Caribbean Rain (8 page)

“Agents. My name is Doctor Mary Gilger, and I’ll be ensuring you walk out of here in better condition than before the accident.”

“Thank you, doctor, but I think we’ve made miraculous recoveries and are ready to check out,” said Josh.

Grinning, Manny thought how charming Josh could be, but judging by the doctor’s body language,
bullshitter
wasn’t anything she embraced.

“I’ll be the judge of that, Agent Corner. None of you police types ever think you’re hurt, or you all have some damn Guardian-of-the-Universe attitude that makes you invincible.”

“Well, that would be him, the blond, blue-eyed cop over there. I’m just a fast healer,” said Josh.

“I can see that about Agent Williams.”

She eyed Manny and winked. “Yes, I know who you are. We know who all of you are. Just because you’re good-looking doesn’t mean we don’t check out who comes to visit injured FBI agents. No one got into this room unless I knew about it. Even Asian women who threaten nurses.”

“Sorry,” said Sophie, running her shoe back and forth on the floor. “She was being a bitch.”

“That’s her job.”

The doctor turned back to Josh. “But you’re also full of shit. You’re not healed and neither is the Irish Princess.”

“I assure you doc—”

“You’re not assuring anything until I get a closer look, got it?” she growled.

Sophie covered her mouth and laughed. Alex didn’t bother. He just laughed out loud. Manny joined him.

“Did ya hear that Williams? I’m royalty. I need to be treated that way,” Chloe reminded him.

“I got it handled,” said Manny.

“I’ve got other patients who might actually listen to what I’ve got to say, so let’s get this in motion. Both of you, on the bed, chop, chop.”

“You guys are in deep do-do,” said Sophie.

Just then the phone rang, and Josh snatched it off the nightstand. “This is Corner. Yes, Detective Ruiz. Good to hear from you, too.”

The expression on Josh’s face changed, and Manny felt his heart climb to his throat.

“What’s the bad news, detective?” asked Josh.

A moment later, the phone slowly slipped from his hand and bounced off the tiled floor. Manny grabbed it before it could rebound a second time. He brought the phone to his ear and heard only static and line noise.

The room had taken on one of those eerie quiet reversals of ambience with which this group had grown far too familiar. Joy one moment, hell the next. By the look on Josh’s face, hell had left another calling card. Manny wondered if it would ever stop.

“What is it, Josh?” he asked softly.

“Remember that ‘in’ I have, uh, had at the rainforest park department?”

“Yes.”

“He was the head of the division. They just found his body, and he was murdered like the others.”

Josh looked at Manny with a sadness he thought only possible in his own world. “His name is Caleb, Caleb Corner, my brother.”

Chapter-14

Wiping the blood and tissue, not to mention the pesky strands of hair, from his blade, he couldn’t get the smile off his face. The task of cleaning his sword had been very unpleasant at first, maybe even morbid. However, after the second executions, the cleaning began to lend itself as pleasurable on some level. He had studied other areas of academia but had little desire to delve deeply into the human psyche. He still didn’t, but his natural curiosity couldn’t, wouldn’t, be dismissed as easily as a confused student in one of his classes. Nevertheless, he had little time to research what his emotions might mean. He was far too busy, and in a real sense, enjoying himself far too much to care what any such analysis would reveal. His overall purpose was noble, enlightened, even destined, if one chose to travel down the road leading to any kind of spiritual superstition or religion. God never entered into his definition of existence, but if there was a God, He would surely approve of what he was doing. After all, sacrifice was a part of any equation that leads to advancing human knowledge. His smile grew wider.

Never mind that each lesson I deliver to the infidels in my rainforest is becoming almost as satisfying as any sexual encounter I’ve ever experienced . . . maybe more.

He carefully placed the rapier back in the sheath and took it into the den, securing it in the oblong safe he had built just for his collection. He bent lower and frowned in concentration, examining the safe’s contents with the gaze of a protective, proud father. Each one was perfect in its own right. Each one carefully constructed by men who shared his passion for perfection and purity, albeit centuries in the past. The type of genius required to create such objects of sheer precision was as rare then as it was today.

After touching and affectionately caressing each of the other five rectangular cases, he chose one that was a little shorter than the rest. There was no question that his attempt at impartiality was compromised by what lay hidden in the felt lining of the customized leather case. It was his favorite. He felt a tinge of guilt at that admission, but truth is always truth, no matter how much makeup one uses to disguise it.

Carefully pulling out the container, he released the combination locks at each corner and opened it. He could only stare for a moment, then was compelled to glide the fifteenth century Koto Katana sword from its resting place. The ivory handle had been restored and the gold inlaid inscriptions running down the blade were almost as bright and colorful as the day they were created.

The hilt was curved in the classic two-handed custom of that era and it felt like it
belonged
in his hands. There was a sense of oneness he could barely comprehend, but it didn’t matter. Love is never predictable or understood; it just is. And make no mistake—he loved this blade like a man loved his new bride.

He tenderly fingered the inscription. He’d spent long hours researching and growing in understanding of each message and the incredible culture behind the craftsman, known as Ippo, who’d built this blade. He knew that it had all of its dimensions recorded in the inscription and how rare a six-fold carbon construction was. The legends surrounding the forging of this weapon included the adding of human blood in the molding method. All very interesting, but not as interesting as the cutting tests. The tester of this blade had accomplished a rare feat with this particular sword. It was called a two-body cut. The tester had successfully cut clean through two living human bodies, according to the inscription, in an attempt to reveal the quality of construction the Katana possessed. Closing his eyes, he could picture the test being accomplished. He felt himself swoon with emotion.

“What a seal of approval that must have been,” he whispered. “If only I’d been there.”

He brought the blade to his face. The aroma of old ivory and steel caused him to close his eyes in pure ecstasy. This instrument, this lover of justice and vengeance, would accompany him on the next step of his purging mission. If the defilers of his rainforest wouldn’t leave El Yunque, the blood of the sacrifices would be on the hands of the bureaucrats that let them in, not on his.

Thrusting the sword in the air, turning two perfect pirouettes, he stopped in a striking pose as gracefully as any dancer. He then placed the sword back in its home, laughing out loud as he did. It was getting late in the afternoon, and as much as he wanted, perhaps needed, to visit the rainforest and teach another lesson, he’d get an early start at dawn. After all, morning surprises were always the best. They radiated a semblance of Christmas morning, and who didn’t appreciate Christmas morning? Besides, he loved being the bearer of surprises. Who knew, after a few more bodies, maybe the government would shut down public access to his rainforest. He sighed. It wouldn’t be for a while, he suspected, because humans are innately stupid. Of course, law enforcement would have to make its usual ridiculous attempt to figure out what was going on and to capture the immoral person responsible for the murder of innocents.

He felt his blood instantly boil, his heart rate climb. There was no justice for his mother and certainly hadn’t been any for El Yunque over the years. He knew that double standards and concepts of right and wrong prevailed in this age. But they hadn’t counted on someone like him. He would win. He would change perceptions. Nevertheless, he’d begun to leave them clues, a fighting chance to meet him. Something his rainforest, and his mother, no longer had.

Chapter-15

“Perhaps I’ve not made myself clear,” spoke Randall Fogerty, leaning on the counter of the car rental office. “I need the limo I always rent when I come to San Juan.”

The attendant stepped back, eyes widening to the sweet venom in his voice. But she repeated what she’d said a moment earlier, her Latino accent heightened by stress. “I’m sorry, sir, that vehicle is reserved, and I cannot give it to you. I hope you understand. It’s our policy.”

He leaned closer and spoke softer. “What’s your name?”

“Evita, sir.”

“Ah. That means life, yes?”

“Yes sir, it does.”

Her nervousness was escalating. Good. “Well Evita, does it look like I give a lizard’s ass about your policy?”

“I . . . I, no it doesn’t, but—”

At that moment, a man emerged from the back office, and he immediately rushed to the counter, eyes showing more than just a concern for customer service.

“Mr. Fogerty. We weren’t expecting you.”

“That seems fairly obvious, muchacho. This fine young lady refuses to give me the limo; she says it’s already reserved.”

“Let me take a look.”

A moment later, after a few hurried key strokes, he looked up, smiling in relief. “It seems that reservation has been canceled. I’ll have the car brought up,
señor
.”

Evita looked at her manager, then back to Fogerty. “I’m sure that reservation is still—”

“Evita. Please go tell Alfredo to bring the limo up, now.”

“But—”

“I said now, if you want to work your next shift,” his eyes on fire.

She bowed her head and moved to the back office.

“Thank you, Benito. I appreciate the way you handled that.” Fogerty shook his hand. “For that kind gesture, we’ll leave the interest rate for your loan at twenty-five percent. You’ve been a day late on the payment twice, so we could raise it, but you did well.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Fogerty. I appreciate that. My daughter is doing well from the surgery and her chances are good.”

Fogerty smiled wider and leaned closer. “I hope that makes you feel better, because frankly, I don’t give a shit. If you miss another payment, you’ll have more trouble than she. Got that?”

Benito’s voice shook. “Ye. . . yes sir. It won’t happen again.”

“I know it won’t.”

Fogerty spun on his heel and walked through the doors to the awaiting limo. Braxton instructed one of the bodyguards to take the wheel and the other to ride shotgun, while he climbed in back with his boss.

Fogerty grinned as Braxton folded into the backseat opposite him. Not a small man himself at six feet and two hundred pounds, he was nothing compared to his number one man. Watching him get into the limo and get comfortable was always a show.

Braxton returned the grin. “Dey don’t make des like dey use ta.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

Braxton nodded, then abruptly hit the dividing glass that separated driver and passenger.

“Let’s go, mon. Get dis ting up to the rainforest, now,” he yelled.

Fogerty nodded his approval.

It was time to end this charade, and no one could do that better than he.

Chapter-16

Manny waited for Chloe and Josh outside the sterile examination room. Sitting in the padded chair, he ran his hand through his hair, contemplating Josh’s revelation regarding his brother. Shock was probably too strong a word, but it seemed his world was never devoid of the type of surprises that raised his blood pressure and made slack-jaw the expression of the day.

The waiting room was empty, and for that, he was glad. He could use the quiet. Sophie and Alex had gone out to fill the SUV with gas and retrieve their baggage. Alex also wanted to call the Bureau for an updated time frame for when they could get another plane into Cleveland. The cell phone reception in the hospital was terrible, maybe by design, so he tagged along with Sophie. He said they’d be back in thirty minutes. Manny smiled to himself. Sophie was driving, and she had said twenty.

After announcing his brother Caleb had been murdered, Josh had explained what he meant by brother. Caleb was actually his half-brother and had come to the Corner family at age thirteen. Josh’s father had had a bit of a wild side growing up and had gotten a young woman pregnant. She wanted nothing to do with him, married another man, and moved to the West Coast. The family apparently had trouble staying together. Then Josh’s family had gotten the call, out of nowhere, and he had a brother.

Josh said Caleb had come from an extremely troubled home, where beating the children for no apparent reason and smoking crack cocaine had been routine for Caleb’s parents, especially for his stepdad.

The four-year difference in age, with Josh being older, prevented them from being close, but they talked a few times a year and up until Josh’s mom passed away two years ago, saw each other for Christmas and her birthday.

Watching his friend’s face and body language as he told the story, Manny could tell that Josh was creeping close to the level of stress and anxiety that could be a little more than any man might be able to handle. As surprised as Josh was at the news of his brother’s death, and the way he’d died, Manny was sure there was still something else going on. The reaction he’d seen just before the doctor had entered told Manny he was right. But then, like he’d seen him do so many times over the last two years, Special Agent Josh Corner set his face and eyes in that familiar
I got this
mode and became all business. If ghosts were enjoying the haunt in Josh’s head, he wasn’t telling anyone about them. Josh could shift gears almost as well as Manny—and Manny knew that dance.