Mr. And Miss Anonymous Read online

  “You pay the donors in cash. Where does that money come from?”

  “It…it’s in a separate envelope with the payroll checks. I get cash twice a month. I have to keep meticulous records. We don’t have a petty cash drawer. If I need to buy a lightbulb or something, I have to use my own money, get a receipt, and I’m reimbursed with my check.”

  “How many people work here?”

  “Right now, two nurses. In the fall and winter, when we’re really busy, it can be as many as three doctors and four or five nurses. Six-hour shifts. None of them are friendly.”

  Lily decided it was time to weigh in. “What do you know about the fertility clinic?”

  “Absolutely nothing. I’m not lying,” Jones said at Lily’s skeptical expression. “The fertility clinic is totally separate from the sperm bank. There’s a full staff over there, and the only reason I know that is I see them coming and going. They never come in here, and I’ve never been over there. That is the God’s honest truth. I don’t believe this is happening,” Ina wailed dramatically.

  “You’ve been here eight years, you said. During that time do you remember anyone coming here who might be involved in the company? Think carefully. Did you ever hear the doctors or nurses say anything that might help us?”

  “No. Never. This is really a boring job. It’s the same thing every single day. The routine never changes. Like I said, fall and winter are busy, with more donors coming through the doors.”

  “Where are the personnel files?” Lily asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Pete knew there was nothing more to gain from interrogating Ina Jones. He picked up the CD he’d copied and stood up. “Thank you for your help, Ms. Jones. You can call the police now if you want to. I’d call that number I just called before you do that, though.”

  Ina Jones started to cry. She was dabbing at her eyes when the phone rang. The trio looked at one another. “Answer it and use the speaker button,” Pete said.

  “Berkeley Sperm Bank,” Ina said in a jittery voice.

  The rich baritone snarled a greeting. “Are those people gone? What did you tell those people?”

  Ina closed her eyes. “They’re gone, and I didn’t tell them anything because I don’t know anything. I told you, they had a killer dog with them. They copied everything that was on the computer. I quit. I’m leaving right now.”

  “You will do no such thing. Do you hear me?”

  Pete’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline at the threatening tone he heard coming from the speakerphone. To his and Ina’s surprise, Winston licked her hand.

  “I guess you didn’t hear me. I said I quit. I’m going to lock the door, leave my key in the mailbox, and go, depart, vamoose. I will also turn out the lights. Good-bye, whoever you are.”

  The phone rang almost immediately the moment the connection was broken. Ina ignored it as she set about turning out lights and gathering up her purse and other belongings.

  Ina ran her fingers through her hair as she turned off the computer and straightened the calendar blotter to the middle of the desk. She looked Pete in the eye, and said, “I’m going to cash my check before they stop payment on it. Please, follow me out.” Pete and Lily had no other choice but to trail behind her. Winston followed, his eyes alert.

  Ina was at her car, a maroon Honda Accord, when she turned to Pete. “I really hope you’re wrong about all this. I’m going to have a very hard time of it if I find out you’re right and I was even an unknowing part of this. I wish I wasn’t afraid of dogs. Winston seems like a nice one.”

  Winston barked happily at the mention of his name.

  The engine running, the window rolled down, Ina had one more thing to say. “I know I know you from somewhere. I never forget a face. It will come to me,” she muttered to herself as she drove away.

  For the first time, Lily realized it was drizzling. “It’s raining!” How brilliant was that? “Now what?”

  Pete looked down at the woman standing in front of him. Even with all that was going on he wanted to kiss her. Lily, reading his intentions lifted her head slightly. The world tilted, rocked, then tilted again. She knew she’d waited all her life for this moment. She said so when they finally drew apart.

  “Damn!” was all Pete could think of to say. “Well, damn!”

  Lily laughed. She linked her arm with Pete’s as she led him up the walkway to the fertility clinic.

  What looked like a hastily printed sign that said CLOSED was taped to the door. Pete tried the door handle. It didn’t budge. He gave the stout metal door a hard kick. When nothing happened, he cursed under his breath.

  “We could sit out here and wait for people to leave,” Lily said. “They can’t stay in there forever. There are eighteen cars in the parking lot. Staff, donors? Do we want to waste our time here? This is just a guess on my part, but I think the procedure at this clinic is the same as the one at the sperm bank. In short, Pete, we aren’t going to get any information. Maybe we should try the police or the FBI to see what if anything we can find out about the school. What do you think?”

  Pete kicked the door again. “Okay, let’s try the police first even though the Feds are on it. Sometimes the police get pissy when the Feds stomp on their turf. They might be willing to give up something.”

  “It’s worth a try,” Lily said.

  “Lily…what just happened…it wasn’t because of…this, was it?”

  “Way back when, we…you and I…we let the moment get away from us. I never forgot about you. I dreamed of you more often than I care to admit. Always, I wished we had gotten together somehow. I told myself that particular moment in time wasn’t right for us. These moments, right now, feel right to me.”

  “Damn! Well, damn. That’s exactly how I feel. Felt. We’re not too bright, now, are we?”

  Lily fiddled with the hat on her head. “Oh, I don’t know, Pete. I think that was a pretty bright move you executed back there in the parking lot. I was bright enough to respond. So where does that leave us?”

  “How does ‘together’ sound?” Pete asked.

  “I think it sounds perfect. Listen, Pete, are you sure you want to go public with all this? You’re so high-profile, I’m thinking it could damage your reputation. Stockholders are a funny lot. I’m nowhere near your league. I could use a different name. Zolly could help me. We could report back to you. I’m thinking out loud here.”

  “It doesn’t matter. When this is all over, I’m retiring. I’m going to move out to my ranch in Montana. I made up my mind ages ago. It just took me a long time to get around to it. Right now, that’s my game plan. Can you see yourself living in Montana, Lily?”

  Lily threw her head back and laughed. Her hat sailed away on a gust of wind. Winston chased it and caught it in midair before it could land in a puddle.

  “It’s still pouring rain,” Pete commented.

  “I know. I had a dream about us once. We were walking in a park in our bare feet in the rain. You were holding my hand. I wanted you to kiss me so bad. But there were other people walking in the rain, and you were shy. You actually admitted to being shy. I was so impressed that you were a sensitive guy.”

  Pete listened intently. “Then what happened?”

  Lily tried not to laugh. “I don’t know. I woke up. We could pretend we’re in the park right now.” To move things along, Lily removed her sandals. She reached for Pete’s hand and led him to the biggest puddle in the parking lot. She stomped in it. Pete joined her, then Winston joined them.

  Zolly and Pete’s security team watched from their cars, their jaws dropping. Zolly clamped his hands over his eyes when the boss planted a liplock on his companion that lasted so long he didn’t think it was possible. He peeped between his fingers to see if either of them had suffocated.

  “ ’Bout time, boss,” he muttered.

  Chapter 7

  It was like a Halloween night—wet and cold, the naked, arthritic trees bending under the torrential rains falling like ragi
ng rivers from the black hole in the sky.

  The windowless concrete building had its own symphony of sounds to match those of the elements: rats skittering across the floor, the howling wind invading the dark space through the many cracks in the deserted old building. Even the cement floor offered up its own set of weird, frightening sounds.

  It was obvious both occupants of the room were nervous because they jumped when an owl hooted its displeasure at the weather invading its space in the tree outside the concrete building.

  The witches and goblins this night were mortal. One wore a power suit and shiny wing tips, and carried a briefcase that cost more than most mortals earned in a month. The other goblin—more boy than man—it was hard to tell—looked like he had just stepped off the soccer field, with the grass stains to prove it. And yet, he smelled like Ivory Soap.

  Even in broad daylight, it would be hard to tell either person’s age—a teenager perhaps or a thirtysomething with a baby face. A nonthreatening goblin.

  The power suit was a plain-looking man. Possibly in his late fifties. Definitely a pampered individual. Plain face, plain, thinning hair, plain stature. It was the suit, the shoes, the briefcase that shrieked power and money. Then again maybe it was the man’s arrogance, or the man’s defiant eyes—eyes black as the night.

  The other man/boy hated the plain man. Hated and distrusted him. He waved his wrist in the general direction of the man—a test. A test to see if the power suit had any idea at all that what he thought was a heart monitor on his wrist was really a miniature digital recorder. In this line of business, you never knew what could go down in the blink of an eye. Satisfied, the man/boy held out his hand. The plain man slapped a thick brown envelope into his palm.

  “It’s all there,” the plain man said.

  “Yeah, well, I never take things for granted.” The man/boy stuck the small penlight between his teeth so that the powerful tiny light beamed down on the thick stack of currency inside the envelope. The man/boy counted slowly and methodically, spitting on his index finger from time to time when the bills stuck together.

  Outside, the owl hooted again and again. The rain continued to river downward. Holes in the roof allowed spits of water to hit the dirty concrete floor with delicate little plopping sounds.

  “I told you it was all there,” the plain man said when the man/boy shoved the thick envelope inside his zippered Windbreaker.

  “Nice doing business with you,” the man/boy said as he pretended to kick an imaginary soccer ball.

  The plain man in the power suit looked at the man/boy, whose job description was “contract killer,” and winced. “I hope you remember the rules,” he said coldly.

  The man/boy laughed. It was a pleasant sound. “ ‘Go to the main library every Tuesday and Friday morning and check out the James Bond book Never Say Die, and if you need me, there will be a yellow Post-it on page two hundred telling me the time and the place for our next meeting.’” Like he was really going to do that. He’d be outta there the minute he hit the highway. He’d done a clean job with no loose ends. His first rule of business was, “Never stick around to watch the cleanup.”

  In the far corner of the concrete building, two rats screeched at one another. The owl hooted again. The minute the door opened, lightning ripped across the dark night like a spaceship gone amuck. Both men ran toward their vehicles, the plain man to a high-powered Mercedes, the man/boy to a junkyard pickup truck.

  The last sound to be heard was the eerie hoot of the owl before the night turned totally black.

  The plain man’s house was palatial, even by the standards of the megarich. He shed his soggy power suit jacket and tie, kicked off the sodden wing tips, and yanked at his soaking-wet socks before walking up the circular staircase to his bedroom. He stripped off the rest of his clothing as he made his way to the bathroom. As always, he took a moment to stare at the room. It was a grotto, featuring a sunken whirlpool, with vines and plants somehow growing out of the brick walls. Water trickled down the stone walls and into a trough that led into the whirlpool. It was such a soothing sound he felt his eyelids start to droop. He pinched his stomach hard as he stepped into the shower. First the icy-cold spray, then steaming spray so hot his skin felt like it was on fire. When he thought he couldn’t stand the heat one second longer, he switched back to the icy-cold. At least it woke him up.

  Shivering, he towel-dried himself and dressed in a pair of flannel pajamas decorated with fat white bunnies, a gift from one of his grandchildren. He couldn’t remember which one.

  That night he had the California house to himself. His family and the two full-time servants were back East in an almost identical house. He liked it when he was alone.

  Wearing slipper socks, he padded down the circular staircase to the state-of-the-art kitchen, where he made himself a grilled cheese sandwich and a cup of hot chocolate. People were always surprised that he knew how to cook.

  As the plain man chewed his sandwich, he noticed that his hands were trembling. As he was always in control of his emotions, the tremor bothered him. He realized for the first time that what he was experiencing was fear. He didn’t like the feeling at all. Not one little bit.

  He stared across the room at the huge bay window in the breakfast nook that took up one entire wall of the kitchen. All he could see was total blackness. A shiver ran up and down his arms as he tried to remember if he’d set the alarm when he entered the house. He slipped and stumbled as he made his way to the foyer, where he quickly punched in a set of numbers.

  Alarms were a joke. If someone was intent on entering a house, alarm or not, they’d get in. Like that lowlife he’d just paid off.

  The slipper socks slapped at the imported marble floor as the man made his way back to the kitchen.

  The black window drew him like a magnet. Was someone out there watching him? Now, where did that thought come from? he wondered. Though he could see nothing, he could still hear the pouring rain.

  Suddenly, the man felt vulnerable, standing exposed in his bunny pajamas at the window. He moved rapidly to turn off the bright overhead lights. When the kitchen was as dark as the night outside, he slithered to the side of the window. Did he just see movement by the bougainvillea trellis? He felt trapped as he crept back to the entry hall, where he reached up for the panic button that was held in place by a magnet. He clasped it in his hand as he made his way to the second floor.

  At the top of the steps, he pressed a switch, and the entire first floor lit up like a football field at a night game. The light made him feel a bit better. But only for a moment. Even if he pressed the little red button on the panic gizmo, he could be dead before the police arrived. He must have been out of his mind to hire that psycho.

  He entered his home study. He looked at his computer and wondered if there was some wiseass out there who could find what he’d gone to such great lengths to hide. He cursed his father then, in all four languages in which he was fluent. If it wasn’t for him, he wouldn’t be there sweating like a Trojan. A fearful Trojan.

  Like the old man cared. Crippled with arthritis, Parkinson’s, and a weak heart, he was going to die soon and leave his son holding the bag. “And there go all my political aspirations,” he mumbled as he turned on the computer. “There goes the goddamn White House!”

  Senator Hudson Preston sat down in his ergonomic chair and leaned back to wait for the computer to boot up. He felt proud of himself that he’d personally contacted Peter Kelly and harnessed the man’s expertise in setting up foolproof firewalls that, according to Kelly, even the Pentagon couldn’t penetrate. And in return for that expertise, the senator had ordered thousands of computers to be sent to the local school system, all compliments of Preston Pharmaceuticals.

  Peter Aaron Kelly didn’t like him, and Preston knew it. “Tough shit, Mr. Kelly,” the senator said aloud.

  He started to type, recording everything that had happened in the past three days. When he finished, he raced out of the room to his bedro
om, where he’d tossed his keys on the dresser. He grabbed them and removed the memory stick that looked like a child’s whistle painted in psychedelic colors. To anyone who asked about the strange doodad hanging from his key ring, he said it was a gift from one of his grandchildren. He removed the memory stick, plugged it into the computer, and copied the file he’d just created. When he was finished, he returned the two-inch cylinder to his key ring and laid it on the top of his dresser.

  The senator deleted all the files and turned off the computer. He was ready to go to bed. He crawled between the covers, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to sleep. But he had to try because he needed to forget all the carnage he’d seen on the news. If he tried, he could almost live with that. What he couldn’t live with was the picture he’d seen of Peter Aaron Kelly on the evening news, along with Lily Madison.

  The senator started to shake under the covers.

  PAK Industries versus Preston Pharmaceuticals.

  One winner. One loser.

  Unless…

  Chapter 8

  They were in someone’s yard. A family’s backyard. Josh Baer could see into the kitchen, where a family was seated around a big table. He’d seen scenes just like this on television. This was different, though. This was a real, flesh-and-blood family. Not actors pretending to be a family.

  Even though he was soaking-wet in his khaki trousers and navy blue blazer, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him. He wished more than anything in the world that somehow he could be part of the family inside. Just once. Just to see what it felt like to have a father put his hand on his shoulder. For a mother to hug him. For a sister or a brother to take a poke at him. Families did that. He knew his eyes were filling up with his loss, so he tried to refocus his thoughts. Why was this family eating so late? Dinner at the academy was promptly at six o’clock. Not five minutes past six, not one minute past six, but promptly at six. He could see the big, round kitchen clock over the doorway through the window. It said the time was seven fifteen.