Rose of Betrayal (66 page)

           
The
woman's fingers began tapping nervously upon the briefcase she placed on the
counter in front of Connie.
 
Biting red
lips, her eyes full of secrecy flicked back and forth searching her
surroundings again before staring down at the leather case.
 
In one, breathe she spoke words as guarded
and as muddled as Connie was beginning to feel.
 
“Look.
 
I don't have much time.
Trust me, please.
 
This is a matter of
life or death.
 
Mr. Peterson must get
this briefcase at once.
 
Promise me?”

           
Bewildered
by the woman's countenance, Connie reassured her she would personally place the
case on Ted's desk with an urgent note.

           
Reluctantly
the visitor glided the brief case toward Connie and when Connie claimed it, her
cold, sweaty hand squeezed Connie's in thanks.
 
She swiveled and rushed out of the office.

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Only
a few more tasks remained then Susan would be safely out of New York.
 
Confidence straightened her stance, smugness
tugged at her lips as she reflected it would be a long time before anyone had
to worry about Howard Sommer’s once the contents of the briefcase were in the
proper hands.

           
She
took great pains in selecting her costume, a short black wig, dark colored
contacts, and wire rimmed frames with thick plastic lenses.
 
Artfully, applied make-up made her appear an
old woman.
  
The mixed matched clothes,
selected from a consignment shop, in no way resembled the tight sexy wardrobe
she normally preferred.

           
Exiting
the towering building, Susan drew in a deep breath of summer air.
 
The brightness of the sunshine made the day
seem still young and full of promise.
 
With a wave of a hand, she halted a cab to whisk her off to her next
destination.
 

           
As
the taxi weaved through the crowded streets, the thoughts meandering through
Susan’s mind were not on closing her bank account, but on what transpired over
the past few months.
  
She had
encountered a brick wall while endeavoring to uncover Sommer’s prey until the
day Ted Peterson came barging into the office furiously demanding to see
Sommer’s.
 
She tried to stop him, but he
propelled himself into Sommer’s office, and once he crossed the threshold,
slammed the door.
 
Even with an ear
pressed against the wood, the escalated intensity of the commotion made the
dialogue impossible to decipher.

           
Immediately
after Ted bounded out of the office, she noticed the light to a telephone line
flashing.
 
The fact Sommer’s never placed
a call spurred her suspicion.
 
Later, she
learned there was more to the Sommer’s Construction Company than she ever
believed possible.

           
Obviously,
Ted and Howard's business dealings were far from legal, the explanation as to
why Susan had been unable to locate a business file.
 
When Ted's visits increased, so did the calls
directly after his departure.
 
Her job of
receiving and paying bills made it easy to trace the unfamiliar telephone numbers.

           
Susan
purchased a pocket-sized tape recorder and though Ted's appointments were
sporadic, managed to smuggle the recorder into Sommer’s office one day just
before Ted's arrival.
 
Sommer’s demanded
her amorous attentions frequently and on that day she coyly mentioned it turned
her on when he undressed first.
 
Delighted with the idea, in his rush he fumbled with his stalled zipper
affording her the opportunity to place the recorder unobtrusively on a shelf
behind her.

           
Perpetually
fighting the revulsion rising in her throat each time Sommer’s touched her, the
things he did to her unspeakable, Susan's thirst for revenge and the
possibility of being instrumental in saving someone's life made her persist
with her perilous vendetta.
 
She knew she
was playing with fire, but in her estimation, the male gender was nothing more
than egotistical, self-possessed, over bearing, confident jackasses, and, a
woman's wrath once turned upon a male was a holocaust few survived.
 

           
She
had not quite come to terms as to why Howard regularly left envelopes with
money, beautifully wrapped exorbitant jewelry, and imported perfume on her
desk, why she received roses regularly at her apartment along with stuffed
animals and toys for her daughter.
 
Howard frequently tried to persuade her to accompany him on business
trips to enticing tropical destinations.
 
His most recent offer, an elite condo in Tahiti, but her daughter Nicole
had always been the welcomed justification for her refusal.
 
The monetary compensations made Susan's
nightmare easier to endure.
 
Saving the
money and hocking the jewelry enabled building a tidy sum to one day soon get
out of the grips of the horny bull.

           
Wondering
if the money and gifts weren't in some way intended to seal her lips, a half
smile tilted the corner of her mouth when contemplating how surprised Howard would
be upon discovering he'd been done in by the often referred to bleach blonde
bitch.
 
Susan's greatest wish was to see
Sommer’s face when it was his wrists under lock and key.
 
A big smile wrinkled her cheeks whenever she
fantasized about the big, black buck behind bars that would do to Sommer’s what
he took great pleasure in doing to others.

           
Later
that evening, after tucking Nicole into bed, she shivered from abhorrence as
she listened to Ted and Howard's recorded conversation.
  
Ted owed Sommer’s a huge sum of money in
gambling debts.
 
Unable to pay Sommer’s
threatened to go to Brad and Samantha, an unbearable humiliation.
 
Therefore, Ted reluctantly agreed to become
one of his drug runners with the stipulation he wanted out when the debt was
satisfied.

           
The
day Susan placed the recorder in Sommer’s office happened to be the day Ted
came to make the final payment.
  
Sommer’s took delight in inserting and twisting the knife in Ted's back
by informing him, that Sam and Brad had been under surveillance, that he knew
their every move, when they ate, and slept.
 
If he refused to continue to do his bidding, with a snap of his fingers
he would have them killed.

           
When
Ted became violent, Sommer’s played his trump card by ripping from his drawer
photos and a video.
 
Slamming them onto
the shiny wood surface, he threatened to make them tomorrow mornings front page
headlines; unwavering proof to the world of Brad and Sam's night of passion.
  
As Ted wilted in pain, Howard launched his
deathblow by informing Ted of Sam's visits to an obstetrician.

           
Shaking
her head, her whole body trembling, Susan sobbed. Sommer’s was a ruthless swine
who held lives, like ants, in the palm of his hand just waiting to squash them,
never relinquishing his hold until they dangled from his hook begging for
mercy.
 
Shivering, Susan wondered what
her chances were of surviving such wrath.

           
The
following morning sitting motionless on the sofa, tape player in hand, she
recalled vividly the day the members of the so-called board members sauntered
into Howard's office.
 
Having frightened
her beyond reason, nightmares of one pocked marked villain still plagued
her.
 
Certain they were the gang hired to
spy on Brad and Samantha, catching them in the net would make her revenge even
sweeter.
 
Like a queen bee, she set her
sights on her next targets.
          

           
Two
days later, disguised quite impressively, Susan trailed Samantha, the hubbubs
of traffic in Manhattan made it conspicuous only to her that a black van
lingered a few cars behind Samantha's limo. Satisfaction polished Susan's face
with a bright sheen as she penned the license number of the vehicle on a piece
of paper before inserting it into the briefcase along with a highlighted copy
of Sommer’s telephone bills and the tape.
 
Her ultimate joy culminated upon her decision to share her victory with
someone who coveted the same revenge, Ted.
 
Together they would watch an empire fall.
 
Besides, she had nothing to fear, she had
made plans to be long gone by the time Ted delivered the briefcase to the drug
enforcement officials.

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The
weather had changed drastically; it was teeming, lightning, and thunder
rumbling by the time Susan's completed her errands.
 
Peering out of the cab window, she prayed
there would be no delay with her flight.

           
The
taxi stopped in front of a rundown apartment building. Stepping from the cab,
her heeled foot sunk into a puddle of water.
 
Dammit, she silently cursed, as the cold liquid filled her shoe.
 
Digging into her purse for the fare, she
halted the search at the sight of a familiar teenage girl practically running
in the opposite direction approximately a half block ahead with no little girl
in hand.
 
Susan thrust a clenched fist to
her chest to halt her heart from exploding from her chest.
 
Like a freight train out of control her pulse
pounded, surging blood like a whistle blared a warning of impending disaster at
the cross road ahead.
  

           
Her
head jerked first to the right, then left, eyes telescoping for a black van
that had suspiciously disappeared.
 
Still, she knew with all her heart it lurked somewhere.
 
Tossing the driver a ten-dollar bill, she
vaulted up the stairs leading to the main entrance of the tenement cluttered
with cans, papers, garbage, and animal feces.
 
Once across the worn threshold she gripped the banister that shook from
the lack of spindles.
 
The familiar
psychedelic graffiti on the walls closed in and confronted her like grisly
titans.
 
Despite her lightweight, the
warped steps creaked enough to alert, not only the cockroaches and the mice of
her presence, but her suspected adversaries.
 
As dread filled her heart, feeling strangely alone, her footsteps lagged
as she sluggishly climbed the stairs.

           
The
mere thought of Nicole in the clutches of mad men re enforced her courage.
Swiftly her mind recalled the loaded three fifty seven magnum tucked beneath
her pillow.
 
A once horrifying gift from
her over protective brother upon learning she was moving to New York.
 
If they harmed a hair on the head of her
precious, innocent child, Susan she would blow them to hell. Sweat seeping from
beneath her wig trickled down her face streaking caked make-up as she continued
to creep up the stairs like a sneaky alley cat in search of dinner.
 
On her way, nothing seemed normal.
 
No sounds stirred within the elongated,
narrow, checked plaster halls.
 
Silent
were the normal blaring radios, televisions, and stereos, adults swearing,
babies crying, teenagers racing in and out shrieking four letter words.
 
It was as if death from chemical warfare had
swept the complex clean.

           
 
Never before was she so aware of the rancid
odors permeating from the lack of air.
 
The only illumination was a single thirty-watt bulb dangling from the
smutty ceiling on long bare wires, the faint glow making the vast darkness of
the hall appear a catacomb.

           
Throughout
her advance, she hastily removed the wig and glasses now stuffed into her
purse.
 
Red tipped fingers fluffed and
combed bleached blonde hair.
 
Plucking
tissues from her purse, she maddeningly wiped at excessive make-up.
 
Purposely she unbuttoned the first four
buttons of the blouse threatening to choke her to expose abundant firm
breasts.
 
The back of her hand swiped at
the oozing perspiration on her forehead.
 
Painting on red lips, she mindlessly sprinkled cheap toilet water on her
apparel.