Unsafe Harbor (24 page)

“H
ere. Look what I found,” Gerda said, placing a heavy leather-bound book in my lap.

It was a photo album that I’d last seen years ago.

I pressed the treasure close to my nose and breathed in deeply, inhaling childhood memories. My fingers traveled over the well-worn cover, its color that of dried blood. Then I reverently opened the book, knowing that it held my history.

Inside were photos of Gerda and my grandmother. Their arms were linked, as were their spirits, though one no longer tread on this earth. They looked eternally young as they sat and happily smiled on a New York City bench. It was almost as though they hadn’t been to hell and back.

I flipped a page, and there was my mother at eight years old, her cheeks glistening from the cold, with a well-formed snowball in her fist. Life hadn’t yet twisted her into what she would eventually become.

Next was my sister as I’d last seen her. How odd never to age, but forever remain a teenager. She ran away from home at the age of fifteen and I hadn’t heard from her since.

I finally came upon an image of myself and stared in amazement. I hadn’t realized the striking resemblance in all
three generations. But there it was: the past and the present clearly converged in the nose, eyes, and mouth. Perhaps this was how the dead returned to life.

Fortunately, Vinnie had done just that after an ambulance had arrived on the scene and rushed him to the hospital. Leung’s first bullet had barely missed his heart. The second had hit his leg. The third had left a permanent scar on his face.

“I’m getting too old for this kind of crap,” Bertucci had declared a few days later. “That’s it for me, Porter. I think you’re gonna have to find yourself a new playmate.”

Vinnie instantly knew something was wrong when he’d spotted a Mercedes parked at the front gate, and saw that the guard had disappeared. He’d dispatched Connie to get help and promptly rushed to my aid.

“Do you know what a shot in the face is probably gonna do to my acting career?” he’d moaned while lying in his hospital bed.

What it had done so far was to launch him into semi-stardom. Taking three bullets proved to be the best career move he could have made. Not only was his heroism splashed across the news, but Vinnie became an instant darling on the talk-show circuit, appearing on Letterman, Leno, and Oprah. Even Donald Trump wanted in on the action. Bertucci had already been invited to participate in the next season of
The Apprentice
.

Meanwhile, discussions were under way for a TV movie, after his story ballooned from having apprehended an ivory smuggler to taking on the entire Chinese mob. It was amazing what a little good publicity could do.

It turned out my hunch had been correct. Santou
had
been tracking down a lead on terrorists. But like so many others before, once the individuals snuck into this country they seemed simply to vanish.

The bombshell discovery I’d made of ID tags, blueprints, and maps never hit the front-page news. Rather, that bit of information was deemed too sensitive and kept tightly under wraps. Instead, the government continued to spoon-feed pabulum to the general public, assuring them that all was well as it could be on the home front.

The whole thing annoyed me to high hell. But Santou had offered up a simple explanation.

“Try as we might, there are no silver bullets to make us any more secure. So why cause unnecessary panic?”

It was good to know that Big Daddy government was doing such a bang-up job of keeping us all safe.

On the bright side, Gavin von Falken was being held for fraud and for trading in illegal diamonds. He’d also admitted to hiring the thugs that beat me up. However, he continued to deny any knowledge of terrorists, while insisting that he was nothing but an innocent pawn in a dirty game.

Jake had laughed at that one, and said he hoped von Falken enjoyed his future prison accommodations. Personally, I hoped the guy ended up in a nice location—say, somewhere like Abu Ghareb.

As for Tiffany Stewart, the woman was amazing. She’d managed to land on her Manolo Blahniks once again, having gotten off scot-free for all her work as an informant. The last I’d heard, she was back on the prowl, looking for another wealthy husband.

Most of all, I’d been surprised to find that I wasn’t immediately reprimanded. The truth was that I hadn’t yet heard from Jack Hogan. Instead, my fate was left to the powers that be: the big boys in D.C., who had been gunning for me since Day One.

I’d finally learned of their decision only yesterday.

My punishment was severe: suspension from the Service
for a litany of violations. Not the least of which was giving a damn about endangered species.

“Come on, chere. What say we take Spam for a walk?” Santou suggested, and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

I placed the album on the couch, knowing it would be there when I returned.

There’s something magical about the city as it sleeps under a fresh blanket of snow. It’s as though a spell has been cast over its soul. I could hear Manhattan’s heart beating along with my own.

We walked to the river where a shaft of crisp morning light splayed across the waves, nearly taking my breath away.

“There’s something we need to talk about, chere. I didn’t want to bring it up until you were well on your way to recovery,” Santou informed me.

His tone immediately warned that the subject matter was serious.

Great. What was I about to be lobbed with now? I clenched my fists, not knowing how else to prepare myself.

“You lied to me, Rachel. You pretended to cancel your appointment in the Diamond District. You deceived me and compromised an active investigation,” Jake accused, his voice taut as a bowstring.

Every word that he said was true. Just hearing it made my heart ache. Still, Jake wasn’t lily white, himself. He’d had no qualms about doing what he deemed necessary in order to advance his case.

“You’re right, and I’m sorry about that,” I agreed. “But on the other hand, you clearly knew that Leung was in New York, what he was up to, and purposely didn’t tell me. Rather, you insisted that I drop
my
case in order to protect your own.”

“Okay,” Santou grudgingly conceded. “I’ll accept that.
Only, you nearly lost your life on this one, chere. Maybe that’s acceptable to you. But it sure as hell isn’t to me.”

His voice broke, and he quickly tried to cover it with a cough.

“Yeah, but I didn’t. I’m still here,” I responded lightly. “Besides, you probably won’t have to worry about that anymore.”

There. I’d said it aloud. Each word hung in the air like a tiny weight.

“What do you plan to do now, Rach?” Santou asked, as Spam chased after a flock of snowy pigeons.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe take a trip to Disneyland,” I replied with a caustic laugh that couldn’t disguise my pain.

But I knew what he meant. Did I plan to fight for my job? Or pick up my marbles and leave?

“I’m really not sure yet. I’ll have to think about it for a while,” I finally said.

However, Jake wasn’t buying my line.

“Don’t take too long, chere. You’re not one to stand idly by. I know you far too well. You have to be on the side of the angels,” he said and, placing an arm around my shoulder, drew me close.

That was true. The problem was that the angels had begun to elude me, and I no longer knew where they were anymore. Perhaps this would be a good time to find out. Meanwhile, I planned to spend some time with my family—Jake, Terri, Gerda, and Spam.

As for the animals, I’d continue to be their voice in any way that I could.

The sun lit the city in an incandescent kiss as Santou, Spam, and I slowly began to walk home.