Hacker For Hire (Ted Higuera Series Book 2) (14 page)

Ted stared at his
loft wall. Oscar purred and rubbed against his face.

****

Darkness came earlier
every day. It took forever for the days to grow longer in the spring, but in
the fall, Catrina felt like they plunged head long into darkness. She was a Seattle girl. Born here, spent her whole life here. Still, the winter darkness and the
incessant rain took its toll. She could feel herself slipping into her annual
winter depression.

She sat in the tan
leather driver’s seat of her Ford Explorer. This was by far the nicest car she
had ever owned. It was far more vehicle than she needed ninety-percent of the
time, but that other ten-percent, when she had to get a battered wife and kids
out of a desperate husband’s grasp, she was glad she spent the money on it.

She usually didn’t
hang around in Kmart parking lots. Tom told her to meet him here. If his
captain caught him talking about his case with her, he’d spend the rest of his
career handing out parking tickets.

The passenger side
door cracked open and Tom slipped in.

“Hi, Cat.” He
reached over, pecked her on the lips and handed her a decaf skimmed milk mocha,
cinnamon sprinkle, hold the whipped cream. He always drank drip coffee.

He was a good
looking man, sort of. A shade over six feet with broad shoulders and narrow
hips. He worked out a lot. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. When she made
love to him, she appreciated the strength and power of that body. She felt like
she was controlling a dangerous animal.

He was brown over
brown, dark brown hair and brown eyes. His face, well, he had suffered a skin
condition when he was young. His complexion resembled the craters on the moon.
If she was honest, she would have said that he had a rugged handsomeness.

“Tom, what do you
have for me?” It was safer if she got right down to business.

“I got the
coroner’s report back on Donna Harrison. We still don’t have any physical
evidence. No obvious suspects. The husband’s alibied. He’s a stay-at-home house
husband. He was with his kids at the time. They’ve both confirmed it. She was
the president of some sort of high tech security firm. No one seems to know
what she was working on.”

Should she share
what she knew? “I find that hard to believe.” No, there was no reason to show
her cards too early. “How can someone as visible as the president of the
company not have anyone know what they’re doing?”

Tom unbuttoned his
coat. Cat always kept her car warm.

“It smells to me,
too, but they’ve buttoned up tight. Husband, secretary, other corporate
officers all refuse to tell me anything.”

Cat scanned her
rearview mirrors. She never sat still in one place for long without checking
her perimeters for threats.

“Everyone seems to
like Mrs. Harrison. She won some kind of big industry award a few years ago for
fighting computer viruses.”

“Could that have
something to do with it? The Russian Mafia is into all sorts of computer
crime.”

Tom shook his
head. “It doesn’t look like a professional hit to me. I’m guessing that whoever
killed her didn’t mean to do it. She was tortured, her heart gave out. I think
it probably surprised him as much as it surprised her.” He took a sip of his
coffee.

Okay
, she
thought.
What was the bastard up to? What did she know that he wanted to know?

“It was an
interesting case of torture.” Tom continued. “Except for the electrical shock,
no other signs of trauma. No sexual trauma. He didn’t hit her, didn’t inflict
any other kinds of pain. Of course, he could have pulled out her finger nails,
we’ve never recovered her fingers or teeth.”

“Great, he was a
considerate torturer.”

“It was definitely
sexual-sadistic torture. I think that was as much for humiliation as it was to
induce pain. This guy’s half a bubble off level.”

“I wonder if he’s
going to strike again. Or was this just about Donna? He needed some information
from her, now he’s done?”

Tom studied her
for a minute. She could see his investigator’s wheels turning in his head.

“So, Cat, you’ve
never told me what your interest in this case is. It doesn’t look like a
divorce case to me. She seems to have had a happy home. No abuse, she was the
breadwinner. I doubt if it’s sexual harassment, she was the top dog at her
company. Who would harass her? What’s this all about?”

Should she tell
him about her case? She was bound to keep Alison Clarke’s confidence, but this
was now a murder investigation.

“It really doesn’t
have much to do with the case I’m working on. I just stumbled onto Donna
peripherally. She was a friend of my client’s and she disappeared. That’s all.”

“I get tired of
this one-way street. You always come to me when you need something, but you
never share what you know with me. You can’t always expect me to be there at
your beck and call. Cat, either we get serious or we don’t, but you can’t just
keep me dangling.”

This wasn’t about
the case was it? It always came back to their relationship. Did they even have
a relationship?

She liked Tom. He
was always there when she needed him. But there were the trust issues, she
couldn’t bring herself to trust any man.

“Well, whoever
did it, whatever his reasons, he deserves to be punished. We have to find him.
An eye for and eye, justice demands it. Someone like that has to be removed
from society.”

“Cat, don’t go
there. I know how your mind works. This isn’t one of your domestic violence
cases. We’re going to get the bastard. Don’t get involved. Let us do our job.
We’re pretty good at this, you know.”

A light rain splattered
on the windshield. The evening darkened, along with her mood.

The flight from
Seattle to LA was a two and a half hour hop. Chris barely had time to get his
long legs uncoiled and catch a nap when the captain announced they were
preparing to land.

Ted fidgeted in
the seat next to Chris. Ted’s anxiousness mildly amused Chris. He had visited
Ted’s family a couple of times in college, but he’d never seen his friend so
nervous.

The warm LA
evening hit Chris in the face as he walked down the jet way.
This sure isn’t
Seattle in November.

It was all Chris
could do to keep up with Ted as he sprinted to the baggage claim area.

“Where’s the damned
baggage?” Ted danced on one foot at the side of the baggage carousel.

“Calm down,
amigo
.
The baggage’ll get here when it gets here.”

Finally, after an
inordinate amount of time, Chris’ TravelPro case and Ted’s backpack came down
the chute.

“Let’s get a move
on. Hope’s probably waiting for us.” Ted slung his pack over his shoulder and
darted towards the door like he was returning a kickoff against UCLA.

Chris followed his
friend to the sliding glass doors at a more sedate pace. By the time he made it
to the pickup area, Ted had dropped his pack on the pavement next to an old
white Chevy conversion van and swept his little sister up in his arms.

“Chris, you
remember Hope don’t you?” Ted dropped the pretty girl back to the ground.

It always confused
Chris. Half the time Ted called his sister Hope and the other half he used her
Mexican name, Esperanza, which meant Hope. “Of course I remember you.”

Hope flung her
arms around Chris and gave him a big hug
.

“Hi, Chris. We’re
all so excited to see you guys. We haven’t seen Teddy in months.”

“Wow! You’ve
really grown up.” Chris held Hope by her shoulders and looked her up and down. Actually,
she hadn’t grown up as much as she had filled out. She still couldn’t be a
millimeter over five-foot-two, but she wasn’t the gangly teenager Chris
remembered from his last visit. Here was one hell of a good-looking young
woman.

Her deep chocolate
eyes were what Chris’ mom would have called bedroom eyes. Her long black hair
hung luxuriously down to her waist. She did a good job filling out the tight
jeans and Old Navy T-Shirt too.

“Let’s get going,
hermanos
,
your flight was late. Mom’s expecting you.”

Hope took the 105
to the 110, finally exiting onto S. Alameda Street. Friday night rush hour
traffic was every bit the nightmare in LA that it was in Seattle. By the time
Hope pulled through the wrought iron gates into the driveway of the modest
Spanish Colonial style house, Chris was ready to stretch his legs.

The house was
Papa’s pride and joy. He spent every off hour working on the yard or fixing up
the house. A high stucco fence surrounded the property with a wrought-iron gate
and matching wrought-iron bars over the windows. A fountain trickled in the
driveway with an avocado tree to one side and an orange tree to the other.

Chris had been
here before, but there seemed to be an energy emanating from the stucco walls
and red tile roof of Ted’s house. He heard music coming from within.

The front door flew
open.

“They’re here!” A
dark-haired teenage boy cried back into the house. His deep tan belied the fact
that it was November.

Chris wasn’t even
wearing the heavy parka he’d worn onto the plane. It felt like summer here in
palm tree land.

“Eduardo! Christopher!”
Mama, a tiny, dark woman who looked much younger than her years came bounding
out of the front door. She rushed, open armed to Ted.

Ted picked her up
and swirled her about.

“Chris.
Mucho
gusto
.” Papa, a short dark man with a Pancho Villa mustache, put out a
strong hand and grabbed Chris’, then pulled him into a big hug. Broad
shouldered, barrel chested, Papa looked like an older, heavier version of Ted.

“Papa, good to see
you.” Chris was swept into the house in a flurry of hugs, handshakes and pats
on the back.

The house looked
just like Chris remembered it. A worn sofa covered in a brightly colored
serape
against the wall, candles flickered at a shrine to the Virgin of Guadalupe
in the corner. Most of the furniture came from Mexico long ago. Scratches and
rings covered the coffee table littered with copies of
La Opinion.

Before he had time
to put his bag down, Chris had a Dos XX in his other hand. Hope had her hands
around his arm and led him to a back bedroom.

“You and Ted can
sleep with the boys.” Two single beds crowded against the walls, and two
mattresses lay on the floor between them. “C’mon. You’ve got to come out to the
backyard. Papa has a big fiesta going on.”

Chris felt himself
led through the small house and out the kitchen door. The backyard, surrounded
by a high stucco fence trimmed with red bricks, teemed with people.
Abuelita
,
Ted’s grandmother, sat on the brick-raised bed circling an avocado tree.

“Teddy,
ven aquí
!”
She jumped to her feet and shouted at the sight of Ted.

Under the orange
tree, four men, dressed in bright
mariachi
costumes, belted out a tune.
Wow,
it must have cost Papa a month’s wages to hire a band.
Everywhere bougainvillea
showered purples and pinks into the yard.

On a long table
against the house, food of every description, nestled into brightly decorated
terra cotta pots and trays, wafted hypnotic odors.

“Come,
Christopher,” Mama said. “You must be hungry.
Eat. Esperanza,
triagas
nuestro invitado un plato
.”

Before Chris had
time to respond, Hope was filling a plate from the table.

“What are those?”
Chris asked as Hope scooped little red pieces of meat onto his plate.

“
Carnitas
en adobado,
” she smiled.
“Papa’s specialty.” She stopped and gave
Chris an appraising look. “You’re way too skinny. You’re going to need lots of
frijoles
and
tortillas
.”

She heaped his
plate with beans and rice, then rolled a
tamal
from its
hoja
and
smothered it with
Abuelita’s
special dark red chile sauce, and finally
shoved a
chile relleno
onto the over-crowded plate.

Chris was swept up
in a swirl of kids and deposited at a wooden picnic table. Ted plopped down
opposite him and Hope sat at his right. Two teenage boys fought for the
position on his left.

“Carlito, Guillermo,”
Hope barked. “Back off. You’re going to spill Chris’ food.” She smiled at
Chris. “We don’t have many Anglo friends. It’s not often we have a blondie in
our back yard.”

“Atención. Por favor. Todos, su atención.”
Mama beat on the bottom of a sauce pan with a metal serving
spoon. “Papa has some important news to announce. Teddy, come up here.”

Ted stuffed a
tortilla
full of
carnitas
and
frijoles
in his mouth, grabbed his beer
bottle and jumped up. Chris smiled, his buddy sure wasn’t going to miss a bite
if he could help it.

“
Amigos, mi
familia
,” Papa looked like he was giving a campaign speech. “I want to
thank you all for being here today.” He wrapped a muscled arm around Ted’s
shoulder and pulled him tight. “I want to thank God and
la virgin santísima
for the good fortune they have brought to us.”

Chris noted a
catch in Papa’s voice, tears forming in his eyes.

“Our Teddy has
come home for a special event. As you all know, we had the good fortune to win
the SuperLotto. Teddy and his friend Gina, in Seattle, have helped us work out
what to do with all that money. Tomorrow, Teddy is going down to collect the
money. On Monday, I am going to buy
El
Chaparral.
”

El Chaparral
was the restaurant where Papa had labored for over two decades.

The crowded burst
into applause. “
Ay, ay, ay!”
Several of the men shouted loud
gritos
.
The mariachi band began playing, all round Chris, people yelled and jumped and
hugged.
We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto
, Chris thought to himself.

“And now, I hope I
can ask Teddy for
un favor mas
.” Papa pulled Ted even closer to him. Ted
had a wary look in his eyes. “Teddy, now that we’re going to own
El Chaparral
,
I need you to come home. You come back and work with us in the restaurant, no?”

“Papa, you know I
have a new job, a life in Seattle.” Ted looked like he was a little kid caught
with his hand in the cookie jar.

“
Si,
but
this is
familia
. Your Mama she wants you back home. Blood is thicker
than money, no? You come home.”

Ted looked horror
stuck. “Can we talk about this later?”

Chris didn’t hear
what happened next. His Blackberry vibrated on his hip.

“Damn.” A text
from Kathy. The Dragon Lady wanted him back in Seattle. Yesterday.

****

Neither Ted nor
Chris were much in the mood for talking on the flight back to Seattle. Ted was
lost deep in a dark mood. Chris’ Blackberry vibrated every few minutes until he
turned it off on the plane. The Dragon Lady wouldn’t leave him alone. As soon
as they were back on the ground, it started up again. By the time he got home,
she had a week’s worth of work lined up for him. And she wanted it all on her
desk by Monday night.
What was she doing working on a Sunday anyway?

****

The world
headquarters of Millennium Systems occupied the entire Millennium Tower at Fourth and Columbia in Seattle. The Tower, build on a pedestal that gradually widened
to cover the entire block, had a grass and tree covered park at its base. The
unusual building was often featured in architectural magazines.

After collecting
temporary ID badges at building security in the glass and marble lobby, Ted and
Catrina rode the elevator towards the forty-fifth floor, the executive office
suite.

Catrina wore a
tailored navy business suit with a short skirt and heels. The heels gave her a four-inch
height advantage over Ted. Diamond studs and a gold chain finished off her
outfit.
She never wears jewelry at work.
Her jacket hid her bust line,
but her legs looked great.
How come she‘s dressing up to see Alison Clarke?
Ted couldn’t remember seeing her in heels before.

“These dudes
certainly don’t scrimp when it comes to their building, do they?” Ted asked. In
the lobby, a fountain danced in front of some sort of two-story tall modern art
mural that he couldn’t understand. As they entered the elevator, Ted noticed
the cherry wood and brass trimmed car.

“Terry Metcalf
brought his company west from Baltimore in the eighties.” Catrina said. “He
took a moderately successful family business and built it into a world
powerhouse. There aren’t many people in the world who could have done what he
did.”

“So how come they
kicked him out?” Ted watched the floors light up on the control panel as the
elevator climbed.

“He got in over
his head during the dot com boom.”

Ted read about that
in school. He was a teenager in LA, more interested in scoring, both on and off
the field, than he was about keeping up with the business news.

“Metcalf invested
big time in a bunch of dot coms.” Catrina went on. “It was like a gold rush
mentality. Investors weren’t even interested in whether or not a company could
make money, they were buying market share. When the whole thing blew up in
2000, MS almost went under.”

“That’s when
Alison took over MS?” The elevator doors opened and Ted and Catrina stepped out
into a posh lobby. Lush carpet was covered with expensive, ivory-colored
furniture. Oil paintings with little spot lights over them hung on the walls.
Large plants filled the corners.

A semi-circular
marble desk covered one wall with two hotties, a blonde and a brunette, wearing
headsets, sitting behind flat-screen computer monitors. They wore conservative
business attire, but spared no effort on their hair or makeup.

“Catrina Flaherty
and Ted Higuera here to see Alison Clarke,” Cat said.

“Ms. Flaherty,
she’s expecting you. If y’all will just come this way please.”

Ted followed,
almost in a trance, as the brunette’s hips swayed as she led the way. She
opened an oak-framed glass door. “Ms. Flaherty and Mr. Higuera, Ms. Clarke.”

“Cat, Ted, good to
see you.” Alison emerged from behind her desk, hand outstretched. As always,
she wore an expensive business suit over her petite frame. Today it was
accented by a silk scarf held in place with a diamond brooch.

“Wow! What a
view.” Ted gaped out the windows.

One glass wall
looked out over Elliot Bay and Puget Sound. The adjoining wall looked back
towards the South. Mount Rainier towered over the Cascade Range like a giant snow
cone.

“We got lucky with
nice weather today,” Alison said.

Alison’s office
was bigger than Ted’s apartment. The ceiling was two stories tall. A mezzanine
ringed the office with floor-to-ceiling bookcases, coffee tables and overstuffed
chairs. It reminded Ted of the new wing of the Suzzallo Library at the UW.

Ted looked at the
loveseats on either side of a glass-topped coffee table.

“Don’t bother
sitting.” Alison waved towards the door. “We’re going downstairs to R&D.”

Ted noticed Catrina
standing transfixed in front of an oil painting of a ballerina tying her shoes.

“It this . . . ?’
Catrina stopped in mid-sentence.

“Yes. All three of
them are Degas.”

Ted noticed two
other ballerina pictures on the adjoining wall.

“Wow,” Catrina
whispered.