Blood Money (20 page)

CHAPTER 32

Mel Tarkington sat in a cafeteria in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. He looked nothing like the picture the FBI was circulating. His brown hair was now blond. His face now sported a full beard, also colored blond. He took to wearing baseball caps that represented the town or city he was in at the moment. Mel took out two clippings from The Cleveland Plain Dealer. They showed signs of being folded and unfolded many times. Several lines in each were highlighted with a yellow marker.

The first reported a shooting during a robbery attempt in the parking lot of a business complex in Hudson.

The second reported a shootout between the FBI and two men in a Cleveland suburb during a recent drug bust.

Mel was certain that the stories were connected. To him, it was obvious that the FBI was engineering the news. He checked both the Denver and Cleveland papers for the next two weeks. There were no follow-ups to either story. He called Peabody's Gym and found out that the FBI had been around asking questions regarding his whereabouts. Let them spin their wheels…he intended to stay undercover for as long as it took to do what he had to do. Now that John was dead the money they had stashed away in a safe deposit box and several accounts in the Cayman Islands was all his. He was set for life.

John's death nagged at him, however. There was a principle here. He knew Susan Harrigan was responsible. Portman had told him when they spoke last that she had confessed stealing the file and ratting on them. Before he disappeared off the face-of-the-map, he was going to settle the score. The bitch had to pay for meddling in their affairs and blowing the whistle on them. Mel calculated that his premature departure from the NRBA resulted in a personal loss of an additional several million dollars he could have made over the next several years.

Through contacts, he knew that her hospital room was guarded around the clock. He expected that this would continue as long as she required medical care. He would be patient as he slowly made his way across the country to Hudson, Ohio. Traveling without a schedule was pleasant this time of year. As long as he was cautious, he had all the time in the world.

CHAPTER 33

Ramping up for the move and Bruce's training was keeping Mark busy. He was signing some letters from the “IN” box when the phone rang. Brenda buzzed him.

“There is a Mrs. Barth on the phone. She's the person I sent your invoice to at Thurston Electronics.”

“Yes, I know her. Did she say what she wanted?”

“No, she didn't. She just said that she needed to speak with you personally.”

“Okay, Brenda, put her through.”

“Mrs. Barth. It's good to speak with you again. What can I do for you, today?”

“Good afternoon, Mister Matthews. Mister Thurston asked me to set up an appointment with you for nine on Saturday morning at his home in Beavercreek. Can you make it?”

“Well, yes, I suppose. Did he say what it would be about?”

“No sir, he did not,” she replied.

“Is there a problem with my invoice?”

“I really couldn't say, Mister Matthews.”

“Well, I guess I can be there, but I would feel a lot better if I knew why.”

“I understand that, Mr. Matthews. I can't tell you any more than that.”

Mark took down the address and directions. He couldn't help but wonder if this was the way Thurston conducted business with everyone, or was it just with him? He couldn't believe that under the circumstances he would be challenging his expenses. He estimated what Susan's expenses eventually would be. It would be a while, yet, before she can put it together for him. He hoped it wasn't that. He really hated it when clients nit-picked on expenses.

Saturday morning he arrived at “The Ridges,” an exclusive gated community in Beavercreek. During the twenty-minute drive from Centerville he tried to imagine what Thurston's house would look like. This was only one of his three residences. He had one in Scottsdale and another in the Florida Keys. Mark sensed that he was about to see the most lavish house that he had ever set eyes upon. The adventure started with his arrival at the “gate.” This was not one of those electronic gates where you announced yourself and were buzzed in. This gate was manned with a uniformed guard. Mark couldn't tell if he was carrying a gun. The guard checked to see if his name was on the guest list. He recorded the license plate number and gave him directions to Thurston's house. He tipped his hat and said, “You have a good day, Mr. Matthews.”

“You have one, too.”

Each of the thirty homes that made up “The Ridges” had a unique “Ridge” name as an address. He drove up the winding trail to “Carlton Ridge” and his meeting with Peter Thurston. The road was lined with mature maple and horse chestnut trees, interrupted every thirty or more feet by a pole with a security camera on top. As he passed each “Ridge,” he could not help but wonder how much houses like these cost. He would bet that at a minimum the price would be no less than three million dollars. Real estate taxes alone would probably be more than his net for a year. Mark followed the guard's directions until he came across a non-descript wooden sign with the lettering “CARLTON RIDGE” burned into it. He pulled into the circular driveway, which was made of paver blocks. It was complemented by a two-foot high stone wall on both sides. At the end of the wall he pulled into a parking space next to a late model black BMW.

As he got out of his car, Thurston rushed up to him with his hand extended. “Mark, I am so glad you could make it. Did you have any trouble finding us?”

“No, sir, Mrs. Barth's directions were right on the money.” He intended no pun.

“Please call me Peter, Mark. After what we've all been through together, we should not be so formal.”

“Well, I appreciate that, Peter.”

Thurston smiled. While they were shaking hands, he grasped Mark's right forearm with his left hand and pumped it more firmly. As they turned to go towards the house he said, “Let me give you the grand tour before we get down to business.” He placed his hand on Mark's shoulder and guided him toward a large mahogany double door that would rival the entrance of a French Chateaux. It was meant to impress people, and it certainly impressed Mark. Thurston swung the door open and the grand tour began. As they moved from room to room, Thurston limited the conversation to announcing each room prior to entry.

When the tour was complete, he turned to Mark and asked, “Well Mark, what do you think of our humble home?”

“Peter,” he replied, “It is the truly most beautiful home I have ever seen. I can see why you are so proud of it.”

“We have lived here for eight years now. We have three homes. The others are in Florida and Arizona. My wife and I like this one best. By the way, Glenda is in Florida right now getting the place down there ready. It's a shame she didn't get a chance to meet you. I'll be joining her tomorrow for a well-earned month off. There's nothing like deep sea fishing to relax a person. Do you fish?”

“Nothing like deep sea fishing. My dad and I went out on Lake Erie a lot. He loved to fish. I always found it very relaxing just being out on the water. We never caught anything worth talking about, and anything we were lucky enough to catch, we threw back. Those were the days when you didn‘t eat anything you caught in Lake Erie.”

“You have fond memories of your father. That's great. I have many, too, from my childhood. Those were good times.”

“They sure were.”

“Maybe someday you can come down as my guest and try your luck out on the ocean. We could fly down together on the corporate jet and have us a great weekend.”

“I would like that, Peter.” Mark dismissed the invitation as a polite gesture; a “someday we should do lunch kind of thing.” He changed the subject with a question, “I hope you don't mind me asking, but how do you maintain a house this size?”

“We have a housekeeper that comes in three days a week. Glenda insists on taking care of the kitchen. She does all the cooking for us when we eat in. We cater for our dinner parties. The grounds and pool are maintained by a service. I know it's not the picture most people have of we ‘Ridge' dwellers. Most of my neighbors have full time maids. We weren't brought up with money, so we feel differently about domestic help. Besides, it is just the two of us. We never had children or pets, so there‘s not too much mess.” He turned and started walking toward the kitchen. “Let's go out on the patio and talk a bit. I have a carafe of coffee ready if you would like to have some.”

“Sure thing.”

The patio was made from pavers, with keystone retaining walls holding back lush flower gardens and potted plantings. Every plant was in bloom, creating a colorful backdrop to the heated pool that took up a good portion of his back yard. The patio area had three tables with umbrellas and padded rocking chairs. Four chaise lounges rounded out the patio furniture. At the end of the patio there was a thirty by sixty foot Grecian swimming pool surrounded by a sandstone decking. More chaise lounges were scattered around the pool area. Mark looked at all this luxury and the thought came to him that he could really get used to a lifestyle like this. A sterling silver tray with coffee service was set up at the nearest table. Mark walked over, poured a cup, added two packs of sweetener and sat back in a chair.

Thurston's house was situated so that you could not see neighboring houses from the patio area. All that was visible were trees growing in their backyard. Thurston poured a cup of coffee and sat down opposite Mark. “Mark, I asked you out here for a few reasons. First of all, I want to apologize for the deception in the NRBA case. I was doing a favor for the Defense Department, and it had to be undercover. I guess you know that my company is taking over the operations of the NRBA under the Lifeflow Laboratories corporate banner.”

“I suspected as much once I found out what was going on with them. I understand that you could not discuss an on-going FBI investigation.”

“Well, anyway, I guess my excuse, then, is that I was only following orders.”

They both laughed. That was the first indication that Peter Thurston had a sense of humor. In some strange way he began to remind Mark of his father.
What was with that?

“You know, I feel especially bad that Special Agent Harrigan was hurt. None of us could have foreseen that happening. I was sure that we would get the project completed without anyone knowing who was behind it. I don't know all the details about what happened, and it is probably best that I don't. Still, I hate it when one of the ‘good guys' gets hurt.”

“I was a lot closer to the situation, and I couldn't help either.” At this point Mark had to pick his words carefully. Thurston may have been involved in the original sting operation, and he no doubt knew that Susan worked under cover, but Mark was not sure if Thurston knew that he was working undercover for the FBI. There would be no reason for him to know.

Mark continued, “Unfortunately, there were risks that went with her work. I did hear that she is coming along well, though. They expect her to have a full recovery.”

“Yes, I know. I spoke with Dennis Peterson at the FBI office in Cleveland yesterday. If there is any way I can help her when she gets out of the hospital, I hope someone will let me know. I feel a little bit responsible.”

“I'm sure they will. But I think she will be fine. She has a lot of people that care. I was proud to have had the opportunity to work with her. She is a really brave lady.”

“I am glad to hear that. Now, for the other reason I asked you to come here today, Mark.” He picked up a book that was on the table and removed an envelope from underneath. It had Mark's name typed on the front. “I want you to have this bonus for the great job you did. I know you submitted your bill, and it should be processed on Monday. This is something extra that I just want you to have. I won't take no for an answer. Please just take it with you. You have earned every penny of it for the fantastic job you did.”

“That's very kind of you, Peter. Thank you!” He sensed it was time to leave. Mark took the envelope from Thurston, put it in his inside jacket pocket and got up from the table. They walked around the house to the parking area.

As they approached the car, Thurston said, “Mark, it has been a real pleasure working with you. I think we should do more business together. I intend to have my Human Resources people contact you about doing some background checks for us. We especially will be needing to look closely at Lifeflow Laboratories employees. We can't be too careful these days, can we? Well, thanks again for doing such a great job.”

As they shook hands, Mark replied, “It's been a real pleasure working with you, Peter.”

“By the way, I was serious about you coming down for some fishing. Perhaps we can get together next spring if your schedule is open. I will be in touch.”

“That sounds great, I would like that very much.” He got into his car and rolled down the window to say, “You have a great day, Peter.” Mark started his car and drove down the driveway. Within a few minutes, he was at the Fairfield Commons Mall. He pulled into a parking spot and reached for the envelope. His eyes opened wide as he read the amount. Peter Thurston had just given him a bonus of $25,000. Mark knew, at once, that he had to share this with Susan, but he would have to do it in a subtle way. He earned the bonus in pursuit of his PI business, but Susan's participation as a Federal Agent prevented her from receiving money as a reward. Then again, she was acting on behalf of Cybernetic Solutions, but of course that was funded by the FBI. It all was a bit confusing, but he knew that he would just have to find a way to share the money, especially since she did most of the work. This was a special situation, after all.