Like Grownups Do (38 page)

Babe returned to his office and looked at the list of contacts he had made. He picked it up and went back to Millie’s desk.

“Millie, please tell me you show Mr. Angelis having attended Boston College.”

Millie made another entry and looked up.

“Yale University.”

Babe got through to the admission’s office at Yale but was told that a request for information about a student would require that he come in and present the proper credentials.

He was not ready to drop this wrong-name, wrong-school bit of information on Jack. He began rehearsing how he might nonchalantly get an FBI requisition for information from Jack over the weekend because it appeared that he would be making a trip to New Haven on Monday.

The news did not get any better after MG got to her Bureau office.

“I have three people rifling through the paper personnel files as we speak. There is no file for a Gabriel Athas
or
a Gabriel Angelis. And, of course, there is nothing left intact in the personnel database. Can you think of any reason that London or Eckhart would have had for removing his file?” MG asked.

“No. I can’t think of a connection that would make them want to remove
any
applicant file,” Babe said.

“If London didn’t pull Singletary’s file, why would he pull Gabriel’s?”

“Yeah. Damn it. I’m going to have to come up with a more fool-proof filing system. This makes me feel like an idiot rookie,” MG said.

“Don’t beat yourself up, MG. You’re at the
FBI
. If you can’t rely on the security there, who can be sure of anything?” Babe said.

“It’s not just that. It’s going to make it more difficult to trust people—even the people we work beside every day,” MG said.

Babe copied down the information from Millie’s computer regarding Gabriel Angelis’s grandparents; Nikolas and Sophia Angelis. The last known address was The Seaside Manor Retirement Village in New Haven Connecticut.

“Jack, can you get me a requisition for student records? I’m going to New Haven on Monday,” Babe said.

“Sure thing. Do you have a fax?” Jack asked.

“No. Who has a fax machine at home?” Babe asked.

“Me, that’s who,” Jack said. “You want to drop by in the morning and get it?”

“That works for me,” Babe said.

Babe knocked on Jack’s door Saturday morning. Jack answered and waved Babe inside.

“Coffee’s on,” Jack said.

Babe did a double take when MG breezed into the room holding a steaming coffee cup in both hands. She wore pajamas pants and what looked to be one of Jack’s shirts.

“Just let me say, for the record,” Babe said, “That I couldn’t be happier for you two.”

He hugged MG and kissed her on the cheek. Then he turned and did the same to Jack.

“Just let
me
say, for the record,” Jack said, “That no one
else
is allowed to kiss me, at least until I get used to the idea.”

“You know who is going to kiss you
now
, right?” Babe asked.

“Who?” Jack asked suspiciously.

“Esteban,” Babe said.

Jack closed his eyes and let his head fall backward as MG giggled over the rim of her coffee cup.

Babe took the five eighteen train to New Haven. He nursed a cup of coffee while he waited for the Yale offices to open. He had contacted many university offices over the past few years, while researching FBI applicants. Today was different, though.

He had never had an applicant like Gabriel A…whatever his name was.

Somehow he knew
that he would never see Gabriel again, despite the fact that virtually every intelligence service in the country would soon be looking for him.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Babe said to the receptionist.

“I have a requisition form from the Boston FBI field office regarding a former student.”

“Just one moment, sir,” the receptionist said. She spoke into her headset.

“Someone will be right with you.”

“Mr. Babelton? Right this way, please.”

A pleasant, fifty-ish lady escorted Babe to the main record office’s desk. Babe’s credentials were examined and verified.

The lady gave a quick ‘thumb-up’ before she sent her database on its search for Gabriel Angelis.

“Mr. Babelton, we have a limited profile for Mr. Angelis. We have his name, his last known address, and his course schedule and grades. I’m showing another requisition here for degrees and grades that came from the FBI—that one was about…two years ago.

“I’m afraid that some information was lost during this particular time frame. We had some paper files stored in the basement that were awaiting entry into our database. Unfortunately, we had a water line burst over a holiday weekend and by the time the maintenance staff got the water turned off; many of the paper files were destroyed.”

“Ma’am, this is pretty much what I expected to find out,” Babe said.

The lady looked up from the computer screen.

“It is?”

“Thank you for your time,” Babe said.

“Joshua Babelton from Boston. I would like to see Nikolas and Sophia Angelis please.”

Babe spoke to two attendants who sat side-by-side behind the reception counter of the Seaside Manor Retirement Village. The women looked at each other and then one spoke.

“Are you family, or friend, Mr. Babelton?”

“I am a business associate of the Angelis’s grandson, Gabriel. He has not been heard from for a few days, and some of his friends and co-workers are concerned,” Babe said.

He looked around.

“This is a really nice place.”

“You bet your backside it is,” one of the women said. This prompted a look of disapproval from her co-worker.

“I’m guessing this isn’t a government funded facility?” Babe asked.

“Government funded? Good Lord, no,” the woman exclaimed.

“You betta be taking good care of your money while you’re young if you want to settle down here, young man.”

“Ramona! It is not your place to speak like that,” the other lady exclaimed.

Babe liked Ramona and he sensed that she was ripe for the picking.

“So how much does it cost to live here, Ramona?” Babe asked.

“Mr. Babelton. We have a fully staffed business office if you feel the need to acquire such information,” the first lady said.

“What difference does it make who tells him, Wanda? Jeez.”

“Have you visited before, Mr. Babelton?” Wanda asked.

“They have a trust fund that pays everything,” Ramona said.

“Big trust fund, from what I hear.”

“Ramona,” Wanda hissed through clenched teeth.

“You’re going to get us both in trouble.”

“What’s the big whoop, Wanda? This nice young man is a friend of the family. He’s not from the health board or the Infernal Revenue, or nothin’. Right, Mister?”

“No, I’m not. I’m merely looking for Gabriel Angelis. I haven’t been here before and I do not know Mr. And Mrs. Angelis. It’s just that we have no other means to track Gabriel down. As I said, we’re worried about him. Can you tell me if Gabriel has been in to see them?” Babe said.

“Mr. Babelton, Nikolas has been dead for seven years,” Wanda said.

“Oh. I’m very sorry. Has Gabriel been in to see Sophia?” Babe asked, looking to each of the ladies.

“About two weeks ago,” Ramona said.

“Could I speak with Sophia?” Babe asked.

The ladies once again looked at each other before looking back at Babe.

“We’re not sure that is a good idea, Mr. Babelton,” Wanda said.

“And why is that, ma’am?” Babe asked.

In true cartoon fashion, the ladies glanced at each other again.

“Sophia has suffered from dementia for over a year, Mr. Babelton. I’m sure she can be of no help to you,” Wanda said.

“But she does
so enjoy
visitors, Wanda. What harm can it do? Let the nice man visit with Sophia. It might do them both some good,” Ramona said.

“That’s right, Wanda. What harm can it do?” Babe asked.

Wanda exhaled heavily and buzzed Babe through the half door beside the counter. She led Babe down one of the corridors, pushed open a door, and held it for Babe to enter before following him inside.

An elderly woman sat alone in the room in a wheelchair before a large picture window.

“Sophia, you have a visitor,” Wanda said.

Sophia Angelis turned her head slowly, and her face lit up.

“Michael. Michael. My lovely child. I
knew
you would come! Come to me, Michael,” Sophia said. She lifted her trembling arms.

Babe glanced briefly toward Wanda, who stood nonchalantly with one hand on her hip, expertly displaying a much practiced “I-told-you-so” stance.

Babe crossed the floor and leaned into Sophia’s shaky embrace. He carefully patted her back, and rose up, holding her feeble hands.

“It’s so good to see you, Sophia,” he said.

“Don’t you get all uppity with me, Michael. You always called me Mommy, before you went off to that fancy school,” Sophia scolded, although she wore a broad smile.

“Mommy is good enough for Gabriel and it’s good enough for you. Oh, my precious Michael. I’m so glad that you’ve come.”

“Mommy, do you know where Gabriel is?” Babe asked.

He pulled a chair to sit next to Sophia.

Sophia’s smile faded.

“He’s gone off to war, again. I asked him to stay. But he has very important things to do. The President needs him. There are bad people about, Michael. But Gabriel always comes back to me, Michael. Just like you do. I love my boys so
very
much.”

A tear ran down Sophia’s cheek. Wanda cleared her throat.

“Mommy, I have to go now. I’m going to watch after Gabriel and bring him back safely. We love you very much,” Babe said.

“We love you, Michael. I hope your father can be here when you come back; when you and Gabriel come home. We’ll have a picnic. You can ride your bicycles and we’ll have another picnic. Lord, I have to get started on those pies—a nice apple pie for you and a lemon custard for my Gabriel. Oh, we’ll have such a time. Won’t you like that?” Sophia said.

“That will be perfect. You take care, now,” Babe said.

“Goodbye, my sweet Michael.”

“Thank you very much, Wanda. Could I get the name of Sophia’s physician? I would like to ask him a few questions,” Babe asked.

“That would be Dr. Evans. Out in Woodbridge,” Wanda said.

“Thank you very much. Good day, ladies.”

Thirty-Six

“
H
ello, my name is Josh Babelton. From Boston,” Babe said to the receptionist in Dr. Daniel Evans’s office.

“What can we do for you, Mr. Babelton?” the receptionist said.

“I would like to speak with Dr. Evans, if possible, about two of his patients. Mr. and Mrs. Angelis,” Babe said.

“Just a moment, please. Let me see if the doctor has a few minutes.”

A total of seven small children and two young women about Babe’s age occupied the small waiting room. The children played with an assortment of well-worn toys, shuttling them in and out of an adjacent room. The room contained a large homemade toy box and it did double duty as a supply closet.

The two young families were neat and clean, yet dressed in a way that said ‘economically challenged’. The receptionist, who doubled as the physician’s assistant, called the name of one of the women. She ushered her four children through the door toward the exam rooms.

“Mr. Babelton,” the receptionist said. “The doctor will be able to see you shortly. He has a few checkups to do first.”

“That’s fine,” Babe said. “Thank you.”

Babe browsed the walls of the waiting room where an array of photos showed an older man in a lab coat and stethoscope posing with an assortment of children. Other photos showed the same man in civilian clothes taken with his family in assorted vacation destinations.

Babe selected a dog-eared two-year-old copy of Sports Illustrated from the magazine rack and sat down.

He was working to flatten out the pages of the magazine when a two-year-old little boy stood up from where he was playing with his two sisters and toddled up to him. The boy was sucking on a pacifier and carrying a yo-yo that had no string. He offered the yo-yo to Babe.

The boy’s mother jumped from her seat and swooped up her son.

“JJ. Leave that man alone.”