Mourning Dove (20 page)

You’re still not
thinking your thoughts!

“Maybe if he hears my
side of this conversation he’ll realize you do exist.”

Then again, he might
think you’ve slipped into delusional fantasies. And I wouldn’t like that.

“Why?”

He has a thing for
you, and I kind of like it.

“What about Dad?”

A little healthy
competition will either heal your breach or complete it.

“Carl Stafford, mind your
own business.”

Your happiness is my
business. Rest well, Mom.

And he was gone, again.

“Good morning, Robert,
any news from Jonathon?” Sara asked as Robert walked into her office the
following morning.

“I was about to ask you
the same thing.  He hasn’t checked in yet.”

She stood up from her
chair and walked around to the front of the desk. “Yesterday he asked me to
speak with Jack Randall. He wants him to take over Ross’s spot in San Francisco.”

“It’s a good move. How
did Mr. Randall respond?”

Sara leaned back on the
front of her desk. “I spoke with Jack by phone. He’s home with the flu, but
he’s excited about the position.”

“How are you getting
along with Mr. Farrell?”

“We touch base once or
twice a day.”

“If there’s anything
either one of you need, you let me know?”

“He’s working next door
to your office. I’m sure he’d appreciate that coming directly from the top.”

“He’s not in yet this
morning. These government guys march to a different drummer,” Robert said.

“Yes, they certainly do.”

“They certainly do what?”
Matthew asked from her doorway. “Good morning, Robert, Sara.”

“We were wondering where
you’d gotten off to this morning,” Robert said just before he left her office.

“Take a walk with me,
beautiful.” Matthew stretched his hand out toward the front door of finance and
the bank of elevators at the end of the hall.

“How can I resist an
offer like that? Do I need a coat?”

“The air is a bit nippy
this morning.” He lifted her coat from the back of her door.

Outside the building they
walked toward the back of the business park – the path wound around three brick
buildings and a FedEx box. “What’s up Matthew?”

“How did you end up with
this?” He lifted her right palm up, “and this?” He reached down and brushed the
redness on her right knee. “And don’t give me the hubcap story.”

“The Jeep caught up with
me and ran me off the road. I didn’t have time to read the license plate. While
I was inspecting the damage, I fell into a pothole and cut my hand on some
broken glass. I did pop the hubcap in the process, but I was hoping you’d be
right behind me. Where were you?”

“I was acquiring another
vehicle. I’m using the Blazer only in obvious places now. Are you sure about
the vehicle that ran you off the road?”

“I’m as sure as I can be.
Why?”

“Because something
doesn’t seem right. There’s an extra player in here. The Jeep followed me when
I headed toward the car rental office. I lost him in the mall parking lot but
he wouldn’t have had time to double back to you. I don’t have a good feeling
about this.”

“Speaking about good
feelings, I’m not having too many of those either. You placed another bug in
the den before you left this morning, didn’t you?”

“Why do you think that?”

“Carl told me and if you
were listening you know that. It sounds like a whole lot of no trust to me.”

He walked a few paces
ahead and turned around to stare.

“What’s the matter,
Matthew? Having a hard time believing my ghost story?”

“You’re a bit bitchy this
morning.”

“Lack of sleep will do
that to a woman. Why won’t you trust me?”

“Trust can get you dead.”

“Well I need to trust
someone. Can I trust you?”

“Bloody hell!” he turned
around in a pivot shaking his head.

“What!?”

“I’m working with a delusional
woman who speaks to the dead, and she wants me to trust her.”

“Well, what choice do you
have?”

“Not much. But I still
don’t believe in ghosts. Did Ron finally reach Jordan this morning?”

“I suppose you heard that
conversation, too. He called him from the bathroom using his cell phone. Jordie
dropped the paper on the floor and then saw something he hadn’t noticed before.
He thinks he has most of it figured out and wants to meet with you.”

“I’ll drive to his loft
this afternoon.”

“No good, he’s coming to Greenland this evening. He wants to meet with all of us, seven o’clock.”

“Sara, there’s no privacy
there. I’ll meet with him this afternoon.”

“We can sweep the house;
we have plenty of Alka-Seltzer.”

“This isn’t a game,
woman.”

“I never thought it was.
My
son is dead!”

***

“Jordie, what have you
come up with?” Ron asked from his propped up position on the couch. It was just
past seven in the evening and the four of them leaned over a temporary table
made from a plank of walnut braced on top of two spackling buckets. The
printout with the mysterious code was spread out on the dark surface of the
wood.  Matthew turned the paper sideways, studying it in silence.

“Well, first I thought it
was a simple substitution code. You know, like the decoder kits Carl and I had
as kids. One represents A, Two a B, and so on. I tried several combinations
before I realized I was just making a mess of things. Then the paper fell on
the floor and I saw it from another angle. I don’t have it all, but some things
started to jump out at me. You know, like one of those word search puzzles.”

“Or one of your
paintings,” Sara offered.

Matthew looked at Jordie.
“Continue.”

Jordie nodded his head,
“We’ve been looking at this all wrong – from left to right, top to bottom.”

Ron jumped in, “I thought
of that but right to left, bottom to top doesn’t work either. I stared at it
until I thought my eyes would fall out of their sockets.”

“Sara, do you have
something to offer?” Matthew asked.

“I thought maybe codes to
a formula. But that doesn’t work unless you know how the code is linked. Then I
thought maybe a combination to a safe, but the letters didn’t make sense.”

“Okay Jordie, show us
what you have,” Matthew said.

“What I saw after the
printout fell was the line up from top to bottom, one line of numbers and
letters at a time. Instead of 01, 32, 12, 55, 00, 44 you have 03, 15, 04 and
12, 25, 04.”

“And how does that get us
any closer to understanding this?”

“Ron, did you take your
pain medication? You’re beginning to sound like you did in the hospital.”

“Sara, put a lid on it,
you’re not helping here,” he snapped.

“Jordie has something
here,” Matthew added to get them back on track.

“03, 15, 04 is a date, I
know that date. We know that date.” She looked around at all their faces. “It’s
the date Carl died. But why would he write it on this paper. What else happened
on that date?”

“It’s the Ides of March,”
Jordie said.

“Julius Caesar was not
killed in 2004,” Ron said.

Matthew turned toward the
computer and pulled up a search engine. He plugged in the date and waited.
Scrolling down through several pages of entries, he stopped on the fifth page.
A tag to an article in a Toronto Paper notes an early morning chemical
explosion at a warehouse by the lake. Two people killed. Cause of the explosion
was still under investigation. He printed the article, and continued his
search.

“What are you looking
for?” Ron asked.

“Anything that can link
back to what Carl was working on.”

“What about the other
date, if these are, in fact, dates?” Ron asked.

“Twelve, twenty five, two
thousand four is not here yet,” Matthew added from over his shoulder as he
continued to flag items of interest and print them.

“Matthew, how do the
words tie in? They all look like Latin except one,” Sara said. “And they follow
the dates. Maybe that will help the search?”

“Sara, read the first
date and the words below it.” Matthew’s fingers paused to add the information
into the search box.

“It says 03, 15, 04 PAX
KILL.  Second line is 12, 25, 04 NOBIS MORTE. What does that mean?”

“It could be the name of
something, an acronym, an event name,” Ron said.

“Loosely translated: on
March 15
^th
, 2004 Peace Kills and on December 25
^th
, 2004
With You Death. Am I right, Mr. Farrell?” Jordie asked.

“It could be, or Kill
Peace. Good job, Jordie. It gives me something more to go on. I want to run
this information on a secure computer and search for all possible solutions.”
Matthew closed the last window on the monitor and began to shut down the
computer.

“Is this it for tonight?”
Jordie asked.

“Jordan, it’s been a long day and I could be on the search engine all night. I can do this
at the hotel and let you three get some rest.” Matthew stood and turned toward
them, “Thank you, Sara.” He nodded to Ron, “Stay aware of what’s going on
around you. I’ll be in touch.”

Matthew was out the back
door by the time she started picking up the coffee mugs and the box from the
pizza they’d ordered.

Ron swung his casted foot
around and whacked it into the makeshift table. “Damn it!”

I’ll help you upstairs,
Mr. Stafford,” Jordie offered. Sara chuckled at his lack of understanding of
what that task meant and headed for the kitchen with her arms full.

“Cass, I’m so glad you
invited me to dinner. But, I thought you had a date with Ben tonight?”

“He’s got bronchitis.
Besides, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my evening than to pump my
best friend for the juicy details about her new friend. You promised to tell all
last week.”

“Actually, I was going
nuts with the invalid. When I’m at work Ron calls me almost every hour. At
night I hear ‘Sara, I need’ over and over again. I have a new aerobic workout.
Ten runs up and down the staircase. I can’t wait for him to get mobile again.”

“How’s Leonardo getting
along?”

“Leonardo has a gift for
homing in on a weakness. I think it’s that feline trait cats have for
tormenting helpless mice. He’s been sneaking up to Ron’s room during the day
and batting around anything left on the floor until it’s shredded. Well, lately
he’s decided to camp out on the bed.”

“I bet Ron’s having fits
over that,” Cass said as she wiped her hands with the dishtowel.

“At first, the cat just
curled up on the foot of the bed. Ron said once Leonardo would settle he would
begin his disgusting morning routine, wetting his paws with his furry tongue
and wiping his face. Then, Leonardo would stand, stretch, and turn around in a
circle, ever so slowly relocating his body closer to Ron. They’re like enemies
sizing each other up on the battlefield before a fight.  Yesterday, Ron was
just drifting off to sleep – when the enemy attack came. Leonardo has a
sadistic streak in him.”

“Sara! Don’t leave it
like this!”

“Ron woke up to Leonardo
plucking the soft cast from his foot.”

“Plucking?”

“You know how cats kneed
their claws into a spot they want to curl up on. Anyway, pieces of the cast
material were clinging to Ron’s bare toes and the cat was rubbing up against
the destruction. When I got back from the office, I could hear Ron yelling
before I could even get my key out of the front door. Allen had stopped over
after work and banished Leonardo to the den with the door shut but Ron refused
to do anything about the cast ‘til I came home and saw what that ‘demon cat’
had done. These are his words not mine.”

“So what did you do?”
Cass was still giggling.

“I put the cast back
together with duct tape. Stop laughing!  It looked very space age by the time I
was done.”

“He got what he deserved.
How could anyone not love a cat?” Right on cue, Merlin leaped onto her lap and
began to purr.

“What about the Brit?”
Cass slid back into the comfort of her bentwood rocker.

“We’ve had dinner
together most of the week. When he’s with me I totally forget I’m a married
woman.”

“You’re separated and Ron
is not flying solo in his bed – or he wasn’t before the accident.”

“Hey what’s in the box?”
Sara reached for a large flat rectangle wrapped in pearl gray and silver
striped paper lying on the side table. “I like the fuchsia orchid taped to the
top. Is it somebody’s birthday?”

“It took you long enough
to notice it,” Cass stroked a purring Merlin on her lap.

“I had so much in me that
just had to spill.”

“The box is for you, hon.
Open it.”

“Cass, it’s not my
birthday.”

“It’s not that kind of
gift. It’s from...Jordie.”

Sara slid the large
present onto her lap, gently plucked the orchid from the top, and lifted the
blossom to her nose. “Is this one of yours?”

“Yes, unfortunately it
doesn’t have much of a scent. It’s pretty to look at though. I thought it
fitting for the gift.”

“Mysterious. Give me a
clue?”

“Nope, stop stalling and
open it.”

Sara slipped her hand
through the opening, broke the tape holding the seam together, and peeled away
the paper without tearing it. The canvas was face down. “Is it one of
Jordie’s?”

“Not from the show. It’s
special.”

Sara turned the two foot by
four foot canvas over and stared at a beach scene of Jordie, Stacey, and Carl
on a lazy summer day, maybe last year or the one before. Jordie was lifting a
beach rose to Stacey’s nose. She had a wistful smile on her face. Carl, sitting
on a stone ledge above them, had his arms circled around his legs. With his
chin on his knees, the look on his face was pensive.

“Cass, it’s beautiful.”
Sara wiped the moisture leaking from her eyes.

“Jordie said he painted
the scene from memory and gave it to Carl for his birthday last year.”

“This was Carl’s?”

“It was.”

“But it wasn’t in his
place when we cleaned it out. How did Jordie get it back?”

“About a week after Carl
died, Jordie received it in the mail. I guess he sent it before he died. It was
like he knew his time was short and he was giving it back.”

“Why didn’t Jordie add it
to the show? He was scrambling to get enough canvases to fill the exhibit. He
should have used it.”

“For some reason he just
couldn’t. He has another canvas of the three of them. He said that you should
have this one; the others you want from the show will be available after you
get back from Chicago. But this is yours to keep from Jordie...and me...and
Carl.”

Sara propped her honored
gift up on the chair beside her and blew her nose.

 “Hey, I thought this was
a dinner invitation? Let’s eat.” Walking into Cass’s dining area, Sara turned
back and looked at the painting again. She walked back and turned the chair so
she could see the painting from the table.

“Ron’s going to be
jealous,” she added.

“Jordie thought he might.
He said he’s working on another for Ron of the two of them.  He’s painting it
from a photo taken just after graduation when they set sail from Casco Bay in their dinghy.

“Ron will like that.”
Sara kept glancing back at the painting. “Cass?”

“Hmm?”

“This is one of those
three pictures in one, isn’t it?”

“Yup, it didn’t take you
long?”

“Don’t tell me, I’ll
figure it out.” She turned her head to the left and squinted. Then she turned
to the right and began to smile. “I got it.”

“Jordie thought you
would.”

Superimposed was a pair
of boys, dressed as pirates, running through the hidden paths of Treasure Island. “Remember the picnics we had on Mother’s Day with the kids. We cherished
those memories. They were always taking turns burying the treasure and then
searching for it. I remember when Ron intentionally moved the big red X they
used to mark the spot. They never did find that last chest of costume jewelry.”

 “The best times were
always at Odiorne Point. Oh God, Sara, I’m sorry. That just slipped out.”

***

“Hi Catherine,” Sara
announced herself the next morning to Robert Starr’s secretary. “Is Matthew
Farrell in yet?”

“I’m sorry, Sara, he left
sometime during the night. The spare office is empty.”

“I thought we were
meeting today to put on the final touches to Mr. Farrell’s keynote speech at
the conference.”
And I need to know what he found out about the code
,
Sara thought to herself.

“You know these
government men; they drift in and out like shadows. When he was here I hardly
saw him,” Catherine added. “He left a note for you though. He was in a meeting
with Mr. Starr when I left last night. I’m afraid I don’t know more than that.”

“Thanks Catherine.” Sara
stumbled over an awkward silence and reached for the folded piece of paper
Robert’s secretary was offering. The print was blurry and she realized his
desertion was more than she could handle at the moment. She walked out the door
and collided with Jonathon Pierce.

“Whoa, little lady, it’s
not a good idea to read and walk at the same time.”

He tipped her chin up.
“What’s wrong?” he shepherded her back to the conference room at the end of the
hall.

“I didn’t expect you so
soon. I thought your flight didn’t get in until eleven?” Turning toward the
bank of windows on the far side of the room, Sara wiped at the tears on her
face.

“I caught the red eye.
What’s got you frazzled?”

“I got a speck of dust in
my eye.”

“Aha. Let me have a
look.” He turned her back toward him and tilted her head to get a better view.
“You want some water?”

“No, I’m fine, really.”
She tried to back away from his touch.

“Then let me
see your eye. Maybe it’s just an eyelash freelancing under your lid.”

“Jonathon,
it’s okay,” She lifted her hands up to ward off further contact. “Is Jack
Randall settled into his new job?”

“For the moment, he plans
to fly back and pick up his family and possessions next week. I have a report
for the board regarding the shenanigans I uncovered. You want to come with me
while I deliver it to Robert?”

“I’d like that, but it’ll
have to wait ‘til he’s in. Catherine says he worked late last night and will
probably not be in until later.”

“If you’re sure you’re
okay, I’ll just go and talk with her. I want a department meeting at one with
everyone in my office. Please see to it, and Sara?”

“Yes?”

“Bring the phone and
email logs for the past eight months.”

***

In Jonathon’s office the
department meeting was just breaking up.  They were waiting for Robert Starr to
arrive for an executive session on the ‘shenanigans’ report when Sara’s cell
rang.

“I’m sorry Jonathon; I
have to take this.”

She answered it in the
hall by the elevators. “Yes, Ron, what do you want?”

“Sara, they moved up my
appointment. Can you leave early today and drive me?”

“I’m right in the middle
of a meeting. Can’t someone else drive you?”

“You and Allen are the
only ones I trust.”

“Where’s Allen, then?”

“He’s down in Boston picking up a special woofer for a client.”

“What about Mrs.
Alvarez?”

“Are you kidding? I’ll
never hear the end of it.”

“Mrs. Murphy across the
street?”

“Get real, Sara! If I had
anyone else, would I interrupt your day?”

It hasn’t stopped you
before.
“Then try to have it rescheduled.”

“The next possible date
is halfway through next week. The doc is going out of town for a funeral. By
the time he gets back you’ll be in Chicago. I have to be mobile before you
leave.”

“Okay, what time is the
appointment?”
Damn it!

“Four forty five, I need
you here by four fifteen.”

“All right, Ron, calm
down. I’ll be there.” Closing her phone, she shoved the door open to finance,
“It’s just like having a fifty-two year old baby with an ear ache.”

“Did you say something,
Sara?”

“Nothing important,
Louise.” Sara walked back into Jonathon’s office and closed the door.

“I’m sorry for the
interruption, Jonathon, Robert. I hope I didn’t miss anything.”

“No, of course not, I
just got here. Is everything okay at home?” Robert asked.

“I need to leave in
fifteen minutes. There’s been a scheduling change and in order to take off on
time for the Chicago conference, I’m going to have to take care of this today.
I’m sorry.”

“Sara, did you get those
phone logs I asked for?” Jonathon asked.

“Louise has them.”

“No, she doesn’t. I
already checked.”

“They have to be in the
credenza behind my desk then. I’ll check before I leave.”

Sara eased into one of
the conference chairs and took a breath. Both men were watching her; she felt
like she was on stage with the audience waiting for her performance to begin.
Only she had no idea what piece she was supposed to perform. “Jonathon?”

Jonathon picked up his
pen. “In a nutshell, our former divisional comptroller, Cassidy, was feeding
research information from our new communications chip to our competitor in bits
and pieces, not enough to give them the whole package just enough to feed the
cocaine habit he acquired after his move to San Francisco. He was also skimming
funds from the company. He apparently had connections in the California Highway
Patrol – high up and related. He OD’d and the powers that be called it a heart
attack. His work had been lacking for quite a while. The reports began to look
more and more disjointed and incomplete. Then of course, he died.

“We sent Ross Gordon out
there, and the first thing he did was cover up all the evidence.  He began
lying to you, Robert, about the state of things and telling me everything was
fine, just disorganized. When Sara started to press the issue, his attitude
toward women reared its ugly head. That’s where he made his worst mistake. And
you know the rest from there.”

“Jonathon, that doesn’t
answer the virus in the computers or his threat to you.”

“I know, Sara. The virus
was sent postmortem from Cassidy.  It was pre-set to go off through an email
originating from his office. It looked like Ross had sent it, but the
origination dates coincide with the last day Cassidy was in the office. It was
an interesting bug.”

“You’re telling me the
bug was internal to the organization, not from an outside source?” Robert
asked.

“Like a contaminated
water hole on the back range, just waitin’ to trickle down into the well.”

“That doesn’t sound like
something a drug addict could concoct. Who provided the virus?” Sara asked.

“Ironically, his kid did.
The little shit’s already in juvenile hall for creatin’ other viruses that have
kept technology experts busy for the last three years. They’re hopin’ to try
him as an adult.”

“What parts of the new
chip are compromised?” she asked.

“Nothing we haven’t
already changed. Cassidy was selling the research that didn’t work. His biggest
damage to the company was the money he skimmed off the accounts in San Francisco, not the stuff he fed our competitors. Maybe they found that out and provided
the final fix he OD’d on? We don’t know for sure,” Jonathon said.