Hard Man to Kill (Dark Horse Guardian Series Book 4) (11 page)

Monique stared at her, “I’ll come with you.  I’ve been inside all day.  Is it safe?” 

“The detectives outside are monitoring the security feed.  It’s sophisticated and covers the entire perimeter of the property.  Plus, they’re armed.  I’m carrying, too.  We do have to be cautious. Hold on, I want to change.  I’ll be right back.” Lara walked down the hallway to the master bedroom searching momentarily for her sweatshirt and pants. 

Once in the quiet solitude of the room that reminded her most of Ben, she exhaled.  Her energy was flagging but she wanted to go for the walk to clear her head.  She so wished Hawk was there to talk with her.  He always knew the right thing to say when she was filled with anxiety.  But she was buoyed by Monique’s companionship.  Securing her holster and Glock, she slipped into yoga pants, a sweatshirt and sneakers. Bounding into the kitchen, Lara glanced down at the ancient book of Shakespearean sonnets, paused, and couldn’t resist touching it lightly with her finger.

“Where did that come from?” Monique asked. “It looks like an antique first edition.”

“A good friend gave it to me,” Lara whispered.  “Sometimes I touch it for good luck.”  Lara noticed Monique was ready with the dog and she tapped the security code after putting on a fleece jacket.  The two walked out.  Lara’s sidearm was snugly resting on her hip.  She fingered it relishing the feeling of safety it imbued. 

“Do you always carry that thing?” Monique asked nodding toward the 9mm Glock19 hidden beneath Lara’s sweatshirt. 

“Yes, why?” Lara replied. 

“I was thinking of getting my permit to carry…you know?” Monique’s voice drifted off.

Lara smiled.  “I know just the guy to help you out.”

Walking Einstein along the beach seemed to center her once again, and Lara felt she was home in the safety of Clearwater Farm.  Returning minutes later she caught sight of the officers at the top of the driveway. 

Monique nodded toward them. “So, these two are our bodyguards?”

Lara smiled.  “Yes.  I’m glad they’re here, actually.  I’m exhausted and will rest a bit easier with two seasoned detectives.  Not to change the subject, but we have lots of work to do tomorrow.  We have a few clients who need design work done.  Are you ready to put yourself through the grinder?”

Monique smiled for the first time in what seemed like days. “Yes, I’d like to sink my teeth into a project.  What’s on the agenda?”

Lara rattled off the latest projects and Monique was focused on the details of the work they had before them. 

This was good
.  Monique was gaining her footing.  Bettencourt was gone, but she had accepted that he would return.  She was hopeful.  That’s all they both clung to for the moment: hope.

The next morning, tailed by police officers, both women had breakfast at the diner and unlocked the bungalow, ready to tackle the latest projects.  The moment Lara unlatched the bungalow door thoughts of Hawk overwhelmed her.  She inhaled deeply and moved to the closet to hang her coat next to the denim work jacket she coveted.  Her fingers touched the fabric briefly. 

“You okay?” Monique asked. 

“Yes.  I’ll hang your jacket for you.” Lara forced a little smile and slipped Monique’s jacket onto a hanger next to hers.  She closed the wooden door, and the two sat in the living room while they sorted through the details of each task. 

“Do you want the Robinson project?” Lara asked Monique.

“Sure.  That’s the renovation of a massive library and living room.  The one with the beautiful fireplace, right?” Monique asked.

“Yes.  Good for you to tackle.  Don’t hesitate to ask for help.  I wanted the Hoffman job.  Oh look, they have three children.  I’ll be designing their bedrooms.  That will be fun!” Lara whispered.

After a few minutes, Monique collected her materials and moved into the tiny side office to make phone calls.  Lara moved into the other bedroom, now an office, the one where Hawk had been sleeping when he was there.  She tried to not think about him for the time being.  There were many days she had sat on the sleeper sofa in this room and sobbed, unable to stop herself.  But now she turned her attention to the needs of three young children and the Hoffman family. 

The oldest Hoffman child was ten years old, her name was Rebecca.  Then there was Samuel, he was seven.  And, Jonathan was only five.  Jonathan.  That was Ben’s father’s name.  She liked the sound of it and imagined if they ever had a baby boy, it would be one of the names she’d choose.  For a second her hand ran over her abdomen and she imagined what it would be like to be pregnant with Ben’s baby.  She knew he wanted children, but they’d never really had a lengthy, detailed discussion about it.  Her greatest fear was raising a child alone.  She pushed the thought out of her mind and concentrated on this Jonathan before her.  She studied the photos of the existing room the client had sent along with a photo of the child.  He had dark hair and blue eyes.  Oh God.  Little Jonathan Hoffman was adorable and he reminded her of Ben. 

Immersing herself in the project, she called Mrs. Hoffman and scheduled an initial appointment, then called the usual contractors to see what their schedules were like.  The two detectives were sitting on the porch of the bungalow.  They were kind enough to ask what Monique and Lara wanted for lunch.  A delivery from the deli arrived.  They worked all day, as if everything was normal, but it wasn’t.  Lara kept waiting for the Mustang to reappear, or to turn around and see Aaron or Tim.  Even though the detectives were hanging around, she felt uneasy but didn’t let Monique know. 

Guantanamo Bay, Cuba

~ Ben ~

The cruise ship was scheduled to leave Guantanamo Bay Cuba at 8:00 AM.  It was sunny and warm with calm seas.  Ben imagined Lara was home now, probably preparing to take Einstein for his morning beach walk then head into the office. 

Ben had watched the sun as it rose, painting the sky a pale shade of pink, then gold.  On a computer screen he focused on Captain Gooding as he expertly moved the cruise ship away from its mooring.  Fifty miles out he would cut the engines and make a call to the Coast Guard for assistance.  Ben watched and waited patiently as he tracked the ship on the computer screen.  The GPS coordinates were fed to him via a geo-synchronous satellite that was accurate within several inches.  Two cooks and three stewards were aboard with 132 terrorists-cargo...Ben didn’t like to think of them as passengers.  These bastards would not be returning to the battlefield.  They were on his turf now.

The text to Becker was sent as the ship cruised to the exact longitude and latitude Ben had planned.  He heard Captain Gooding’s call for help to the Coast Guard Cutter, Reliance. 

“Mayday-Mayday-Mayday, This is The Fiesta, 50 nautical miles northeast of Guantanamo Bay Cuba.  Six crew, 132 passengers.  Engine problems.  Possible tow.  Can remain afloat but no steerage. Engine room alarm sounding.  Description of our vessel:  The Fiesta is a 500 meter cruise ship with special mission.  Over.”

Ben listened as Captain Becker responded.  “Fiesta, this is the U.S. Coast Guard Reliance.  We are approximately 25 nautical miles away due west.  Do you copy?”

Captain’s Gooding’s call for help was answered and now Ben would wait as the Coast Guard approached the vessel.  Moshe walked into the room and broke the tension.  “How’s it going?”

“According to plan, so far.” Ben didn’t move.  “I just hope this goes smoothly.  Plan B is not the option I want to go with. 

“You mean boarding the vessel and taking it?” Moshe asked.

“Yes, they’re SEALs, and they’d make pretty good pirates, but I don’t want my men put into that situation.  It’s important this goes the way I originally planned.” Ben exhaled.  He didn’t realize he had been breathing shallowly.  “Would you be a good soldier and get me a coffee?”

Moshe left the room and came back with the coffee, in a giant plastic cup just the way Ben liked it, fresh, strong and black, borderline espresso.  Captain Becker wore a communication device and Ben could hear the conversation.  Finally, after what seemed like hours, Becker pulled alongside the disabled Fiesta and asked Captain Gooding to board the Coast Guard vessel.  Ben listened to the conversation as the Coast Guard Captain asked for paperwork, and then pretended to call a towing company. 

Meanwhile, one of the Coast Guard ensigns boarded the Fiesta, and the crew lined up providing their paperwork.  The ensign acted like something was amiss with the paperwork. The five crew members were marched onto the U.S. Coast Guard vessel Reliance for further scrutiny.  Within minutes, Ben heard the roar of the motors.  He watched the Reliance on the computer screen as it pulled away at a good rate of speed.  He inhaled and waited as the longitude and latitude of the Reliance made its mark.  It was at that moment he dialed a phone number.  The first ring set off the explosive devices attached to the bottom of the Fiesta.  The second ring set off the C4 devices placed above the waterline.

The new generation C4 was incredibly powerful, nearly ninety percent explosive, with twice the crushing power of dynamite.  The 500-foot vessel exploded.  A minute passed. 

Captain Becker on the
Reliance
keyed his microphone and said simply uttered, “Holy shit, she’s gone.”  It wasn’t until that moment that Ben allowed himself to exhale a deep sigh of relief.

Although the explosion was fifty miles offshore, he witnessed the first wisps of black smoke on the horizon.  He knew the explosion blew the vessel into splinters of fiberglass, the diesel fuel caught fire and floated atop the ocean water.  The bodies would be blown to bits.  Pieces and parts of the ship had shattered and embedded into them.  If anyone lived through that impact, they’re odds of survival would be a few minutes, but most would perish immediately upon detonation.  There would be body parts floating in the ocean.  The sharks would have a feeding frenzy long before anyone could get to the vessel or figure out what had happened. 

Moshe walked back inside the room.  Ben smiled at him, “We’ve got a plane to pack.  When the Dark Horse guys come back in, we need to move.”

“All is well.  I can tell by your smile.” Moshe responded. 

“One hundred and thirty-two less…” Ben said flatly.  “But we have miles to go before we sleep.”

The C-130J was refueled and already being packed for the long trip back to the Middle East, first to Israel, then Pakistan, where Ben couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into the last leg of the mission.  He was elated the flight would last fourteen hours.  This meant he could sleep — really sleep — and he pulled Lara’s shirt out of his backpack and reclined the seat fully.  After drinking a bottle of spring water, he laid on his side and bunched Lara’s shirt up for a pillow.  For a moment he thought about how crazy his life was. 
The rules of the games he played kept changing
.  In his world nothing was stable, except Lara.  She was the one constant he could be sure of.  Willfully, he succumbed to the sleep that overtook him, inhaling the scent of his wife, missing her more than ever.

Eight hours later, he woke to the sound of the landing gear clicking and the jet engines throttling back.  Refueling in Bermuda, the men stepped off the plane but remained on the tarmac as fresh food was delivered.  Within an hour, they were wheels up destined for Israel.  From there, the team would travel to Pakistan, one of the places Ben seemed drawn to like a magnet.  As miserable a place as it was, it did have its appeal:  the whole country was akin to a huge tenement filled with rats and his task was to rid it of vermin in a systematic manner.

Thank goodness decent food was delivered to the plane during the refueling.  A steward brought him a tray with fresh vegetables and chicken.  Not the frozen stuff.  This was the real thing.  He ate hungrily, and noted the silence on the plane as the team did the same.  He’d lost at least five pounds since he started this journey.  He knew the food in Pakistan would be putrid.  They’d load up with protein snacks and MRE’s at the base in Israel. 

~ Lara ~

Returning home to Clearwater Farm with her protectors in tow, Lara began feeling the oppression of being watched, not so much by the detectives as the two in the Mustang.  She dialed the police station and spoke to Captain Redman, the man in charge of the case. 

“I was just going to call you, Mrs. Keegan,” Redman sounded surprised.

“What’s up?” Lara asked.

“We know more about Aaron Brown and Tim Crosby.  They are college students at the university where your husband teaches.  These two originally lived in New York City before coming to Portland.  Our counter-terrorism connections with the NYPD gave us a massive of information about them.  Would you mind if I stopped by to go over a few things with you?” 

“That would be fine.  I’ll be here.” Lara ended the call while many thoughts swirled through her mind.  It couldn’t be good news if the captain of special investigations was dropping by personally.”

Monique was in the kitchen making a salad.  “Why the sad face?”

Lara didn’t know what to say.  “We’ll be having a visitor in a few minutes…Captain Redman.  He has some information he wants to give us, but wanted to talk with us in person.”

“Oh, that can’t be good.” Monique’s brows knit together with concern.

“No.  I was thinking the same.” Lara stared into space. 

When Redman arrived, his car whisked down the long driveway.  With a bounce in his step he approached the porch door.  Lara greeted him, “Hello, come in.”