Celebration (30 page)

“Once he said his parents always liked to go to the nation's capital to see the cherry blossoms. I think there was a festival or a parade or something in the spring. He said they went every year. He said he never understood the attraction. Once you saw the blossoms they were the same every year. When he got older, his parents left him behind and he didn't have to, as he put it, trudge alongside of them as they ooohed and aaahed over the trees.”

“That might narrow things a little. A trip every year would lead you to believe the family didn't live too far from the capital. That would place him on the East Coast or the tip of one of the Southern states.”

“He was a farm boy with chores. He hated chores. That's why I believed him when he said Kristine lived in the Midwest.”

“Did he have any hobbies? There are farms in Virginia and the Carolinas.”

“Only if you count reading. He loved to read. Sometimes he would stay up all night reading. We got fifteen or twenty magazines a month. He read them all from cover to cover. He read newspapers the same way. He was very knowledgeable.”

“Friends?”

“None that I know of.”

“By the way, I almost forgot, how did you make out with our plane reservations?”

“You leave tonight at eleven o'clock. Switching up like this gives you two extra stops with only a fifty-dollar charge when you check in. It was the best I could do.”

“That's good. We'll be done here long before that. We were talking among ourselves a little while ago, Danela. How would you like to return to the States with us?”

“Oh, I couldn't! What would I do there?”

“We'll find you a job and an apartment. I think the job market might be a little better in the States. You have a valid passport, don't you?”

“Yes. Why would you do this for me?” Going to the United States was something she'd always wanted to do. Logan had shot down that idea the moment she broached it by saying she'd last exactly one week because all Americans were crazy. Then he went on to tell her about the muggings, the knifings, the killings, and the carjackings that went on even in small cities.

“Just because we want to help you. Look, we were booked on one of your competitor's safaris and they canceled on us. The travel agent called everyone she could think of. No one would take us on. Yeah, we would have gotten our money back but even if we could find some other safari to take us, it would have been February at the earliest. But after New Year's, the shit hits the fan and we don't have time to take a deep breath until April sixteenth. We eat on the run, sleep in snatches, and work our asses off. You gave us a hell of a once-in-a-lifetime memory. The fact that you were so nice and went that extra mile for us didn't hurt either. To you, because you've done it hundreds of times, it's old hat. We'll never do it again. We're all taking home a memory we'll never forget. What kind of people would we be if we left you here to flounder? That's just not who we are, Danela. If I were you, I'd take that twenty-five grand out of the bank before they confiscate it. So, what's your answer?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, I would love to go to the United States. What about”—she waved her hands about—“all of this?”

“You leave all of this to us. Pack your things, get your ticket, go to the bank and come back here. We need some more food and coffee, too.”

Danela literally danced her way out to the safari bus. “Thank You, God. Thank You so much. I didn't mean it when I said I would kill Logan. Maybe I'll just cripple him.”

When Danela returned to the office with lunch it was past one o'clock. The accountants were waiting for her, sprawled every which way in the cramped offices. She passed out thick sandwiches, potato fritters, pickles, and coffee. “Are you finished?” she asked hesitantly.

“We've done as much as we can do here. We photocopied everything from the ledgers. I can give you the short version and then the long one on the plane. Brian here is the brains of this outfit, so I think I'm going to let him explain what we've found out.”

Brian Lucas ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes wild. “First things first. I want you at the airport when I start hacking this computer. What I'm going to do is very, as in very, illegal. It's imperative that you be nowhere around here while I'm doing this. You are going to need witnesses who can say you were at the airport. Leave the bus for us. You take a taxi or, if you have a car, use it and leave it at the airport. A taxi driver will log the time. Mention time, look at your watch. Stop for gas, again, look at your watch, mention time. This is your business and you're a full partner. Anything that goes down here will make you liable, but not if you aren't here. As soon as we get the information we need, I'll crash the hard drive. I'll overnight the disks from the airport just in case some overzealous cop gets called in by the Defense Department or the banking industry. I know diddly squat about how this country operates. I'm going to do it right before we leave for the airport. I've got everything all set up. Are you following me?”

“More or less. What exactly are you going to hack into?” Danela asked.

“The military's files. I'm going to find out who Logan Kilpatrick is. I can access his medical records as soon as I find out who he is exactly. I'm doing it by sections of the country. If he was a full bird, that cuts down my work. If I can figure out his password, I can crack his bank account and get an address for him. That's where you come in, Danela. You need to give me words, phrases, things that might be helpful. Without his password all we can find out is his military background and where his ex-wife and children live. We won't find him. Now, start thinking.”

Danela's voice was full of awe. “You can do all that?”

“And more,” Brian said proudly. “Hell, kids hack into the DOD all the time.
Anything
is possible in this computer age. You just don't want to get caught. Okay,” he said, flexing his fingers, “start talking.”

“It could be a word in Swahili. Try Kristine. That was his wife's name. I never knew the names of his children. Try dream. Coming to Africa was a dream of his since he was a boy. Maybe it's bird or colonel. Lord, I don't know. Sex. Scotch. Trust no one.”

Two hours later, Brian called a break. “We're trying too hard. Usually it's a word that is common. Something obvious. You knew the man, Danela, think.”

“I am thinking. Jasmine. He loved the scent of it. He liked gardenia, too. He hated snow but he loved to walk in the rain. He loved the rainy season here. Reading, books. Magazines. Print.”

At four-thirty, frustrated with her inability to contribute what was needed, Danela, said, “
National Geographic.
Logan loved that magazine. He said he used to snitch them from the library at school. Try school or library.”

“Bingo! That's it! We are in, ladies and gentlemen! Lookee here!” Brian chortled.

The accountants and Danela crowded around the computer. “Here's your money, Danela. I say we move it out right now.”

“Nah. Let's let it sit for a while. We don't want to tip our hand. If he's the kind of guy I think he is, he's going to be checking that account on a daily basis. We need to get Danela set up somewhere safe first. Twenty-two million dollars is a hell of a lot of money,” Stephen said happily. “I wonder who it
really
belongs to.”

“Not him, that's for sure,” Danela said. “I can't believe you found my money. Merciful God, how can I ever thank you? What was the word, library or school?”

“Neither. It was NatGeo, for
National Geographic.
I told you this guy could do it!” Stephen said, giving Brian a high five. “It's a hell of a Christmas present, Danela. Once we get to the States and wire that money out, you are going to need one first-class estate planner, and we know the best.”

Danela started to cry. “I'm sorry, I'm just overwhelmed. I never thought I'd see that money ever again.”

“We're going to deduct the interest, too. So, it's more than five million.” Brian chortled. “I wish I could see that bastard's face when he pulls up his account only to find it five mil short. This, ladies and gentlemen, goes under the heading of a good day's work.”

“Hear, hear!”

“Okay, Danela, head for the airport and remember what I told you. We'll see you in a few hours.”

Danela walked around the room kissing each of the accountants, effusive thanks bubbling from her lips. When she got to Stephen, she said, “You are a very kind man, Stephen. Perhaps someday I can do something just as wonderful for you. Merry Christmas, everyone.”

They watched her leave, broad smiles on their faces. “I don't know why or how I know this, but that guy is headed Stateside. Trust me on this,” Brian said.

“I say we clean out the prick's entire account except for $25,010. Let him see how it feels. All in favor, say aye!” one of the accountants said.

“It's a thought.”

“We could go to jail for this, not to mention losing our licenses,” Stephen said quietly.

“That's true, Oh Mighty Leader,” Brian said. “Who is your money on, him or us? Somebody on the run like the colonel ain't going to squawk too loud, especially if he's on the run. All we're doing is looking for an address, a way to track him down. We'll deal with the bank and Danela's money when we know more. He's probably already figuring his next angle. As sure as I'm sitting here, I know he's heading Stateside. By the time we get on that plane tonight, his future is in our very capable hands. You interested in Danela, Stephen?”

“Shut up and take a nap,” Stephen said.
I could be,
was his last conscious thought before drifting into an uneasy sleep.

Logan signed the Hyatt's registration form with a flourish: Justin Eberhart. He looked around the gaily decorated lobby trying to remember if this grand hotel was on Capitol Hill the last time he was Stateside. He rather thought it wasn't. He smiled at the desk clerk as he reached for the card keys to his room.

“How long will you be staying with us, Mr. Eberhart?” the pretty clerk asked, an interested look in her eyes.

“My business should take me a month. Right now I need to do some last-minute Christmas shopping.”

“We have some excellent shops in the hotel, sir. The gift wrapping is exquisite. Enjoy your stay.”

Logan tipped the bellboy generously before he closed and locked the door to his suite of rooms. First things first. He withdrew the small folder with the extra card key and the key to the safe that stood alongside the portable bar. The computer disks with all his banking information were nestled inside a padded manila envelope. His touch was just short of reverent when he placed the envelope inside the safe, locked it, and pocketed the key. It would never do to keep the disks at the farmhouse, and taking the room for a whole month was something he'd planned on the long flight. Not only was it essential to his plan, but he might want some privacy at some point along the way. Kristine had a bad habit of smothering him, wanting to be at his side twenty-four hours of the day. There was no reason to believe her habits had changed over the years. If anything, with his return, she would be even more affectionate, more cloying, more suffocating.

For now all he wanted was a nice hot shower, some food, and a short nap. After that he would peruse the shops in the hotel, make arrangements for limo service out to the farm for tomorrow, and
voilà!
life would start all over again. His way.

An hour later, Logan pushed the luncheon cart through the door to the hallway. While it didn't clutter up the suite of rooms, it didn't fit the decor. He liked things neat and tidy. He double-locked the door, removed the terry robe the hotel provided, and slid naked between the crisp clean sheets. He took a moment to warn himself to sleep no more than two hours. From long years of habit and training, he would wake precisely on time. As he drifted into sleep he tried to remember what Kristine looked like. All he could see was Danela's flaming red hair and deep green eyes. His right eye started to twitch. Danela was no passive Kristine. Danela was piss and vinegar, fire and flames, whereas Kristine was shy and quiet, eager to please and not the least bit experimental. A total wet blanket.

A long time later, Logan rolled over, his long tanned legs thrashing the bedcovers. Even in his sleep he knew his eyes were twitching, a sign that things weren't going the way he wanted them to go. He groaned in his sleep as he strutted up and down the parade grounds clad in his dress uniform, the stars on his shoulders gleaming in the noonday sun. In his gloved hands was the book he lived by, the book the others on the parade grounds tried to ignore.

“You're out of sync,” he roared.

“So who gives a good rat's ass,” Mike roared back.

“I care. That's all you need to know. You are not performing up to expectation.”

Mike broke ranks. “I'm outta here. Stuff this drill, and, while you're at it, shove that book!”

“Get your ass back in line, Mike,” Logan roared again.

Cala and Tyler followed Mike off the parade grounds while Kristine stood at attention. She snapped off a brisk salute. “I can always count on you, can't I, Kristine?”

“Yes, Logan, you can always count on me. Who is that redhead sitting in the stands waving the flag?”

“For God's sake, Kristine, do I have to do your thinking for you? Don't you have a mind of your own? It's Rita Hayworth.”

“Rita Hayworth is dead, Logan. She died a long time ago. Why are you saying she's sitting in the stands? Why are you lying to me? Do you know that woman?”

“Of course I know her. Don't ever call me a liar, Kristine.”

“I'm sorry, Logan. Do you like her better than you like me?”

“What was that, Kristine?”

“Nothing. Why is she watching us?”

“Because I want her to. Any other questions?”

“Is she your lover?”

“She was. I decided you are my one true love. That's why I came home. Do you forgive me, Kristine?”

“Of course. I love you, Logan.”

“I thought you did. I came back because I knew you needed me. I'm glad you aren't independent like Danela.”

“I thought you said it was Rita Hayworth.”

“I said she looks like Rita Hayworth. You are so stupid, Kristine. I don't know how we're ever going to make this work again. Maybe it was a mistake for me to come back.”

“Oh, no, Logan, it wasn't a mistake. Please don't leave again. I need you. I'll do whatever you want.”

The woman in the stands ran down the steps to the ground, the flag waving in the brisk breeze. “Steal my money will you, you son of a bitch! He's a thief. He stole your money, too, and you forgave him! You must be the stupidest female on the face of the earth. All he wants is the rest of your money. He lies and cheats and steals. You can't trust him. Don't trust him, Kristine! He robbed me of all my money, so I was stuck with him. Run, Kristine, run to your children. Run! You have to get away. If you don't go now, you will be lost forever.”

Danela raced up to Logan, she whipped the flag through the air, and ran around him, totally wrapping him in the flag, immobilizing him.

“Run, Kristine, run!” she screamed.

Logan beat at the covers, pushing the pillows to the side as he gasped for air. He was drenched with his own body sweat, the sheets soaking wet. He swung his legs over the side of the bed as he struggled with a pounding headache.

His head dropped to his hands.
I never get headaches. I never dream either. Is this a harbinger of things to come?

Danela was going to be a problem, he thought as he stepped under the shower once more. It wasn't just the dream. He knew in his gut he'd underestimated his former lover. Danela was no Kristine. He needed to give some serious thought to her. A phone call would not be out of order. He needed a sense of what she was going through. He could handle her anger, but her deviousness was something else. Something he should have paid more attention to. Twenty-five thousand dollars wouldn't buy him a scintilla of loyalty where she was concerned. He was definitely not running on all his cylinders. How the hell had he managed to screw that one up? Greed. Pure and simple.

What he needed right now was a couple of stiff belts in the bar and some lively conversation before he took on the dreary task of Christmas shopping for his ungrateful children and adoring wife.

 

 

Logan eyed the stunning blonde with admiration. He'd seen her earlier in the lobby and then again in the bar. Their eyes had met in the lobby; hers were as approving as his were at the time. He tried to ignore the old man in the wheelchair with the portable oxygen tank. His eyes bored into the back of the blonde's head, willing her to turn around. She did, and smiled. He nodded, a smile working at the corners of his mouth. He signaled for the waitress and ordered a bottle of Dom Pérignon to be sent to her table.

Father and daughter?

Ridiculous.

Rich old man and young woman? Rich old dying man and middle-aged woman who still looked good and was a nurse?

A possibility.

Husband and wife?

Too stupid a thought even to consider.

The woman turned and smiled in thanks for the wine. Logan nodded. He waited, sensing her indecision. Finally she crooked her finger for him to join them.

“Justin Eberhart,” he said, using his alias. He held out his hand to the man in the wheelchair, who seemed oblivious to his outstretched hand.

“Maureen and Stedman Clovis. My husband's eyesight isn't the best, Mr. Eberhart. He elected not to have surgery to remove the cataracts. He knows you're here, though. It was very kind of you to send over the Dom. It's my favorite.”

“Call it a Christmas present.”

“I love Christmas,” Maureen said. “So does Stedman.”

“The venture capitalist? That Stedman Clovis?”

Maureen smiled. “The one and only. And you are Justin Eberhart.”

“From Africa,” Logan said without missing a beat. “I operate a safari business. I'm here half on holiday and half on business. It's a little lonely when you don't know anyone. Do you live inside the Beltway?”

“We live all over the world. Stedman wanted to come back here for the holidays.” Maureen lowered her voice to a hushed whisper. “He loves the music, the decorations, and the hustle and bustle of the holidays. He especially likes the tree in the lobby. He could sit and stare at it for hours.”

“And you? Do you like the holidays, too?”

“Love them to death,” Maureen gushed. “Stedman wants me to buy out the stores. I willingly oblige.”

Logan leaned over to inspect the shine on his shoes. He whispered, “Does he talk at all? I feel like we're ignoring him.”

“Stedman has emphysema, and it's difficult for him to talk. He prefers to sit and watch what's going on around him. It's almost time for me to take him upstairs for his medicine. I usually read to him from one of the daily newspapers until he falls asleep. His nurse takes over from there.”

“He must be grateful for your devotion.”

“I'm the grateful one, Mr. Eberhart.” Maureen's voice rose slightly. “My years with Stedman have been the happiest of my life. No one could want or ask for more,” she said as she brought Stedman's bony, clawlike hand to her lips. She kissed it as she massaged it, the diamonds on her hand winking under the recessed lighting.

Logan felt disgust at the sight. He wondered just how rich the venture capitalist was. All he had to do was call the reference desk at any library and he could find out in ten minutes. That's what he would do first thing in the morning. Christmas Eve or not.

“That's wonderful,” Logan said as he slipped his card key onto her lap. He sucked in his breath as he waited for her response. Either she'd let the card drop to the floor or she'd slip it up the sleeve of her dress. She did neither, letting the small piece of plastic lie on her thigh.

“Tell Stedman and me about Africa. It's one of the few places we haven't been. Perhaps when Stedman is more robust,” she said vaguely, her gaze sweeping the room to come to rest on Logan. “Safaris sound so interesting. All those lovely wild animals.”

Logan was like a wound-up toy as he talked, careful to address his dissertation to Stedman Clovis, who stared at him with unblinking intensity.

“It sounds wonderful, doesn't it, Stedman?” Maureen said.

“I think it's time for me to call it a day,” Logan said. “It was nice meeting and talking with you both. Perhaps we'll see one another again before I leave to return to Africa. It's been a long thirty-six hours, and I'm not as young as I used to be. Jet lag,” he said as an afterthought. He waited an extra moment to see if the card key would be returned. It stayed right where it was, on the lovely Maureen's luscious thigh.

“Look, Stedman, it's snowing again. I could go up and get your muffler and shawl and we could go outside for a bit. Mr. Eberhart can keep you company. Would you like that?”

Stedman Clovis turned to look out the window. Maureen took that moment to hike her skirt a little higher so she could slip the card into the top of her stocking.

Garter belt. Logan smirked. He did love garter belts.

The old man turned to face his wife. His skeletal head bobbed from side to side on his stem of a neck. Maureen sighed. “Then I guess we'll say good night, too, Mr. Eberhart. It was nice meeting you. Merry Christmas.”

“The same to you,” Logan said.

Upstairs in his suite, Logan looked at his watch. It was eight-thirty. Ms. Maureen Clovis would be here by ten at the latest. He was so sure of it, his fist shot upward. He still had it. He'd never had to do more than snap his fingers and women were his for the taking.

Logan picked up the phone to call for room service. He ordered two bottles of Dom Pérignon, caviar, fresh strawberries and cream. “Send them up at nine-forty-five,” he said.

With nothing to occupy his time, Logan picked up the Virginia telephone directory. His hands trembled slightly when he flipped to the K's. There it was, K. Kelly and the number. He read the instructions on the phone before he pressed a 1 then an 8 and finally the number. A chill ran up his spine when he heard his wife's cheerful voice. He hung up immediately. He looked down at his arms to see goose bumps dotting his flesh. He started to shake then and didn't know why. Kristine had no right to sound so damn cheerful. No right at all. His hand snaked out to reach for the phone. He drew it back just as quickly. No point in tipping his hand. This feeling, whatever it was, would pass. It was just the shock of hearing his wife's voice and the excitement of seeing Maureen Clovis naked in his bed.

Logan sprawled on the king-size bed. His thoughts weren't on his wife or the lovely Maureen; they were on Danela. Where was she, what was she doing? He reached for the phone, then remembered he'd had the house phone disconnected. She certainly wouldn't be in the offices at four-thirty in the morning. She was probably in England blowing the twenty-five grand with no thought for what the future held for her.

Christ Almighty, am I getting soft in my old age? What is the fascination with Danela all of a sudden?
Did he care for her more than he would admit to himself? Or, was it something else? More like fear. He shivered. Danela was like a smoking gun. Maybe she wasn't going to go quietly. Maybe he made a mistake in kissing her off so nastily. He wondered just how pissed off she was. Why was Danela bothering him like this? He was half a world away. What in the damn hell could she do to him?