Читать книгу Moving Target - Lori May A. - Страница 12

After checking into the hotel, Francesca had quickly set up an appointment at Boston University before calling it a night. The drive had worn her out physically, but her mind was circling through the wee hours of the darkness as she contemplated the magnitude of this assignment. Then again, some of her best work was accomplished when in sleeping mode, letting her mind relax into a state of purity, where facts filtered and formed patterns, leaving her with a refreshed feeling of alertness upon waking.

During that next morning, Chesca made a list of things she wanted to accomplish, and she got right on the phone to start the wheels turning.

In a modest briefing with Delphi, they caught one another up on where Chesca was and what her initial plan of attack would be. Delphi agreed to dig up information on the possible connection between their blackmailer and the CIA.

Though she didn’t know exactly how Delphi found access to such highly sensitive government information, Chesca was assured she would have CIA files couriered to her when it was safe to do so. In the meantime, Chesca had an appointment set up to get the case rolling and she felt confident in her to-do list.

Once she had the hotel room feeling as close to home as possible for the next day or so, sorting out her work items from her wardrobe, Chesca set out again in the sporty Ford Edge to make the first stop in her investigation.

Despite being on familiar ground, Chesca couldn’t help but notice how much the city had evolved since she’d lived here as a child. She rarely found the time or made the effort to come back for a visit, except for the odd “required” social gathering she made appearances at as the sole offspring of the Thorne family.

Now, seeing the city as though she were a stranger visiting from a far-off land, Chesca felt bittersweet about her return. Focusing on the details of this assignment would be her saving grace and keep her from dwelling too much on the past.

Her first stop was the Computer Science Department of the Charles River Campus, where she would see if she could evoke some fond memories of someone who may have had the goods to be recruited by the CIA.

Allison had mentioned the apparent computer skills their suspect possessed, and thus Chesca had set up an appointment with the current department head.

While it was unlikely she would find anyone on campus that actually knew their suspect personally, given the time frame they were dealing with, it was worth a shot. And, wasn’t that what student records were for? If the computer science nerds couldn’t dig up history, no one else would have a clue.

Driving along Storrow Drive, Chesca took a moment to glance at the familiar territory and fight off her recurring historical demons.

This was not her personal alma mater but she’d always had a fondness for the institution. It was, in America, the first university to open all its curricula to women, and in some ways that reminded her of the mission of Athena Academy.

Though the views along the banks of the Charles River reminded her more of her playful youth.

In the summer after graduating from Athena Academy, Chesca had a few weeks to spend at home in Boston prior to attending an internship program in Quantico.

It was before she had actually set foot on her own college campus, and rather than witness the social niceties around the Thorne residence, Chesca found solace on a patio of one of the many coffeehouses on Commonwealth Avenue, and watched students go about their fevered summertime activities.

It was the perfect opportunity to spy on people her age, watch them flirt in hot-weather flings, shop for seasonal trends, and just be in the moment. It was also the closest Chesca got to living that life.

Though vicariously so, it was her way of participating in the excitement. In reality the patio table she sat at was often covered in texts and notebooks, even in the heat of summer. Of course it was her choice to bury her nose in books, but there was the odd time, like driving into the campus on this beautiful spring day, that occasionally made her nostalgic for a youth she hadn’t entertained.

While her youngest years were of the quieter, more studious sort, Chesca made some quality friends to share her teen years while attending Athena Academy. And despite what most of them would like others to believe, it wasn’t all academics and exams.

Those girls, though dignified in their behavior, knew how to have a good time amongst themselves. They enjoyed their wonderful and massive backyard, and when all else failed, they easily made up a myth or two about mysterious men shadowing the landscapes of the academic grounds.

Chesca laughed at her ability to so easily reminisce as of late. As she drove into the access for Cummington Street, she thought of how great it had been to speak with a handful of Athena graduates these past few days, despite the circumstances that had prompted such communications. To her, the women were more than friends. They were more than school buddies. They were her family.

Locating the parking lot just off Granby she had found with the help of an online mapping Web site, Chesca parked in the best place to get to the Math-Computer Science building.

When she got out of the candy-apple-red Ford Edge, she took a moment to smooth down its nearly metallic exterior, as though it were her own prized possession, but Chesca’s attention was soon diverted. To the southeast of campus, on the opposite side of the Massachusetts Turnpike, was the legendary Fenway Park. Though she had never been to a game, Chesca recognized its iconic status in proving that sometimes the underdog could indeed come out on top.

With spring training wrapped up and games starting, she could sense the smell of ballpark franks in the air as she waited for traffic to slow and a crosswalk to give the go-ahead for her to cross Commonwealth. Then, she walked along the pathway to the corner of Hinsdale and Cummington and took in the sights around her.

Being on campus almost made her wish she were back in school again, but that moment of nostalgia quickly disappeared as she remembered the all-night cramming sessions, bad cafeteria food and essay upon essay year after year.

Making the entrance into her location, Chesca quickly found the office and was pleasantly greeted with a smile.

“Miss Thorne?” the receptionist asked, upon Chesca’s entrance.

The large, ornate grandfather clock informed her she was right on time for her appointment, and she was grateful she hadn’t dilly-dallied too much down memory lane. Just one stop would have Chesca late for her meeting with the head of the Computer Science department.

She nodded in affirmation, then the neatly dressed woman said, “This way please,” and Chesca followed her through a bookcase-lined hallway to the corner office, which smelled of aged wood.

Though the department wasn’t nearly as old as the rest of the campus, its furnishings were consistent with aged academia, creating a sense of immediate respect within Chesca, as though she had just entered the quiet calm of a historic library.

The receptionist tapped on the door as she opened it and escorted Chesca through as she announced, “Mr. Brighton, your eleven o’clock, sir.”

“Have a seat, Miss…”

“Thorne. Francesca Thorne. Thank you for seeing me,” she said, holding out a firm hand.

She took a seat directly across from his finely crafted desk, polished to an immaculate shine. Though it was hard not to peer around at her surroundings, taking in all that his office showed of his personality, Chesca concentrated on the middle-aged man in front of her as he spoke.

“I’m not sure I can help you with your request, Miss Thorne. From what you said over the phone, you’re talking about a student who may have attended BU some time ago, if at all.”

His salt-and-pepper hair was close-cut, though evidently slicked with some sort of gloss, its highlights lighting up under the glow of his desk lamp, as he rocked back and forth in the aged leather chair.

“This person—woman—would have been memorable, Mr. Brighton. As I briefly mentioned, she would have possessed incredible computer skills, enough for her to be recruited by the CIA. I’m certain she would have exhibited other traits,” she said, hoping to imply more than her words said, “that such an organization would have found…useful.”

The department head nodded along, as though he understood every word Chesca said, but she could tell he was still having some trouble piecing it together.

The fact of the matter was, this college student would have had to possess a great deal more than computer savvy to be attractive to the CIA.

Granted, at that time computers weren’t as prevalent as they were today and someone knowing the inner workings of how to use and manipulate a variety of systems would have, indeed, presented a nice package to the government.

“I will add,” she continued, “that this woman is suspected of being quite a dealer in blackmail, and as such she may have developed that talent years ago.”

“Ah, well. I have only been the department head going on about twenty-five years, so thankfully I never experienced anything like that myself,” he said.

Taking his time with his words, Mr. Brighton clearly was thinking of something more than what he was saying. Francesca would simply have to wait for his thoughts to come to fruition and give her an indication of whether or not she had reached a dead end.

“I might like to mention,” he said after some time had passed between them. “It was quite odd for my predecessor to leave when he did. By policy, he had another decade left in him. Yet, something caused him to leave the academic world early, though I’m not certain if it is even relevant.”

Though she had not mentioned her professional affiliation, and didn’t feel it necessary to do so even now, Chesca made sure that when she twisted in her seated position, the inner pocket of her jacket flashed just the edge of her FBI badge. “Would you be able to point me in his direction?”

“I’ll have my secretary give you his address,” he said, as she suspected he would.

Mr. Brighton need not know whether or not this was official bureau business, and without her explaining it further, she suspected he wouldn’t voluntarily open up that discussion himself. Sometimes, Chesca knew, it was the unsaid that got things done, more so than the use of words.

“Thank you, Mr. Brighton. I understand your predecessor would have left well after this woman was gone from campus, if she were ever here at all, but it’s worth looking into.”

As he got up to shake her hand, once again offering his slightly callused but warm palm, he nodded.

“I suppose he’ll tell you himself, if he sees reason to, so there’s no harm in me mentioning this.” His tone captivated Chesca and she made sure to drown out the sound of a nearby photocopier rallying to distract her senses with its repetitive output of paper. “Those last years he put in were indeed a struggle for him. Believe me, I worked day and night beside him, being mentored along the way. Something within him had changed. Whatever it was, it was eating at him long before he decided to call it quits.”

Through his forced smile, Chesca could see pain, maybe even regret. “Thank you for telling me, Mr. Brighton. As you’ve said, he’ll likely bring that up himself if it’s relevant.”

Not yet letting go of her hand, the slightly robust man, equal in her height, made sure to meet Chesca’s eyes.

“Do understand, Miss Thorne, I respect that man. He never so much as hinted at any personal problems he may have experienced, and I never asked. I would prefer if you do not mention this little conversation we have had.”

“Certainly, sir. Not to worry.”

Following his lead out of the office and down the hallway back to the reception area, Chesca caught the scent of something earthy percolating. The receptionist was preparing a tea set complete with cookies and fruit.

“Give Miss Thorne the contact information for Mr. Schneider,” Brighton instructed of his attentive receptionist, then added, “I’ll take my tea now.”

Knowing that was her cue to receive the information quickly and make her way out of the office, Chesca respectfully thanked each of them for their time and made a polite exit so that Brighton could get on with his evidently important and likely ritualistic tea service.

As she crossed Commonwealth Avenue to head back to the parking lot off Granby, Chesca momentarily checked her watch. She had been less than an hour with Brighton. Not bad. With the majority of the day left to her disposal she would be able to get a number of leads taken care of, and hopefully make some diligent progress on her assignment.

Or so she thought.

Chesca slowed her steps when she approached the rental car.

She could hardly believe it, given the short amount of time she had spent in the campus building.

From her stance directly in front of the car, it was clear someone had keyed the body on each side. Lines tracing the length of the automobile were etched deeply into the no longer fresh red paint.

When she noticed the tires were also gashed and flattened, she scooted down to the pavement and checked the undercarriage for anything to suggest further foul play.

Satisfied, but with more damage than she would have liked to have seen, Chesca let out a heavy sigh. Her day would evidently not be as cut-and-dried as she had hoped.

Now, added to her tasks, she would have to replace the rental car—and apologize profusely to the company, though fortunately she had insured the car against such predicaments—and due to the nature of the damage, it seemed Chesca would also be making a friendly stop at the local police precinct.

Once the quick and necessary phone calls were made to each, Chesca took a moment to sit on a concrete parking slab and rest her head in her hands, digging her elbows into her lap.

As she sat there, letting her temper at this inconvenience subside, she allowed a few moments to pass before she was able to admit the inevitable.

This was no coincidence.

It was not random.

Someone was trying to send a message.

As she carefully scanned the area, taking note of the passersby and being on the lookout for anything suspicious, Chesca hated the sinking feeling in her gut.

Despite only getting started, she knew without a doubt she couldn’t hide this bit of information from Delphi. She would have to disclose what had happened, seeing how she had been warned more than once of the sensitivity of this case and the potential for risk.

Bethany had done her part in advising Chesca to watch her back, and now Chesca knew it was something she needed to seriously keep in mind. Those who had secrets to keep would do just about anything to keep them.

While Chesca was handy with a pistol and trained in martial arts, she wasn’t cocky enough to assume she could handle anything and everything without at least clueing in her counterparts. It was her responsibility to Oracle to keep the agency abreast of how the case was going, whether there was reason to be alarmed or not.

Knowing her commitment to the case, Chesca sent a quick text message to Delphi informing her of the incident. She hoped to goodness it didn’t come off as too quick for a mishap to happen, that something like this wouldn’t have happened to someone else. But Chesca shook her head, reminding herself no matter who was on this case, if someone wanted to shut it down, they wouldn’t be picky about their target.

It was rare for Chesca to get a call back on her cell phone, but within minutes Delphi was on the line. “You may want to consider finding another place to stay,” the enigmatic voice said, no doubt using a disposable and untraceable mobile. “Double-check the hotel, but not until you have backup.”

“Backup?” Chesca echoed, thinking she hadn’t meant to come off as so needy.

With the nature of her job being mostly mental, Chesca had become accustomed to working on her own for the majority of a case, especially during the legwork. Only when she was out on the prowl for a suspect would she have someone tag along with her.

Then, as she thought about it, reflecting on all that she had learned about Giambi, Arachne and the Queen of Hearts personae, Chesca knew she had to swallow her pride. She was, in fact, working on a case that had already seen enough violence and danger in recent months, and she knew when to give in and just follow orders.

“No arguing. In the meantime,” Delphi said, “keep me posted as to any other updates, so I can make sure to send the courier to the right place at a good time, okay?”

“Not a problem. May I ask, though, who this backup will be?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it just yet,” Delphi said. “What are your plans now? What’s your destination?”

Chesca thought about it.

By the time the car company sent a representative to take care of this and exchange her car, and the police showed up to take a report, Chesca would be losing some much needed time. But she knew there was one thing she could handle without a babysitter.

“I’ll be speaking with Schneider. Brighton gave me a lead on his predecessor in computer sciences,” Chesca said, giving Delphi his address. “Then I’ll be making a stop to chat with the local cops, if that makes sense to you.”

Delphi agreed. “That should finish off your day. You’ll have your partner by tomorrow. You have any idea where you’ll be staying tonight?”

Chesca gritted her teeth.

She didn’t want to argue with Delphi. As per her request, she wouldn’t be returning to the hotel room until she could clear it with the assistance of whoever Oracle would be sending her way. And there was little point in checking into another hotel if the risk would be just about the same in Delphi’s eyes.

She hated the idea of it.

It made her skin itch.

But what choice did she have?

“Yeah,” Chesca said, grudgingly, before sharing the all-too-familiar address. Though she wasn’t looking forward to the unplanned visit, Chesca knew one place with more security than Fort Knox to its credit. It would be the safest location for the short term. “I’ll be staying with my parents.”