Fatal (10 page)

“Make sure your oil is at 360 or 370. No hotter or you’ll burn the fish,” Cassie said. “If it’s too low it won’t get crispy.” She turned to look at him. “Hey, are you paying attention to anything I’m saying?”

Ronnie got up from his chair and moved in close, nudging until he had her pinned against the counter. He took the bowl and fork out of her hand and put them in the sink behind her. Reaching under the t-shirt, he placed his hands just above her hips and pulled her in close. Her skin was still warm from the shower. He buried his face into the curve of her neck and inhaled. Cassie pushed back with her hips, rubbing against his front. “Why, Ronnie Gilmore, I didn’t know the subject of frying fish was so exciting to you or I would have given you lessons a long time ago.”

“I could use a lesson right now,” Ronnie said, “maybe even two lessons if the subject matter is this interesting.”

Cassie pushed him away by the shoulders. “Go take a shower. You smell like fish and sweat.” She was smiling and Ronnie knew that was a good sign. He reluctantly headed for the small bathroom, turned on the shower, and took off his clothes. Stepping in, he let the warm water wash over him. He was reaching for the soap when Cassie beat him to it. “It’s time for lesson number one,” she said, stepping into the shower. “Showers are always better when they’re shared.” Ronnie grinned and made room for her. “And lesson number two?” he asked. Cassie took his hands and put them on her chest, reached around his back and pulled him close. “Lesson number two is save some hot water because we’re going to need another shower when we’re done.”

*****

The phone rang while Luke Francis was in the shower. He had spent the day waiting for the phone to ring, and when it didn’t cooperate had finally given in and taken a break. With the water roaring and the door half closed, he thought he heard something and turned the shower off. The ringing continued. Cursing, he stepped out, grabbing a towel off the rack. It rang again as he was making his way around the bed, trying to wrap himself up at the same time. Soap dripped out of his hair onto the carpet as he picked up the receiver. By the time he said hello, the dial tone was sounding in his ear.

*****

“He has to be eliminated,” Cassie said. She and Ronnie were together in bed in the small room across from the bathroom. After making love they had fallen asleep, Cassie on her side with Ronnie spooned up behind her. Waking up with Luke Francis on her mind made Cassie realize just how disturbing the man’s intrusion into their lives had become to her.

“We can’t just kill anybody that bothers us,” Ronnie said, rubbing his eyes. “We have to look at everything, make sure there’s no other way around it.” He never woke up as quickly as Cassie did, and he certainly did not want to talk about killing anyone when he was still in the lingering aftermath of a dream. He sat up and the sheets fell away, revealing Cassie from the waist up. Ronnie leaned toward her, resting his head on one hand while the other fell into the smooth curve of her waist. He stroked the skin there, enjoying how she felt, while he tried to collect his thoughts.

Cassie pulled the covers the rest of the way back and got out. “You need to get out of bed,” she said as he lay back down, yanking the sheet over his head. She made her way to the dresser and began pulling out clothes, a pair of panties and a bra, jeans, a white cotton shirt. ‘Come on,” she said. “We’ve got to get dressed and figure out what we’re going to do. I don’t think your brain works when I’m standing in front of you with no clothes on. Get moving.”

Cassie dressed and padded out to the kitchen. Ronnie reluctantly got out of bed and began digging around for his own stuff. He could hear her moving around in the kitchen, picking up where she had left off on their interrupted meal. By the time he finally found a pair of tennis shoes and made his way into the room, Cassie had the fish frying in the pan again. The smell made him immediately hungry. A few minutes later, Cassie had fried fish and potatoes on the table and Ronnie fell to it.

“Our problem is,” Cassie said a few minutes later while forking up a piece of fish, “is that we don’t have a big enough stick. We don’t have anything that would make him back off. So … our only choice is to get rid of him.”

Ronnie nodded his head. He was working his way through a pile of fries on his plate, dipping each one in a generous amount of ketchup. “I can see your point but remember we don’t know who he’s told about us. We have no idea how many people he brought with him. And, who takes his place? We could get some asshole that’s even worse. I think out best bet is to try to reason with him first.”

“We can try,” Cassie said. “But then that means we have to trust him. It also gives him an opportunity to come up with another way to corral us.”

“We don’t have to trust him. We just have to have him by the balls so he can’t order us around.” Ronnie was trying to find some way around another bout of killings. While he had no qualms about killing when his or Cassie’s life was at stake, he was aware enough to realize that any killing would draw attention somewhere. The two men they had dumped in the lake, and the killings of Kohl and his men at the lakefront, would draw massive amounts of coverage. He was certain that the police would find nothing at the lakefront, and the men now bumping along the bottom of the lake would not be found anytime soon, if ever. Somewhere, though, someone would know the men were gone. Their disappearance would be noted somewhere. Eventually, they would come looking. In the back of his mind was another question. When would their luck run out?

“I don’t know,” Ronnie said. He got up and rinsed his plate, setting it in the rack to dry. “Seems like whichever way we go there’s a downside.”

“What if…?” Cassie said. She stopped. Something was turning around in her brain. “What if it wasn’t just an out and out killing? What if Francis died in an accident? Or if he was killed crossing the street? Or in a robbery? Or if he just went away and couldn’t be found?”

“That still won’t solve the problem of who takes over after him,” Ronnie said. “Someone has to. If he’s got our names written down somewhere we’ll be right back where we started.” They spent the better part of the afternoon talking about it without coming up with an answer.

*****

Luke Francis was doing some thinking of his own. For all his interest in Ronnie Gilmore and Cassie Reynold, he was still operating without all the facts of their history. Now, waiting for their call, he decided to arm himself. Their case history was in his briefcase; three hundred dry pages created by Philip Archer and deposited in his safe, along with a dozen or so files of important assets. When he assumed control of the organization, he gained access to those files. He dug it out of his briefcase, settled into the sofa and started with page one.

COSMOS was undoubtedly the biggest success of Philip Archer’s career. Working in complete secrecy, Archer had begun exploring the idea of psychic intervention in intelligence work. The project was a reaction to the rumor that the Soviet Union was looking into the theory and had made significant headway. A concurrent project, STARGATE, had been underway at the same time, and while there were indications that some information was available using the tactic, it was extremely difficult to weed out the chaff from the grain. Archer’s researcher had struck on the idea of using children. A chance connection had delivered the idea that young people operated without the influence of prior knowledge that polluted the results in adults.

That researcher, a man named Cutter, devised a plan to screen elementary school children for the ability to Remote View. Hundreds of subjects underwent testing before Cutter struck pure gold in Ronnie and Cassie. He hit on a million to one shot. Unfortunately for Cutter, an agent named Thorne had been in on it from the beginning. His own plans for power turned him into a renegade. He attempted to kidnap Ronnie and Cassie for his own use. The results were disastrous. Dead agents, a massive coverup, millions of dollars spent burying the whole incident.

What Thorne had not anticipated was the deadly nature of Cassie Reynold. A thirteen-year girl with a mass of curly brown hair and a shy nature had turned out to be one of the most formidable foes Archer’s agent had ever come across, and he paid for it with his life and the lives of several other agents. Cassie had evaded capture, blown Thorne away in a fiery explosion, and eventually crafted a deal with Archer that proved beneficial to both sides. The more he read, the more uneasy Francis grew, and the more he realized that he might not have given the situation the attention it deserved. He finished the report and looked at the phone. Time to play tough, he thought, and picked up the phone.

*****

“Try him again,” Ronnie said. Their first attempt at reaching Francis ended with Cassie hanging up in frustration. Ronnie still argued for negotiation, trying to ward off Cassie’s full blown tendency to retaliate viciously. Over time, he had worn her down, and eventually she agreed to try reasoning with the man before things got out of hand. The fact that he had exposed them to danger already might be enough to convince him that Archer’s method was better, that their existence could be hidden if they weren’t used extensively. Occasionally calling on their talents would be better than losing them forever. Cassie gave in and made the first call. The fact that Francis didn’t answer the phone set off a whole new series of debates. Now the evening was falling and Ronnie wanted another try. Cassie reached the hotel, asked for Francis, and listened as it rang again.

“Yes? Hello?” Francis said on the other end.

“This is my second call,” Cassie said, not trying to hide the aggravation. “When I say to wait for my call, I expect you to answer.”

“You work for me,” Francis replied. “I’m not at your beck and call. In fact, it’s you who’s going to do what I say. Now, you got me down here, so tell me exactly what you think is going on. I need an explanation.”

“Your man is only safe because of us. I’ll tell you what we want. We want to meet with you. Just you. We want to hash out a deal, the same kind of deal we had with Archer. We need you to leave us in peace. If you really need us we can help, but in exchange we get security and we get on with our lives.”

Francis laughed into the phone. “I don’t think you realize the situation. I’m not Philip Archer. What I will do is talk to you. I’m not promising anything, but you’ll see that I can be reasonable. You two are a valuable asset. There is no getting around that. You have to face the facts though, Cassie. The security of the United States is more important than you or any number of people. Cooperate, and I’ll give you as much as I can. However, from now on you’re going to be on a short leash. You and Ronnie both. “

“Tomorrow morning. Café du Monde. Eight o’clock. Come alone,” Cassie said, and hung up the phone.

Ronnie looked at her as she put down the phone. “That went well.”

*****

Morning found Luke Francis walking down Decatur Street. He had risen early and eaten a proper breakfast in the hotel. Still, as he approached Café du Monde, the smell of coffee and beignets was appealing. The weekday morning made it easier than usual to find a table. It was still thirty minutes before the meeting, but Francis was taking no chances. He had one man positioned at the patio entrance, another lounging on a bench across the street in front of Jackson Square. A third man, looking and smelling like a wino, was sprawled on the levee behind the building. Each carried a radio. Francis had his own in the pocket of his jacket.
It was about as good a situation as he could hope to have. His primary plan was to get both Cassie Reynold and Ronnie Gilmore and take them into custody. With any luck, that could be done peacefully, but he was prepared to use force if necessary. He ordered a café au’lait and half a dozen beignets.

He worked his way through half his coffee and three doughnuts before Ronnie showed up at the table. The boy was dressed in an Army surplus jacket, jeans, and a sweatshirt.
A ball cap pulled low on his head kept his face in shadow. Francis was amused. “A little melodramatic, don’t you think, Ronnie?” Francis looked around. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“She’s not here,” Ronnie replied. “She didn’t think this was a good idea. She doesn’t trust you.”

“I’m offended. Do you trust me?”

“No. I just think we can work together, even if we don’t like each other. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.” Ronnie signaled the waiter for coffee and picked up a beignet, sprinkling powdered sugar on it as he looked at Francis. “The thing is, you can’t make us do anything. Even if you were to lock us up, you couldn’t make us do what we can do.”

Francis almost laughed. “I can do whatever I want, Ronnie. You see, what you didn’t think of is this: You have families. At any given moment I could have your parents picked up, or frame them for a crime. I could even have them killed. Seeing your parents in jail might change your mind about cooperating.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Ronnie said. “You can’t do that. It’s against the law.”

“The law?” This time Francis did laugh. “There’s no law here, Ronnie. I am the law. Now here’s what I want you to do. You come with me. We’re going to my hotel. Then you’re going to call Cassie and have her come in. Then we’re all going to go to a nice little place I’ve got in the country and we’re going to get to work.”