Read Evil Deeds (Bob Danforth 1) Online
Authors: Joseph Badal
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers, #Spy Stories & Tales of Intrigue, #Espionage
Evil Deeds (Bob Danforth 1) (35 page)
Flying back to D.C. in the agency jet, Bob dialed Jack Cole’s number at Langley. It was three in the morning, but he knew Jack was in his office.
“Bob, how’re things going?” Jack asked.
“So far, I’ve got conjecture, hypotheticals, and speculation, but no hard evidence. We think we just missed the guy who took Miriana. We don’t know if he’s still got her with him, if she’s dead, or what. I’d sure like to get at least a full name on the kidnapper.”
“Ask and ye shall receive,” Jack said. “I just got a response on that license plate. It’s a rental from Baltimore-Washington Airport. Rented by a Johann Schmidt. The guy used a VISA card.”
“Johann Schmidt – John Smith. Sounds like an alias.”
“I called the rental people and told them to contact us the minute the car shows up. And I told them not to clean it.” Jack paused, then added, “I was hoping you’d found the girl.”
Bob sighed. “Common sense says she’s dead. But . . . I don’t know.”
“I’ve got my fingers crossed,” Jack said.
“We are scheduled to land in D.C. in thirty minutes. I’m going home to get some sleep, but I’ll be in the office by noon.”
“Okay, Bob, see you then.”
Bob extinguished the overhead light and lowered his seat back. Maybe I can grab a few winks before we land, he thought. But sleep wouldn’t come. He’d seen the pictures of what the Serbs had done to Olga Madanovic. He didn’t want to find Miriana in the same condition. But his instincts told him this whole thing could end badly.
Danny Farrell’s mother, Emily, sat in a dilapidated wicker chair on her log cabin’s front porch, kneading her hands in her aproned lap while looking at her husband in the glow of a kerosene lamp. Jefferson Farrell, a scrawny, scarecrow—man sat on the steps below her, nursing a beer. Her fingers combed back the loose gray strands of hair hanging near her face. I hope he don’t drink more than a six-pack tonight, she thought. The craziness always seems to start with the seventh bottle.
Jefferson suddenly belched. Trying to move the fear away, she looked away from Jefferson, out at the dark woods. Where was Danny? She hated it when he disappeared like this. He’d been gone almost twenty-four hours this time. Here it was the middle of the night and he still wasn’t home. She could never sleep when Danny was out at night.
She imagined peaceful sights – deer foraging on the sweet new growth at the ends of tree branches, raccoons hunting for food. She smiled at the chirping sounds coming from the trees. Probably a possum, she thought.
“Where’s that damn fool son of yours, off playing Daniel Boone again?”
Emily merely sighed. She didn’t have a clue. Wherever Danny is, it’s gotta be a sight better than on this porch with a drunken stepfather and a dried out old woman. Danny was a wonder at woodsmanship. He knew the names of every plant in the forest, could imitate the calls of nearly every bird and mammal, and could move so quietly no man or animal could detect him.
“I asked you a question, woman,” Jefferson grunted. “Say something, you old sow.”
Emily hated him. She buried her disdain for her husband where she stored all her other emotions, in the knot at the bottom of her stomach. Sonofabitch, she thought. I gotta go clean other people’s houses so we can have some cash income, and the only thing he ever brings in is a Budweiser six-pack. Idiot! Goddam idiot! Emily rose to go into the cabin.
Jefferson suddenly pointed with his beer bottle, “Well, speak of the devil. Look who’s finally come home. Who the hell’s that with him?”
Sure enough, it was Danny with his loping walk. And just behind him . . . a girl?
“Who the fuck you got with you, boy?” Jefferson called, while Danny and the girl came nearer. “You gettin’ laid out there in the woods?” He laughed his husky cigarette laugh.
Emily rose and hitched up the worn jeans that had been too big for her for too many years now. She stepped off the porch and hugged Danny, then held him at arm’s length to look him over.
“Where you been, Danny? You been gone a whole day. You okay?”
“I’m fine, Mama. I been bein’ a hero,” Danny said. He tilted his head at Miriana, his thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets. “Ask her, Mama, ask her.”
“Hero, my ass,” Jefferson snorted. “Damn retard!.”
Emily ignored Jefferson. The young woman standing beside her son seemed scared to death. “Come here, sweetie,” Emily said. “Let me get a good look at you. My Lord, what happened to your face?”
“It is long story. I . . .. ”
Then the girl’s legs seemed to turn to rubber. She staggered and grabbed Emily’s arm. Emily put her other arm around the girl’s waist and guided her toward the cabin door. When they climbed the steps past Jefferson, Emily noticed him look the girl up and down with an interest he hadn’t shown in her in years. Dumb old fool, she thought.
Emily helped the girl into the cabin’s front room, furnished with a couch, a large chair, and a small table. A potbelly stove sat in a corner. The chair and couch were scarred and their cushions sagged with age and use. A woolen blanket covered the back of the couch. The small table had been branded with cigarette burns and wet beer can rings.
Emily lowered the girl onto the couch and rushed into the kitchen. She moved the pump handle up and down until a trickle of water came from the spout. She filled a glass and returned to the girl.
After Miriana downed the glass of water, she asked, “Could I use telephone?”
“Honey,” Emily said, “there ain’t a telephone line within two miles of this place. And we can’t afford no cell phone.”
Miriana gave an enormous, exasperated sigh. “I must have telephone. Please, I must have telephone.”
Vitas pushed the button on the parking lot machine and took the card that slid out of the slot. He tossed the card on the floor of the rental car and drove down one lane, then another, until he found a space in the nearly full Baltimore-Washington Airport public parking lot. He looked around to make sure no one else was around. It was only 4:30 a.m., but no harm in being cautious. He grabbed his bag from the backseat, and got out of the car. After locking the doors, he threw the keys as far as he could, hearing them clang against some car a couple lanes away. He limped to the American Airlines terminal – his leg aching badly – and got into the backseat of the solitary cab parked by the curb.
“Where to, buddy?” the driver asked, turning down the flag on his meter.
“Airport Hotel,” Vitas commanded.
“You got to be kidding me, pal. You could walk there in five minutes. I’m not tak–”
Vitas dropped a twenty-dollar bill onto the front seat. The man shut up and put the cab in gear.
The ride lasted two minutes. After getting out of the cab, Vitas waited until the cabbie drove away from the hotel parking lot. Then he wandered the lot until he found the car Paulus had left for him.
On the drive to the Alexandria safehouse, Vitas worked out a plan to handle Bob Danforth. It took an hour and a half to find the safehouse. By the time he’d parked the car and carried his bag inside, he was exhausted. Between the wound in his leg, too little sleep, the long drive, and the frustration of the day, he was spent. He collapsed on the bed and slept as though he had nothing on his mind.
Liz saw the glare of headlights flash across the front windows. She rubbed her eyes and rose wearily from the chair at her built-in desk in the kitchen. The clock on the wall said it was five in the morning. She’d sat up all night, working on paying bills and thinking about Bob, Michael, and Miriana.
She retied her bathrobe belt and brushed her hair back with her hands. Then she hurried down the hall from the kitchen to the entry and opened the front door. Her heart felt heavy while she watched Bob shuffle up the front walk, his posture bent.
“Hey, good-looking,” she said, forcing off her own fatigue, trying to lift his obviously low spirits.
Bob looked up and immediately stood straighter. “Hey yourself,” he said, stepping through the entry and putting an arm around her, kissing her forehead.
Liz took his briefcase and set it down on the floor. Despite her exhaustion, she was brimming with curiosity, wanting to ask Bob about progress he’d made. But they had an agreement. She asked no questions about Agency business; he told her whatever he felt he could.
She followed him up the stairs to their bedroom and sat on the side of the bed while he removed his clothes. Stripped down to his undershorts, Bob sat next to her. He took her hand and, in painful detail, went through the events of the last two days. She knew he needed to do it slowly and methodically to check his recollections for missing links. He always said the links solved every case.
