Chapter Twenty-Eight
Upon arriving in Washington, Mercury was guided from the plane by the flight attendant, too preoccupied to check for her bags or wait for Frank. The news of the ransom projected her into a terrifying place where, once again, the man she loved was to be torn from her. Frank had withdrawn again, his mind and spirit with Ciro, perhaps already thinking ahead to the moment when he would trade himself for the boy. Guessing he wasn't fearing for himself, Mercury knew she would worry enough for both of them.
Her pleas to not be a part of such an exchange had been met with a mere shake of his head. He listened wordlessly to her arguments, murmured affirmations of his decision to go through with it, and then cradled her head against his shoulder as she trembled with fear for him. She'd calmed, but only by clinging to him and drawing upon his reserve of inner strength had she prevented herself from breaking down.
Mercury shivered at the crispness of the air that hit her at the top of the flight steps. The wind and noise of the engines buffeted her as she stood poised above the suited men in dark flapping coats waiting beside black vehicles. Mercury pulled her own coat about her, shrinking against the cold in her heart as well as her body.
A man stepped forward as she reached the bottom of the steps, his light brown hair tortured by the wind and springing in crazy tufts. His solemn smile and brandy colored eyes were kind with understanding. "Tom Callahan, Ms Aldair," he said, extending a hand. "Welcome to Washington. I wish it could have been under better circumstances."
"Thank you," Mercury said automatically, before Tom passed her to the man at his elbow, his attention already shifting to Frank.
"Brett Fugliello, ma'am," the man said. His near black hair was shorter than Tom's and resisted the wind's efforts to tousle it. In the increasing lightening of the new morning, Mercury could see his eyes were as blue as a perfect sea. Taking in account his surname, Mercury guessed he didn't inherit those orbs from an Italian father. "Please come with me."
Mercury looked behind as Tom Callahan waited to follow Frank into one of the waiting cars. She started toward them but Frank shook his head, putting a restraining hand on Tom before moving away to rejoin her.
"I'm not going with you?" Mercury asked, anxiety gripping her throat, lest someone should wrest him from her while she wasn't there.
"We're going to the same place, just in different vehicles," he said, his eyes holding hers with an implacability she couldn't penetrate.
"Why? I don't know these people. I–"
"They're good men." Frank raised a hand as if to touch her, then pulled back. "I've worked with them for several years. You'll be safe–"
"I'm not worried about safe," Mercury said almost frantically. "I'm here to be with you, Frank. To help you."
"Then go with Brett. In the plane… you said you would be by my side, Mercury. Sometimes that involves riding in a separate vehicle if I deem it warrantable."
Mercury searched his face, not understanding his reasoning but recognizing the conviction stamped there. She nodded and turned back to Brett. She knew she was out of her league but could help him best by doing as he asked.
Brett escorted her to an identical vehicle in front of Frank's transport, settling her into the back seat before joining her on the other side. Mercury looked ahead at the back of the driver who hadn't bothered to identify himself. Another agent took the passenger seat in front, pulling the last door shut and muting the cold and the noise of the airport as the car pulled slowly away.
"Jackson Pine and Sam Santana," Brett performed the introductions. "Ms Mercury Aldair." The agent in the front seat turned and gave Mercury a solemn nod but his eyes were curious, sweeping over her as if committing every detail to memory.
'Do we need so many… escorts?" Mercury asked, looking around at the full vehicle behind them.
"Frank's big shit in Washington," Brett explained. "He's put a lot of people away and if a case touches him personally, we immediately suspect he is the real target. The fact that the ransom doesn't involve funds has confirmed that. Hence, security is beefed up, both for him and anyone within his radius."
Mercury's nerves tightened. "You mean I'm at risk too? Just knowing him?"
Brett shook his head. "Not from just knowing him, Ms Aldair, but being important to him, then yes. You are at risk too."
Mercury sank back into the upholstery of the car, realizing her presence here was less a miracle than a case of Frank wanting to keep her under his protection. "Then you know who's involved in the kidnapping?"
Brett's eyes narrowed and he smiled. "You're trying to extract information from me, which means Frank's told you nothing. I'm sorry, Ms Aldair, but I've said too much already. Frank has his reasons–"
"But he hasn't given you orders not to say anything, has he?" Mercury jumped on the only carrot available to her.
"No, he hasn't, but I still know better. Sorry, Ms Aldair. Now, Tom tells me you're taking Broadway by storm up North."
Mercury wasn't interested in satisfying his curiosity if he wouldn’t answer her questions. "It's my turn to be sorry, Mr Fugliello, but I'm really not up to small talk."
"Please," he smiled jovially, "call me Brett, else someone will consider it their duty to tell you my nickname and I can do without that embarassment."
If he expected her to quiz him about his nickname or even smile, Mercury disappointed him, too worried about what lay ahead for Frank. She resented being delegated like this even if the reasons were legitimate. She didn't have to like it or play along with it.
"Ms Aldair," Brett's humor was replaced by understanding and sincerity, "I have been a part of many K and R Ops. They can be long and grueling and very hard on the nerves. Patience wears thin and tempers snap, worry saps appetites and causes nausea and worse. Often the hostages are returned home in better condition than the loved ones who waited for them." His eyes narrowed, as if looking through her and gauging her ability to cope. "Frank relies on me to keep the crew hopeful and buoyant. Small talk, though insignificant and maybe inappropriate, is one way to keep us sane in times of stress. Haven't you used it yourself to combat opening night jitters?"
Mercury had to agree she had. Still, she didn't think talking about Magical Dreams was going to help her. "Very well," she acceded, looking out the car window, seeing flat fields giving way to a continuous belt of trees shadowed by Lego block rows of high-rise buildings. "Perhaps you can tell me where we are headed then?"
"I think I can manage that. To Frank's apartment."
She whipped around at that and Brett held up a hand in apology. "No, I'm not fobbing you off to keep you out of our way. More often than not, Ops are set up at the home of the involved parties for obvious reasons. The kidnapper knows were to contact them and the negotiator has access to members of the immediate family. It's a little different in this case in that the negotiator is the immediate family, but the principle is the same."
Mercury wondered what Frank's co-workers thought of his unusual domestic arrangement. "Were you aware Frank was guardian to Ciro?" Mercury asked.
"No." Brett jerked his head toward the car bringing up their rear. "I've learnt more about my boss in the last two hours than I have in the past two years. As far as I can tell, Ciro and Belicia's presence was known to the elite few and it was only twenty minutes ago that Tom briefed me Frank was bringing a fiancée with him." His eyes twinkled, his grin cheeky and teasing. "I had no idea Frank was even dating, let alone at the stage of asking a woman to marry him."
"We've known each other for ten years," Mercury said defensively. "It was far from a whirlwind affair."
"Then we're both familiar enough with Frank to know it wasn't."
Of course, Mercury thought, anyone who worked with Frank would realize he wasn't prone to impulsiveness. And Ciro and Belicia's concealment was evidence that Frank could keep his personal life very private.
"Why don't the kidnappers want money?" Mercury stared at Brett, defying him to deny her an answer.
"They don't need it. What they want, money can't buy."
"Frank."
Brett's eyes glittered but he said nothing.
"Then it's a revenge thing." Mercury's stomach turned at the thought of what ruthless men could do when hell-bent on a vendetta. "Who has he angered enough to wrench a baby from his mother?"
Brett's chin went up. "You're a very intelligent lady, Ms Aldair."
Mercury bristled, insulted as much for Frank as herself. "Why would you assume I wasn't? Frank doesn't strike me as the type to go for bimbos."
Brett chuckled. "No, I would have to agree with you there. He doesn't suffer fools gladly either, which is why I'm saying no more."
Mercury stared at the head of the agent in front of her. He would be listening to every word and could report to Frank if Brett veered from protocol.
"How did the two of you meet?" Brett asked. "Ten years ago that is."
Mercury felt a small smile stretch her lips as she looked back at him. "I think Frank can tell you that story."
Brett cocked his head to the side. "That's not going to happen, but I'm intrigued…"
Mercury shook her head, smiling wider, her first genuine smile for a long time.
Brett sighed and lapsed into tour guide mode, pointing out a landmark or two, ticking off suburbs as they went, his commentary peppered with jokes about his home city. Mercury pretended to show an interest, probably even smiled at an anecdote, but her mind was in the car behind them, wondering what Frank was feeling, thinking; even planning.
The car slowed and Mercury looked ahead as they swung into a driveway between two brownstones, each three storeys high. The vehicle nosed down a narrow ramp into a parking bay filled with tenants' cars. Mercury scanned the dimly lit basement, wondering which car was Frank's.
"I'll give you one guess which one's his." Brett swept his hand toward the parked vehicles, then opened his car door and walked around to hers. Mercury took a quick breath at his astuteness, then considered anticipating what someone was thinking might be the skill Brett brought to his job.
Mercury glanced past a world-weary light-colored Toyota, a bright red RV, a black Lincoln and a pert green VW that reminded her of her green Escort and how Frank had folded himself into it that first day she took him back to her apartment. He had been so uncomfortable while she had one thought and one thought only. Getting to know this prickly withdrawn law student better. A lot better.
Mercury's gaze came back to the Lincoln. Big but streamlined, dark and sleek. You are your car had never been a truer reflection. "The Lincoln," Mercury said confidently.
Brett merely laughed, opened the car door for her, then guided her toward Frank and Tom who had also alighted from their vehicle.
Mercury wanted to run into Frank's arms, but held herself back with difficulty, instinctively knowing he would prefer a show of resilience from her. Frank put a light hand on her arm and steered her toward the small elevator at the rear of the building. She fed on that gentle contact, using it to add to her store of resolve. No one spoke. Even Brett must have considered small talk unnecessary or inappropriate for the moment. Mercury used the time during the short trip to his floor to steel herself for the inevitable meeting with Belicia.
Alighting from the elevator, Frank guided Mercury to the second door on the left and, knocking softly, he leaned across her to stand in front of the peephole. The door was opened by a young man in shirtsleeves, loosened tie and dark pants. He nodded to Frank then stepped aside and Mercury inched a little closer to Frank's side as they moved down the long hallway. The apartment was bursting with electric light and the living room seemed to overflow with people and equipment. Mercury scanned the room for the only other woman there, a dark-haired beauty with large brimming eyes and trembling mouth seated on one of the room's sofas. She looked up as they entered, her hair flowing over her shoulders and down her back.
As soon as the woman saw Frank, she launched herself from the sofa and rushed to him, throwing herself against his chest. As Frank folded his arms around her and murmured soothing words in Spanish, Mercury moved away from him a little to give them that time of comfort. Belicia's Spanish was rapid and hysterical, her body shaking against Frank's despite his trying to absorb her distress. Though Mercury's head was in the right place, trying to imagine the terror Belicia was going through, her body was rigid with unease, resenting Belicia's frantic hold on her man.
The embrace seemed to go on forever, Mercury scanning the room to divert herself from wresting the woman from him. Though the living room was spacious, it was crowded with men standing by, sitting at, or hunching over electronic equipment that littered each flat surface. A laptop was opened on the dining table, and beside it was a phone connected by leads to a motionless reel to reel tape deck on the coffee table. A thick-set agent hunched over the laptop, another stood behind him watching the screen with a frown on his face. If front of a TV/VCR unit, two men pored over a dark play-back of a dimly lit street, occasionally pointing to something hazy on the screen. Several slim gun-metal gray briefcases were opened on the floor, now empty. Another agent was seated on one of the sofas, his wrists on his knees, flexing his hands. All were in shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbows with ties dragged away from their throats, their shed coats littering the sofa.
Mercury turned back to Frank to see his hands on Belicia's shoulders trying to extricate himself from her clinging arms. He spoke in Spanish, his voice firm and insistent, and Belicia slid a look at Mercury, then bowed her head. Frank repeated himself more firmly still and Belicia stepped back and nodded, then turned to Mercury.
"Licia," Frank said, his voice gentling, "this is Mercury Aldair. Mercury, Belicia Straayer."
Mercury stepped forward and held out both hands. "I'm very sorry we had to meet like this, Seńora Straayer," she said sincerely. "I feel for you and your little boy, and have every confidence in Frank–"
"Si, si." Belicia looked at Mercury's hands, but didn't take them. She nodded again, still not meeting her eyes. "Everyone has been telling me so. I believe you. Franco will get him back. It is his job." She looked up at Frank, her eyes blazing. "But it is his love for Ciro that will succeed–"
"Then look after Mercury for me, Licia, so that I can begin." Frank glanced at Mercury, his eyes apologetic, then he tipped his head toward Belicia.
"I'll be fine," Mercury said, dropping her hands, and smiling wanly. She spoke softly to Belicia, "What I really need right now is the bathroom. If you wouldn't mind showing me where–?"
"Si."
"I'll wait for you ladies in the kitchen," Brett suggested, joining them as they walked further down the hall. "The boss owes me breakfast for getting me out of bed so early."
And Mercury realized how Frank deftly organized them into their roles. Mercury was to comfort Belicia, the latter to play hostess to his guest and Brett was to keep the women under his watchful and jovial eye. Mercury could see how Frank had become so successful in his profession. She only hoped he looked after himself as well as his charges.
Mercury used the bathroom, ignoring how tired and washed out she looked until she could get her hands on her bags. She couldn't prevent herself from looking for signs of Frank in the room, but it merely held a mixture of feminine and child's toiletries, several plastic Sesame Street bath toys, a soft white towel and a big blue Grover bath towel. There was no sign that a man shared it and Mercury assumed Frank's room had an ensuite.
The kitchen was on the other side of the hall and Mercury was greeted by Brett with metal tongs in his hand and a tea towel stuck in his waist in lieu of an apron. She had to smile, biting back a full-blown laugh. Brett appeared to be very good at his job too. He even had Belicia helping him by scouring the refrigerator for ingredients, understandably without enthusiasm but putting on a brave face.
"If I could trouble the chaperone come chef come porter for my bags, Brett?" Mercury asked with a smile.
"Of course, milady." He bowed low. "I put them in Frank's room. Back up the hall and last door on your right. One sausage or two?"
Mercury felt her mouth twist at the suggestion. She wasn't sure she could face food, but she didn't want to disappoint his efforts. "One thanks."
Heading back up the hall took her past the living room again, and she strained her ears to hear snatches of the men's conversation. Spanish-sounding names were cited several times; she heard
Pushing it open, she froze as she heard Frank's voice rising in anger. "I still don't believe it!"
"I know the history, Frank, but that's the signature on the email."
"Someone's used her name to rattle Frank." Mercury heard Tom Callahan's voice enter the conversation.
"It's a futile exercise," Frank snapped. "Who took the phone call earlier?"
"I did," the other speaker said. "It was a woman's voice and although Ramith's confirmed that the hotel room where the call originated has been vacated, the name on the register is unmistakable."
"A name confirms nothing," Frank said, more calmly.
"The hotel receptionist described her. Tall, blonde, athletic. He said she looked interesting enough, but was rude and uncommunicative. A 'nasty piece of goods', he said. And…"
Mercury didn't breathe as the silence hung in the air. The agent must have shrugged, the rest of the words unnecessary.
Someone coughed.
The other voice continued. "She introduced herself as Ana Diaspora, Frank."
Mercury wanted to run back down the hall and drag Frank away from there, take both of them away now and pretend none of this had happened. Her feet took her toward the living room without her being able to stop them, but Brett was coming up the hallway. His frown quickly turned into a forced smile as he called out to her.
"That's the right one, Ms Aldair! Your bags are on the bed." He kept coming, blocking her passage to Frank.
"Brett… I want to know what's going on. I need–"
"Frank will tell you. When he's ready." Brett ushered her into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.
Mercury didn't hold back her anger as she rounded on him. "I will not be treated like this! I too, 'know the history'. I know about that woman and what she did to Frank and she's not going to get another chance–"
The door opened and Frank was there, filling the doorway, legs astride, his face a mask. "Leave us, Brett."
"Sure boss."
Brett slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind him and Mercury looked hard at Frank, her chest heaving, heart straining to be next to his, but she held her ground.
"I'm not going to let you anywhere near that woman again," Mercury said, the quiet firmness of her voice assuring him she was deadly serious.
Frank's eyes were pools of liquid energy, that seemed to grow larger and engulf her. "She's dead, Mercury."
"But–"
"Ana Diaspora did not check into a Washington hotel. I killed her three years ago."
"Then–"
"The abductor is Paco Florés. He thinks using an Ana look-alike is going to somehow make me fall apart and make mistakes. He's as stupid now as he was three years ago. With him at the helm of this exchange, it's going to be a walk in the park for me."
"He wants you dead, Frank!" Mercury cried, not reassured. "There won't be any exchange. Revenge and hatred want immediate gratification. He'll shoot you as soon as he sees you."
"I have every reason to hate him as much, Mercury." Frank ground the words out and Mercury watched as his jaw clenched with suppressed emotion. "As soon as Ciro is safe…"
Mercury's chin dropped, shaking her head in denial and distress. "You can't do this. You can't put yourself in such danger. There must be another way–"
Frank moved and she was suddenly in his arms, held so tightly she could barely breathe. "Ciro's life is the most important consideration here, Mercury," he said, his lips in her hair. "An innocent suffered at the hands of these dogs before. I will not let it happen again."
Supported in the haven of Frank's arms, Mercury let the tears fall. Exhaustion, anxiety and terror for him had weakened her tenacity and she couldn't hold back the emotions any longer. He picked her up, carried her to the bed and placed her gently on top of the covers. Joining her, he kissed her brow, her eyes, her mouth, lingering, driving, then sliding off to travel up her jaw.
"I'll be back," he said hoarsely. "I have a lot to come back to."
Her hands held him desperately, running over his back, across his waist and up his chest, their progress frozen by the leather straps she found under his coat. Mercury recoiled in shock at the cold rigid feeling of metal where she expected his giving warmth. The presence of the gun made her more afraid.
"Don't!" she pleaded, taking his face in her hands. "Don’t go!"
Frank closed his eyes, hiding his reaction to her plea, and kissed her again. His embrace was more heated and desperate than before and Mercury knew she'd punched through his resolve. She spun out of control with the feelings he kindled with his hands and mouth, his body pushing her into the softness of the bed. She clung to him, convinced she could prevent him from leaving her, and then he was pulling back, the mattress springing slightly with the loss of his weight.
Mercury stretched and snuggled into the pillow, her eyelids heavy as she waited for Frank to undress. A breath, a heart race and falter later she realized the room was too quiet. Pushing herself up on her elbows, Mercury desperately scanned the room and the adjacent ensuite. She was alone. She hadn't even heard him leave. Throwing herself off the bed, she ran for the door. The doorknob was in her hand, but she didn't turn it. Ten years ago, she'd run out a door and belittled her pride by pleading with him. She wouldn't do it again. Dragging her feet to the bed, Mercury lay down on it, drawing her legs under her chin and cried great gulping tears for herself, for Ciro, and for Frank.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Magical Dreams – Chapter 29 (coming soon)