Black Pawn (Michael Cailen Book 1) (10 page)

“Jessica, stop!  I don't want to hurt you.”

“Let go of me!” she screamed.

“Calm down!” he shouted, as she fought to break free from
his grip.  Michael had never met anyone so overemotional.  He was quickly
losing patience.  He wanted to just grab her and carry her inside.

“My life is ruined,” she cried.  “I'm hiding in a warehouse,
running from people who want to kill me for reasons I don't know, my apartment
was burned down, my friends think I'm dead.  And you're keeping things from
me.”  She began sobbing.

Michael softened, realizing she was just frustrated.  He let
go of her.  She stepped away from him and crossed her arms.

“I'm sorry, Jessica.  You need to trust me though.  There
are some things you are happier not knowing.”

Still visibly angry, she wouldn't look at him.  Without a
word, she just started walking back to the hideout.  Michael grabbed the laptop
from the truck as Jessica went inside ahead of him.  Once inside, he saw the
bathroom door was closed. 
Great
, he thought,
I wonder how long
she'll be in there?
  He sat down on the futon and looked at the bathroom
door again.

Jessica had walked straight into the bathroom, closed the
door and leaned against it.  She was filled with mixed emotions.  She was angry
with Michael, but she also felt he was trying to protect her and she didn't
want to be angry with him.  She closed her eyes and rested her head on the
door.  She took a deep breath before moving in front of the sink.  She washed
her face and took another deep breath before opening the bathroom door. 
Michael was leaning against the wall by the door.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.  I'm sorry.”  She looked down.

He reached an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. 
He stroked her hair, and kissed her forehead.  “You're gonna drive me to
drink,” he teased.

She laughed. “As long as I can drink too.”

He smiled and kissed her lips.  “You think you could get
started on that flash drive while I get us some food?”

“Sure.  How about Italian?  I'm in the mood for some lasagna.”

“You got it, kiddo.”  He grabbed his jacket and left,
locking the door

She looked over at her laptop bag on the floor by the
table.  She really wasn't in the mood, but she started anyway.  Before she knew
it, Michael had returned.  She hadn't made much progress and was frustrated.

One look at her and Michael could tell it wasn't going
well.  “Take a break. Let's eat.”

Gladly putting away her laptop, she grabbed one of the
plastic forks in the bag and started on her food while Michael dug into his.

“So this Kevin guy was a hacker when he took you in?” he
asked.

“Yeah.  After a few days when I was feeling better I asked
him what he did on the computer.  He was on it all the time.  He wasn't sure he
wanted to tell me, but he did and I asked him to teach me.”

“Why did he make you go legal?”

“He thought I was getting out of control.  He was afraid I
was going to get caught.”

“You?  Out of control?” he said sarcastically.  “I can't
even picture it.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn't restrain a smile. 

“He laid a guilt trip on me,” she continued.  “Said he
didn't save my life just to watch me throw it away.  I didn't want to give it
up.  I did it for him.”

“Sounds like he really cares about you, and you him.”

“We're close,” she smiled.

Michael finished eating, sat back in his chair and watched
her.  She was gorgeous, and as he got to know her better she seemed to be even
more beautiful.  She was smart, funny, well-liked, a bit overemotional, but he
kind of liked it.  She looked up and caught him staring at her.  She was
embarrassed.

“Why are you still so shy around me?” he asked.

“I don't know.”  She looked down at her now empty plate.

“I would think after everything we've been through, and done
together, that you would feel more comfortable around me.”

“I'm actually pretty comfortable around you,” she said while
avoiding eye contact.

“You could have fooled me,” he laughed.  “You won't even
look at me.”

She forced herself to look up at him.  He was undeniably
handsome and when he smiled at her she felt butterflies in her stomach.  She
smiled back timidly.

“It looks like you were having trouble decrypting the
drive,” he said, changing the subject.

“Ugh, it's a bear,” she replied in disgust.  “I'm having
trouble concentrating, I just keep thinking about everything that's happened. 
I want to talk to Kevin. I don't know if I can do this.”

“Can you copy the contents to your laptop?”

She answered emphatically, “No.”  She went on to explain. 
“Alex booby trapped it with a nasty virus.  I was prepared for it so I was able
to stop it, but since I can't tell what anything is on there, I won't risk
copying the virus to my hard drive.  I have to be careful every time I access
that thing.”

“Sounds fun,” he remarked sarcastically.  “Why don't you
leave it alone for tonight.   It's not going anywhere.  Clear your head and try
again later.”

“That's probably a good idea.”

Michael took away the tattered remains of their dishes. 
Jessica sat down on the futon and turned on the TV.  Michael soon joined her. 
She pulled her feet up next to her and leaned into him.  It wasn't long before
she was passed out in his arms.

He would have gone to bed himself but he wanted to see if
there was any news on the fire at Jessica's apartment.  Finally at 11:00 p.m.,
the news came on.  He waited impatiently as they talked about a traffic
accident, the weather, a rabid raccoon.

“Did I miss it?” Jessica groggily asked.

“No.  They haven't said anything yet.”

She sat up and rested her head on his shoulder.  Then the
moment they had been waiting for.

We have an update on the Carter Road fire.  Police have
confirmed the identity of the victim.  Jessica Nickoli is the woman who died in
that fire.  She was 26 years old.  Fire investigators are still trying to
determine the cause of the fire.  Next...

Jessica had been hoping Michael was wrong about the fire. 
That he was wrong about them faking her death.  When she heard her name on the
news her heart sank and she felt sick.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Not really.”

He pulled her close and kissed her forehead.  “We're going
to get to the bottom of this,” he assured her.  “I'm closer now than I ever
was.  Thanks mostly to you.”

Morgan was popping antacids like they were candy.  Things
had never been this bad.  He walked down a hallway in the Hilton hotel looking
for room 286.  He found it, popped another antacid and knocked on the door.

He was ushered in by a very large, muscular man with blonde
hair and gray eyes that were cold and lifeless.  Scars on his face and neck a
testament to his rough lifestyle.  Morgan figured he had worse scars covered by
his clothing.  In contrast to his gruff look, he was dressed sharp in nice
slacks and a dress shirt.

Morgan was frisked and allowed to enter the room.  Sitting
at the table was a considerably smaller man dressed in Armani.  His light brown
hair was perfectly combed and it appeared a whole bottle of hair spray had been
sacrificed to make sure it wouldn't move.  It probably could deflect bullets
given the chance.  His face was wrinkled from a life of smoking that he had
since given up.  He was clean shaven and smiling warmly, unlike the brute who
answered the door.

“Sit down, Mr. Morgan,” said the man at the table in a thick
Russian accent.

Morgan nervously walked over and sat down across from the
Russian.

“Where do we stand?” the man asked.

“Well, we are closing in on him.  I hope to have this all
resolved soon,” he replied.

“Do you now?” he smiled at the brute.  “Well this is good
news.  Especially since my sources have told me the complete opposite.” His
smile vanished.

Morgan gulped hard.  He didn't say anything.

“This relationship is never going to work if you keep lying
to me, Mr. Morgan,” he replied and then smiled insincerely at him.  “I pay you
well to take care of things for me.  I have to say, I do not feel taken care
of.”  The smile was gone again.

Morgan felt the need to take another antacid, but was frozen
in fear.  “I'm sorry, sir.”  He swallowed.  “I have our best men on it.  We're
doing all we can.  This man we are chasing is one of the most highly trained
soldiers we had in our military.  He is not making it easy for us.”

“This I know,” he replied.  “And what about the girl?  This
Jessica Nickoli?”

“She's dead.”

“Good news.  Have you recovered the package?”

“No, but most of her apartment was destroyed in the fire. 
It might have been destroyed.  Even if it wasn't, with her dead we don't have
to worry about the package.”

“Still, I would feel better if I knew where it was.”

“We'll keep looking.”

“Okay, Mr. Morgan.  You may go now.”  He waved his hand towards
the door.

Morgan slowly got up and nervously walked to the door past
the giant brute.  He regretted the day he started working for a Russian Mafia. 
Once you were in, you were never out.  They paid him well, but long ago he had
started to feel like it wasn't worth it.  The man he just met with was Vlad
Milovich, second-in-command of the most notorious Russian mob in operation.  He
was a very dangerous man.

Morgan lied about Jessica Nickoli being dead.  He hired Evan
to fake her death.  In addition to making sure no one else would look for her,
he knew if he didn't have any progress to report or if the Russians knew she
was alive and the package was still out there, he was a dead man.   He needed
to find them quickly and eliminate them.  The clock was ticking and each second
that passed brought Morgan closer to death.

After Morgan left, Vlad turned to his giant accomplice.  “I
think it's time we did our own investigation,” he said in Russian. “Reach out
to our contacts and see what you can learn.  Our friend Morgan may have
outlived his usefulness.”  The man nodded and pulled out his phone.

Jessica woke first.  She looked over at Michael, who was
still asleep, noticing his phone on the nightstand.  It wasn't there when they
had gone to bed.  He must have gotten a call or text while she was sleeping. 
She looked at him again, then back at the phone.  She wanted to know what the
call and text were about. She was still miffed that he hadn't told her.  She
carefully slid closer to him and the nightstand.  She reached out over him,
careful not to touch him.  It was almost in her hand.

“Don't you dare.”

She jumped.  Michael was awake and watching her.

“Are you ever not pretending to be asleep?” she asked.

“Yeah, when I'm sleeping,” he shot back.  “What do you think
you're doing?”

“Nothing.”

“It's locked anyway.  You wouldn't be able to see anything.”

He was irritated, but so was she. “It's only four digits. 
It wouldn't take me long.”

Not pleased with the threat of her hacking into his phone,
he sat up. “How about we lay down some ground rules then,” he said angrily. 
“Stay away from my phone.”

Jessica turned her back and lay down facing away from him.

“Are we clear?”

She refused to answer.  He took his phone and left the room
leaving her there fuming while he made coffee and then turned on the TV.

The coffee maker beeped and she got up to get a cup. 
Michael was sitting on the couch watching TV.  Still angry, he didn't look at
her.  She didn't care.  She poured herself a coffee and sat as far from him as she
could on the futon.  They both sat silently watching the news.

Michael abruptly shut off the TV.  “Why are you fighting me
so hard on this?”  He turned to her.

“Fighting you on what?”

“You know exactly what.  I told you I will keep things from
you.  That's not going to change no matter how hard you fight me.  So why are
you fighting me?”

“I don't like it.  I don't like that you're keeping things
from me.”

“I never asked you to like it.  But I expect you to respect
my decision.  I have enough to worry about without having to cover my tracks
around you.”

That made her feel bad.  He did have a lot on his plate. 
She stared down at her hands.  “I'm sorry.”

“Just promise you'll leave it alone and let me do what I
need to do.  Stop fighting me.”

“I'll try.”

“Thank you.” He wanted to hear yes, but figured even getting
her to say she'd try was a victory.  “How would you like to go to Boston for a
few days?”

“I hate the city.”

He frowned.  “I was afraid of that.”  He turned to her.  “I
need to go to Boston and you have to come with me.”

“Wonderful.”  Her day was getting better and better she
thought.

“We'll load up the truck and head out.  We can stop and get
breakfast somewhere on the way.  If you feel up to it you can work while we
drive.”

“Breakfast sounds good.  I don't care for the rest.  Why do
you have to go to Boston?”

“I'm following a lead.”

“But you're not going to tell me?”

“Let's not start that again.”

After loading up the truck with nearly everything, but the
furniture they began the hour-long journey to Boston.  Along the way, they
stopped at a cute little diner for breakfast.  Jessica worked on decrypting the
flash drive.   Michael was quiet as she cursed and swore at her laptop. 
Without warning, she slammed it shut and threw it in the back seat.

“Not going well?” he remarked.

She sighed.  “I don't know why I'm getting so frustrated. 
Usually I love a challenge.”

“You've been under a lot of stress lately.  It's bound to
affect your concentration.”

“I wish Kevin was back.  He could probably crack it in half
the time it will take me.”

“Well if you haven't done it by the time he gets back maybe
we can get in touch with him.”

“Either way, I want to talk to him.  I think he can help
us.”

“We'll see.”  Michael wasn't sure he wanted to involve
Kevin.  Things usually got messier when more people got involved.  He still
wasn't comfortable they had gone to the hacker club.

WITH THE
patience of a saint, Michael worked his way
through stifling Boston traffic.  Jessica was amazed at his control.  He didn't
even seem to get frustrated.  She, on the other hand, would have been screaming
obscenities at the top of her lungs by now.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“A motel.  I reserved us a room.”

“I can only imagine the shape this place will be in,” she
said.  Thinking of the warehouse shanty, rundown clothing store and biker bar
from hell, she wondered how awful the motel would be.

It was just as terrible as she imagined.  The crumbling
parking lot was littered with garbage.  Badly needing a paint job, the building
showed its age.  A couple old vending machines sat next to an ice machine about
halfway down the building.

“Honey, we're home,” Michael joked.

“Where's your gun?” she asked.

“Why?” he looked at her curious.

“I'd rather die than stay here.”

“Come on, it's not that bad.  You're so melodramatic.”

Michael parked by the office and checked in while Jessica
waited in the truck.  Their room was on the first floor at the opposite end of
the building.  Michael backed the truck in front of their door.

The room was about what she expected.  It had been decorated
maybe twenty years ago.  The two double beds along the left wall looked
terribly uncomfortable.  A desk and chair lined the right wall next to the
dresser with a TV on it.  Further back in the room was a sink and then the door
to the bathroom.   Crammed near the front door was a small table and two
chairs.  It seemed fairly clean in spite of the mystery stains on the carpet.

Michael put a couple bags down on one of the beds and went
back to the truck for the rest.  Jessica set her laptop on the desk and started
working again while Michael put the last of their things on the bed.  He shut
the door and sat on the empty bed watching her fingers dance on the keyboard. 
A vibration in his pocket diverted his attention.  He stood as he pulled out
his phone.

“Yeah, hang on,” he said as he walked to the door and left.

Jessica turned when she heard his voice.  At first, she
thought he was talking to her but then saw the phone in his hand.  It bothered
her that he wasn't telling her anything about his lead.

Michael returned a few minutes later telling her he was
going to take a shower.  Jessica watched him in the mirror above the desk as he
stripped down to his boxers.  With a big grin, he gave her shoulders a quick
rub and kissed her cheek before disappearing in the bathroom.

Jessica tried to flush the image of Michael from her head. 
It was affecting her concentration.  She heard the shower then turned in her
chair and stared at his pants on the bed.  She wondered how long it would take
her to figure out the code to his phone.  Probably not less than five minutes,
but it would be a start.  Searching his pockets, all she found was his knife
and stack of cash.  He must have taken his phone with him in the bathroom. 
There went that plan.  She decided instead to check out the vending machines. 
She was thirsty and didn't feel like drinking water.  She also thought a candy
bar would be a nice pick me up.  She grabbed a couple of dollars from his
pocket and walked to the vending machines.

The snack machine looked ancient.  It was the old push
button kind she hadn't seen in years.  The soda machine was more modern.  She
bought a Sprite then turned her attention to the snacks.  She settled on a
Snickers and put the money in.  She pressed the button but nothing happened. 
She pressed it again and again.  She didn't want to have to go back and get
another dollar.  She heard a voice behind her.

“That machine is temperamental.”

She turned to see a middle aged man with thinning brown hair
and brown eyes.  About her height but twice her weight, he was slovenly dressed
and had about a day's growth of stubble.

“Were you trying to get the Snickers?” he asked.

“Umm, yeah,” she replied nervously.  “It just ate my
dollar.”

“Yeah, that button gets stuck.  It should work if you pick
something else.”

“Oh, alright. Thanks.”  She forced a smile and turned to see
what else she might want from the machine.  There was a small bag of M&Ms. 
She punched in the button and the machine spit it out like clockwork.

“I haven't seen you around. You just check in today?”  the
man asked her.

“Uh yeah.  Thanks for your help,” she said, trying to be
polite.  She got a weird vibe from him and didn't want to walk back to the room
with him watching her.  She wasn't sure what to do.

Meanwhile, Michael had emerged from the bathroom to find the
room empty.  He cursed.  Where did she go?  He quickly got dressed and went out
to look for her.

“Which room are you staying in?” the man asked Jessica.

Now she was really starting to feel uneasy.  She nervously
glanced around.

“I'm just trying to be friendly,” he said noticing her
uneasiness. “This is a bad area.  Are you staying alone?”

“No.  She's not.”  Michael stepped between them, staring
down at the creepy man.  “Why don't you quit scaring my girlfriend.”

“I... I wasn't trying to scare her,” the man replied
nervously.  Michael was extremely intimidating, especially when he was angry.

“Get lost!” he demanded and the man obeyed.  He left in such
a hurry he stumbled over his own feet and almost fell.  Jessica was more than
relieved until Micheal turned to her.  He looked angry.  “Get back in the
room,” he snapped.  She too quickly obeyed.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he yelled once they were
back in the room.

“I was thirsty and I wanted a snack,” she replied
defensively.

“I really thought it went without saying that you not leave
the room!”  His voice was loud and his tone was angry.

“I can't even walk ten feet from the room?”

“No!  You can't!  For exactly the reason that just
happened!”

“I'm tired of being couped up!  You get to go wherever you
please and I have to stay caged up like an animal.  It's not fair!” she shot
back as tears of frustration welled up in her eyes.

Michael sighed.  He knew this was bound to happen.  She
wasn't used to living on the run and he did keep her under lock and key.  He
not only had to worry about the people hunting them, but also your regular
average Joe scumbag. The places they hid in would be treacherous for any woman
but Jessica's beauty was sure to attract even more attention from unsavory
characters.

“I'm sorry.”  His voice calm this time.  “I know this is
difficult for you.  It's tough to adjust.”

They both crossed their arms and looked down at the floor. 
A few tears fell from Jessica's face.

“I'm sorry I yelled at you,” Michael apologized.

“I should have asked you first.”  She brushed the tears
away.

She sat at the desk again and stared at the laptop.  Taking
a deep breath she started pecking away at the keys.  Michael sat on the edge of
the bed watching her.  She stopped for a minute.  Then pecked away quickly and
stopped again.  “I have something.”

Within seconds, Michael was looking over her shoulder.

“It's not everything, just one folder I managed to get
into.  They're pictures.”  She pressed a few more keys.  Neither of them were
expecting to see the image that popped up on the screen.

“That brings back memories,” said Michael.

“Wow.  Now that's a sight,” Jessica remarked as she gazed at
the picture of Michael slitting a man's throat.

“That's China,” he said.

“I figured.”

They browsed the rest of the pictures documenting the
village attack in China.  Some showed Michael killing people and others,
Shaun.  In some of the images, you could see dead villagers on the ground,
others fleeing.  The last few images were of the villagers departing with
Michael and Shaun.

“We need to find out what else Alex sent you.  We may be
able to end this.”  Michael sounded hopeful.

“I'll keep trying.”

“I'd like to know how your friend acquired these.”

“That makes two of us.”

Michael looked at his watch.  It was almost noon.  “I have
to run out.  You want me to bring you back something to eat?”

“Sure.”

He kissed her cheek and left.  As he was getting in the
truck, he spotted the creepy man from earlier loitering around the building by
the main office.  He watched Michael leave the room.  Michael suddenly felt
apprehensive about leaving Jessica there alone.  He went back to the room.

“Get your things.  You're coming with me,” he said.

“What? Why?”

“I don't feel comfortable leaving you here alone.  Bring
your laptop.”

She stood, curious why he was so nervous all of a sudden
about leaving her.  As she walked to the truck, she saw the creepy man and
wondered if that was the reason he didn't want to leave her.  The man
watched Jessica get in the truck then disappeared down a corridor.

“Was it because of that guy?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“He's creepy.”

“Yes he is.”  He started the truck and they drove off.   “I
just have to make a quick stop and then we can get something to eat.”

Michael pulled into the parking lot of what looked like a
nice sports bar.  He parked on the side of the building where there weren't any
windows.  Not that you could have seen in the tinted front windows anyway.  The
parking lot was about half full.  A decent lunch crowd she thought.

“Are we eating here?” she asked.

“No.  I just have to go in for a minute.  You wait here.”

“Too bad.  It looks like a nice place.  What do you have, a
nice truck stop in mind for us?” she replied sarcastically.

“Just wait here.”