Betrayed (A CORE Sector Novel Book 1) Page 7

  "You could move to England."

  Frank chuckled, "Be serious, Jon."

  "I am. Just think about the international espionage and spy stuff you could work on for ole Frenchie. A new country could be a great place to throw some spark into your work."

  "You saying my work doesn't spark?" He nudged Jon with his elbow.

  "Hell no, man. I've just heard that creative juices or whatever they are can flow with new scenery."

  Frank sat his glass on the coffee table, "Maybe I'll consider it."

  "Well, you need to consider not letting that one get away. She's like the best there's been since Evelyn."

  Frank sat back on the couch, "I know, and I'd like to work something out. I just don't know what that is. Hell, I don't even know if the woman is interested in me, Jon. I can't plan a future like that."

  Frank and Jon talked most of the night. By morning they still didn't have a clear plan of how to get to England and figure this mess out. At best, they had a slim chance of hopping a cargo flight to London, but that was about the only plan they had. They would hit the streets in the morning trying to figure something out, but once they reached the UK they weren't real sure where to start there either. The best they could do would be make some old contacts and hope for the best.

  22

  JON DEVISED a plan that was sketchy at best. It could cost him his job, his retirement, everything. Frank wasn't too fond of it, but he knew they had to try something and go under the radar as much as possible. Charlotte was wanted for questioning if they discovered she was alive, so entering the UK on a commercial flight would be an open invitation into the hands of the law. Interpol would jump on them before they even got off the plane. The four of them headed to Metro. Charlotte would be safe there with Sharon and Jon needed to grab some files so his plan would work.

  He and Frank hit the streets in the old part of town, close to a privately owned airport. They knew if Slick Ricky hadn't fled pending his court date, they'd find him there. They also knew he'd run if he got wind they were looking for him or if he spotted them. Making a deal with the devil was one thing. Making a deal with a known criminal was another, especially when you're the law. You're supposed to uphold it and fight for it. In dire circumstances, things change.

  After a few hours, they were ready to give up. There was one warehouse left to check out, so they headed to it. Inside it was filled with shipping crates. Both men knew what was most likely in several of those crates. If they were on the job they'd be looking to bust someone. Instead, they were here to hitch a ride with the contents. Drugs from the US end up all over the world. They don't go through legal channels or customs, but they reach their destination just the same. With enough money, just about anyone can hop one of these flights. Frank and Jon didn't have money, but they had something more important. . . a man's freedom.

  A sound from the back room alerted them that someone was there. Hopefully, it would be the man they were looking for. They quietly crossed the large warehouse and peeked through a doorway. Inside was their target. They looked around and saw no way for him to escape. Instinct kicked in and they busted through the door, like old times. The man immediately threw his hands in the air. He knew there was no way out. Slick Ricky was a drug runner and awaiting trial for his last offense. Chances were he wasn't getting out of it. The evidence against him was solid. Being caught here could just put the nail in his coffin.

  "What's in the crates, Ricky?" Jon asked.

  Rick shook his head, unsure of how to answer, "Shit!" was the only word he could get out. "Damn, damn, damn. Of all the people who had to waltz in here, it had to be you two didn't it?"

  "Gee Ricky, if you'd stop breaking the damn law, you wouldn't have to worry about people like us. " Jon said as he looked out the door to the crates, "So, you wanna tell me what's in the crates and where they're going?"

  "You know what's in the damn crates asshole!"

  "Okay, so where are they headed?"

  "What difference does it make?"

  Jon pulled the paper sack out of his inside pocket. He reached in and pulled out a few papers in plastic bags. "This is evidence against you, and from what I can see, more just got stacked against you. You will never see the light of day when the system is done with you."

  Ricky looked puzzled, "Why you got my evidence with you? Ain't you guys sposed to keep that shit locked up tight?"

  Jon laughed, "Very good. You're a smart guy. Now be smart and tell me where this shit is going, you little dumbass!"

  Ricky sat in the chair behind the desk, propped his hands on the back of his head and cracked a smug grin, "What are you up to cop? You want something from me? Why you so interested in where those crates are going?"

  Jon pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open, "I don't let's just get some ATF down here and stop playing games."

  Ricky sat forward, "Go ahead. My lawyer will want to know why you're down here busting my chops with an ex-cop and with that evidence in your hand." He said pointing to the bag Jon was holding. "I've stayed clean and this is a legit business. We aren't smuggling drugs here."

  "So how'd you get the job?"

  Ricky sat back in the chair again, "My uncle." He let out a small snort. "You know he never had much to do with me when I started getting busted as a teenager. After that last bust, he came to me and offered me a chance to get straightened out. Said since I was good at moving merchandise, I might fit into this place. It's funny, this isn't the kind of merch I'm used to moving, but I am good at it. A natural."

  Jon looked at him, "Yeah, I bet you are."

  "Man, stop with the sarcasm. I just found out I got a kid and I'd like to do good by her. Yanno?"

  Jon pulled up a chair, "Okay, I'll be straight with you, but if you're lying, your ass is so going down. We need you to get four of us into the UK."

  "Damn man, you don't ask for much do you?"

  "You want this shit to disappear?" Jon held up the bag.

  Ricky wiped his face, "I'll need to run this through my uncle."

  "What the hell for?"

  "I told you, I'm trying to do the right thing. This is his business and I don't want to screw up. Don't worry, he likes cops." Ricky winked at him.

  Frank cleared his throat, "He's got a point, Jon. I'm not saying he's suddenly a good guy, but if he is trying I don't want to mess this up for him."

  Jon gave him an irritated look and shook his head. Frank was going too soft. "Okay." He looked at Ricky, "Okay, talk to him and let us know. We need to go ASAP, though."

  "Sure thing."

  Jon got up and turned to head out the door, "I mean like yesterday."

  "No worries. And Jon, you don't have to make that bag disappear. If I get sent up, I get sent up. I'm tired of running from my mistakes."

  Frank and Jon walked outside. Jon turned to Frank, "What the hell just happened in there?"

  "Look, I don't want to mess up his life if he's finally going straight."

  "I don't mean that. I mean the fact that he's willing to help us. What the hell?" Jon was puzzled. The whole world seemed to be just a bit off balance the last few days.

  23

  GABE HITCHED a ride here and there to get to Maine. He was surprised to find so many people willing to help a guy out and not ask questions about his past or why he didn't have transportation of his own. He'd worked a story up in his head, but had only told bits of it, before anyone could ask questions.

  His last ride dropped him at a small cafe on the outskirts of the small town. Dee's Diner looked pleasant enough and he was hungry. He'd figure out where Frank Temple lived after he got some food in his gut.

  He seated himself at a booth by the window. An older waitress brought him a menu and a glass of water. He chugged the water down while she told him the day's specials. He handed her his glass and asked for refill, before she walked off.

  Since the prison break, he'd lived on chips and peanuts, good in a pinch to keep starvation at bay, but not really filling. T
his would be his first real meal in ten years. The prison food wasn't that bad, but it wasn't all that damned great either.

  There were two daily specials today, meatloaf or chicken fried steak. He couldn't decide so he ordered the gravy covered steak and a side of meatloaf. The waitress smiled and said a lot of customers did it that way. They'd considered serving them on different days, but too many people liked the combo.

  In less than five minutes he had a plate full of food and cup of hot coffee sitting before him. To be such a low life, he felt like a king. Who would've thought that such a plain meal could mean so much to a guy?

  When he'd finished, the waitress came over to remove his dirty plate. "That was delicious." He told her.

  "I'm glad you liked it. Are you new in town? Or just new to Dee's diner?"

  He didn't want to engage in small talk, but he didn't want to be rude either. "Just passing through. I'll only be here a few days."

  "It's a small town. Everyone knows everyone here."

  He looked up and saw a picture of Frank on the wall. Panic started setting in here. Did Frank visit this diner on a regular basis? He pointed and asked the waitress, "Is that someone famous?"

  "Frank Temple? Oh gosh yes, well at least locally. He's a published writer, so I suspect he's well known nationally too."

  "Does he come in here?"

  "Yes. I've known him all his life. Great guy. He's usually in here about this time." She said as she looked at her watch.

  Gabe felt his throat closing up. He didn't need to be caught in here. Dammit. Of all the places he could eat lunch, this one had to be Frank's favorite hang out. Just his luck.

  "That's nice." He started fishing money out of his pocket to pay for his meal and leave a tip.

  "It is, but he hasn't been here in a few days."

  Slight relief washed over him, but that also raised some concerns. Where could he be now? Had something happened to him? He needed to get out of this place and find out more.

  He dropped fifteen bucks on the table. "Will that cover it?" He asked, "I'm running a little late and need to get going."

  "A ten will cover it."

  "Keep the change."

  "Thank you. I hope you come by again. Tomorrow's special is roast beef if you're in the neighborhood."

  "Sounds great. I'll stop by if I'm around." Gabe said as he put on his jacket and headed towards the door.

  24

  CHARLOTTE and her new companions settled into the suite at the hotel. They'd all pulled enough cash out of their bank accounts to avoid detection from using credit cards while on the trip. They shared adjoining suites, the ladies took one room while the men took the other. It was small and quaint, but would serve their purpose and was cheap enough.

  Frank called room service and ordered a pot of coffee and a pot of tea. They gathered the chairs into one room so they could all sit and discuss their plan. Charlotte pulled some journals out of her bag, along with the novel she'd published. They each took a journal and started flipping through them. They were very old, handwritten, in first person. By all accounts, they appeared to be journals of Helen's time with Burke and Hare.

  As room service arrived, Jon looked up, "I don't see how this old story has any bearing on why this group would be after you. Are they connected to these two murderers?"

  Charlotte looked confused. "I don't know. It doesn't make any sense to me and there's nothing in my novel about a secret society."

  "Well, until we find your attorney and get some answers, I don't see how these can help us," Jon said as he sat his journal on the table and poured himself a cup of coffee. "I love a good mystery, but I can't see the connection here."

  They all agreed as Charlotte gathered the journals and put them back in her bag. Frank grabbed her novel, "Keep this out. I want to read it this evening."

  Charlotte smiled, but she was nervous. She'd only published two novels, nothing like Frank's ten published works. She hoped he wouldn't be disappointed.

  When the coffee was finished, Frank looked at Charlotte. "Would you like to go for a walk?"

  She almost leapt at the chance to get out and see the city she loved.

  "Do you think that's a good idea?" Jon asked, concern on his face.

  Frank pulled his coat on. "No one knows we're here, yet. I think it will be fine."

  Jon pointed to himself and Sharon, "I think we'll check out some of the scenery too."

  Sharon headed into the other suite to grab her camera, glad she'd remembered to pack it on such short notice.

  Jon nudged Frank, "Don't worry, we're going the opposite direction of you two," he said and gave a wink.

  Frank shook his head. He knew what his friend meant. He was giving them time alone.

  25

  FRANK AND CHARLOTTE exited the hotel lobby, stepping out onto the sidewalk. A slight mist tickled Charlotte's face. For the first time in months, she felt like she was home. How she'd missed the city and the weather, as dank as everyone thought it was, it felt good to her, like an old friend.

  They walked the streets for hours, Charlotte pointing out landmarks, laughing at childhood memories. It was good to see her more relaxed. Frank knew the feeling wouldn't last as they got deeper into the mystery surrounding her, but for now, he wanted her to enjoy herself. They stopped at a small cafe for a hot cup of coffee and a pastry. The weather had chilled as the sun started to go down over the horizon.

  They'd walked for miles, so Frank hailed a cab to return them to the hotel. He and Charlotte got out. She headed towards the door as Frank stopped to pay the driver.

  A dark car pulled up behind the cab. Frank was busy paying the taxi driver as a man got out and approached Charlotte. Frank turned to see the man speaking to Charlotte and ran forward in attack mode. His right fist caught the man on his cheek. The blind-sided man swung back at Frank and missed. Frank plowed into him. Laying on top of the man, he looked up at Charlotte, "Get inside, now!"

  Charlotte ran down the sidewalk and into the hotel but turned to look at the two men struggling on the sidewalk. The man kicked at Frank and caught him in the gut. Frank staggered backward and hit the concrete. Before he could get to his feet, the man turned and jumped into the car. Frank fought to stand, the wind still knocked out of him. He tried to get the license plate before the car sped off, but it disappeared past the other buildings surrounding the hotel.

  He walked inside, pulled Charlotte into an embrace. She was trembling. He inhaled the smell of her hair as a tingle went through his body. He couldn't help himself, the more he was around this woman, the more his emotions stirred. He would do everything in his power to keep this woman safe.

  "Let's get you back upstairs," he said as he stared into her green eyes. It pained him to see the fear within them. They should be bright, alive and full of joy, not full of terror like they were now.

  Charlotte shook her head. Frank held her arm as he escorted her to the elevator. The ride up was quiet. Frank expected the local authorities to show up. Surely someone would report the incident. How would they explain why they were here looking for someone and not letting the London police take care of the matter? How would they explain a dead woman who wasn't dead? Too many questions kept popping up and too few answers.

  Charlotte looked over at him. "Frank, you're bleeding," she said as she took a tissue from her purse and dabbed at the blood in the corner of his mouth. Their eyes met. He was a ruggedly handsome man with steely blue eyes. Under different circumstances, maybe she could allow herself the feelings that had been welling up inside her, but she was still unsure of who she could trust. She turned away, not wanting him to read her thoughts. This was the second time he'd jumped to her defense. If we were part of the group out to get her, why did he keep rescuing her? Maybe she could trust him. She was so irresolute. She still thought her best plan was to get away and get to Gavin on her own. He would know what to do and who to trust.

  Frank reached out and touched her cheek to turn her towards him, "It's going
to be okay, Charlotte. We'll get to the bottom of this and I promise I won't let anyone hurt you."

  She placed her head on his shoulder. It felt right to be with him, but she still couldn't shake the fear of not knowing who was out to get her.

  Frank wanted to pull her closer and never let her get away. He opened his mouth to speak as the elevator doors opened. Charlotte composed herself and stepped forward towards the hallway.

  "Wait," Frank said as he pulled her towards the back of the elevator. "Let me check the hall first," he said as he poked his head out of the elevator. He could see the door to their room. The coast was clear.

  JON LOOKED up from the daily paper as Frank and Charlotte entered the suite. "You guys have a good time?" He stood as he noticed the disheveled look of Frank. "Oh my god Frank, what the hell happened?" He threw the paper back into the chair he had been sitting in and motioned for them to sit on the sofa.

  Sharon came in from the other room and saw the fear on Charlotte's face. She instinctively went to the bar and poured two small snifters of brandy. "I think you need a drink," she said as she handed them each a glass.

  Jon sat on the table in front of them. "What the hell happened?"

  Frank looked over at Charlotte before focusing his attention on Jon. "A man was trying to grab her. Right outside the entrance of the hotel. A car pulled up and the man inside the back just got out and walked right up to her."

  Jon looked at Charlotte. "Did he say anything?"

  Charlotte fidgeted with the brandy. "He knew my name and asked me to come with him."

  "Did he hurt you?"

  Charlotte shook her head. "No, he didn't grab me or anything, just asked me to come with him."

  Jon flashed a stern look at Frank. "You attacked him for that?"

  Frank slugged the brandy back. "I didn't know who the hell he was or what he wanted. Someone is after her and we can't afford to trust anyone."

  "He could have offered us some answers."

  "Well, I would've dragged his ass up here but he got away."