if you called. I did and he brought in the Homeland Security Chief. Apparently, our two wayward justice department members corroborated the existence of Rachel’s magic flash drives. They want them so badly they may overlook your transgressions.”
“How much about my transgressions do you know?” Nick asked warily, repressing memories of missions over the last decade as they flitted through his mind.
“Let me put it this way, Nick.” Grace’s lilting tone immediately irritated him. “I know writing best sellers is a hell of a cover gig. It seems CIA and NSA pooled their resources after the Khobar Towers bombing in 1996 into funding this neat clandestine group. Only the word leaked. It was shut down before it actually went into operation. At least that’s what congressional oversight thought. How am I doing so far, Obi-Wan?”
“Oh, those transgressions.”
“Want to fill in the blanks for your friends at the US Marshall’s office, Nicky?”
“Never going to happen,” he retorted, his mind racing. “We’ll deal with me later. Not that I’m complaining, but how did a couple of lowly US Marshalls end up on top in this mess?”
“It seems because we were the only ones working to keep Rachel and Jean alive, the Attorney General decided that, with all the suspicious happenings and leaks, Tim and I would be the logical oversight for the people who almost got us killed.”
“Please tell me you don’t have a task force.”
“Nope,” Grace chuckled. “Tim and I know better than to speak about this crap to anyone. We have access way beyond our pay grades and can call in help from anywhere we need it. We answer only to the Attorney General.”
“Here’s the deal then. There may be a dust-up where the safety deposit box is.”
“Meaning the bad guys know where the box is. You and Rachel know where the box is. The authorities, in the form of Tim and I, know nothing.”
“You have a talent for summarization, Grace.”
“I can round up enough people I trust to escort you and Rachel into the bank to get the drives, Nick,” Grace replied, anger creeping into her voice.
“But then you’ll have our hole card. Think about it logically, Grace. What happens when we hand over the drives without leverage? I can make copies. You won’t be allowed to. If you get leaned on too hard, those drives can keep you and Tim in business. I’ll be like the Oracle. When you have questions about the way our justice system is progressing on the case, I can fill in details for you about what they may be covering up.”
“And if we don’t take the deal?”
“I’ll find a way to get those flash drives. Then it will be a hot time in the old town tonight, baby.”
“We’re in,” Grace agreed. “It’s getting late. You’ve worn me out. When can you get those drives?”
“You’ll know when I have them in my hands or close to it.”
“I’ll bet you’re writing this all into a Diego best seller, aren’t you, you prick?”
“I may be able to dish this heroic episode of reality into a treasure chest’s worth of fiction.”
“I’m thinking Tim and I need to go down to Pacific Grove. I’ll talk to some of your friends down there. We might need a hole card against you, big shot.”
“Listen closely, Grace.” Nick’s voice became nearly unrecognizable in its sheer menace. “It would be very dangerous for you or Tim to approach anyone I know. Are we clear?”
“Sure Nick, sorry.”
“You will be, if you ever forget what I just said.” He ended the call. Only the thought of Rachel in his bedroom enabled him to set the satellite phone down without smashing it into the cement.
“How’d it go?” Rachel asked, as the bedroom door swung open, and she propped herself up on the bedcover.
“It’s a work in progress.” His mind went blank at the sight of her in a sheer black-silk teddy.
She turned onto her stomach, looking up at him over her shoulder. “I bought this while Jean and I were out shopping. Still want to do my back?”
“Come on, Mom,” Nick whispered, guiding a very groggy Rachel toward her own bedroom. “You know you’d blame it on me if Jean wakes up and checks your room.”
“Damn, Nick, can I sleep in tomorrow?” She turned in his arms, hugging him to a stop midway down the hall.
“You sleep in every morning.” Nick held her, kissing the top of her head. “What would be different about tomorrow?”
“Brat! Everyone sleeps in compared to you. What time is it anyway?”
“Nearly one-thirty.”
“That was a wonderful few hours.” Rachel pressed tightly into him, moving her lips to his bare neck. He knew she could feel the desired affect her movements had on him. She twisted away toward her bedroom. “Goodnight, Nick.”
“I am so going to wake you at five, you little tart.”
Rachel gave him the wave off, continued into her bedroom, and closed the door. Nick walked by and quietly opened Jean’s bedroom door. Deke streaked by him toward the stairs. Nick followed quickly, finding Deke panting at the locked glass patio door. He barely had time to slide the door back far enough before Deke jammed through the opening and over to the nearest desert plant.
“Sorry about that, Deke. I should have let you out earlier. That’ll teach you to stick your cold nose into my business.” Nick waited, but Deke ignored him and walked over to his gnawed soup bone. Ignoring Nick’s urging to bring the bone inside, Deke laid down with the bone between his front paws and went to work on it. “Okay, but you’ll be out for the night. I have to lock up buddy.”
He closed the door, waiting a few more moments, hoping Deke would change his mind. When the dog stayed where he was, Nick locked the door and reset his security system. He returned to the bedroom and his bed. He found it difficult to sleep with Rachel’s scent everywhere, but started to drift off after fifteen minutes. No sooner did the first stage of sleep overcome him than the phone rang on the night stand next to his head. He grabbed it up before it could complete the ring, hoping the sound had not disturbed Rachel and Jean.
“Hello.”
“Ross? You have to come over here,” Suzan’s voice sobbed into his ear.
“Calm down, Suzan,” he urged, moving from the bed, and pulling on his jeans with one hand. “Tell me what’s happening, one step at a time.”
“We had a bunch of hang up calls, and then a van parked across the street at around midnight. No one is getting out of it. I…I waited for them to go away, but they’re still here. Should I -”
“No, you were right to call. I’ll come by and check the van out. Does it look like a delivery van or one of those minivan types.”
“It’s a big one. I mean…it’s not one of those little ones.”
“What color?”
“Dark Blue.”
“Okay, stay in the house with the kids and don’t come out. I’ll jog over so it’ll take me a couple minutes. I’ll come to the door if everything is okay.”
“Thanks Ross.”
Nick hung up and hurriedly put on his socks and tennis shoes. He took a black t-shirt from his drawer and put it on before taking the silenced Heckler & Koch.45 caliber handgun from his vault. Nick grabbed the light jacket he had fitted to carry the H &K, and jogged down the stairs. Five minutes later he slowed, checking out the cars near the Benoit residence on the street. No van was in sight when he went up to the Benoit house and tapped on the door, his hand on the H &K grip. Suzan answered the door. She began crying the moment she saw him.
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” Suzan sobbed, retreating from the door. “I’m supposed to tell you everything’s okay. I…I can’t. They were going to kill us.”
“How many?” He went through the door and grabbed Suzan. “Think. How many guys came in the house?”
