Pawns of Deception

Pawns of Deception

Beverly Pinske

Published by Beverly Pinske at Smashwords

Copyright 2010 Beverly Pinske

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Chapter 1

It was just after midnight when she heard the noise. Lisa was awake and alert at once. Outside, Hunter, her Great Pyrenees, barked furiously, but a different noise had awakened her. In the dark, her hand instantly went for her 9mm Sig Sauer by her bed. Tightening her hold around the rubberized grip, she eased out of bed in one fluid motion chambering a shell, took a deep breath, and crept quietly out of the room into the dimly lit hallway. She could feel her heart pounding as she considered the source of the noise. Her eyes and ears strained for every sight and sound. Moving slowly down the stairs, her back pressed to the wall. She mustn’t give herself away as she approached the bottom of the stairs. Scanning the darkness for any movement, she saw nothing. She must have imagined the noise. No! Her past belied that, and her training at the Agency made her acutely aware of her surroundings. She had definitely heard something. There—a small movement through the window, almost hidden by the bushes. Slowly, her eyes began to focus; she crept slowly toward the door, placed her trembling hand on the doorknob, and turned, she opened the door. This was no stranger!

Clark, what are you doing here? I could’ve killed you, she stammered, still grasping her gun in her hand.

You look like you could be quite dangerous.

Do you know what time it is?

Pretty late, I’d guess.

Clark always looked out for other people and thought the best of everyone, a rare virtue in today’s society. When he entered a room, his personality lit up the place—his large frame, dark curly hair, and laughing eyes filled the room. His eyes twinkled as he teased her, but stiffness commanded his demeanor. Something was wrong—dead wrong.

Are you all right? he asked, genuine concern in his voice. I’m sorry I frightened you.

I’ll be fine as soon as you tell me why you are here at this ungodly hour.

I’m sorry, but there just didn’t seem to be any other way. I needed to talk to you as soon as possible. There may be someone following me.

Barefoot and clad in silk pajamas, Lisa, laid her gun on the table, and stepped out onto the porch while Hunter still barked intently; sensing danger, he stood his ground.

It’s been a long time. Clark looked straight into her green eyes. Her long auburn hair fell over her shoulders. His breath caught in his throat—she really was beautiful in the moonlight.

Forget the small talk. You didn’t drop in for tea. What is it?

There is something strange going on at the Agency.

Why would you tell me? It’s been two years since I’ve been involved in the Agency.

I know Mark’s death hit you hard, but…lives are at stake, maybe even mine. I have run across something I wasn’t supposed to see. It reaches high in the government and affects all aspects of our life.

"Who or what is it?"

Let’s go in the living room, and I’ll try to explain the best I can why I couldn’t trust anyone else right now. Just hear me out, Lisa. I have a smart card that might shed some light on the whole thing. I’m not sure how it works yet. It doesn’t have a name or expiration date. It looks just like a regular credit card, but it must contain a great deal of information because of its importance to a few high-placed people. We need to break the password code or find out how it is activated to retrieve all of the data.

Stop it, Clark. You’re scaring me with all of this melodrama. I don’t know anything about the Agency anymore. I keep in touch with a few friends, and you know my dad works there, but that’s it. I know nothing and can’t help you. I’m sorry, Clark. She turned to go into the house when a sound from the bushes caught their attention.

Clark turned around and a bullet caught him in the chest. Lisa felt the movement and looked up into his face. His eyes looked at her with fear and a certain knowing. She placed her hand on his cheek as if to comfort him and realized there was blood flowing from his chest. His face lost all expression for a moment and then changed to a look of shock and pain as his blood drained away. He slumped over and slowly rolled onto the deck at Lisa’s feet. She tried to grab him as he fell. Looking down at her hands and pajamas, she was horrified to see blood everywhere. The entry seemed small as she gazed at the bullet wound. He tried to speak, but the words were muffled: Fathee…help…shadows…

She knelt down beside him, cradling his head in her lap. Clark, save your breath. I’ll get help—it’ll be all right…it’ll be all right. Tears rolled down her cheeks, mixing with the blood that covered her clothes. Helplessly, she covered the wound, applying as much pressure as possible. He was dying. Fear gripped her like a vice—Oh my God, they may be coming in the house. Everything was happening in slow motion. She crawled toward the telephone for help, but the phone responded in silence. She stared at the phone now covered in Clark’s blood. She took a deep breath and instinctively moved like the well-trained agent she was. She may have only worked in the cryptology department, but she had trained to go out in the field. Grabbing her gun, her mind snapped into action as she remembered her cell phone in her purse. It lay on the table only two rooms away, but it could have been two football fields. Nausea rose in her throat. If she left him for any amount of time, his life would drain out of him, but she had to take the chance. Help me. Her knees ached and her heart raced as she crawled steadily through the house toward the kitchen. Listening intently for any hint of entry, she realized that they could be anywhere. Grasping for her purse, she pulled it to the floor, frantically searching for her cell phone. Finding it, her fingers punched in 9-1-1.

9-1-1, what is your name please?

Lisa Wood—A man has been shot. Please hurry…he needs help…Oh God, please hurry!

Calm down, ma’am. We’ll be there as soon as possible. Give me your address.

4124 Timber Road…He’s bleeding. Her voice broke as she continued to try to answer the 9-1-1 operator’s questions. Please, we are losing precious time. Send an ambulance right away. Her voice lowered, fearing—

The paramedics and an officer are on their way, she heard the operator say somewhere in her fog, as she unconsciously closed the phone. Her body trembled as she dragged herself back to Clark. She knelt beside him. He was still breathing, but she could only get a faint pulse. Thank God. Hang on, Clark. A hand covered in blood grabbed hers in a final gesture, seeming to hold onto life like a drowning man. He can’t die. Please, God, please don’t let him die. She felt the sharpness first and then the pressure of his hand. He slipped the simple plastic card into the palm of her hand, but she ignored the urgency in his eyes and cradled his head in her lap.

It’ll be all right, Clark. It’ll be all right. She was trembling as she stroked his hair.

His eyes closed and his body shuddered as he squeezed her hand as tight as he could. Her heart raced, and perspiration slowly dripped off her forehead. What do I do?

Lisa realized it wouldn’t be long before the sheriff arrived with a mountain of questions. What could she tell the officer? The truth? I don’t know the truth. She swallowed a lump in her throat wishing Clark could answer all the questions leaping into her mind. No, he wouldn’t answer any questions ever again. As the reality poured over her like a bucket of ice water, she looked at the strange card in her hand. I have to get rid of this. I have to hide it until I know—a potted plant on the deck will have to do for now.

Oh, Clark, why did it have to be you? she sobbed. Why, why?

Shock and numbness began to steal over her. Painful memories from the past came rushing back. Two years ago there had been another sudden death. Mark, her fiancé, had been killed. Her imagination painted Mark’s face over Clark’s. In an instant, their future life together had been snatched away. He had filled her whole life, that successful, bright, and handsome man. He exhibited kindness, humor, and so many other traits that she had wanted in a life partner. She loved him, and every time she thought of him, her heart seemed to break all over again. At times, she thought she could smell his cologne as she woke from a deep sleep. Unwanted feelings that needed to be put away, but that fragrance of expensive, musky cologne would haunt the rest of her life. Mark had been out in the field, a deep undercover mission in Brussels, when the bullet found him; she never saw his face again, and the bullet had caused such damage. Death always touches a raw area in the heart, but the suddenness of her loss made it even more difficult to accept. Now, a dead man lay beside her, his blood drying on her hands. Death—so close, so personal.

Dad had felt that Mark would never have a great future in the Agency; he didn’t trust him. His opinion had had very little effect on her, however; she loved Mark with all her heart and felt empty even now. She vowed she’d never love again. She continued going through the motions of living, but she knew her existence fell short of real life. She existed. She survived. That was all. She hoped time would heal her hopes and dreams, but she knew this was forever.

She had come back to the cabin of her childhood to heal. Her parents had visited these beautiful North Carolina mountains often before their divorce. Memories leaped to her mind like a precious video of the times she and her father scoured the mountains in search of the first new wildflower to bloom each week. There are new ones every week, you know, little peanut. He laughed as he picked her up and lifted her high in the air. The cabin was sold as part of their divorce settlement two years ago. She had bought it and moved in within a few months of Mark’s death. She also quit her job and left it all behind to the great chagrin of her father, but she felt he would get over it in time. As time passed he had. They saw each other on holidays and kept in touch.

Lisa looked at her watch and counted the minutes since her call for help. Her heart drilled steadily downward with pain until it became like a heavy stone at the bottom of a great salty sea. The tears came involuntarily every time she let her thoughts drift back to those few seconds before Clark died. She thought of so many things she could have said. Now, nothing could ever be said. Ten, fifteen minutes—she calculated how long it took her to usually get to town and then shaved off a bit expecting them to speed. Time passed slowly as she sat sadly waiting for the next chapter to open in her life. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that this would change her life forever. It tasted bitter in her mouth. Finally, she heard the sound of sirens as she rubbed clammy hands together. Lisa’s organized mind knew she must answer all the questions the officer would throw at her, and she knew that they must sound plausible. Lisa stood by all standards an honest woman and prided herself on how she didn’t intentionally deceive anyone. This would take some cunning on her part, quickly she stashed the gun under a pillow. She was licensed to carry a firearm, but she didn’t want all that explanation right now. The sound of the doorbell made her jump and exposed every nerve in her body. Hunter barking was again sounding the alarm, and an officer in uniform stood waiting.

Are you Lisa Wood? the officer at the door inquired politely. His tall, muscular frame with short dark hair and clear blue eyes epitomized the word clean-cut. He wore his sheriff’s uniform with a tangible pride; his very demeanor seemed to say, Trust me, I can help.

Yes… Her voice cracked as she spoke. She sounded distant even to her own ears.

Clark’s body still lay staring up at her on the porch.

Miss, are you all right? I can get one of the paramedics to look at you, he said as he bent down to inspect the body.

No, I’m fine. I can’t believe this has happened, she whispered.

Just start at the beginning, and we’ll see if we can put it all together. Go inside and sit down, and I’ll get you a drink of water.

He went through the hall to the kitchen. She relaxed as he seemed to know where to go. I’m just too exhausted right now, she murmured to herself. She sat down in the green rocking chair, crossing her long, tan legs first one way and then the other. It had only been a short time ago that she was talking with Clark; now, his body went from her hands to technicians doing their job. Fingerprints, time of death, all the necessary information they needed. She only saw his eyes as he pressed the card into her hand. The officer came back with a cool glass of water. She watched as he moved toward her. I should’ve told him where the glasses were, she thought absently. I’m not being a very good hostess. Dad would not approve of me just sitting here. How did he know the location of the kitchen or the glasses?

Thank you, she said as she drank the water and felt the coldness of the ice cubes bump up against her lip. I will be all right, she thought as she closed her eyes. Visions of the last hour filled her mind like a horror video running over and over.

Can you tell me what happened here?

I don’t know. We were talking, and all of a sudden he just fell to the ground.

Why was he here?

He’s a friend…was a friend.

What’s his name?

Clark…Clark Snow.

Did he say anything before he died?

He kept calling for a priest…Father…he knew he was dying.

What were you talking about? His eyes remained cold as he stared at her.

We were friends talking about mutual friends—life.

Friends, hmm. It’s pretty late for just friends.

Well, that’s all it was, she said. He acted so arrogant; she hoped he would leave soon.

How long have you known him?

About five years, I think. We worked together at the NSA, in Washington, DC.

That sounds important.

Not really. I worked at the Agency, clerking, nothing too important, and I haven’t worked there for two years. We just stayed in touch, as friends do. Can these questions wait until tomorrow? I’m really tired. It’s been a long day.

I don’t see why not. Just don’t go anywhere. I’ll need to talk to you. We’ll have to rope off the crime scene. Please don’t touch anything. We’ll be dusting for fingerprints and looking for anything that would tell us why he was murdered. I’ll be doing some checking on the grounds around the cabin. I need to find some footprints or shell casings or something that would give us a lead as to who did this. Are you sure there isn’t anything else you can tell me?

It was so quick. I didn’t even know it happened until he fell to the ground. I immediately ran to call you. The phones were dead, so I used my cell phone.

The phone lines had been cut?

They were dead…like Clark. Her voice broke as the picture of Clark’s body stared at her once again.

We’ll have the phones fixed tonight, and I’ll call you tomorrow about nine. Will that be all right?

Sure, now good night…I don’t know your name.

Sheriff Ben, Benjamin Plater. I’ll call you tomorrow. Lisa, try to get some sleep. We’ll get this all sorted out, never fear. One more thing, why did he come here tonight?

That’s personal and has nothing to do with what happened.

Ma’am, murder is personal. I’ll need an answer to my question.

He came to give me some information about the Agency. He knew I’d be interested in some news about old friends. He was in the area and thought he would stop in. Okay? Her icy voice shouted a clear keep out, as she turned and walked toward the door.

Okay, that didn’t hurt too much, did it?

No, she lied as she opened the door to show him out.

Well, good night then. See you tomorrow.

Her whole body shook as she watched him walk away. Impudent, she murmured. He doesn’t have the first clue about women or the fact that a murder was committed right in front of me, might just unnerve me a bit. She needed some time to think. Do they want to kill me, too? She pondered out loud, They will want that credit card if they know I have it. I can’t let on to anyone about my possession. She vowed to uncover the truth about why Clark was murdered if it took the rest of her life.

All right, enough of that, she told herself with a firmness she didn’t feel. She would have to use a calm approach to this or she would lose her mind. Let’s see what’s on the card, then, maybe I’ll have some idea about what to do. She retrieved the card from the potted plant and decided this would be a long night. She made a large pot of coffee and settled into her chair at the computer.

Lisa awoke with a start. She had fallen asleep at her desk after trying to figure out the mystery for hours. There just didn’t seem to be any reason for Clark to have given her this credit card. She tried to think of all the electronic tricks she knew, but she just came up blank. She needed a special computer to read this card. The card possessed a code or password. Clark said it did. She would recognize a coded message, but she needed the proper software to find out what made this card so special. Telling Ben she clerked for the Agency clouded the truth. She had spent quite a bit of time in the cryptology department and had been in charge of a large office of cryptologists. Clerking described the work she did, sort of, but they never worked on credit cards. Small lies didn’t count, did they?

The cell phone snapped her back into reality. Who in the world could be calling at this hour? She looked at her watch; seven o’clock registered in her consciousness. She decided to let the answering machine get the message, and she determined to take a shower and get some fresh coffee. Maybe that would clear her mind.

The warm water running over her soft skin revived and cleansed her soul. She felt dirty somehow. She had become involved in something she couldn’t put her finger on, but she knew it appeared covert at the very least. People didn’t get killed in the Agency for small-time things; this had to be of national concern. How many people knew Clark had visited her and about the card he was carrying? Danger had definitely knocked on her door. She toweled off and was grateful for the soft caress of the fibers on her skin. She dressed in gray sweats. As she passed her home office, she slipped the card out of the computer and into her pocket. Maybe something would come to her as she walked. Just having it in her possession would make her feel more secure.

I need a change of scenery and some fresh air, she murmured to herself. Lisa decided to get Hunter, her huge, white Great Pyrenees that still thought he could crawl up on her lap like a small puppy, and go for a walk. She grabbed the leather leash and scurried out the door.

Hello there, my beauty. You are my very best fellow, she cooed as she caressed his giant head. He looked at the leash and started to walk toward the gate, ready as always. She hooked the leash to his collar and off they went. The path into the thick woods dropped off abruptly and became steep, but Hunter agilely attacked the path. Peace from the moist air and the trees reached out to hug her and seeped into her whole body.

She felt some of her tension leaving her; she loved walking with Hunter. The pair had just reached the sandy shore of the lake when Hunter began acting strange. He didn’t want to follow; his ears went up and his tail curled over the back of his giant body. He stood perfectly still and listened.

Hunter, what is your problem? Lisa pulled on the leash, but he wouldn’t move. She looked around the area but saw nothing. Hunter could just be hearing another dog or some animal. His breed protected the flock of sheep in the Pyrenees Mountains and right now she filled the role of his flock. He would protect her to his death. She listened carefully but heard nothing out of the ordinary. Come on, Hunter! I don’t have the time or energy for this nonsense.

Hunter began to growl, startling Lisa. This is not like him; he never growls. All of a sudden, he bolted. The leash burned Lisa’s hand as it went flying from her grasp. Hunter tore around a tree and disappeared out of sight.

Great! I need a friend, and you want to chase rabbits! Come on, Hunter, get back here. Silence filled the air. She ran in the direction Hunter bolted and heard him growling again. He couldn’t be too far away. She heard a muffled sound, and then nothing at all.

Chapter 2

As Ben walked away, he couldn’t help thinking how lost she had looked and yet how in control. She conducted herself in a way that would give no credence to the weaker sex. She couldn’t have anything to do with this, yet he had seen stranger cases. She could have shot the man and called 9-1-1 for a cover. It had been tried before. Well, he wouldn’t fall for it, just because she filled out a pair of jeans perfectly. He would talk to her tomorrow. Strangely, he found himself looking forward to that.

He closed the door to the black and white and called into dispatch. He still had a couple of hours work on the crime scene. He needed to know how Clark arrived at the house and where the shot came from. It appeared to have come from the bushes about a hundred feet from the porch. He would check the trees for broken branches and any debris that had been left. He had called the phone company, and they said they would be there sometime during the night. He hoped there would be some clues to find out how and why this man was murdered.

He worked for hours climbing rocks and hiking through the woods, trying to put some of the pieces of the puzzle together. Ben’s body, definitely in good shape, still cried for some relief. It had been a long day; time to go home, his brain reminded him. Home—to what? He didn’t even have a cat to go home to, he thought bitterly. Loneliness became familiar when you lived as he did.

His mind wandered back to Lisa. She is the kind of girl you bring home to Mom and Dad. Now why did he think such a strange thought? His parents had been dead a long time. He hadn’t thought about them since his sister had called last month to ask for money. Kat called routinely. She had gone through another boyfriend and left her job, a bad cyclical habit that