One reader of “BEWARE THE ABANDONED”, in her Amazon review, wrote, “I just finished this thriller book, BEWARE THE ABANDONED, I could not stop reading it. Last night, I finished it and went to bed at 4 a.m. What a great book. You really have done your research, and it is almost scary how much you know and how you planned his escape. PLEASE, PLEASE, I need a second book. We now need to know how John C. is going to carry on".
I am just a storyteller. Far be it from me to cause sleepless nights and stress in anyone's life. If you become impatient, waiting for me to narrate and post the next chapters of “BEWARE THE ABANDONED”, you can easily obtain an e-book version of the book in a few minutes from amazon.com. I have started a sequel to “Beware the Abandoned”. However, it will be several months before it is completed.
BEWARE THE ABANDONED is the first of my novels to be narrated. It is a story about John Cross. He was an abandoned child fighting for survival on the mean streets of Los Angeles, when The Sanctuary (a capitalist, non-religious sect) selected him to be trained to accumulate great wealth. The Sanctuary searches the world's slums for the brightest and most creative abandoned children.
John's financial success allows the sect to search for more abandoned children to grow their wealth. How John Cross realized his wealth is of little concern to the Sanctuary. What is critical to them, is keeping their moneymaker ahead of his pursuers - the mob and the FBI.
The murders in Paris, Las Vegas and Delaware were removals of obstacles in the path to wealth. Will his latest romantic interest also become an obstacle? The FBI and the mob are closing in fast on his hideaway in a small beach town on the Delaware Coast.
The novel that will next be narrated is DUEL.
For information on the author, Ian Duncan MacDonald, visit his website www.informus.ca. Here, you will also learn about his six investment books and three novels. You are also invited to listen to his 150 + "SAFE DIVIDEND INVESTING" podcasts.
One reader of “BEWARE THE ABANDONED”, in her Amazon review, wrote, “I just finished this thriller book, BEWARE THE ABANDONED, I could not stop reading it. Last night, I finished it and went to bed at 4 a.m. What a great book. You really have done your research, and it is almost scary how much you know and how you planned his escape. PLEASE, PLEASE, I need a second book. We now need to know how John C. is going to carry on".
I am just a storyteller. Far be it from me to cause sleepless nights and stress in anyone's life. If you become impatient, waiting for me to narrate and post the next chapters of “BEWARE THE ABANDONED”, you can easily obtain an e-book version of the book in a few minutes from amazon.com. I have started a sequel to “Beware the Abandoned”. However, it will be several months before it is completed.
BEWARE THE ABANDONED is the first of my novels to be narrated. It is a story about John Cross. He was an abandoned child fighting for survival on the mean streets of Los Angeles, when The Sanctuary (a capitalist, non-religious sect) selected him to be trained to accumulate great wealth. The Sanctuary searches the world's slums for the brightest and most creative abandoned children.
John's financial success allows the sect to search for more abandoned children to grow their wealth. How John Cross realized his wealth is of little concern to the Sanctuary. What is critical to them, is keeping their moneymaker ahead of his pursuers - the mob and the FBI.
The murders in Paris, Las Vegas and Delaware were removals of obstacles in the path to wealth. Will his latest romantic interest also become an obstacle? The FBI and the mob are closing in fast on his hideaway in a small beach town on the Delaware Coast.
The novel that will next be narrated is DUEL.
For information on the author, Ian Duncan MacDonald, visit his website www.informus.ca. Here, you will also learn about his six investment books and three novels. You are also invited to listen to his 150 + "SAFE DIVIDEND INVESTING" podcasts.
CHAPTER 27
THE INHERITANCE
Two weeks after the coast guard had declared Naomi lost at sea, her parents held a memorial service in Baltimore. On the day before the memorial service, the agent in charge of the FBI investigative team assigned to her disappearance, met with Howard Green. Howard had used all his influence to put pressure on the Director of the FBI to investigate his daughter’s disappearance. The agent gave Howard Green, an off the record, unofficial review of their investigation.
He seemed to take pleasure in telling her father the FBI believed Naomi had had a lover on board the boat with her when she disappeared. They had found his prints when they dusted two half full glasses they found in cup holders on the boat’s bridge.
Her father’s immediate response to this information was, “Could he have been her killer?”
“It is unlikely. When we ran those prints against our national fingerprint database, we got an unusual hit. The prints belonged to a lawyer by the name of Robert E. Hollander. He was the legal counsel for a contractor that operates one of the government’s top-secret databases. He was responsible for approving anyone who wanted access to it. When we contacted his employer, our investigators found they had reported him missing to the Washington police. This led us to visiting your daughter’s yacht club. We found Hollander’s car in their parking lot. His job demanded such a high security clearance that he was almost always being vetted. When we reviewed his records, we found nothing. His record was remarkably clean, not even a traffic ticket.”
The investigating agent established Hollander’s connection to Naomi. He told Howard how both had been MBA students at Harvard taking many of the same courses. Rather than being a possible murder suspect, the FBI had concluded Bob Hollander met the same fate as Naomi Green.
Being a frequent visitor on the yacht, it was not surprising the FBI found John Cross’ fingerprints all over the boat. Prior to starting their investigation, the FBI had taken his prints so they could eliminate them from the investigation. This avoided the expense of running unnecessary prints against the national fingerprint database. If they had run his prints against that database, they might have discovered the person they believed to be Raymond Powell, was John Cross, a murderer wanted by the FBI in Nevada.
The FBI agent told Howard Green they had found no blood stains or any other indications of foul play on the boat. Their interviews with Naomi’s friends and acquaintances disclosed no conflicts or threats. They also found no evidence that she had chosen to disappear. The only unusual thing their investigation disclosed was this secret relationship with a Robert Hollander. Her friends all reported she had appeared to be happily married to Raymond Powell.
Any sympathy Howard had for his son-in-law’s loss, evaporated after he heard the FBI’s conclusions. As he saw it, if his wonderful daughter had taken a lover, then her husband was responsible for her being unfaithful. His sympathy turned into a suspicion that, somehow, John Cross was responsible for her disappearance. When he voiced his suspicion to the FBI agent, the agent assured him witnesses had confirmed that John had never left the hotel where he was exhibiting his paintings. The security cameras, overlooking the hotel’s entrance, showed his car had never moved until after the Benji Beach police chief had arrived and informed Raymond Powell of her disappearance. Cameras in the hallway even showed him going into his room, after the art exhibit closed, late in the evening. They next showed him coming out of his room for his breakfast, in the morning. The staff at the hotel had reported no unusual or suspicious behavior by Raymond Powell.
Howard was more than surprised when he learned from the FBI agent that John was the sole beneficiary of Naomi’s will. Until that moment, he had not known Naomi even had a will. This meant John would become the second largest shareholder of Greenline Automotive, second only to him. His daughter had always voted her shares in total harmony with his interests. Now, he saw a threat that John might align with other shareholders. He might even challenge Howard for control of the board of directors and the company.
This was an unforeseen business risk. It would not be to his advantage, to have Naomi declared dead, until he had worked out a solution to this threat to his power. He was confident control of her shares could not be voted until she was declared officially dead and that had to wait until seven years had passed. With no immediate threat, he felt he had plenty of time to resolve any threat to his control of the company.
Howard had a flawed understanding of the law in Delaware. On John’s behalf, his lawyer, three months after Naomi’s disappearance, applied to the county’s probate court to have John appointed conservator of her estate. This application detailed the circumstances under which she went missing, what attempts had been made to locate her and the reasons she would have communicated with John during these last three months if she were still alive. A list of her considerable assets accompanied a statement explaining why John was the petitioner. Within sixty days John was directed to provide a written report that outlined the condition of Naomi’s estate. After filing his application, every week, for a month, a notice had to appear in the local newspaper announcing a hearing to be held about the alleged deceased.
Howard Green's lawyer told him what John was doing was legal and unless Howard had evidence that showed his daughter was still alive there was no point in attending the hearing. As for Howard Green’s suspicions that John had somehow caused his daughter’s disappearance, his lawyer warned him, if he ever voiced it, defamation charges could be laid against him.
After reviewing the evidence, the judge issued an order that for the next four weeks, his ruling that Naomi was deceased, was to be published in the local newspaper. Three months after that, if there were no challenges to the notices brought before his court, the judge would declare her dead. John as the conservator and only heir would then assume full control of all her assets, including her Greenline Automotive shares.
Seven months later, John moved from being a common, multi millionaire, to joining the ranks of the super rich. He now controlled assets of more than a hundred million dollars. While he had thought that he had had a full knowledge of all of Naomi’s assets, he was surprised to find there were multimillion dollar investments that she had never discussed and may not even have known she had. Managing these investments would require far more effort than he had expected.
After several months of managing her money, it gave John great satisfaction to give his lawyer a locked titanium suitcase. Unbeknownst to the lawyer, it contained a million dollars in cash. He instructed the lawyer to find a trusted courier to deliver the suitcase to an address in New Mexico. To avoid going through airport security, the courier would have to drive to New Mexico and back. For arranging this, John advanced $20,000 to the lawyer for the courier and $2,000 for the lawyer’s effort in arranging the shipment. Although curious, the lawyer knew better than to question what was in the suitcase.
The lawyer’s son, Brent, was home from college and had a few weeks free. When asked if he wanted to make some money for two weeks of work, his son was surprised to find out it would involve driving to New Mexico and back. Two weeks of staying in hotels and seeing the country seemed to him to be a great adventure. His father said he would receive $5,000 for this chore plus all his travel expenses. John’s lawyer knew how to make a profit.
Driving on I-70, across the country, it took Brent only three days to reach Taos. He had strict instructions that the suitcase was to be handed to Winston Hawkins and that he was not to disclose who he was nor where he had travelled from.
Winston Hawkins had received a postcard the day before Brent arrived. It contained six numbers in two groups of three “8-24-3” and “9-21-6”. Below the numbers was a one-line message that read, “Greetings from 41 Boulevard Rochechouart, Paris”. Winston knew who had sent this card and its importance. He put the postcard in his desk drawer and waited.
The next day, his administrative assistant, looking flustered, interrupted him. She told him that there was a young man in the reception area who said he had a delivery to make but it had to be handed to Winston Hawkins. Winston was not surprised and told her to show him in.
Clutching the suitcase tightly, Brent entered Winston’s office. They shook hands and Brent handed him the suitcase. Winston asked him if he had eaten. When he replied that he had not, Winston said that one of his aides would take him to lunch. Brent found the cafeteria to be very much like his own college cafeteria, but the food was better.
When Winston unlocked the combination locks on the suitcase, using the codes John had mailed, he found a short unsigned note from John Cross. It read, “This is the first of many millions. The Sanctuary saved me, and I want to save hundreds of lost children just like I was saved.”
Although John was not aware of it, Winston had been monitoring John’s circumstances for years. He was very much aware of Naomi’s mysterious disappearance and John’s inheritance. With so much money at risk, he realized that the time had now come to assign a guardian angel to John Cross. It would have to be someone who would not hesitate to sacrifice his own life to protect The Sanctuary's investment in John Cross. He asked his secretary to fetch Gabriel LaChance.
Gabriel had been a street-smart kid in Paris. In Taos, he showed that he was academically gifted. He had caught up to his age group and moved through all the high school grades in two years. At eighteen he had completed an undergraduate degree. It had then taken him two more years to complete legal studies, do his clinical field placements, externships, and pro-bono work.
With John Cross’ circumstances in mind, Winston had arranged for Gabriel to complete his five-month clerkship at a prominent, corporate, law office in Wilmington, Delaware. After the clerkship, Gabriel had written the annual Delaware Bar Exam and passed all the required screening procedures. He was now admitted to the Delaware Bar.
That afternoon, Winston met with Gabriel and directed him to proceed to Benji Beach. He was to open a law office and then contact John Cross. Gabriel’s bank account received funds to cover the expense.
With the law office in place, Gabriel approached John Cross, early one morning, at a lobster restaurant that he knew John owned and where he knew John usually had his breakfast. Gabriel walked into the restaurant, pushed his way through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen and took a seat in John’s private booth in the passageway between the kitchen and the dining room. John was sitting in his booth, reading the local newspaper. Startled by the intrusion into his private space, he put the newspaper down and frowned at the young stranger who was smiling at him. He looked like someone that he knew, but not as he remembered that person. John said indignantly, “Can I help you?”,
Gabriel leaned close and whispered, so that only John could hear him, “Mais oui, Monsieur Cross.”
It was like a slap in the face. Raymond Powell’s mask had been torn off his face. John Cross stood there, a naked fugitive. He whispered, “Do I know you?”
“Mais, oui, on the streets of Paris you saved my life.”
For several seconds, John was silent, as his past unraveled in his mind. The panic in his eyes disappeared. He smiled and said, “Gabriel? My God, Gabriel, is it really you?”
“C’est moi.”
“My God, you were just a kid. Look at you, all grown up. What are you doing here?”
“I was sent to help you, just as you were sent to help me.”
“But why?”
“Our leader does not want unknown couriers arriving in Taos with suitcases full of money. He feels that we must establish a more professional arrangement to shelter you and The Sanctuary.”
“What does he have in mind?”
“Can we go somewhere, where we can speak freely?”
“Of course, I’m finished. Let’s go.”
They left the restaurant by the rear entrance and climbed into John’s green Porsche. John drove out of town. He pulled off the highway, into a deserted parking lot by the sea.
They left the car, walked down to the beach, and sat on a large log that had washed up during some long-forgotten hurricane. The wind, the cries of the seagulls and the waves lapping onto the sand were the background chorus to Gabriel’s message. Far away from all possibility of their conversation being overheard.
Gabriel started the conversation by saying, “You are a fugitive with a large price on your head. Sooner or later, the odds are, someone will determine that you are not Raymond Powell. It is important we do our best to avoid that happening. However, every time you send funds to Taos, you are increasing the possibility that your delivery will be intercepted, and someone will trace it back to you.”
John nodded. He had always understood that possibility existed. Gabriel continued, “I am now a qualified, Delaware, lawyer. Anything we now discuss is privileged and falls under the laws governing lawyer-client confidentiality. You and I see that our purpose in life, is to save lost and abandoned children. Through your business acumen, you have provided The Sanctuary with millions of dollars. It has saved thousands of children. Despite your wealth having grown to over a hundred million dollars, you are still a fugitive. If something were to happen to you, it is important that your millions continue to go towards saving children. We must make sure these millions are never seized by the government, under their assets-acquired-by-crime laws.”
“What are you proposing?”
“I want to create several, interlinked, offshore companies. The Sanctuary will control them, but it will be impossible to connect them to The Sanctuary. I’ll make sure this ownership is so well buried only you, me and Winston will understand how it all works. After they are established, you will sell all your assets to these corporations for a nominal fee. It will then be easy for me to funnel all future income from your business to these offshore corporations and, from there, to Taos. Thus, if you should ever be identified, you will know that what you have created will survive to save the street kids.”
“What will it mean to my day-to-day activities?”
“You will now be an employee with no legal ownership of the assets you are managing. As chief executive of the corporations, you will continue to receive a salary and benefits. It will more than take care of all your needs. There will be no change in your lifestyle. For legal and tax purposes, you will now pay rent to these offshore corporation for all your residences, automobiles, boats, and other toys.”
“My lifestyle will not change?”
“No. Nothing will change.”
“Good, it seems that I now have a new lawyer.”
John held out his hand. Gabriel shook it, before he said, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about your safety.”
He reached into the breast pocket of his suit and removed an odd-looking cell phone. He put it in John’s hand and explained what it was, “This is a military grade cell phone, with an amazing number of apps built into it. It is waterproof and just about indestructible. Besides a built-in flashlight, a laser and much more. It is always emitting a signal that allows me to see on a map, on my duplicate cell phone, where you are. From now on, carry it with you. It could save your life. If you get into trouble, you press this red panic button on the side, and it alerts me. I will see where you are and immediately come to your aid wherever you are.”
John picked up the phone, looked at it and then put it in his pocket.
Gabriel continued, “If you feel the game is up, the safest most reliable route, out of here, is by sea. You kept your wife’s boat, but we need a backup. One of the new corporations will purchase a second one. I’ll register it as my boat and berth it close to your boat at the yacht club. Then, if you need to get out of Benji Beach fast, and there is some problem with your boat, you’ll always have the second boat as an alternate. Two boats, reduce our risk in handling an unforeseen situation.”
“Don’t you think this is overkill? I think the chances of me, being discovered, in place like Benji Beach is remote.”
“Perhaps you are right but there is nothing wrong with being prepared for any eventuality. We can afford the second boat, but the Sanctuary can’t afford to lose your contributions. I’ll make sure both boats are always fueled and stocked, ready to take you across the Atlantic. Both of us will have keys to the boats.”
Gabriel became quiet. He had covered all the points he had rehearsed.
John smiled and said, “I feel you have lifted a great weight off my shoulders. It feels good, to have someone, I trust with my life, watching out for me.”
“The only thing left to do, is to inform your current lawyer, that from now on, I will be handling your legal affairs. I want them to send me all the open files. Here is my office address.”
Gabriel reached into his pocket and handed John his business card. They stood and made their way back to John’s car.
PART 2
THE FALL
CHAPTER 28
COLD CASE
In a small barbeque joint, called “Blowing Smoke”, on Highland Drive, in Las Vegas’ seedy, strip club district, FBI Agent, Connor, had, with great ease, separated the pork meat from a rib. He dipped it in the smoky, blood red, Arkansas BBQ sauce and transferred that perfectly cooked morsel to his yawning maw. He was ever so careful not to drip sauce onto his tan, lite weight, summer suit. A bottle of ice-cold Corona finished off the meal.
Blowing Smoke was a hangout for the local and state cops. It was also frequented by employees from nearby businesses and a few white-haired pensioners. It did not cater to the tourist trade. This was not a fine dining establishment.
The two FBI agents were sitting at one of the grease stained, picnic tables, in a dark, back corner. The other clientele ignored them. Despite the heat, they had kept their suit jackets on. The coats hid the Glocks in their shoulder holsters.
Agent Tully, turned to Agent Connor, who was devouring a well-oiled corn fritter, and said, “Do you realize that it’s ten years since John Cross killed that guard at that Laughlin casino?”
“Why in the hell would you bring that up? The chances are Cross is dead and buried, in a shallow Mexican grave.”
“True but the file has come up for its annual review. We haven’t received a lead on it in five years. Isn’t it time that it was classified as dead and sent over to the cold case guys?”
“No can do.”
“Why not?”
“Did Washington tell you that you could close the file?”
“No, but…”
Connor held up his hand like a cop holding back traffic and said, “Cross is still on the radar screen of some very well-connected people. They think we continue to look for him every day under every rock in the Southwest. We want them to continue to think that. The case stays open until we either find Cross or his body.”
“This case is getting to be like that old Monty Python skit where the pet store owner tries to convince the customer that the dead bird nailed to the perch is just sleeping.”
“Listen to someone who has been doing this a lot longer than you. The senior senator for Nevada, the director of the FBI and the great governor of the wonderful state of Nevada have told the casino owner, and noted Republican party donor, that we will spare no effort in solving this murder. So, until Mike Asino gets knocked off, or the world comes to an end, this will be an open file in the FBI’s Las Vegas office.”
“I have better files to work on.”
“So, do I, but until I win the lottery, to keep my job, I will continue to do what is politically correct and since, I’m the senior member of the team, so will you. Just spend a couple of hours on it. Do some computer searches. Phone some of Cross’ contacts and see if they’ve heard from him. Contact Asino's people, see if they’ve heard anything. They’ll probably find him before we do, anyway. If they do, we won't have to worry about the expense of a trial.”
“The mob may still be looking for him, but The Sanctuary isn't. My Taos informant has told me that big bundles of bills keep arriving anonymously, in the mail. She thinks they are coming from Cross. No one has confirmed that they are, but it seems he is still alive in their books. Perhaps we should let the mob know that we think Cross is being selective in his cash payments. That ought to piss them off and get them out there beating the bushes. As for me, I haven’t got a clue where to even start looking for him or his body.”
Agent Connor tilted back his bottle of Corona and drained the dregs.
CHAPTER 29
THE WASHINGTON ELEMENT
Washington is a steam bath in the summer. On hot, hazy, Friday afternoons, all anyone wants to do is escape the office.
Steve handed his administrative assistant a contract defaced with cross outs, scrawled notes, arrows that shifted paragraphs, yellow hi-lighting and coffee stains and said, “Lisa, if you can put this contract back together and email it to Joe before you leave tonight, I would appreciate it. He wants to get it into next month’s projections.”
Lisa looked at the old-fashioned mahogany desk clock on Steve’s credenza. It was five after five. She was not happy. It would take her another hour to make it presentable.
As Steve was putting on his suit jacket, the irritated administrative assistant stomped out of his office. Her husband would already be waiting for her downstairs.
When he stepped out of the air-conditioned office building, the heat hit Steve as if he had just opened the door on a blast furnace. He jay-walked across the busy street to the parking garage, dodging the stop and go traffic. For someone six foot six inches tall, he moved like the athlete he was.
Packed with excited, smiling commuters anxious to get home to start their weekend, the garage elevator stopped on every floor. Finally, it was Steve's turn to exit. That morning, he had thought he had been very lucky to find a parking spot on the garage’s top floor, close to the elevator. Starting his BMW, he turned the air conditioning on full blast, for a few minutes, to push the hot stale air out of the car before rolling the windows back up.
When he exited the garage, he forced his way into the slow-moving traffic by intimidating some white-haired woman in a red Honda. After travelling for six blocks, he swung over to the curb, without signaling, in front of an office building that had seen better days.
A tanned, fit looking blond, who had been pacing up and down in front of the building’s entrance for half an hour, staring at the approaching traffic saw Steve’s car approaching. Every few minutes, she has been pulling out her cellphone to check the time and see if Steve had phoned to explain why he was late. People rushing by on the sidewalk ignored her. There were lots of pretty girls in Washington. The faint smell of exhaust fumes, the heat and the roar of the traffic were making her feel faint.
As soon as she saw Steve’s BMW approaching, she stopped pacing and stood still, as if she had nothing better to do, then stand on sidewalks looking at the passing parade. Steve got out of the car, popped his trunk open and put in her suitcase. He leaned over, pecked her dutifully on the cheek and said, “Sorry, Sue Anne but the traffic was a killer. I left long before five o’clock.”
“Oh, that’s OK. I only got down here a few minutes ago.”
Sue Anne climbed into the passenger seat next to Steve. He forced his way into the traffic, despite being aware that even a tiny scratch on a BMW could end up costing him thousands to fix.
“One more pick up and Benji Beach here we come,” he said enthusiastically. Sue Anne faked a half smile and said nothing. This was not a good start to her weekend.
Another half dozen blocks, and they made a right turn onto a quiet, leafy, side street. It was lined with old brick mansions converted into trendy studio apartments for the young professionals. Steve eased over to the curb.
Sprawled on the front steps of the building, in the shade from a giant hickory tree, was a lanky young man in T-shirt, shorts and sandals reading a book. With a graceful, fluid motion, he stood and grabbed his duffle bag from the steps beside him. In four paces, he was opening the rear door of the BMW, throwing in his bag, followed by himself. He squeezed his six foot eight-inch frame in doing no damage to himself.
“Sorry I’m late Liam.”
“No problem, Steve, just as long as we get down to Benji Beach in time for our first game tomorrow morning.”
“Despite the Friday traffic, we should be there by ten o’clock.”
Sue Anne muttered under her breath, “We were supposed to have been down there by eight.”
Steve ignored her, as he shouted at Liam, “How’s it hanging Liam?”
“To the right.”
Steve laughed and asked, “You ready to make this the third year in a row that we win this volley ball tournament?”
“You’re damn right.”.
Steve, half turned and put his hand up so Liam could high five it from the back seat. Sue Anne ignored them and thought to herself, boys will be boys.
Soon they had crossed over the Chesapeake and were heading East towards Delaware, the beaches and the cooling breezes off the Atlantic. Steve’s cell phone rang. He hesitated and debated whether he should answer it. It rang again. Curiosity got the better of him. It was month end. Perhaps something had gone wrong. He answered it by pressing the hands-free phone button on his steering wheel.
“Hello?”
“Hi Steve, it’s me, Barry. Did I get you on your ride home?”
Barry’s voice boomed out over Steve’s radio speakers. Steve turned the volume down, but there was nothing wrong with Sue Anne’s and Liam’s hearing. They eavesdropped on the conversation.
“Yeah, you did.”
“I got a message to phone you as soon as I got in.”
“Yeah, did Pete hand in his resignation?”
There was a long silence. Steve wondered if they had lost their connection. Finally, Barry responded. “Awww… No… Not, actually I meant to phone you about that earlier. It will be a real pain in the ass filling that slot in the summer. Maybe it would be best to keep him around for another couple of months.”
“Barry, this is the third month in a row that he's missed quota. You gave him a letter on first of the month that told him that if he did not make it this month that he would be fired. The other reps need to know we mean what we say.”
After a loud sigh Barry replied, “Yeah, I know, but he's been with us for ten years.”
“I don't give a shit if he's been with us for a hundred years. If I lose my job because of your results, you can be assured that you are going to be losing your job, long before I lose mine. Get his ass out of here, first thing, Monday morning. If he had any brains, he would have handed in his resignation before we had to fire him.”
Steve clicks off without saying goodbye. The telephone conversation with its harsh realities deflated the mood in the car. Liam and Sue Anne pretended that they had not listened to the conversation. Liam, being more introspective, wondered if Steve’s tough guy approach, was him playing to the audience in the car. Showing them what an important, powerful person he was.
Steve half turned in his seat, to glance at Liam and Sue Anne before he turned back and said, “I hope you don’t mind but I’ve got to make another phone call.”
They both nodded but said nothing. It was his car, and they were getting a free ride. Steve pressed the voice command on his phone system and told the computer to phone Pete Kingston. The call was answered on the second ring.
“Hi Pete, it’s Steve. I just wanted to phone and congratulate you on another great month. Well done.”
“Jeez, Steve, thanks, I appreciate you taking the time to phone.”
“Have a great weekend, Pete. I'm counting on you making it three months in a row.”
“I'll do my best.”
“I know you will. You've got a great future with us. Bye.”
“Bye.”
They drove along in silence for another few minutes before Liam tries to lighten the mood.
“Steve, did I ever tell you that Sue Ann and I were at Central High together? Not that she would have remembered me. I was a pimply faced little kid, and she was the golden goddess.”
Not getting a response from Steve. He tries to get a response from Sue Anne.
“Sue Anne, are you, going to be our setter for this tournament?”
“Liam, do I look like one of those vacuous volleyball babes? Weekends are for relaxing, not jumping around on a hot beach like a flea.”
“Sue Anne, you'd make a great volleyball player. I remember how high you could jump when you were a cheerleader.”
“That's a long time ago, Liam. I remember you as being short, chubby and bad.”
“Bad? You're kidding? You remember me? I thought I was the invisible kid.”
“You were until you put that plastic dog crap in Mrs. Smith's lunch bag. You became infamous.”
“How'd they know it was me?”
“Every kid in the school knew it was you.”
Liam and Sue Anne laughed. Even Steve laughed.
“I find it hard to believe that you graduated from high school, went to university and hold down a responsible job in one of the biggest law firm in Washington. What do you do for them? I know you never went to law school.”
“Well, I kind of have a unique job, for a law firm. My title is Manager of Research.”
“Research? In a law firm?”
“Yeah, for example, we had a client who died leaving many millions of dollars to a child he had fathered in Vietnam, He was a soldier there in the early seventies and he had never even seen this child. His other heirs were contesting the will. My job was to find this child and prove that this was his son. I did it in a week. My law firm earned a big fee for my work.”
“I hope you paid well for your effort.”
“Oh, I received a very nice bonus. They like my work. I’m able to find witnesses that no one even knew existed. I’ve helped us win some big cases. Other times, I’ve been able to dig up enough evidence to get acquittals for our clients.”
“You’re like a private investigator.”
“Kind of but a lot of what I do involves mining databases. Most of my work involves a computer.”
“It sounds interesting.”
“Most would consider it boring, but I enjoy it. I sit there for hours, following different leads on a computer. I get caught up on the challenge. My weird educational background let me pick up this kind of research quickly. I am not sure if any other law firms have employees like me on their staff.”
Steve who had been half listening to the conversation interrupted, “The traffic is easing up. We should hit Benjy Beach before nine”.
Sue Anne, displeased, responded, “We were supposed to have been there before eight.” She gave Steve a hard, cold stare which he did not see. He was staring straight ahead, concentrating on his driving, but he could feel the negative vibrations that Sue Anne was broadcasting. In a quiet, condescending voice, he asked, “What's wrong?
With a voice dripping with sarcasm, she replied, “Nothing.”
Steve let her reply float free. He did not reel it in. They were moving quickly on secondary roads, through rural Delaware. He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that Liam was now unconscious, sleeping with his mouth open. Sue Anne stared straight ahead, wondering why she had agreed to go away this weekend with Steve.
Steve’s cell phone rang again and jerked everyone awake. Steve pressed the button on his steering wheel and answered it.
“Hello?”
A voice boomed over the radio’s speakers, “Hi Steve. Bob here. Thought you might want the month's fi results.”
“You bet.”
“You did it again. The fourth month in a row that your sales team has got the best sales gain of any region in the country, in both numbers and dollars. You exceeded the closest region by 10%. Congratulations. Well Done.”
“Thanks Bob, that's great news, I'll let the team know, right away.”
“Have you reached a decision yet on taking over the West Coast region? It's a fantastic opportunity for you. I would have killed to get it at your age. Its revenues are more than triple your region and as I told you before, your bonus, salary and stock options will reflect this increased responsibility. Opportunity knocks only once.”
Steve grimaced. He wished that Bob had not brought that up. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Sue Anne had just sat straight up as if hit by a bolt of lightning. She was giving him a very hard questioning look. Steve realized he was in trouble. He tried to find a response to Bob’s question that would appease two opposing forces.
“Hello, Steve, are you still there?
“Yeah, Bob, give me the weekend to sort it all out. I'll give you my answer, first thing on Monday morning. It sure sounds like a great opportunity.”
“Sorry Steve, I don't mean to put pressure on you but it's really important that we fill this slot now and you're the best man. You'll have the rest of the summer to get that West coast sales team up to speed before our big Fall push.”
“Thanks Bob. I'll get back to you first thing Monday. OK?”
“OK Buddy, talk to you Monday but if you can phone me before then, just get me on my cell.”
Bob hung up without waiting for Steve to say goodbye. The silence after this conversation was pregnant with unspoken emotion. Sue Anne’s anger was like a fast approaching, thunder cloud, moving across a still, calm lake.
Sue Anne knew, she shouldn’t confront Steve with Liam as an audience, but she could not stop herself, “Whose Bob?” She asked frostily.
Steve, sighed, before he quietly replied, “He's the Senior Vice President of Sales. You met him at the Christmas party?”
“You mean the big, fat, creepy, guy with the wig.”
“Yep, that’s him.”
"When would you be moving?"
“I haven’t said I would take the job.”
“Who are you kidding?”
“I wanted to talk to you first.”
“Really, when were you going to do that?”
“Over the weekend.”
“And how am I included in your move?”
“I don’t know. It is something we can work out.”
“Were you expecting me to give up my career and follow you there?”
“No, but I do make more money than you.”
“Was it to be a long-distance relationship?”
“Well, with a big increase in income, I could afford to fly back East and you could fly out to Los Angeles.”
‘Steve who are you kidding. Every promotion you’ve ever gotten, you’ve put more and more hours into your job. How would you find the time?”
“I’d make the time.”
“When does this new job start?”
“Bob wants me to meet him in Los Angeles next week so that I can meet the team and find a place to move into. I'd be flying back and forth during the transition as I help settle in whoever takes over from me.”
“What happened to the regional manager in Los Angeles?”
“He got fired.”
“Why?
“His sales stank, every month, this year, he missed target.” Steve paused before continuing, “He couldn't seem to turn things around.”
“What was his problem?”
“I am not sure but rumors are that he was splitting with his wife.”
That answer, ended the exchange. Steve mentioned nothing about marriage and Sue Anne was not about to confront him with it. They ignored the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the car as to what her response would have been if he had said they should get married.
The exchange made her aware that in Steve’s list of priorities, his career came first and that he would sacrifice everything to achieve the wealth and power he hungered for. Once she was out of his sight, she expected to be out of his mind. Her rejection left her feeling disorientated and lost.
For those few moments they had forgot that Liam was sitting in the back seat taking it all in. It was not appropriate for him to intervene in this verbal confrontation between two people he liked. He sat there and said nothing until he thought they had missed the turn for Benji Beach, “Steve, did we just miss the turn off?
“No. It's coming up. Hungry? Who wants to eat at the roadhouse or should we wait until we reach the Beach?”
Sue Anne was the first to reply, “I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
Liam piped up, “Yeah, I’m starving, and I had breakfast and lunch.”
“Liam,” Steve said, “You're always hungry. You must have a tape worm. OK. Let's pull in. They've got great ribs.”
Steve pulled into a parking spot close to the entrance of the low-slung road house. As Liam and Sue Anne got out of the car, Steve took out his cell phone and typed in an email.
Sue Anne asked, “Are you coming Steve?”
“I'll be right in. Order some ribs for me. I just want to let my sales team know that we kicked ass again this month.”
Sue Anne gave Steve a long, hard look, as she remembered, where in his list of priorities, she stood. She again wondered why she had agreed to this weekend. She banged the car door behind her, harder than needed and stomped very into the roadhouse. Liam noticed. Steve didn’t.
The food had already arrived by the time Steve strode into the bar. Good, old fashioned, rock-and-roll was blasting from the bar’s speakers. He found Liam and Sue Anne in a booth, at the back. He was elated. His outstanding abilities had got him another promotion. Life was sweet. He smiled as he approached the booth and yelled loudly over the music, “Hey, did you guys leave anything for me?
Sue Anne was in no mood for his humor or dumb questions. She responded with, “Your food has gotten cold and the beer I ordered for you is probably warm.”
Liam added, “Maybe you should get the waitress to warm up your ribs.”.
“That’s OK.”
Steve was hungry. He attacked the barely warm ribs. They had been slow cooked for hours and the rich, fatty meat fell off the bone leaving it dry. He used the creamy mashed potatoes, that had come with the meal, as a glue to pick up the green peas and gravy. Liam and Sue Anne were finishing up their apple pie and ice cream when Steve finally finished. Noticing this, Steve skipped desert and asked for the check. Then, over the protests, from Liam and Sue Anne, that they could pay for their own meals, he put the dinner on his company credit card. Steve figured after a great month like he had had, no one would dare question this expense.
They thanked him for his generosity as they exited the roadhouse. There was little conversation on the remaining half hour drive.
CHAPTER 30
RELATIONSHIPS
They could see the lights of Benji Beach, reflected high in the clouds, long before they reached it. They sped along the coastal road. Out to sea, the night ocean appeared as black and foreboding as a shark’s eye.
The bright lights of Benji Beach’s main drag soon engulfed them. The signs hawked pizzas, hamburgers, fudge and beer. Schools of young people swam between the bars. Many of them were unusually tall and fit. They were volleyball players or fans of volleyball players. Tomorrow, many of these tall ones would be fiercely competing on beach volleyball courts. Tonight, was for fun, for renewing friendships with former teammates, for making out, for drinking lots of beer and for dancing to the loud pulsating music that escaped from the bars each time a bar door opened.
Cars crawled down the strip towards the beach. They then turned around and crawled back. The drivers and their passengers solicited the girls on the sidewalk and hurled loud, ribald insults at former volleyball competitors.
Steve’s car escaped the conga line by making a left onto Beach Boulevard. A few seconds later he pulled into the wide circular driveway of The Benji Beach Grand Hotel, the most expensive hotel on the beach. It was lit up like a four-tiered wedding cake. Those guests with the more expensive, prestigious cars had their cars on display in the driveway in front of the hotel. Steve’s BMW goy twenty minutes to check in before he had to hide it in the underground garage.
Steve handed his and Sue Anne's bags to the bellhop. Liam unfolded himself from the backseat and slipped, the strap of his duffle bag, over his shoulder. As he walked down the hotel driveway, towards Beach Boulevard, he yelled back at Steve, “See you at The Blind Pig, for a drink, in half an hour. We’ll celebrate your promotion. You can pay.” Unlike Steve, Liam had no interest in paying four hundred dollars a night for a beach front hotel room. He felt no need to impress anyone. His motel room was three streets back from the beach and was costing him less than a hundred dollars a night.
Steve smiled at Liam’s invitation. He felt on top of the world. Sue Anne followed him into the lobby. She wished she were back in Washington.
The advertised suite was one large room with a living room area in one corner. A microwave, tiny refrigerator and sink graced the other corner. A divider separated the king size bed from the more active areas. After he had slipped the bellhop a five-dollar bill, Steve murmured to Sue Anne, “Nice suite.”
With more than a little sarcasm in her voice, Sue Anne snapped back, “Nothing but the best for Steve Parker. Right Steve?”
“Yeah Sue Anne, nothing but the best. I’ve earned it.”
“When were, you going to tell me?”
“Tonight.”
"Bull shit."
“I wanted to.”
“Really? Why didn't you?”
“You know damn well why I didn't.”
“Why? Have I become excess baggage?”
“No.”
“Come on Steve. Let's get real. What's the matter? Didn't want to ruin your weekend? Afraid you weren't going to get any nooky?”
"Don’t be such a bitch. The reason I didn't tell you right away…”
Steve paused, as he searched for a politically correct, but logical response, that would appease Sue Anne. Finally, he replied, "I had to work out my future in my head before I could talk to you about our future together. Hey, I didn't give Bob an immediate answer, did I?"
“Crap. I know you. You were just playing hard to get so you could squeeze more money out of him.
“Am I really that greedy and devious?”
“You are damn right you are.”
“Well, I have to consider what is best for my career.”
“Fuck your career. A week ago, you told me you loved me. Don't you remember?”
“Yes, I remember, and I do love you.
Emotional tears welled in Sue Anne's eyes. She tried not to cry and show Steve how vulnerable and fragile she felt. She turned away from Steve and reached into her purse for a Kleenex.
Steve hesitantly moved towards her, then paused, looking embarrassed, he was not sure what her reaction would be if he touched her. Finally, he reached out and put his hand on her shoulder and gently tried to turn her around to face him. Sue Anne shrugged off his hand and moved away from him, her head bowed. At that moment, Steve’s cell phone rang. Instead of ignoring it, before the second ring, he reached for it. Instinctively he turned his back on Sue Anne. With the phone to his ear, he answered it with a very businesslike, “Hello” and then carried on a conversation about contracts that had not got into the month’s results.
Incensed by his insensitivity Sue Anne walked over to her small suitcase and picked it up. She looked back over her shoulder, Steve still had his back to her, lost in his conversation.
Sue Anne walked to the door, opened it and closed it gently behind her. The click of the lock snapping into place, alerted Steve. He turned and saw she had left. Her suitcase was gone. He brought the phone call to an end, “Sorry Tim. Something just came up. Sorry, but I've got to take care of this. I’ll phone you later. Goodbye.”
Steve rushed to the door and opened it but she was not in the hallway. Running down the hall to the elevator, he frantically punched the elevator button, knowing full well that repeatedly pressing it would have no effect in speeding it up. Why had he insisted on a suite on the top floor? Finally, the elevator arrived. He entered and waited as it crawled down to the lobby, stopping on each floor to load more passengers, intent on a night of partying.
The elevator finally arrived at the lobby. he searched the entire floor for Sue Anne. At the hotel entrance he peered down the long driveway. Not seeing her, he approached the desk clerk and asked if she had seen the girl he had come in with. She shook her head that she had not. The clerk wondered what this jerk had done to cause his girlfriend to ditch him.
Steve left the hotel and walked out to Beach Boulevard. He looked up and down the street. She was nowhere in sight. The bright lights of the main drag seemed the best place to start his search. All he found there was a street full of volleyball players and fans, intent upon having a good time. He headed towards The Blind Pig hoping that Liam could help him find her.
Steve pushed by a chunky bouncer at the bar’s entrance, the pounding beat of a live band greeted him. The large room was pulsating with virile bodies set free. The band played with little skill, on a stage that was barely big enough to hold the drum set. Steve ignored the clientele who were all intent upon reliving previous years’ games. An antique, mirrored, disco ball sent random flashes of light speeding around the darkened room. From a table in a far corner, Steve heard shouting over the din, “Hey Champ, Hey Steve, over here.”
Steve waved to acknowledge them, but he continued to scan the room to see if Sue Anne had joined any of the merry makers. He finally located Liam, whose back was to him, surrounded by current and former teammates, chugging back bottles of beer. Steve headed towards him. When he reached him, he had to yell, so Liam could hear him over the din, “Liam have you seen Sue Anne?
“Sue Anne? I haven’t seen her since I left you at the hotel. She hasn’t come in here. Are you guys fighting?
Steve ignored the question. “Call me on your cell phone if she comes in.”
He escaped the noisy bar to phone Sue Anne from the quieter street. On his cell phone keypad, he hit the speed dial for Sue Anne’s cell phone. It rang four times. He quietly mumbled, “Come on, come on Sue Anne, pick up the goddam phone”. When the phone reverted to taking a message, Steve terminated the call, without leaving a message. Not knowing where to search for her, he stepped back into The Blind Pig and made his way to Liam’s table. Someone found a chair and everyone squeezed closer around the small metal table to make room for him.
Steve was angry with Sue Anne and angry with himself. A perfect weekend of expected sex, partying and volleyball now blown to smithereens. He emptied the bottle of beer that had been put down in front of him, in two gulps. Liam leaned over, close enough for Steve to hear him, “Did you find her?”
Steve shook his head to show that he had not.
“You hadn't told her about Los Angeles?”
Steve glared at Liam. He did not reply.
Liam ignored Steve's desire to end the conversation, “Well, well, well that, is called the sin of omission.”
“Fuck you, Liam.”
“Hey, don't get mad at me. You're the one who blew it, not me. Sue Anne is a nice girl. It's bad enough to be dumped but being dumped for a job, establishes how important you are in a person’s life. You know, I think she's right, you are a selfish prick.”
“Hey Liam, wasn't it you, who said find'em, feel'em, fuck'em, forget'em?”
“Yeah, maybe when I was fourteen.”
A waitress set down another round of beer on the table. Steve picked one up and drained half of it in one big gulp. Liam responded, “Come on Steve, don't get pissed. We've got a tournament to win tomorrow. Get up off your ass and let's look for Sue Anne. She shouldn't be wandering around by herself.”
Steve looked at Liam and nodded. He rose from his chair and threw down twenty dollars for the two beer and they headed for the door. Crowds filled the sidewalks. Four eyes instead of two were now scanning the crowd for Sue Anne. They searched every bar along the strip