Gina Cresse - Devonie Lace 01 - A Deadly Change of Course--Plan B (11 page)

“Do you have any luggage to check?” she asked.

“No luggage.  Just me,” I answered.

She gave me a second look, as if she hadn’t heard me clearly the first time.  “No luggage?”

“No.  I’ll do some shopping when I get there,” I said as I tucked the bundle of bills back into the small purse I’d bought in an airport gift shop earlier.

“I see.  Well, you have a very pleasant trip
,
Miss Lace, and please fly with us again,” she said, smiling.

“Thank you,” I replied, and turned to leave the counter. 

I crashed into a man, causing him to drop his carry-on bag.

“
Devonie
!”

“Craig,” I replied.  I frantically tried to think of some way to explain how I was still alive, after everyone believed I had been killed on the boat.

“I thought you were dead. 
Everyone
thinks you’re dead.  Your poor aunt and uncle are beside themselves.  What the heck is going on?”

I took him by the arm and shuffled us into a small airport café.  I found a quiet table in the corner.  “Listen, Craig.  It’s all too complicated to explain.  You just have to believe me when I tell you, if you let anyone know you’ve seen me, I won’t be alive much longer.”

“What have you gotten yourself into?  You need some help.”

“No.  I don’t want you to get involved
—
you’ll only put yourself in danger.  Now, please.  Just don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me.  I’ve got to go.  My flight will be boarding soon.” 

I started to get up from the table when
suddenly,
a horrible thought came to my mind. 
“Oh, no!”
I gasped and collapsed hard, back down in the chair.  “Craig.  There is something you can do for me.  There’s a patient in the intensive care unit at San Diego General.  His name is Jason Walters.  He was in a car accident, but it wasn’t really an accident.  Someone forced him off the road. 
When they find out he survived, I’m sure they’ll try to finish him off, before he regains consciousness.”

Craig stared at me, without saying a word.  He studied my face intensely.  The desperation must have shown in my eyes.  I imagined he was trying to decide if I was making this crazy story up, or if it could possibly be true.  He must have come to some conclusion, finally.  “That’s no problem.  I’ll just have the police set up a twenty-four hour watch on him.”

“No.  You don’t understand.  I’m fairly certain the authorities tried to have him killed in the first place
—
the same people who blew up my boat.  Can you put some people you know and trust on a twenty-four hour watch over him?  I’ll pay for any expenses.  You just tell me how much private nurses cost,” I said as I pulled the money from my purse again.

“Keep your money,
Devonie
.  I know some people who can help out.  I’ll do w
hat I can. 
Jason Walters?”

“Yes.  Thank you, Craig.  You don’t know how much I appreciate this.  Now, I’ve got to go or I’ll miss my flight.”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I can’t tell you.  If anyone asks, you never saw me, and you don’t know where I am.  I’ve got to go,” I said and hurried out of the café toward my gate.

The flight attendant demonstrated all the emergency procedures as we pulled away from the gate.  I stretched out in my first class seat and closed my eyes.  I needed to think, but I was exhausted.  The last thing I remembered
before falling asleep was the pilot announcing the current temperature in Geneva over the intercom.

Chapter Twelve

San Diego
—
1995

R
obert
Kephart
sat quietly in his hotel room, reading his E-mail again.  He had already read it three times.  He was troubled, and the effects of having no sleep for days showed on his face.  When the phone rang, it startled him. He jumped to grab the receiver and nearly knocked the laptop computer off the table.

“Yeah,” he answered, abruptly.

“
Kephart
?”
Carl Hobson’s voice asked over the phone line.

“Yeah,” he repeated.

“Listen, carefully.  I have a room at the Marriott. 
It’s
numb
er four thirty-four.  Be there—
alone
—
in exactly thirty minutes.  I’ve decided to pay you our original agreed upon price, since it looks like we’ve taken care of our FAA problem.  But don’t expect to get any more
business from us in the future.  We can’t afford
screwups
like the one you pulled.”

“I’ll be there,” Robert replied, and hung up the phone.  He was still uneasy.  This wasn’t the usual smalltime mobster he was dealing with.  This was the CIA, and they could make him disappear without a trace in the blink of an eye.  He checked his watch.  He would just barely have time to get to the Marriott by noon.  He deleted the E-mail messages from Hobson, shut down the computer, and packed it up in its case, then cautiously checked for anyone suspicious in the hall before he let himself out of his room.  He felt like a mallard during hunting season. 

Hobson was impatiently waiting for him when he knocked on the hotel door.

“I told you noon.  I was just about to forget it and let you settle for only half the payment you’ve already gotten,” Hobson said.

“Traffic was bad and parking was worse,”
Kephart
replied.

“Whatever.  Anyhow, here it is,” he said as he handed Robert a nylon sports bag.  “I don’t want to hear from you ever again.  If I decide we can do business in the future, I’ll contact you.  Do you understand?”

“Perfectly,” Robert replied, taking the sack from Hobson.

Robert turned to leave the room.  Then he looked down at the sack, wondering if it was safe to open.  It could be a bomb, for all he knew. 

“Wait a minute, Hobson.  Mind if we open this together?  To make sure the contract is complete?”

Hobson stared at him in disbelief.  Then he laughed.  “You think it’s a setup, don’t you?  Go ahead.  Open it.”

Robert eyed him suspiciously as he unzipped the bag.  Inside were bundles of money.  He reached in and inspected one of the bundles.  Everything appeared okay.  “Looks like you’ve met your end of the agreement,” Robert said as he closed the bag.

Hobson glared at him,
then
motioned for him to leave.  Robert returned to his car and looked around for any suspicious vehicles.  He thought he sensed someone following him the past couple of days.  He drove directly to A-1 Mini Storage and opened the unit he had recently rented.  He transferred the money from the sack to his brief case, and laid the computer on top of the file cabinet.  He’d rented the unit and moved out of his furnished apartment when he received the E-mail message from Hobson, expressing his dissatisfaction with the DEA agent job. 
Kephart
decided that relocating his business out of the country would be better for him.  Too many people knew how to find him here.  He locked the unit up and went back to his hotel.

Kephart
sat down on the hotel bed and
pulled a card out of his pocket
then
dialed the number written on it.

“Hello,” the gruff voice on the other end answered.

“Khan.
It’s
Kephart
.”

“Where’s my money?” Khan demanded.

“Don’t worry.  I’ve got your money.  I should keep it after the mess you’ve made of this job.  You were
supposed to take care of that plane remotely
—
you idiot.  What the devil is that box they found in the wreckage?”

Khan didn’t answer.  He cleared his throat.  “Where’s my money?”

“You’ll get your money.  You stupid… Oh, forget it
.  Y
ou’re not worth the aggravation.” 
Kephart
paused and thought for a moment.  He came to some sort of last minute decision.  “Listen.  Just meet me at the airport in front of the
United
terminal in two hours.  I’ll have your money for you.  Then you can be on your way to wherever it is you came from.”

Click.  Khan hung up on him. 
Kephart
stared at the receiver in disbelief,
then
laid it back in its cradle.  He picked it up again and dialed.

“Hello. 
Kerstin?”

“Yes, Robert.  Is that you?” she asked.  Her voice sounded anxious.

“It’s me.  Listen darling.  There’s been some trouble with my new business partner.  I’ve just decided I’m going to try to catch a flight to Geneva tonight.  I’m probably going to be staying in Europe for awhile.  Can you arrange for an apartment for me?  I’ll need something with space for an office and reliable phone service.”

“Of course, Robert.
  Are you okay?  You sound strange.”

“I’m fine, darling.  I just need to get out of here for a while.  I’ll call you when I arrive in Geneva.”

“Okay, Robert.  I’ll take care of everything here for you.”

“Thanks.  See you soon.”

Robert packed the few belongings he had with him and returned to his car.  He would stop at the mini storage unit one more time to pick up the money and his computer.  Before he could get the door unlocked, two men startled him from behind.  When he saw them earlier, in the parking garage, he wasn’t too concerned.  They were both in blue jeans and casual shirts.  One wore a San Francisco Giants baseball cap and the other had a portable radio with the headphones draped loosely around his neck.  It appeared as if they were on their way to a baseball game.  Robert, of all people, should have realized how looks could be deceiving.  In an instant, the one with the cap pressed the barrel of a gun in his back.

“Mr.
Kephart
.  Would you please come with us?” he said.

“I would prefer not to,” Robert replied.

The gun pressed harder into his back.  “I’m sorry
,
Mr.
Kephart
.  I guess I shouldn’t have posed that as a question.  You
will
come with us,
now
.  Give my friend here the keys to your car, please.”

Robert handed the man his keys.  They put Robert in the backseat of his car, and the man with the gun slid in next to him.  The other got behind the wheel and started the engine.  Robert would never be seen again.  He was loaded into a private Lear jet and thrown out somewhere over the Pacific Ocean.

Chapter Thirteen

Geneva
—
1996

W
e touched down in Geneva fairly early in the morning.  I exchanged some of my currency for francs, and secured a taxi to take me to a hotel.  A young man, who was on my flight, asked if we could share the cab.  We had spoken briefly several times during the long flight, and he seemed harmless enough.  He introduced himself as Steve, an engineering student from UC Santa Barbara.  He carried a backpack, searching for adventure while in Europe on his summer break from school.  I agreed to share the ride and we loaded his backpack into the trunk. 

As the taxi made its way through the narrow, winding streets, I gazed out the window
and
watched with pleasure as small shops and cafes readied themselves for the day’s business.  Tables were being set, and people were talking and laughing as they tended to
their work.  The taxi driver took me to the Rhone River Hotel, a beautiful building situated on the river that shares its name.  I told Steve I insisted on covering the taxi fare.  He thanked me for my generosity as he removed his backpack from the trunk and disappeared into a crowd of people gathered on the sidewalk.  I paid the taxi driver,
then
tried to calculate what the tip should be in francs.  I finally settled on what I thought was the correct amount, then watched his expression as I handed it to him.  He seemed neither disappointed nor elated, so I assumed that either I calculated correctly, or he was one heck of a poker player.

After checking in, I found my way to the room and opened the curtains.  The view of the Alps and the river was breathtaking.  The clear blue sky played host to a dozen or so puffy clouds, dancing carelessly above the horizon.  Their reflections, almost perfect mirror images, moved along with them on the glassy river below.  I gazed out the window for a few moments, watching the
sailboat
s skim across the smooth water, and thought of my beautiful
Plan B
, now a pile of charred teak and melted fiberglass at the bottom of Uncle Doug’s harbor. I choked back the tears that began to well up.  Crying wouldn’t help my situation. 

I looked around the room.  The furnishings were darker than I liked, but it was a nice enough room.  I bounced once or twice on the bed.  It seemed comfortable.  Most importantly, the bathroom was clean and well stocked with towels.  I splashed some water on my face, attempting to overcome the effects of jet lag. 
Wearing the same clothes I had put on the night my boat exploded, I looked and felt like a mess.  I couldn’t remember how long ago that was
—
it seemed like an eternity.  I wasn’t even sure what day of the week it was.  What I did know for sure was I needed to get some fresh clothes and a toothbrush.  I pulled the airline boarding pass from my jeans pocket to throw away.  Some folded papers came out with it, and fell to the floor.  I picked up the papers and unfolded them.  They were the pages from Robert
Kephart’s
address book.  I had forgotten I put them in my pocket after I made the call to Kerstin.  I assumed they were destroyed in the fire.  Good.  That would save me having to search for her.  After putting her address back in my pocket, along with the room key, I let myself out into the hallway.

I made my way down through the lobby and out onto the street.  I didn’t have to go far to find shopping and I picked up enough clothing and undergarments to get me through several days.  I also purchased some basic necessities
—
toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, etc.  Then I sat at the cosmetic counter of an expensive department store and let the girl working there give me a complete makeover.  I laid a small fortune on the counter to pay for my purchase,
then
picked up my small bag of cosmetics.

Back in my hotel room, I put awa
y my recent acquisitions and lay
down on the bed for a quick nap.  My intention was to rest my eyes for fifteen minutes.  Six hours later, I woke up hungry.  I did a double take when I looked at the clock next to the bed.  It was almost six
o’clock.  I showered and put on new clothes, then walked down to the hotel restaurant.  It seemed strange to order dinner
—
I felt more like having breakfast.  I capped off my meal with a chocolate bar.  I couldn’t travel all the way to Switzerland and not get a taste of that famous sweet stuff.

After dinner, I walked back through the lobby and out to the street.  I hailed a taxi and showed him the address on my folded paper.  Ten minutes later, we stopped in front of an older, neatly kept house.  It was small, just like the rest of the homes on the block.  There was a light on in what appeared to be the kitchen.  I could see a woman through the window, either washing dishes or cooking
—
I couldn’t tell which.  I was about to leave the cab and go knock on her door when a second figure appeared in the window.  This one was a man.  He came up from behind and put his arms around her, then kissed her on the neck.  Finally, the taxi driver asked if this was the right address.

“Oh.  I’m sorry.  Yes.  This is the right address,” I said as I watched the couple in the window. 

I should have called ahead of time,
I thought to myself. 
Then
would not be a good time to meet with Kerstin.  I would have to wait until tomorrow
—
after I’d had a chance to call to let her know that I was
in Geneva
.  That way, we could meet in private.  “Can you take me back to the hotel?” I asked.

His eyebrows raised and his bottom lip protruded as he pondered my request.  “Certainly,” he replied.

When I returned to the hotel, I placed a call to her.  “Hello. 
Kerstin?”

“Yes.  Who is this?” she asked.

“This is
Devonie
.  Remember me?”

She hesitated.  “Oh, yes. 
Devonie
.
  How are you?  Are you still safe?” she asked.  The concern in her voice sounded sincere.

“Not exactly.
  I have a feeling I am going to need your help after all.  I’m here in Geneva.  Can we meet tomorrow morning?”

“Of course.
  Has something happened?”

“You could say that.  Someone has killed a dear friend of mine, and almost killed another.  And the boat I live on was blown to smithereens.”

“Oh, my.
  Do you know who did it?” she asked.

“The really scary thing is
,
I think the FBI may be behind it, at least the bombing of my boat, and the accident that nearly killed my friend.  Does that sound likely to you?”

“It’s very possible.  I know that on several occasions, Robert worked closely with the CIA.  There is another man, his name is Khan.  He is the devil himself.  You do not want to get anywhere near him if you can help it.”

“Khan?
  How is he connected to Robert?” I asked.

“He only worked with Robert once.  The two of them had a falling out of sorts, and Khan feels Robert still owes him.  You need to make very certain Khan doesn’t find you.  He’ll certainly harm you in order to get what he wants.”

“I’ll do my best.  I’ll need you to help me identify these people I’m supposed to be hiding from.”

“I will.” Kerstin said.  “Was there a computer in the things that you found of Roberts?”

I hesitated.  The very person who told me to trust no one was now asking me to trust her.  “Yes, there was… but there wasn’t anything
useful on it
,” I finally replied.

“Are you sure?  Did you check everything?”

“I’m pretty sure, but I suppose I could have missed something.  Why?”

“No reason.  I’m sure that if you checked it, there probably isn’t anything there.  Where should we meet?” she asked.

“River Rhone Café.
  Do you know it?”

“Yes.  Is nine too early?”

“That would be fine.  I’ll see you then.” I said, and hung up the phone.

I booted up the laptop again.  I had a feeling that Kerstin was more interested in that computer than she would have me believe.  I checked all the directories again.  There was nothing else that I hadn’t already looked at.  Frustrated, I shut the thing down and went to bed, but I couldn’t fall asleep. 

I had been dressed and ready to go since seven the next morning.  Every five minutes, I impatiently checked the time on my watch.  It would only take ten minutes to walk to the café to meet Kerstin.  Finally, at eight-thirty, I grabbed my purse and let myself out of the room.  I made my way down the long corridors and around the
corners.  I came up behind a couple strolling down the hallway, holding hands and speaking some romantic European language.  It was one of those dialects that could make the
phrase,”Boy
, that chili really gave me gas,” sound as though he were offering her the moon on a silver platter. 

The aisle was narrow.   I forced myself to slow down and be patient.  I kept my distance to give them and myself a comfort zone.  There was no rush.  I had plenty of time.  When we all rounded the last corner into the hotel lobby, I spotted two familiar faces talking to the desk clerk.  I stopped and did an about-face.  There was no way out to the street without walking right past them.  I couldn’t go back to my room
—
they were probably on their way there.  I walked briskly down the hallway until I came upon a maid
’
s cart and let myself into the open room she was cleaning.  The maid was busy in the bathroom, so I kept watch, peering out the small opening of the door until I saw Cooper and Willis walk by.  When they disappeared around the corner, I left the room and hurried toward the front doors.  Halfway across the lobby, the desk clerk spotted me and hailed my name loudly enough that it could be heard all the way to the kitchen of the hotel restaurant.

“Miss Lace!  You have some guests going up to visit you!  I’m glad I caught you before you left, otherwise you would have missed them!” he called out.  How did he even remember who I was?  I must have made some sort of impression on him when I checked in.

“Thank you.  I passed them on the way down,” I answered, not slowing down as I made my way closer to the exit.

I turned to look over my shoulder just as Cooper rounded the corner and spotted me.  Willis was right on his heels.  I darted for the huge revolving glass doors and pushed my way through.

“Wait!  Stop, Miss Lace!  We just want to talk to you,” Cooper called out as I pushed my way out onto the sidewalk.

I started running, gaining about a half a block before they got out of the hotel lobby and chased after me.  I was running and watching them behind me at the same time.  I didn’t notice the car ahead, with the open door.  The man stepped out, and I ran right into him. 

“Whoa, there,” he said as he grabbed me to keep me from falling.  Then, he noticed the two men running after me.  “Quick.  Get in,” he said as he shoved me into his car.  I slid over to the passenger side.  He jumped in, started the engine, and took off, just as Willis grabbed onto the door handle.  He tried to hang on, but wasn’t able to keep his grip as we accelerated out into the traffic.

I looked at him in amazement.  “Craig.  What in the world are you doing here?”