The heading on the first page brought me to full alert: “Files from Willie Franks computer.” I remembered how Lenny had pawed at me with one hand, while grabbing my shirt with the other. A classic pickpocket move. But in this case, she’d left something rather than take it. I clicked on the first file, and began avidly reading.
Twenty minutes passed before I could finally break free of some very interesting material. Three files dealt with various accounts in offshore banks. Another file was a log she’d kept about her undercover activities. She thought there was five million dollars in all of the accounts, but wasn’t sure. More details were included about what Franks and his cohorts had been up to.
The final two files were encrypted, just waiting for someone to tap in. Files like this drove me crazy, since my imagination supplied all kinds of things that might be in them, ripe for the plucking. I stood and began pacing, deep in thought. Finally, I snagged my phone and called the office.
T & M Security—oh, hi, Francis. Marty’s right here.”
His deep and booming voice came on the line. “Hey, guy, what kinda trouble you get into this time?”
I gave a snort of laughter. “What makes you think I’m in trouble?”
“The only other thing it could be is a woman, an’ that’s just another kinda trouble when you’re involved.”
I sat in front of my computer, and began tapping keys. “Yeah, you’re right. This time I got drawn in when some bad guys were roughing up a woman. Turns out she was an undercover FBI lady, who dug up some dirt on a local hood named William “Willie” Franks. The lady slipped a flash drive in one of my pockets, and I just discovered it. I’m sending all the information on it to Alice now. Could you do some background on Willie? I’ll get whatever information you dig up next time I call.”
I finished loading the last of the files, and hit the “send” button. “Looks like some money’s involved. You’ll need to get Charlie to see about separating any funds we can get from this data. Also, he might be able to decipher two encrypted files I included. Tell him I’ll pay twice his going rate on this one, if he’ll get right on it.”
“I’ll call him tonight. How’s everything else goin’?”
“No other surprises,” I said, leaning back. “Think I’m out of the picture on what happened in Charlotte. I’m planning to go ahead and attend the writing workshop, unless things change drastically. Once I get established up there, I’ll call and see what you guys came up with on those files.”
I switched the phone to my other hand. “On another subject, how’s our little lady doing? Let’s see, she’s-what-five months along now?”
Marty’s chuckle reverberated through the phone. “I convinced her that baby bump is the sexiest part of her body, so she’s been showin’ it off to ever’body.”
“Ha! Sounds like things are normal, then. You guys take it easy, and I’ll call in a day or two.”
After finishing the call, I went out on the deck and leaned on the railing. Had I forgotten anything? Probably. Talking to Marty had helped ease my forebodings. At well over six feet and 250 pounds of solid muscle, he tended to make anyone feel safe. Long as he was your friend. He and Tony had been my best friends for several years now. Saving each other’s hide while in the Army on special missions tended to make us like brothers. I stretched, and started back inside. Whatever that information was, it could wait until tomorrow. Now I needed a good night’s sleep.
* * *
A few minutes before one p.m. the next day, I pulled into a large parking lot on top of a tree-covered ridge. In the distance two more ridge lines were visible, a gorgeous view. Puffy clouds drifted by, making me ache for a camera. God, it was beautiful up here. I bounded from my SUV, energized by the crisp mountain air and sunlight filtering down through the abundance of trees.
Six buildings were strung out around the parking lot. The center one, the Lodge, was apparent by its double doors and central location among the other buildings. That and it was where two other folks were headed. Once through the front, I was greeted by a blonde in her early sixties.
“Welcome, dear. You must be one of the newbies, since I don’t recognize you.”
“Right. I’m Francis, Francis Baker.”
She took my hand in both of hers. “It’s so good to have you with us for two weeks, Francis. I’m Jane Mellin, the coordinator for this workshop. Please call me Mom.”
“I’ll be glad to, Mom.” Damn, she reminded me of my aunt. Sweet as pie, but definitely in charge.
She patted my hand and picked up a large envelope. “Here’s your packet of information, and your room number is written on it. As we stated in the letter, the first seven days are for you to work on any project you want to. Second week is in a classroom. In your case, you’ll be working with nine other students on non-fiction writing skills.”
Once Mom was finished with me I carried my suitcase to the adjacent building, up a flight of stairs and to room 60, my home away from home for the next two weeks. Inside, a spartan room stared back at me. There were two twin beds, a long counter with a sink at one end and a built-in desk at the other. Closet with no door, a bathroom and shower. Not much else. Normally I’d share the room with another person who would arrive when the classroom phase started in a week. Since I’d paid for two slots, I had the room to myself. Hadn’t shared a room with a guy since boot camp days, and no desire
