Nine Lives Read online

  “Meaning?”

  “Let’s just say you’d be wise to have someone watching your back twenty-four seven.”

  “That puts me a difficult position,” Diego said.

  “How so?”

  “I have a problem that needs to be dealt with.”

  Alonzo paused. “How many men do you need?”

  “Four should be enough. But not amateurs. I need professionals.”

  “I can arrange that. Who’s the target?”

  “You wouldn’t know him.”

  “Try me.”

  “Hernando Diaz.”

  “The old man who runs the orphanage?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s one of my customers. He’s harmless. How could he possibly be a problem for you?”

  “He’s not,” Diego replied. “But there’s someone staying with him who is. I think this guy’s been hired for personal protection. I need him taken out quickly and quietly. Diaz has something I want. I’m getting tired of waiting.”

  “Very well,” Alonzo said. “Your reasons are your reasons. That’s good enough for me. Where and when should we meet?”

  “You’re coming too?”

  “Yes,” Pérez said. “You’ve aroused my curiosity.”

  “All right. The orphanage. Seven P.M.”

  “We’ll be there.”

  “And Alonzo?”

  “Yes?”

  “Warn your people. Make sure they know this man is not be taken for granted.”

  “What makes you say that, Diego?”

  “Instinct.”

  CHAPTER 27

  THE EXPRESSION ON HALLIER’S face told Chris the colonel was very upset. He watched the soldier walk back to the truck, climb aboard, and slam the door.

  He walked up to Jordan and glanced back at the truck. “I see that conversation went well. What did you say to piss him off?”

  “We had a difference of opinion.”

  “Over what?”

  “Commander Egan.”

  “What’s the issue?”

  “Nothing important. Philosophical differences, I guess.”

  “You having second thoughts about the mission?”

  “No,” Jordan said. “The commander has to be stopped. There’s no way around that.”

  “What does he want you do?”

  “Get inside his head, create a diversion.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

  “It won’t.”

  “Then what’s the concern?”

  “He plans to kill him. I’m not sure that’s necessary.”

  “It’s not your call, Jordan. It’s Hallier’s.”

  “I know.”

  “This is a DARPA operation, not FBI,” Chris stressed. “We’re playing in their sandbox, not ours. It’s their game, so it’s their rules.” He studied Jordan’s face. “Something else is bugging you. What is it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yeah, you do. Fess up.”

  “I tried to call home to talk to the kids.”

  “And?”

  “I can’t reach Marissa.”

  Chris shrugged. “Maybe she’s just away from the phone and can’t pick up. No big deal.”

  “Something’s not right.”

  “The woman is in charge of two kids when you’re not home. She might just have her hands full.”

  “That’s not it.”

  “Then what is?”

  “I code-called her.”

  “You what?”

  “We have a system,” Jordan explained. “If I can’t reach her on the first call and need to talk to her urgently, I’ll call her back two more times, one call right after the other. Three missed calls from me means drop whatever you’re doing and get back to me immediately.”

  “And you tried her three times?”

  Jordan nodded. “No reply.”

  Chris took out his phone, handed it to Jordan. “Punch in her number.”

  Jordan entered Marissa’s cell number. Chris placed the call. The phone rang and rang.

  “Voicemail,” he said.

  “I’m telling you… something’s not right.”

  “I wouldn’t get too worked up about it, J. She could have any number of reasons for not picking up. Try her again in an hour.”

  Hallier rolled down his window, called out. “Let’s go.”

  Jordan and Chris walked back to the truck. “I’m sure Marissa and the kids are just fine,” Chris said as they climbed aboard. “But if you’re that concerned use your abilities. Connect with her.”

  “I don’t have much of a choice,” Jordan said. “It’s bothering me too much. I can’t concentrate.”

  “Then do it.”

  Jordan closed her eyes, focused, and reached out to Marissa. In the darkness of her mind, it was the emotional connection that struck her first and hardest. She saw the image of her housekeeper. Her eyes were closed. Her body lay at an odd angle, yet she was not asleep. Her vital force was low. The energy emanating from within her suggested she was in a trance-like state. It was then that the movie began to play, flashes of memory communicated from her subconscious mind: The car stopping… the man at the window… the missed calls… then the incredible jolt of electricity which shook her body and rendered her unconscious, delivering her into the dreamlike state which Jordan had now entered.

  Jordan broke the connection. “Oh, God,” she said.

  “What’s wrong?” Chris asked.

  “It’s Marissa.”

  “Is she hurt?”

  “She’s been attacked.”

  “What about the kids? Are they all right?”

  Jordan started to panic. “I don’t see them. Oh, God! Emma and Aiden… my babies!”

  “Calm down, Jordan,” Chris urged.

  “If Marissa’s not watching over them…”

  “I’ve got this,” Chris said. He took out his cellphone, placed a call.

  “Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

  “This is Special Agent Chris Hanover. I need an emergency location trace on the following cell number: (310) 555-2311. The phone is registered to Marissa DeSola.”

  “One moment.” The response came seconds later. “The number is active and in Brentwood, California. The signal appears to be stationary.”

  “Dispatch agents and LAPD to the location immediately,” Chris ordered. “Person in distress.”

  “Copy that, agent. Contacting them now.”

  Chris hung up the phone. He turned to Jordan. “They’re on their way. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  Jordan said nothing. She stared out the side window of the van.

  The reality of the situation struck her.

  She was thousands of miles away.

  Back home, an unknown danger was threatening her family.

  And there was not a damn thing she could do about it.

  CHAPTER 28

  AGNES WATTS MADE IT her business to know everything that was going on in the neighborhood. The Reese’s, the young couple who lived behind her, he a sales executive, she a nurse, loved the new hot tub they had purchased three weeks ago. They spend at least an hour in it every night, usually between the hours of 8:00 and 9:00 P.M., sometimes together, often with other couples. The hot tub Agnes didn’t mind. It was the lack of swimwear that irritated her. She knew this because she had a clear view of the couple’s backyard from her bedroom window.

  Vera Lang, the widow who lived across street, had started seeing someone new. The fledgling relationship had been burning bright for three weeks now. When Kelly Mathews, Agnes’s next door neighbor, raised the subject while they shopped for groceries together at the local Food Emporium, Agnes was quick to point out that Vera had been receiving a visit from her new flame at least once a week for the last year prior to her husband’s passing. She shared this important update while examining the contents of Kelly’s shopping cart, noting the lack of fresh fruit and vegetables and the abundance of processed foods and sugary snacks.
Carbohydrate Kelly, as Agnes called her behind her back, hung on every word as Agnes brought her up to speed on the latest gossip, preceding every statement by saying ‘not that it’s any of my business.’

  Barney and his sister Kiki, Agnes’ much-loved Chihuahua’s, really had to poop. The dogs barked non-stop and ran back and forth from the kitchen to the front door, communicating the urgent message to Agnes that if she didn’t rectify the situation within the next minute or less that any responsibility for the ensuing mess they would make in the house would be on her, not them.

  “All right, we’re going,” Agnes said. She leashed the dogs and unlocked the front door. Kiki, always having been the alpha of the two siblings, squeezed past her brother and made a beeline for the front yard. Barney strolled out the front door, sniffed out a preferred spot, and did his business.

  After the dogs had happily relieved themselves, they began pawing at Agnes’s pant leg, informing their mom that they were ready to go for their regularly scheduled afternoon walk. Kiki strained on her leash, while Barney walked calmly at Agnes’ side. Then Barney did something completely out of character. He stopped, looked down the empty street, growled and began to bark madly. Despite Agnes’ attempts to calm the dog he would not settle down. His attention seemed to be drawn to a black SUV parked on the street several houses down the road. Agnes knew the make and model of most of the cars that visited her street. She had never seen this vehicle before.

  Mitchell Dawson, who was walking his Great Dane, Prince, waved at Agnes from across the street. The two often walked their dogs together which gave Mitchell the opportunity to catch up on the latest neighborhood happenings, compliments of Agnes. When Agnes didn’t acknowledge him he became concerned. It was not like her to snub anyone, much less pass up the chance to gossip to anybody who would listen. Mitchell and Prince crossed the street.

  “How are you, Agnes?” Mitchell asked. Prince lowered his massive head and sniffed Kiki’s backside.

  “Fine, I guess,” Agnes replied.

  Mitchell laughed. “That didn’t sound very convincing. Is everything all right?”

  Agnes drew his attention to the black SUV. “Have you ever seen that car around here before?” she asked.

  Mitchell shrugged. “Can’t say as I have. Whoever owns it is probably just visiting. Why?”

  “I don’t know,” Agnes said. “But it’s got Barney really worked up.”

  “Barney has cataracts.”

  “So?”

  “Maybe the old boy is seeing things that aren’t there,” Mitchell said. “Remember our poodle, Molly? Died three years ago. Poor girl couldn’t see two feet in front of her face after her eyesight started to go. Barked at everything she couldn’t make out.”

  Agnes disagreed. “Barney’s vision isn’t that bad yet.”

  Mitchell folded his arms. “If you say so.” He stared at the SUV. Barney continued to bark.

  “I know that tone,” Agnes said. “He’s upset. Something’s got him spooked.”

  “You’re reading too much into it,” Mitchell replied. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “Maybe we should have a closer look.”

  “It’s just a car, Agnes.”

  As Agnes walked down the street, Barney pulled harder on his leash. Kiki trotted beside her big brother.

  Mitchell and Prince followed reluctantly, staying a few paces behind the trio.

  As they approached the vehicle, Jim Stafford, a neighbor, walked out of his house and down his front steps. The SUV was parked in front of his home. The car had also gotten his attention.

  Agnes and Mitchell stopped. “Everything okay, Jim?” Mitchell asked.

  Stafford walked over, petted the dogs. “I don’t know,” he said. He looked in the car’s direction, scratched his head. “I’m not sure what to make of this.”

  “What do you mean?” Agnes asked.

  “A cop stopped it over an hour ago,” Stafford said. “An unmarked squad car. I was looking out the window when I saw him light it up and pull it over. A plainclothes officer got out, talked to the driver for a minute, maybe less, then left. Thing is, the car hasn’t moved an inch since then.”

  “That’s odd,” Mitchell said.

  “I’m going to check it out,” Jim said. He walked to the passenger side of the SUV, tried to look in, couldn’t. “Windows are too heavily tinted,” he reported. “I can’t see inside.” He tapped on the glass. “Hey,” he said. “Anybody in there?”

  No response.

  “You think the cop arrested whoever was in the car?” Mitchell asked.

  “Could be,” Jim said. “I wasn’t watching for very long. But if that was the case, wouldn’t you think they’d have sent a flatbed to pick it up? They’d take it to the impound, right? They wouldn’t just leave it sitting here.”

  “That would make sense,” Agnes said.

  Stafford walked around to the driver’s side, wrapped on the window.

  Nothing.

  Barney growled.

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” Jim said. “Who would leave an expensive car like this abandoned at the side of the road?”

  “Check the door,” Mitchell suggested. “See if it’s locked.”

  Stafford hesitated. “I’m not sure if I should do that.”

  “Why not?” Agnes asked. “If it’s unlocked, you can check the glove box for a vehicle registration.” By now her curiosity to know who the car belonged to was killing her.

  Stafford knocked on the window again, harder this time.

  Still no response.

  “I guess it couldn’t hurt to look inside,” he agreed. He pulled up the handle, opened the door, then jumped back in horror. “Jesus!” he yelled.

  “What is it, Jim?” Mitchell asked. “What’s wrong?”

  Jim Stafford backed away from the SUV. He stood in the middle of the street, visibly shaken, and pointed inside the car. “They’re dead,” he said. “They’re both dead!”

  CHAPTER 29

  MARISSA DeSOLA AWOKE in the car, disoriented and confused. The sudden shock to her system from the high pulse frequency of the stun gun had depleted her of all energy. She groaned, lolled her head to the left, then right. She tried to grip the steering wheel, use it to pull herself up in the seat, but lost her balance and fell back. The electrical charge delivered by the weapon had depleted her blood sugar stores and converted them to lactic acid, making voluntary movement nearly impossible. She raised her hand clumsily, opened her blouse, looked down and saw the two small burn marks left on her skin by the electrical discharge from the weapons electrodes. Her attacker had thrust the device against her chest, pulled the trigger, immobilized her.

  When finally she pulled herself out of the brain fog and regain control of her body, Marissa turned in her seat to check on the children.

  Aiden and Emma were gone.

  Seized by adrenaline, Marissa unbuckled her seat belt, threw open the door, jumped out and ran around the car, searching frantically for any sign of the children.

  Nothing.

  The rear passenger door was open. Emma’s cellphone lay on the floor. The children’s backpacks lay propped up on the seat.

  “Oh, God! Oh, God!” Marissa cried. In her rising panic she ran up and down the street, calling out their names. “Emma! Aiden!”

  Marissa was out of her mind with worry. She fell to her knees and began to cry.

  Mindy Aberfoyle had been sitting in her favorite reading chair, engrossed in the story, when she heard the commotion outside. She looked out her living room window and saw the distraught woman kneeling in the street. The retired nurse quickly pulled a throw blanket off her couch, grabbed her cellphone from the side table, slipped on shoes and rushed out the door.

  Marissa was inconsolable. Mindy threw the blanket around her, kneeled beside her. “Honey, what’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Taken,” Marissa replied.

  “What do you mean, honey? Who was taken?”

  Marissa began to rock
back and forth. Whatever had happened to the woman, it had been a horrifying emotional experience. Mindy could see she was going into shock. She had to pull her back from the brink as quickly as possible.

  “What’s your name, sweetie?” Mindy asked.

  “M-Marissa.”

  Mindy began to rub Marissa’s hands and arms. The tactile sensation kept her engaged. “Marissa, my name is Mindy. I’m a nurse. I’m going to help you. But you’ve got to stay will me, okay? Can you do that for me?”

  Marissa looked up, nodded.

  “Good girl,” Mindy said. “You said someone was taken. Who was it?” While Mindy waited for Marissa to respond she powered up her cellphone, dialed emergency services.

  “911,” the dispatcher answered. “Do you require police, fire or ambulance?”

  “Police and ambulance,” Misty replied.

  “What is your location?”

  “1108 Bayly Street, Brentwood.”

  “The children,” Marissa said.

  “Someone took your children?” Mindy asked. She stared at the car, saw its driver and rear passenger doors were wide open. She put the pieces together. “Were they kidnapped?”

  “I think so... yes.”

  “How many children, Marissa?”

  “Two.”

  “I need their names,” Mindy said.

  “Emma and Aiden Quest.”

  Mindy heard clicking sounds in the background of the call. The dispatcher was typing on her keyboard. “Are you getting this?” Mindy asked.

  “I am,” the operator replied. “Tender age male and female. Suspected abduction. Your call has been escalated. Police should be at your location within minutes.”

  “Minutes?” Mindy yelled. “Two children have been kidnapped! We don’t have minutes. We have seconds!”

  “I understand,” the dispatcher said. “Police are on their way. Stay on the line with me until they arrive.”

  “You need to issue an Amber Alert!”

  “We will.”

  Marissa stared vacantly at Mindy. Her voice cracked when she spoke. “I was responsible for them,” she said.

  Mindy held Marissa’s wrist, took her pulse, racing. She checked her eyes. Her pupils were wide, dilated. The woman was terrified. “You need to calm down, honey,” she urged.