Mary inched to the side as he
stepped out the door.

“I’ll warn you, he may be
cranky.  We’ve just had a bit of a tiff, so take it easy on him.”  He gave her
a warm smile and patted her shoulder. 

“I’m hoping he’ll take it
easy on me.”

“That old goat?  You get him
in a good mood again, you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t curl up in your lap and
purr.”  Hans offered a knowing grin.  “Just don’t tell him I said that.  Good
day, Miss Wallace.”

Hans had crossed the porch
and trotted down the stairs before Herb Richmond made it to the door.

Hold on
, Mary thought. 
Didn’t Chuck say Herb
Richmond was a womanizer?  Did he lie?  Or does he know?  That’s…odd.  Was he
doing it just to give me confidence?
 

The man that appeared moments
later was more in line with her expectations.  Tall, broad-shouldered, with a
full head of salt-and-pepper politician hair.  Tanned, leathery skin with
two-day stubble decorating his cheeks, punctuated by a caterpillar mustache
straight out of the 70s.  Vibrant blue eyes questioning her.  The only thing
that betrayed his intense demeanor was a white apron, adorned with pink and
purple flowers, which he removed, and tossed to the side.

Mary looked him over, gut
instinct telling her that she had nothing to fear.  But, she remained on guard,
as she had with Hans, just in case.  Always wary, never assuming.

Wolf.  Sheep’s clothing. 
It’s how things worked in her business.

As he dried his hands with a dishtowel,
he asked, “And you are?”

“Mr. Richmond, I’m Ellen
Wallace, with the
Post
.” 

They shook hands.  Hers, cool
and damp from nervous apprehension.  His, warm and damp, but the light grip and
welcoming smile offered a thin sheet of comfort nonetheless.

Mary said, “I hope I didn’t
catch you at a bad time.  I’m doing a community piece on homeless veterans and
thought I’d start with the champion of the cause.”

Champion of the cause? 
Ease off the gas pedal.

Herb’s eyes lit up. 
“Absolutely.  When it comes to that, I’ve got all the time in the world.  Come
in, come in.  We can chat while I finish the dishes.  Can I get you some coffee? 
Breakfast?  Hans brought over these muffins that’ll melt in your mouth.”

He motioned for her to come
inside.  Mary hesitated.  Not long enough for him to notice, but long enough to
reconsider what she might be walking into.

Now or never, Mary.  For
Alice and Jesse...and Randall, damn him.

She nodded, thanked him, and
stepped across the threshold.

***

Mary sat at the kitchen
table, eating a muffin so heavenly, it made the disgusting scone she’d tried
back at the coffee shop seem like a cow patty.  Peanut butter and chocolate
chips, glazed with a layer of chocolate sauce made from scratch.  The
incredible taste and the way Herb sat with his legs crossed, beaming, enabled
her to relax and moan her approval as she took another bite.  “Incredible,” she
said around the mouthful.

“See?  I told you.  I’m
surprised I don’t weigh three hundred pounds with the way Hans can bake.”  He
took a sip of coffee and leaned back in his chair. 

“I’d never be able to
exercise enough.  Does he do this a lot?  I know neighbors are supposed to be
friendly, but...”

“On the record, Ellen...can
you confirm that for me, please?”

“Yes, of course.”  Mary wiped
her mouth and hands with a napkin.

“And I trust that this has
nothing to do with your story, but in any case, Hans is a family friend and
owns the Duchess Bakery over in Arlington.  So yes, he bakes more naughty
things than one man should have to endure. 
On the record
, that’s all
that you and the
Post
need to know.”

“My lips won’t sink any
ships, Mr. Richmond.”

“Herb is fine.  Now, off the
record...confirm that for me, please?”

“Confirmed.  Off the record.”

“Hans and I have been
together for over thirty-five years, and that’s all I’ll offer.”

“You don’t have to worry
about me,” Mary said.

“No, no, I’m not.  Not
really, anyway.  You’re a reporter and with that comes certain obligations. 
All reasonable, but I hope you understand that for a man in my position, some
discretion is required.”

“Perfectly understood,” she
said.  Another perfectly understood thing was that, despite all of Chuck’s
ominous warnings, despite her initial trepidation, it was unlikely that Herb
Richmond was Ares.

At least she didn’t
think
so.  He was too relaxed, at ease, and at peace with himself to be anything but
an active voice of public policy that, unfortunately, still felt the need to
hide certain details of his private life.  Her ability to read people had
failed her with Randall’s lies, and yet, she was certain that her instincts
held true with the man sitting across the table from her.

Was she wasting time by
talking to him?  Was there even a need to continue?

Gotta try.  If it’s not
him, don’t forget what his family is doing.  He may know something.

“Should we get started with
the interview?” she asked, opening a notebook she’d brought.  “I won’t take too
much of your time.”

“By all means,” he said,
turning on the public charm. 

“One thing I’m curious
about,” Mary said, “is why you don’t have Secret Service protection.  It
doesn’t have anything to do with my article but I find it fascinating.  Is that
a personal decision?”

“Definitely.  I don’t believe
in wasting government resources.  I realize they’ll get assigned to someone or
something else, but I won’t have their time and money wasted on me, not when
our government is ignoring a significant problem.  Nothing is more important to
me than ensuring fair treatment of fellow patriots who have been mistreated and
abused for decades, especially for the brave men I served with almost forty
years ago.  How we still have these poor souls living on the streets is an
absolute shame, and I plan to use my unique proximity to the First Family as a
means to an end.”

Mary scribbled notes as he
talked, listening to his informal speech that sounded rehearsed, wondering if
he opened with the same lines every time.  She asked simple questions when
appropriate, but mostly allowed him to guide the conversation as he worked his
way through a standardized response.  She glanced up at the clock and saw that
roughly twenty minutes had passed since she’d first entered his home.  Chuck
would be getting impatient soon, so she decided to speed up the process and
hope she could work Herb into a frenzy, as planned.  For as much as she liked
him, and felt that he was simply trying to do the right thing, she had her
sister’s family to protect.