“Rachel!”
Rachel flinched but it was just Edna, the hospital’s head nurse. “You have a patient in room 110 who has been waiting for quite a while. Mrs. Geraldo.”
Rachel flushed with guilt as she remembered her patient, who had been waiting a good forty-five minutes now. She took another deep breath and turned to her nurse, “What would I ever do without you, Edna?”
It was true. Her head nurse was always on top of things. At age 58, Edna Wong was not just a qualified RN and a good friend, she was invaluable to the hospital.
Edna had, just a few months after being hired, moved right up to the head nurse position. Rachel had always attributed a large part of her office’s success to Edna’s organizational and leadership skills. The saying “What would we do without you, Edna?” became much more than a warm and fuzzy office motto. The office depended on Edna.
Although only four feet, eight inches tall, Edna seemed larger than life. She ran the office skillfully, regardless of what circumstances arose. Whether irate patients, problems with suppliers or even issues between other staff members, Edna resolved each dispute logically, without taking sides or talking down to her subordinates. Maybe her skills were the result of her many years of experience working at other hospitals and clinics…or the fact she had raised four beautiful children on her own. Wherever it came from, Rachel was grateful. Edna could truly handle just about anything.
“Oh, and Edna,” she said as the woman was walking away. “Please ask Dr. Pierce to have a look at Mrs. Geraldo. I’ve got a ton of paperwork I need to get to,” she said in as much of a business-as-usual way as she could muster, then turned and headed toward her office.
When Rachel finally closed the door behind her, it felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders, even if just temporarily. She took a deep breath, then walked past her desk, to the large office windows, peering though the blinds like a timid child investigating a terrifying thunderstorm.
She could make out Officer Duprey in the parking lot, but he was only partially visible through low-hanging tree branches. He was talking on his police radio and using animated hand and body gestures, throwing his arms in the air and pointing at the hospital’s entrance. He stood next to his patrol car, but continued to stare at the front doors of her office as he talked into his radio. Then he suddenly stood statue-still, his mouth clamped shut.
Rachel watched him nod as if in complete agreement with whatever directive was being delivered, then he put down the police radio and removed the gun from his holster. He released the safety, examined the clip, snapped it back in place…and marched toward her building.
Rachel drew in a sharp breath. She had to do something fast. The window…she could crawl out the window…but the windows in her building had security bars on the outside…and her office was too close to the reception desk.
Trapped…
She walked to the door and opened it just enough to peer out. She couldn’t see much from her vantage point, only old Al, the janitor, standing in the hallway collecting the used hospital gowns. Seeing the large laundry bin the old man was filling, she realized what she had to do. As he turned his back, she reached in, lifting up as many gowns as she could and dove in head-first… deep under the flowery cotton garb.
She heard Duprey’s booming voice coming from the front desk, then Edna denying his access, but it was like trying to stop an ocean wave from crashing onto shore. She heard pounding footsteps rush past the bin she was hiding in…then she heard her office door open.
“Damn you!” Officer Duprey shouted at the sight of her empty office…followed by an animal-like growl…followed by sounds of shattering furniture and breaking glass. Her whole body shook as she listened to him tearing her office apart piece by piece, searching for his prey. Searching for her. The man obviously had no thought of obtaining a search warrant.
“I know you’re here!” Duprey screamed, then…even louder, “I’m going to find you…and when I do…”
The rest of his tirade was lost to her, muffled in the distance as she bumped along inside the laundry bin, grateful for old Al as he pushed her down the hall on his way out to the loading docks.
CHAPTER SIX
Upon arriving at Rachel’s home, Valentine explained his plan to Stanic in detail. It sounded risky at best. At worst, a suicide mission. But it could be their chance to not live in fear of a Mafia hit for the rest of their lives.
Just crazy enough to work…
Valentine knew of a single key piece of evidence that would be enough to lock up Vincenzo Stelino and his three sons. It was a small, black leather-bound logbook. Vincenzo kept the log-book protected in a thick wall safe in his office.
He’d known there was no way to get his hands on the logbook working alone. The best he’d been able to hope for was coercing Vincenzo into incriminating himself on tape. But, with Stanic’s help, he just might be able to pull it off.
“The safe is located behind a large framed painting of a stone castle nestled in an Italian hillside. This logbook is always kept inside the safe and it contains records of all of the family’s transactions—or transgressions, as the case may be. I’ve been inside Vincenzo’s office enough times while working undercover to know Vincenzo has relaxed his security and, most important, he has been leaving the safe unlocked.” Valentine paused for a quick breath and to let the information sink in. “As unbelievable as it sounds, Vincenzo Stelino has become complacent with the FBI’s most sought after piece of evidence!”
As he spoke, Valentine felt a quick jolt of excitement, waving his arms through the air like an excited child. “Vincenzo simply got tired of leaning over, squinting down at the tiny dial of the combination lock. I only recently noticed this change in behavior. Instead of laboring to open the safe, Vincenzo simply swings open the painting, then pulls open the safe.
So,—” Valentine went on, “—we infiltrate the Stelino compound, create a distraction, and then steal the logbook.”
Stanic crossed his arms and eyed Valentine narrowly. “Why should I risk my life to help the FBI?” he asked, then jammed a hand through his dark hair. “Remember, I’m a college professor, not an undercover agent.”
“You were a college professor,” Valentine replied. “Now, unfortunately, you are a man fighting to stay alive…the mafia never forgets.”
Frowning, Valentine looked at Stanic. “Unless you want to hide out or leave the country and be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life, this is the best chance we’ve got.”
Stanic closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, then finally nodded. “Okay, let’s do it.”
***
Oddly, Rachel felt safe and warm curled up in her hiding place, buried under two feet of dirty linens and rolling toward the loading docks. She found a small hole in the side of the bin and peered out. Relief swept through her when she saw a laundry truck waiting. But just before they made it to the end of the dock, the bin stopped moving. She heard old Al making small talk with the driver of the truck, taking his time as he usually liked to do.
“Looks like we’re in for bit more rain,” Al said in his always gruff but affable tone.
Alvin Jones, otherwise known as, old Al, was a proud black man. His sixty-four-year-old eyes had seen it all…probably more than they wanted to. But all in all, his life had been good. He began his business fifteen years earlier, and who could have known maintenance and supply business would take off the way it did? He had started out as a local handyman who garnered a great reputation. Many people in the community began relying on his services so he’d had to start hiring. He eventually expanded his business into broad-range maintenance and custodial service and the clients just kept coming in. Over the last decade he’d hired over sixty-five employees, and opened three other locations. His company serviced clients as far up the coast as Half Moon Bay and as far so
uth as Monterey.
Life had been good to old Al. Everyone knew he really didn’t need to work anymore, and being so close to retirement many wondered why he continued to put on his trademark dark green uniform and come in to work every morning. Maybe he just loved his job. He had first met Rachel years earlier when she came on board at the hospital and their relationship soon grew into a great friendship. He’d once told her that at times he thought of her as the daughter he never had and felt that sometimes she looked at him like a second father. And she did. He’d given her many words of wisdom in the years she’d known him. A more caring man couldn’t be found.
“Be sure to turn your lights on and drive real careful now,” Al said to the truck driver.
“Yep, the darn fog’s rolling in too,” the driver replied. “Thick as pea soup out there, barely even see the road.”
Rachel listened to the conversation impatiently from her hiding place, each word muffled by two feet of thin cloth gowns that she was buried beneath. Hurry, hurry, please hurry…
“Well, I’m sure by noon the sun will break thr—
Al stopped in mid sentence. After a moment, Rachel peered out the hole in the bin. She spotted the uniformed officer leering in the doorway that led back into the medical offices. She covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. He had the same scowl painted across his face, eyes narrowed like a hungry animal stalking prey. The officer’s body stood rigid as he scanned across the loading dock.
Then he marched over to where Al and the driver stood chatting.
“I’m looking for a doctor who works here. She is tall and thin with long brown hair,” he growled. “Last name, Moore. Have you seen her?”
The horrible scarring pattern on the officer’s face must have caught the two men off guard because there was a long pause before Al replied.
Rachel suddenly felt dizzy. The sound of Dupree’s voice hit her like a powerful punch to the gut. Fear escalated in her mind as she listened to his gravelly voice. Her heart slammed inside her chest. Different scenarios of what might happen if she were caught swirled in her head.
If she could just make it to her car. She lay there listening from her hiding place, keeping statue-still and trying hard not to make noise when she breathed. Her stomach burned and her throat constricted and cramped, threatening to make her to cough.
“Doctor Moore should be just inside, see‘n her patients as usual I s’pose,” Al said causally. She heard feet shuffling and peered through the hole again and saw the officer leaning down, face-to-face with old Al.
“Do you know how much trouble you can get in if you lie to the police?” he spat. “Tell me where she is. Now!”
“But I did tell you, sir. She’s just inside those doors over there. I’ll take you in and show you, if you like.”
“Then get moving, old man.”
Rachel heard footsteps moving away from her. She exhaled a long sigh of relief. A soundless moment passed as she listened, then she heard the clunk of the heavy cargo doors on the laundry trunk unlock, then swing open. Rachel said a silent prayer as she felt the bin jerk forward and then roll up onto the truck’s cargo bay.
***
I just got lucky.
Rachel heard the truck engine fire up with a roar. She took in a deep breath and tried to relax as the big truck lurched forward. She could hear the loud low hiss of the air compression brake system,shhhhhhhizzzzaaahhhh-clunk, followed by a rocking bump-ba-bumpahh of the vehicle’s forward motion. As the truck lumbered out of the parking lot and onto the main road, Rachel reflected on how absurd…how crazy…her morning had been. Unbelievable. And her escape was even more unbelievable.
Just like in the movies…
As the truck hummed down Soquel Avenue, Rachel planned on waiting a few extra minutes before exiting the laundry bin. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and called Stanic’s number but got no answer. After leaving a quick message she disconnected the line. The truck had to stop somewhere and when it did, she’d sneak out and call a cab to get home. Her heart ached at the thought of John being so far away. She missed him now more than ever…longed for the safety of his warm embrace. She thought back to times they had spent on the beach just enjoying each others’ company…then cursed herself for not making more time to spend together. She silently promised herself to change the way things were going for the two of them.
Then she heard the muted siren.
Was help on the way?
Or was it…. A paralyzing shock ratcheted through her.
She felt the truck slow and pull to the side of the road, then come to a complete stop. She heard the unmistakable rasp of the demanding officer’s voice talking to the driver, then she heard a shout and the sound of some kind of struggle followed by a muffled groan. Her muscles cramped into tight knots, her legs went numb…her body seized in cold fear, her reality now transforming into a frightening nightmare.
There was no way out. The doors of the truck made a loud clank! Her heart plummeted like a heavy stone down into a cold abandoned well.
Sheer escalating terror overpowered her as she heard the slow grinding of metal hinges. EeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEk.
As the morning sunlight flooded the truck’s cargo bay, Rachel peeked out from under several hospital gowns—directly into the cold snake-like stare of Officer Duprey standing in front of the steel doors, holding the unconscious truck driver in one hand and a small bottle of what looked like chloroform in the other.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sitting in Rachel’s kitchen, Valentine watched Stanic at the counter making coffee.
“Vincenzo Stelino has three ruthless sons he calls his Dark Lords,” Valentine said as Stanic placed two cups on the table along with a carton of cream and a small bowl of sugar. “We know these three men will stop at nothing…not even murder…to get what they want.”
Valentine took a long, slow breath as he added cream and a few spoonfuls of sugar to his coffee, stirring as he spoke. “However, we’ve gathered some important recon data on their security system. I’ve noted the locations of their video surveillance cameras, timing of the guards patrol route, as well as their shift changes.” Valentine studied Stanic’s immediate response, which appeared amenable, so he continued. “I have identified a few flaws in their security system,” he said, punctuating the information with a firm nod. “I know the best time and place to infiltrate the compound and the safest path from the perimeter wall to the main house.”
He scooped another spoonful of sugar, then took a long, slow sip. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?” he asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “You just point…and…shoot.” He formed his hand into shape of a gun, mimicking a shooting action. “It’s that easy, mate.” Valentine placed one of the pistols from the Cadillac onto the table in front of Stanic. “So we better get going if we’re going to be at the compound in—” He glanced at his watch. “— forty minutes.”
“What happens in forty minutes?”
“That’s when the guards have their shift change. The on-duty guards tend to leave their post about five minutes early. The late-shift guards take three to five minutes to get to their positions. That gives us as much as ten minutes. The only question that remains is how to cause the distraction.”
“I can do it,” Stanic offered with an audible quiver in his voice. “Just tell me what to do. I’ll keep everyone busy while you grab the logbook.”
“Okay mate, let’s go get you some dynamite then,” Valentine replied. “We don’t want to be late to the party. Sounds like a real blast.”
Stanic’s eyes rounded. “D-dynamite?”
***
The floor was cold, dark and damp. Rachel managed to remove the silk blindfold tied over her eyes but it was still difficult to see with only the dim traces of light casting through small cracks in the windows.
She was chained to a cement wall. Iron bracelets compressed the skin around her wrists and ankles. A stone floor stretched into the distance, fading away into the shadows and a large drainage grate lay under a table in the center of the room. A number of tools hung from hooks on the wall.
Rachel felt dizzy from the lingering effects of whatever drug she’d been given at her abduction. She shook her head, trying to clear it…and to come up with a viable explanation for the bizarre events of the day. She fought her clouded mind to put the details together, cursing herself for unwittingly getting involved. But she’d had no choice. Stanic had been shot and he couldn’t go to the police. She’d had to help him.
The door creaked open, letting a thin shaft of bright light stream across the dusty room. Two men stepped in, whispering to each other while pointing at the tools hanging from the wall. The first man was tall and thin, with white hair and Coke-bottle-thick glasses. The other man was shorter, with a dark mop of hair and a barrel chest. The shorter man turned and switched on overhead lights, illuminating the room.
Rachel scanned the area around her. Gleaming silver blades hung from the walls and several were laid out on a table. Oh no, God no…Fear clutched in her chest. She jerked her arms, pulling up with all her strength, writhing from side to side until the sharp shackles dug into her wrists and ankles…and she felt the warmth of her own blood as it smeared across the skin on both her wrists.
“We must do our work quickly, eh Giuseppi?” the first man said in a hushed tone and a heavy Italian accent. “No time for fun today-ah, you know what I mean? But maybe we have more time tomorrow, eh, Luiggi?”
“I don’t-ah-know,” the shorter man grumbled.
Rachel took a deep breath, then screamed at the top of her lungs, praying for anyone to hear her. Her throat burned and strained as the shrill sound reverberated through the room.
The two men only laughed. Giuseppi was hard at work sharpening several different-sized blades that glimmered and flashed in the bright overhead lights. Luiggi stood to the side, arranging a set of extension cords that led to some kind of power tool hanging by the table side. They set up a smaller side table, placing three shining scalpels of varying lengths on top of a clean white cloth.