Poe (4 page)

The still was taken from an elevated position, but not so high that the faces were unrecognizable. It was an outside shot of a stone walkway that was either along a lake, or, given that it was apparently taken in Yalta, the Black Sea. Dozens of people were walking by in either direction, but the focus of the shot was a couple standing near the edge. The woman was wearing a conservative dress that went almost all the way to the ground. A scarf was wrapped her head and covered most of her face. Not quite a hijab but the effect was similar, leaving Alex with no way to tell who she was.

She had no such problem recognizing the man. He looked older than the last time she’d seen him, but it was definitely her father. The thing that struck her as oddest was his hair. It was so long. For her entire life, he’d kept it cropped tight to his scalp, but now it looked a little wild and unkempt, and some of the gray was turning white.

The hazards of being on the run.

Alex had to check herself to keep from reaching out and touching the photograph. It really
was
him. “This was taken a week ago?”

“Yes,” McElroy said.

“So this woman was who he was meeting?”

“Correct.”

“Who is she?”

McElroy reached into his briefcase again and pulled out a file. “That’s a good question. She goes by a number of names.” He set the file down, opened it, and one by one, pulled out more photographs of her. The outfits changed from shot to shot, but there was always a head scarf that covered all but her eyes. Most of the time they were hidden behind sunglasses. “She’s currently using the name Fadilah El-Hashim.”

“And what were they meeting about?”

“We’re not sure. El-Hashim is associated with a group that launders money for, among others, several terrorist organizations. Not only do they hide the money, but from what we’ve been able to gather, they’re also shrewd investors. Quite shrewd, in fact.”

Alex was trying to connect the dots. “So you think she’s helping my father hide money?”

“Like I said, we don’t know why they were meeting. This image came from a surveillance camera. We only found it and a few others after we learned El-Hashim had met with someone there. What we didn’t expect to find was Colonel Poe.”

As Alex studied her father’s features, all the grief she had held in check came flooding back. He looked tired, and thinner.

Why did you go, Dad
?

That was the question she could never answer, one she’d promised herself would be the first out of her mouth if she ever saw him again. Over the years, however, she sensed the possibility of that happening becoming smaller and smaller, and had sometimes wondered if he was alive at all.

Why, Dad?

She raised her head, locking gazes with McElroy. “Okay,” she said. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

McElroy started to smile, then stopped. “I’m with special operations at Stonewell. The fugitive retrieval division.”

It took her only a split second to see where he was going.

“Whoa,” she said, “wait a minute. Is that what this is about?” She pushed away from the table. “You want me to help you find my father and bring him in?” She rose to her feet again. “Thanks for the show-and-tell, asshole, but I think I’ll say goodbye.”

McElroy hopped back up and grabbed her arm as she tried to walk away. “You completely misunderstand me.”

Alex stiffened, her teeth clenching. “Let go.”

“I’m not asking you to help me get your father. He’s not even on our list.”

“Bullshit.” She wrenched her arm free.

“It’s the woman,” he said quickly. “We want to bring her in. She has intel that will help the US government shut down the whole operation she’s involved in.”

Alex stared at him. “If I wouldn’t help you with my father, why would I even consider helping you with this woman?”

“
Because
of your father, of course,” McElroy said.

“Meaning what?”

Cooper, the only one still sitting, said in a calmer voice, “El-Hashim is the last person he was seen with. Maybe she knows how to contact him.”

“Exactly,” McElroy said. “You see now? If you help us retrieve her, you’ll have a chance to find out what she knows.”

Alex balked. “And pass the info on to you, so you can go after him? I don’t think so.”

“I told you, he’s not even on our list. Stonewell is not a charity. It’s a commercial entity. If it’s something we haven’t been hired to do, we don’t do it.”

Alex looked at Cooper.

He shrugged. “Hey, it’s up to you. But it
is
a chance to maybe find out a little more about him. I’m sure you’re curious. I mean, I would be if I were you.”

He had nailed it of course, and knew it. She
was
curious. Hell, she was more than curious. She was borderline desperate. Her father had gone AWOL less than a year after her mother’s death. Her desire to know why he had left her and her brother behind had dulled as the years passed, but it hadn’t gone away. And now, faced with this potential connection to him, her feelings of wonder and anger and loneliness came rushing back like a hundred-foot tsunami.

She stepped back to the table, and picked up the photo without sitting down.

“Do you at least know where this woman is?”

“Still in Ukraine.”

“It’s a big country.”

“We can pinpoint her position to within a dozen feet or so.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “You seem pretty sure about that.”

“I am.”

“Okay, but what about tomorrow? Or the next day? Or whenever it is we go after her?”

“She’s not going anywhere.”

“Where exactly is she?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that unless you sign on to help.”

Alex looked at the image again. This time, it wasn’t an older, weary man she saw, but the father she last remembered, grimly holding her hand as they visited her mother’s grave. He would be gone the following day, but she hadn’t known that then. All she’d known was that he was sadder than she’d ever seen him.

When they had knelt on the grass next to the grave, her father had leaned down and kissed the headstone. Alex had stared at him in surprise. He’d never been one to display much emotion, yet there he was, tears running down his cheeks, and the imprint of his lips gracing the stone next to her mother’s name.

“I’m sorry,” McElroy said. “Apparently we made a mistake.”

He scooped up the file on El-Hashim and returned it to his briefcase. He then held out his hand to Alex for the photo. “I’ll make sure no one at Stonewell bothers you again.”

She closed her eyes, still grasping the picture. “Hold on.”

There was silence, no one moving. When she opened her eyes again, McElroy and Cooper were staring back at her.

“If I say yes,” she said, wondering if she was making a mistake, “my rate’s a thousand dollars a day, plus expenses, full insurance rider, medical and life. And you hire Deuce, too, at the same rate.”

“Deuce?”

Cooper, on his feet now, whispered something into McElroy’s ear.

“Oh, right,” McElroy said. “Your partner.”

“Package deal.”

A hesitation, then, “Fine.”

He placed his briefcase on the table and opened it back up. From inside, he pulled out a file and removed the sheet of paper it was holding.

“I take it the bump in pay won’t be an issue,” he said.

Alex took the document from him. It was a one-page, freelance-hire agreement, listing her daily rate at fifteen hundred, plus the requested insurance.

“You’re pretty confident,” she said.

“Confident, no. Prepared, yes.”

“And Deuce?”

“I’ll have papers prepped and ready for him when he comes in.”

She read everything to make sure there weren’t any hidden issues. The agreement seemed pretty straightforward.

McElroy held out a pen. “You can sign at the bottom.”

She didn’t take it.

“Is there a problem?”

“I haven’t said yes yet.”

He stared at her for a moment, then reached for the contract, but she kept her hand on it.

“I don’t have time for games, Ms. Poe. If you’ll please move your hand so we can be on our way.”

“I didn’t say no, either. I need a little time to think.”

“Time is something we don’t have.”

“You said she wasn’t going anywhere.”

McElroy frowned. “For now, but that won’t last forever.”

“How much time do you need?” Cooper asked, his tone considerably more understanding than his boss’s. “Would the end of the day be enough?”

McElroy didn’t look very happy, but he kept his mouth shut.

Alex thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “End of the day.”

“
Problems
?”
Emerick asked
.

Alex had no idea what she must look like, but the moment she walked back into Ackerman’s, the old man seemed to sense that something had changed.

She answered him as honestly as she could. “I’m not sure.”

With a shrug, he tilted his head toward the gym door. “Shall we finish your workout?”

“Not today, Hans. I’ve got some things I need to do.”

She showered, dressed, and was on the road fifteen minutes later. She headed south out of the city, along the same highway she’d driven at least once a week for years now. Passing Riverdale, she caught glimpses of water to the left, where an offshoot of the Chesapeake Bay wrapped its way along the shore. Just before she reached Annapolis, she hopped onto Route 50 and took the Bay Bridge across to Kent Island.

The house was on a quiet road in Stevensville, north of the highway. Like many of the other homes in the area, it was set back from the road on a large parcel of land. Where it differed from its neighbors was the fence that surrounded the property. Most of the homes had none.

Alex pulled up to the gate, and pressed the button on the intercom box.

“May I help you?” a female voice asked.

“It’s Alexandra Poe.”

The woman said nothing for a second, then, “I don’t have you on the schedule, Miss Poe.”

“Last minute thing.”

“One moment.”

With a sudden whine, the gate swung open. Alex drove through and parked next to some other cars, then got out and headed toward the house. Before she reached the front door, it opened, and Mrs. Thornton stepped onto the porch.

“Alexandra. Good to see you.” She held out a hand as she always did, and the two women shook. “This is unexpected. Is there something wrong?”

“No,” Alex said. “It’s…well, I might be going out of town and I’m not sure how long I’ll be away, so I wanted to come by first. Just in case.”

An understanding smile creased Mrs. Thornton’s face. “Of course. But I wish you would have called first.”

“Is there a problem?”

“No. But Danny isn’t always good with surprises.”

“I know how Danny is,” Alex said. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Mrs. Thornton slipped a motherly arm around Alex’s shoulders. “I’m sure he will be.”

Alex tensed under the woman’s touch, but she knew Mrs. Thornton only had the kindest of intentions. The woman couldn’t help herself; it was in her nature. She was old enough to have a dozen grandchildren but had none. Ryan, her only child, had been born with cerebral palsy and died as a teenager from complications due to his condition. He had been the inspiration behind Ryan’s House, the name Mrs. Thornton had given her home when she’d turned it into a group facility for disabled adults.

She led Alex through the front doorway into the family room that had been converted into a lounge/activity area. Several of the residents were there, working at the table or watching TV.

Alex’s brother was sitting on the couch, his attention glued to the SpongeBob SquarePants cartoon on the screen. His lips moved as he mimicked every line, mostly silently, but with the occasional mumbled word slipping out.

She saw the ever-present watch on his wrist, the watch that had belonged to their father, and suddenly knew she had no choice. If she had been alone in the world, she might’ve convinced herself she didn’t need to see her father again, and turned down McElroy’s offer.

But she wasn’t alone.

“Danny,” Mrs. Thornton said. “Look who’s here.”

Danny’s gaze stayed fixed on the television screen, his mouth still moving.

“Danny, you have a visitor.”

Alex’s brother had always been able to tune out the world when he wanted to, especially when SpongeBob was on. If there had been a channel that showed nothing else, he would have been just fine with that.

Mrs. Thornton glanced at Alex. “Would you like me to turn it off?”

“No,” Alex said. “I’m not in a hurry.”

She stepped over to the couch and sat down. “Hey, buddy. I remember this one. SpongeBob and his bubble friend.”

It took Danny a moment to process her voice, but when he finally recognized it, he looked at her. “Aleck.”

His smile was broad. She opened her arms, and he hugged her.

“Hi, Danny.”

“Aleck. You here. Make me happy.”

“Make me happy, too.”

Danny had been born with Down syndrome. While he was physically two years older than Alex, mentally he was still a small child. Even at a young age, Alex had seemed to sense that it was her job to take care of him, and she’d watched after him ever since. This sense of protectiveness had only increased when their mother was killed and their father, who used to call Danny his “little lieutenant,” disappeared.

It had taken their relatives nearly a year to convince Alex to find a place for Danny to live without her once she reached eighteen. Seven years later, she still felt guilty for making that decision. Almost as guilty as she felt for joining the army and leaving him for two long years. But that was something she had to do. She needed to show the military that enlistees from her family, which had a long history with the army, were good soldiers, and by doing so, prove that they had to be wrong about her dad.

Thankfully, Danny never seemed to blame her for anything. His excitement was the same every time he saw her, whether the absence was a day, a week, or several months.

He turned now, suddenly remembering the TV, and started mumbling along again. Alex was happy just to be next to him, happy to have his hand in hers, happy to see him happy.