A Deadly Lesson (novella). Paul Gitsham

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СКАЧАТЬ dialed his number from memory.

      “Chou,” he said, answering his phone on the third ring. He sounded the same as he always did. Tired, brusque and maybe a little mean.

      Not the kind of guy you wanted to piss off. And that might be why they’d become fast friends at Columbia. Tory had the kind of sunny personality that balanced out the more abrupt people of the world.

      “Hey, it’s Patton.”

      “Twice in the same week. To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked. It had been at least six months since she’d seen him.

      “I can’t call to say hello?”

      “You can, but you never do.”

      “Sorry. I’ve been busy.”

      “I know. Making quite a name for yourself. I saw that piece you did on Maurice Steele. Nice job. I was impressed.”

      “Thanks, Lee. I was glad it turned out well.”

      Maurice Steele was a Hollywood producer—and Darcy’s soon-to-be ex-husband. He’d been possessive and abusive to Darcy, but Darcy and her son were now free of Maurice and the world knew the truth about the kind of man he was. He’d soon be on trial for murdering one of his financial backers, a crime Darcy had exposed while fighting to be free of Maurice once and for all.

      Tory had intended to put together a follow-up piece that delved into the Hollywood myth that celebrities were above the law, but her story had been eaten by the editor’s computer. The next evening Shannon Conner had gone on air with a similar story.

      “Have you got anything for me yet?” Tory asked.

      She heard the creak of his chair. She knew him well enough to guess that he’d probably propped his feet on his desk. “I’m not sure. I’m trying to track down a child that may not exist. This feels like one of those bizarre X-Files type cases that traces back to little green men.”

      She glanced at the picture of her and the Cassandras that had been taken on graduation day. It hung on her wall where she could easily see it.

      “Chou, you’ve been watching too much TV. I have some old print ads that I received from a friend that might be connected to the burglary at the fertility clinic. Can I e-mail them to you?” she asked.

      She addressed an e-mail to him, then scanned the old print ads that had led Darcy to the surrogate and attached them to the e-mail. She explained a little more of the background and what she knew about the situation.

      “I’ll look into it and get back to you.”

      “Thanks, Lee. I’m going to be out of the country for a few days, so contact me via e-mail if you find anything.”

      While she was on the Internet she sent a brief message to AA.gov. The Athena Academy alumni Web site had been created by several Athena grads. Along with maintaining the Athena student network, they worked with the intelligence community to provide couriers. Tory did some work for them because her job provided really good cover. She had a legit reason to be in many of the world’s hot spots.

      She let them know she was going to Puerto Isla, mentioned her flight number and then shut down her computer. She had to go home and pack.

      Tory leaned back in her chair, crossed her booted feet and smiled to herself. This SEAL story was going to be the one to take her into the big leagues. She could feel it in her bones.

      Chapter 2

      “T ory Patton, please pick up the white courtesy phone. Tory Patton to the white courtesy phone.”

      Tory slipped her shoes back on and then gathered her laptop case and large carry-on. Having just passed through airport security, she had about forty minutes to waste before her flight took off. She found the white courtesy phone and gave her name.

      “Your mother left a message for you. You can get hepatitis from the water, so watch what you drink. And that tunnel trick is getting old. Be careful.”

      “Thanks,” Tory said. “Any other messages?”

      “Just that one,” the operator said with a chuckle.

      Tory smiled. Her mother had called while Tory was on her way to the airport and had proceeded to give her usual safety lecture. Tory had pretended cell phone interference in the tunnel and had hung up on her. No matter how old she got, Evelyn Patton insisted on seeing Tory as about twelve. She made a mental note to call her mother from Miami. She hung up the courtesy phone, then turned and bumped into a man. He steadied her and leaned close.

      “Tory Patton?”

      “Who wants to know?” The guy was a little taller than she was in her two-inch heels. He had brown hair and wore a navy-blue trench coat. He subtly scanned the thin airport crowd as he held her arm.

      “AA.gov.”

      She edged back from the guy, surprised that he’d contacted her out in the open like this. Usually courier drops were arranged via e-mail and done without any direct contact. But she knew there hadn’t been time to set up a drop the usual way, and she assumed that this case was time sensitive.

      “Can I see some ID?”

      He sighed and pulled his wallet from his pocket showing her the American-eagle insignia that AA.gov used. She had the same leather card with the same insignia on it.

      “Can’t be too careful these days,” she said. Rainy had always said not to trust appearances. What am I missing here, Rainy?

      Tory found her old friend on her mind all the time lately. She knew it was because she still felt guilty for not being there when Rainy had called. She’d started talking to Rainy in her thoughts, as if her old mentor would somehow hear her and answer.

      “There’s an envelope for you inside this newspaper. Shred the instructions before getting on the plane. You’re on a work visa, right?”

      She nodded.

      “Any problems, you know who to contact.” He handed her the paper and left.

      Tory stood there for a minute wondering why she continued to do these jobs. She didn’t need the money the way she had when she’d been in college. But she knew in her heart that she did them because they validated all the hard work she’d done at Athena.

      She tucked the paper under her arm and went to the Admiral’s Club. Her frequent-flyer status assured her entrance. She went to the bar and got a gin and tonic before finding a seat in the corner away from the sparse crowd. It was a Wednesday, so there weren’t too many people flying.

      She opened the paper and Alexandra Forsythe’s brother, Bennington, smiled up at her with a woman on each arm. Tory knew that Alex was more than a little frustrated that her older brother was so…shallow. A frustration that Tory couldn’t relate to because her own brother, Derrick, was a DEA agent on the fast track to the top.

      Alex was driven and didn’t understand how someone who was related by blood didn’t share that same drive. Ben said he’d been born to wealth and intended to take every advantage and opportunity that afforded him, which drove СКАЧАТЬ