Chapter 12
Another hollyhock pic.
Hidden Secrets
Leona Palmer Haag
Chapter 12
Matt swallowed his last bite and washed lunch down
with a sugary soda. He flipped open his phone and punched in the office number.
"Hey, Debbie, what's going on?" he asked the secretary who answered.
"I'll get Mitchell on the line," she said
without any pleasantries. Matt cocked his eyebrow and wondered if that meant
there was only trouble hanging around, and little time to be courteous.
"Come home immediately," Mitchell barked
without so much as a hello, or how are things going, or how soon until you can
get back here?
"Yes, sir," Matt said, then tried to ask
what was going on, but the line went dead.
He slowly stood up and left the café. On the street he
looked around, perhaps trying to spot his wallet, which proved fruitless, then
he started for the hotel. As he entered the lobby he pulled his phone out again
and called the office. "Hey, Debbie, can you process a lost claim for
me?"
"Sure, what's it for?" she cheerfully asked.
"My wallet. Or shall we say, a Mr. Hank Bennion's
wallet. Complete with his entire stash of cash."
"Oh, you're in trouble now," Debbie teased.
"You know how touchy Mitchell gets when it comes to lost money. What did
you have, maybe ten or twenty dollars? That will push him over the edge!"
Matt chuckled. "Less than eighty bucks. Not
enough to garnish my wages."
"Whew!" Debbie exaggerated. "I thought
it might be another million or so!"
"And if you get a minute, email me a few hints on
why I've been recalled."
"You're actually on vacation, Hank. That means
there's no official recall."
"What about Ms. Russell?"
"That's a genuine recall."
"Yeah, I don't rate too high on the list, do
I?"
Debbie laughed. "I'll see what I can send you.
It's tight, but I'll check."
“Don't put your neck on the line."
"I never do, Hank, honey,"
Debbie sweetly replied.
Matt hung up. It sounded like Monica had been right.
Somewhere else a fire was burning, but not in Panama. He pushed the elevator
button and wondered where the new hot spot was, and if he'd be assigned to is
since Nick was babysitting.
Matt had to smile at his sudden luck
and the irony of the situation. Nick usually worked outside the office because
it paid more. The increased income made it possible for Nick and Jenn to afford
Katie and perhaps would help them pay for medical expenses for another child.
Now Nick couldn't do the work because he had a baby.
Monica was not in the hotel room when Matt arrived. He
checked his watch and knew she'd shortly appear. In the meantime, he logged
onto his computer and scanned available flights to Dallas. It didn't look like
they could make it to the airport in time to catch the only available flight
out leaving a little before three o'clock. They'd have to wait until morning.
Matt looked up when he heard footsteps pause outside
his door. Monica would step through, kick off her heels and start packing like
a fireball ready to race to the airport.
There was a muffled thud as if something heavy was
dropped, and then a barely audible curse. Nick sprang up and backed toward the
bathroom door and slid out of sight as the door lock clicked and a tiny green
light flashed once before the door silently began opening. A shadow entered and
crept past the bathroom door.
Picture time, Matt thought as he turned on the video
recorder on his phone. He squatted down and slid the tiny camera around the
corner near the dark floor. Through the screen he watched a burly man stare
around the hotel room. Theft or spy? Matt wondered as the man stood in the
center, then looked around the room before he quickly walked to the window and
grabbed the curtain and gave it a few flips.
A signal, Matt assumed. His gun was already in his
hand but he released the phone and stepped back as the man approached. Near his
knees, Nick saw the safe. He knew what the man was probably after. He stepped
backward into the bathroom, pulling the phone with him and hoping the man didn't
notice the movement.
Suddenly there was a footstep outside the door. Monica
this time? Matt shrank against the wall and slowly inhaled, waiting to see if
the man heard and reacted. With his phone he silently hit number two. Monica's
number. Behind the closed door he heard her soft, "Hello?"
Matt pressed number one on his phone and waited.
Monica's voice said, "I understand, I’ll meet you downstairs," then
was silent. The man must have heard her voice too because he silently slipped
backward into the bathroom.
Matt pressed his gun into the stranger's back and
hissed, "Don't move," in English and repeated the command in Spanish.
Instantly an elbow shot backward and the man lunged,
but Matt had anticipated the blow and prepared for it. His foot flew out and
his arm slammed down on the man's right hand. A gun dropped to the marble floor
a moment before his bulky body landed with an ungraceful thud.
Matt sprang past the man and kicked the gun from his
reach and turned to aim his weapon at the intruder. A flash of silver caught
his attention and he jerked and pulled the trigger as a knife left the man's
hand. The bullet caught the metal and pushed the weapon off course and onto the
cold marble.
Matt shouted, "Don't
move!" again in two languages as he jumped past the man to kick the knife
from his reach.
The man lashed out with another sharp weapon—a syringe
filled with a murky amber fluid. He missed Matt by inches and grunted as he
lunged again.
Matt kicked the man's thick, hairy arm and the syringe
shuddered, but the man didn't release his grasp on it. Matt aimed his gun at
the intruder's chest and said, "Who are you and what do you want?
Speak!"
"La Costa sent me," the man snarled.
"What does that mean to me?" Matt demanded.
"Your life is over, Mr. Halterman."
Matt stared at the man at his feet. "Explain that
to me since I have the gun."
"I have the better weapon," the man hissed.
"Put it down." Matt didn't take his eyes off
the man with the needle, but the man took his eyes off him and stared at the
slender tip. His hand shook. "Gently, now. Put it down," Matt repeated.
The man's head slightly shook. Suddenly the man turned
the needle toward himself and Matt kicked out with all his might. The syringe
bounced from the man's grip. The man rolled and lunged after it, momentarily
looking like a cockroach trying to scramble across slippery marble. But just as
quickly and with more grace, Monica's shiny red heels were inches from the man's
face. One held the syringe captive and the other landed squarely on his wrist, with
the four-inch spike painfully pinning him down. "Don't move,"
Monica's voice coolly sounded.
The man looked up to see a tiny dog with its tongue
lolling out and panting at him in the arms of a beautiful woman. He groaned,
then flinched, perhaps preparing to get up and escape. But it was too late.
He'd never noticed Matt binding one hand. When Monica released the other, it
was pulled behind his back and he was secured.
"I missed lunch today, darling," Monica said
in a deep southern drawl, one of Matt's favorites. "Shall we go out, or
should I call room service?"
Matt watched the man blink as if stunned by her sudden
change in interest. "Are you hungry?" Matt asked, nudging the man's
side with the toe of his shoe.
The man closed his eyes and his muscles tensed as his
head sank to the marble.
"You see, you're going to be here for a while and
if you're hungry, you ought to speak up now. What do you want? Steak? A pork
chop? Halibut? We don’t want to dine in front of you."
The man remained silent.
"Honey, order room service," Matt said, “and
choose something for our guest.”
End Chapter 12
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