Storm Retribution, page 11
part #3 of Storm Series
Forcing herself to move, she gathered the few items of clothes she wanted to wash then wondered if Joe had anything he’d like to have cleaned. She’d seen him stuff some clothes back in his bag that morning. She took the bag from the closet and put it on the bed, unzipped it and pulled out the bundle of clothes she found on top. They were heavier than she expected and there was something hard. She unrolled the clothes and was surprised to find a knife, and not just any knife. It was a serious weapon, a hunting knife designed to cut deep, and honed sharp enough to cut the fabric of the shirt it had been wrapped in.
She picked it up. It was heavy but nicely weighted. Her father hadn’t walked into this completely unarmed. Storm was comforted by that. She took the soiled clothing except for the shirt, which she used to rewrap the knife, then returned the bag to the closet. As she gathered the pile of laundry she went back downstairs unaware that she was humming softly beneath her breath.
CHAPTER TWELVE
AFTER STARTING THE WASH, Storm wandered listlessly into the living room. She thought she’d find the book she’d been trying to read and settle into some quiet corner. There was a small television in each room but she wanted to be on hand if anything happened. On the other hand, inaction was starting to get to her. She wondered if Leon and his men were as bored as she was. Surely sitting around waiting for someone to show up couldn’t be very exciting for them. Or was this their job, riding their motorcycles from place to place, waiting to hand off and pick up mysterious packages, meeting with their boss? Where were their families, their wives and girlfriends, their children? The idea that they had children was profoundly disturbing.
Entering the dining area, Storm found the men were still playing poker. Leon held an unlit cigar between his teeth. Martin was laughing at something he’d said. Perro was building a tower with the poker chips Lisa had given them, which they weren’t using. A pile of cash sat in the middle of the table. Bud had a beer in one hand and his arm around Jackie.
Storm did a double take. Yes, Jackie had pulled a chair up next to Bud and had her own beer. She wasn’t actively flirting with Bud. She wasn’t leaning against him or even looking at him, but she did nothing to remove the arm resting across her shoulders. Oh hell.
Escaping the house, Storm found Lisa in the garden, perched on the edge of a raised bed, smoking. Storm took an empty five gallon bucket that looked like it was used to gather vegetables, upended it and sat down facing her mother.
Lisa used her thumb to gesture toward a pack of cigarettes in the pocket of her shirt. Storm shook her head and said “Jackie?”
“Yeah, she’s going on a bender, sure enough. I was kind of worried about that. A lot of beer around those guys. A lot of stress. Bad combination for her.”
“We’ve got to get them out of here. You should ask them to leave and then call the cops.”
“No cops. At least not yet.”
“Whatever they told you, Alice or whatever is making you let them stay, you should know it’s probably a lie.”
“Can’t take that chance.” Lisa said. “Besides, they aren’t doing anything wrong. They paid for their rooms and they aren’t any wilder than other guest’s we’ve had. In fact, rich folk’s teenagers are usually much worse.”
“How they’re behaving isn’t the issue. It’s why they’re here. Whatever they’re transporting has to be illegal. You know that. And it’s not very big so you know it’s not weed. It has to be something nasty that can really mess people up. Something that will get you into a lot of trouble, and might even cost you this place.” Storm looked pointedly around, at the lodge, the grounds. The beauty of the place was undeniable, the grass covered hillside stretching up to the timber covered hills all against the backdrop of a blue sky finally washed free of clouds.
Lisa nodded. “I know but we have to be patient. As soon as this person they’re waiting for arrives they’ll have their meeting then move on and things will get back to normal.”
“Until the next time they show up.”
Lisa shrugged, dropped her cigarette and ground it out with the toe of her shoe. “Until then I’ll just take it day to day. That’s what I’ve learned to do. You should go home. Your husband is mad and who can blame him. Go home and tell him you’re sorry and make things right between you.”
Storm didn’t know how to react to this motherly advice so in line with her own thoughts on the matter. For a moment she considered snapping some sort of sarcastic response, something about how her mother should fix her own life before giving advice, or that she had no right to give Storm advice after bailing so long ago, but she stopped herself. She wasn’t all that sure of herself anymore. One thing she’d learned since Lindsey had been born was that being a mom wasn’t what she’d thought it would be.
“I’ve noticed,” her mom continued, “that you and Martin seem to be getting along. I’ve seen you out walking and talking, though I can’t imagine what you’d have to talk to him about. I’ve seen him watching you too, when you weren’t looking. You have to be careful. He’s an attractive man, but he’s also dangerous.”
Dumbfounded, Storm didn’t immediately reply. What was her mother implying, that she was interested in some thug? She was annoyed but moderated her response.
“You don’t have to worry. The main thing we talk about is when I’m leaving, and will I be taking Joe with me. Seems like your friends aren’t too happy about us being here.”
“Friends? That’s not a nice thing to say.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry, I’m in a bad mood today. I miss my kids. I want to go home.”
“Then you should go. You don’t need to be here. You’ve seen that these men are not causing any trouble. They’ll wait for someone to pick up the package and then they’ll go.”
“Come on, Lisa, you can’t be that dumb. Why do you think my car won’t start? There’s no way they’d go to all the trouble of dealing with us for a package they could easily hide under a tree or a rock somewhere for someone to pick up. This has to be about something else, the meeting is my guess. They need a place where they can talk freely. Phones and emails can be hacked. A nice, out of the way place, run by two women who won’t get in the way sounds perfect. So they’ll meet here. They’ll use your place and once they’ve gotten away with it they won’t stop. You know that, right?”
“No, I don’t know that. The deal was they’d let Alice go if I let them use the house once. I’m sure they’ll stick with it.”
Storm bit her tongue and said nothing. Part of her wanted to tell her mother that she knew the truth, that she was lying about Alice and that she, Storm, had cleverly, figured it out. Except of course she hadn’t been that clever, a clever FBI agent had done that. So, she hadn’t earned the right to say, gotcha.
She also knew her mother wasn’t naïve enough to believe that the men would keep their promises but that lie was also meant to get Storm to go home, to keep her safe. How could she fault her for that?
“Besides,” her mother continued, “what does your being here change? There really isn’t anything, short of calling the police that you or Joe can do, is there? And doing that could get my friend hurt. I don’t believe either of you would want that to happen.”
“We wouldn’t,” Storm agreed. “But maybe just by being here we can make them reconsider their plan. Maybe they’ll decide your place isn’t such a good idea after all. We’re witnesses to whatever they do, and I’m thinking these guys don’t want that. They’re a lot like cockroaches, they scurry away when someone shows up and turns on a light.”
Lisa sighed, rubbed at a spot between her eyebrows as if she were getting a headache. “I suppose.”
“You don’t mind us being here, do you?” Storm asked, and the note of vulnerability she heard in her voice bothered her.
“Mind you . . . Oh no. Just the opposite. It’s just, I don’t want you, or your father, to make these men angry. They can be . . .”
“Not so nice,” Storm finished for her.
From the house they could hear Jackie’s laugh.
“Yes. Not so nice,” her mother agreed dropping her voice, which had risen, back to just above a whisper. “Anyway, it shouldn’t be long. I heard Leon tell Perro he was going to send him on ahead, probably in a day or two.”
“That’s good news. Now all we have to do is pry Jackie away from them and we might get through this.”
Dinner was pork chops, mashed potatoes and green beans. Everyone had drifted into the kitchen and now moved around the center island, filling their plates. No one spoke much. Jackie was trying to help, moving around the kitchen, every movement overly precise, obviously drunk but struggling for control. Storm was folding laundry, piling it on top of the dryer. Joe wrapped a pork chop in some tin foil and stuffed it, and a bottle of water in the pocket of his jacket.
“I’m going for a walk,” he said.
“I’ll go with you, if that’s okay,” said Storm.
“Of course,” Joe said.
“Just let me run this laundry up to the room and grab my jacket.” Storm took up the pile of clothes, pleasantly warm in her arms, and walked through the kitchen and to the french doors, nudged them open with her elbow, stepped through, then carefully closed them. Now in the entry she moved quickly to the desk. Pulling open the top drawer she saw what she’d noticed before, a neat separator, each section labeled with the name of a room and each holding at least one key.
She set the pile of laundry on top of the desk then took one of each of the keys. She pushed them into the pocket of her jeans, closed the drawer quietly, then took up the laundry and rushed up the stairs. She dropped the laundry on the foot of the bed and then, without hesitation, tiptoed out and along the landing. She paused to look over the rail. The entry hall was empty. Digging the keys out of her pocket she moved to the first room, Leon’s. The second key she tried let her in.
The room was similar to her and Joe’s, a double bed, colorful quilt, antique dresser and wardrobe. Her reflection in the mirror above the dresser startled her for a moment, but she realized what it was and hurried on. There was nothing on the bed, and only a watch on top of the dresser. Jeans and a shirt had been tossed over the room’s only chair. She opened the door to the wardrobe. The box was sitting on a high shelf and she was surprised it had been so easy to find. It spoke to their complete confidence that they had the upper hand and that confidence made her angry. She reached up and almost savagely pulled it down. It didn’t weigh much and it was pretty small, about the size to two thick paperback novels. Still, after she tucked it under her shirt she realized it was very obvious.
She carefully shut the wardrobe, and then hurried out of the room, closing the door softly behind her and locking it. She saw no one and ran on tiptoe back to the bedroom. She thought about hiding the box but there wasn’t any obvious place, so she put on her jacket and zipped it up. The extra bulk hid the box pretty well, and the drawstring hem kept it from falling.
When she reached the foot of the stairs, Storm shouted, “You ready to go?” Her heart was pounding and she only hoped that her voice sounded normal.
“Yep,” he father said, and the french doors opened. Behind her father, Martin stood, and he looked at her with such a studious questioning gaze that it felt as if it were peeling away the layers of her skin and revealing all of her secrets.
She managed a wan smile.
Her mother moved past Martin and stood beside him in the doorway.
“We’re going for a walk,” Storm told her, grateful she could address her and not Martin, who seemed able to peer too deeply into her intentions. “We’ll be back soon,” she said hoping to reassure her mother that she wasn’t being abandoned.
Lisa looked worried, but she too hid behind a phony smile. “Good. It’ll be dark soon. When you get back you can help me make dessert for the rest of the week. I’ll get some canned apples and what not out of the pantry.”
Outside they found the evening unusually warm. The sky was turning dark near the horizon as the planet slowly spun them away from the sun. As they walked through the old orchard the scents of rotting apples and the ocean made an oddly nice combination. As they approached the two benches Storm’s father said, “Do you want to stop here, or keep going.”
“Keep going,” was her immediate reply. It felt good to be outside and moving. At home she ran every morning and most evenings, a habit that grounded her, gave her time to think. At home she had many routines but here everything was about waiting and anticipating. Storm hadn’t realized how tense she was until she began to relax as they drew farther from the house.
If not for the hard corners of the package tucked in her jacket and poking her in the ribs she might have been able to enjoy herself more. But it was less the thing’s physical presence than its contents that bothered her.
They walked to the edge of the road, checked for traffic, which was non-existent, and crossed. Under the redwoods it was cold and damp. They kept moving until looking back they could barely see the roofline of the lodge. At the next clearing, Storm found a fallen log and they sat on it, though it was spongy and rather damp. Ignoring that, she took out the box and held it out.
“Oh damn, Willow, is that what I think it is?” Joe asked.
Storm nodded, choosing to ignore the use of her old name, and looked more closely at the box. It was wrapped in brown paper, taped at two ends.
“I don’t think I can open this without making it obvious.”
“Here, let me try,” he said, fishing a small folding knife from the front pocket of his pants. He took the box, rested it on his thigh and carefully slid the blade under a loose edge of the tape.
Storm watched the delicate procedure with growing frustration. She would have ripped the cover off, but knew if she wanted to return the box without them knowing she’d taken it his way was better.
Finally, he was able to unfold one of the ends, reach in and carefully pry open the box. Storm bent close, expecting to see pills or powder. Instead she saw semi-transparent green plastic and silver metal USB ports. The box was filled with flash drives. Dozens of them. She reached in and took one out. The small plastic device was completely common and gave no clue as to what it contained. She turned it over looking for a label but there was none. She looked at her father and saw he wore the same puzzled expression she must be wearing.
“They aren’t moving drugs,” she finally said.
“More like information,” her father agreed.
“What kind of information? It can’t be good, whatever it is.”
“I don’t know. My first thought was corporate espionage, then I thought, maybe state secrets, or I don’t know, plans for a nuclear warhead. But maybe I’ve watched too many movies.”
“Me too.”
They sat in silence for a moment, each staring at the bit of plastic and metal resting in the palm of Storm’s hand.
Sighing, Storm slid the flash drive into her pocket, the took up the box and began rewrapping and taping it.
“What are you doing?” her father asked.
“We need to get this box back before they notice it’s missing but we also have to see what’s on these. I’m all fumble fingered. Can you put the cover back on better than this?”
“I think so.” He bent to the task, studiously folding the paper and smoothing the tape down with his thumb. “Looks okay to me.”
“Me too. Let’s head back.”
“Okay, but give me the box, tell me where you found it. I’ll put it back.”
“What? No, I’ll do it. I can hide it under my jacket. You didn’t even notice it was there.”
“Doesn’t matter. I can hide it too, plus I’m older. They won’t wonder that I have to go to the bathroom the minute I get back after a short walk. It’ll seem natural.”
“That’s ridiculous. They aren’t going to analyze anything that much.”
“You don’t know that.” He tucked the box into his jacket.
She sighed. “Fine. You win.”
While they walked back to the lodge Storm explained exactly where Joe should return the box but her thoughts were on the small device in her pocket. A thing that weighed so little she couldn’t even tell it was there, yet whose importance could be enormous.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THEY CAME OUT OF the woods directly across from the lodge. Both thought the men would be back at their favored place, the back deck, so they decided to reenter at the front.
They climbed the front stairs and going inside found the lodge quiet, with only the hum of the dishwasher from the kitchen disturbing the silence. Joe looked upstairs then back at Storm, who nodded. As Joe hurried up the stairs Storm took off her jacket and hung it on one of the hooks by the front door. She took her time. She wanted to see her father coming back down the stairs, then she’d go find her mother and learn what kind of dessert they were making.
The sound of raised voices from upstairs made her stomach clench. She rushed up the stairs, using the handrail to propel herself faster.
She reached the landing just in time to see Joe be thrown backward and slam into the railing which shook at the impact. Leon erupted from the room, fists swinging. His right connected, and Joe went to his knees.
Storm charged. Her body slammed into Leon and he staggered sideways but didn’t fall. Instead he twisted and punched. She drew back just in time and his punch slid past her cheek. Then she felt someone grab her from behind. As she struggled against the restraining arms wrapped around her, Leon delivered a hard backhand that caught the right side of her face. The blow stung. Enraged Storm kicked with both feet, letting the man holding her carry all of her weight. She caught Leon in the stomach and he staggered back into the railing. She tried to kick again but the man holding her wrapped his arm around her neck and drew her head back. Suddenly she was choking, fighting for air.
