Power (River Sunday Romance Mysteries Book 8) Page 16

  “Wear the doggy necklace for luck,” he said.

  * * *

  Stephanie studied her phone app.

  01 538-539 21 55

  01 101

  The ship attack in Baltimore harbor was a fiasco. The volunteers in charge did not use the crowd properly. Besides, my mother must have warned the planners my father did not scare easily. I remember the days in Africa when he fought the terrorists with Captain Jimmy and his militia. She gasped thinking of the big knife he always used. One time she sneaked a look at it to see if any blood was on still the blade.

  I did not know my father would be attacked with a bomb. I could have warned him if I had known. A bomb was never going to scare him and his sailors.

  I miss our leader Cole Tinker. I know the national attack will come now. Cole did not want violence and Ferrars did. They argued. Anyway, all the 77 work will pay off. The grids across the country will receive the new messages from River Sunday headquarters. The Tinkers will win. Viva free energy.

  Most important for me, my mother will finally be safe, free from worry. I am sure Ferrars will recognize he needs her in the future Institute. The Institute will grow very large and have work for many of us. My mother and I will be together in safety.

  She helped Ferrars build this. Not Spire. Spire will not be able to hurt, even kill her, like she has other Tinker managers who got in her way. I know about those murders, some of our field workers, some of our teachers, and I know why my mother is afraid. Ferrars will have to protect her. Besides I have done such a good job for Spire, she owes me the favor of protecting my mother.

  However, I still will miss Cole Tinker.

  Chapter Twenty

  Sunday

  It was late. Stephanie looked at her watch. Almost ten p.m. This job required late hours for sure. Nothing she could do about it though. Spire wanted the work done and if she didn’t do it right, Spire and the rest of the Tinker Institute would be hard on her mother. Stephanie could write a book about how much these target men were all the same, old in bed and hating their wives while they gave away secrets. She’d have to talk to some of the other volunteers to see how the female targets were but she suspected women were just as weak.

  She was a pretty but not beautiful woman, just twenty-one years old last year. She hated the brassy whore hairdo Spire made her wear for the job. The damn micro skirts rode up. The higher heels hurt her feet.

  She slowed for a stoplight at the end of the industrial road. Her thoughts roamed over her past with her mother. Years ago she was very young and thought her happiness was being shared by her mother and father. They lived in Africa and she had so many friends among the village girls. Abike was her pal. Abike’s name meant treasure and she was certainly a wonder. She was tall and beautiful. They worked together on the vegetable garden. Abike brought the costus plant and they watched its yellow trumpets spring forth. Her mother did not like their home and brought her back to America. Mom went to work for Cole Tinker in Washington. When Cole moved to River Sunday, she and her mother followed him. She never saw her father again. Only when one of the other volunteers said he had visited the Institute did she call him and warn him to leave River Sunday.

  In the beginning her mom had a big office next to Cole Tinker at the farm. When she wanted to see her mother, sometimes Mom was in Tinker’s office working on a project. Cole, “or Uncle Cole,” as he liked to be called, gave her “red hots” candy when she visited her mom.

  She went to school in River Sunday. Because she lived at the Tinker Compound, she was not able to make friends. The other kids whispered about her and did not talk when she was near. She found out their parents had warned them to stay away. A lot of fear of Tinker Institute existed in River Sunday but in those days she did not understand why.

  Towards the end of her high school years, she helped at the veterinary clinic run by Doctor Mike. Doctor Mike was her main friend in those years. She’d walk to the clinic after school and help with the animals. Doctor Mike would drive her home. Her favorite pet was the little terrier dog with three legs called Tripod. His leg had been crushed by a car on the main street in River Sunday. Doctor Mike had saved the dog’s life and when the owners did not want her back, kept her as a pet.

  Volunteers came to the Institute to help Cole Tinker’s idea of free energy for everyone. They were young men and women from colleges across the nation. At first they lived in tents on the farm. In time Tinker build a large barn with dormitory space. Classes were conducted by her mother to teach the students how to indoctrinate new contacts found across the nation, especially in the large cities.

  When she was eighteen, she began her training with the other volunteers. She learned to organize Tinker fans and to work with street crowds to protest expensive energy. She learned how to manage the Tinker offices being rented in cities across the nation.

  Spire opened a new course teaching the students how to spy on target companies. They were taught to dress well and to engage in conversation to attract men or women who knew the secrets the Tinker Institute wanted. Spire never smiled and the volunteers were scared of her. She had a way of closing one of her eyes when talking. A closed eye meant disapproval of the student’s work. Spire set up a contest and when a volunteer had completed studies properly he or she could wear a metal emblem as an honor. It was in the shape of a brass bullet and it was called a “rifle.”

  Spire recently promised her the rifle but with one of her eyes closed. Stephanie still assumed she’d get one soon because she had sent in several “blinks.” These were highly prized. It meant the target guy caused a short blackout, a “blink” to impress the volunteer as she was secretly stealing secret codes.

  A girl volunteer was raped. Spire said it was a boy from town. The girl did not identify her attacker. The girl’s friends suspected Whithers, the new accountant and computer expert who had come to work recently. He invented the mysterious computer program to control electric grids. He was not punished. One morning the girl did not come to breakfast and no one could find out what happened to her. Spire did not have her home address.

  No one mentioned her again.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Doctor Mike and Loggerman were conveyed into Baltimore harbor in a small Coast Guard response boat. The larger patrol craft waited further down the Patapsco River. Two hundred and fifty horsepower outboard engines were throttled down as the response craft maneuvered into the submarine museum area. A machine gun was ready in the bow. The sailors moored the craft to the pier to allow the doctor and Loggerman to come ashore. Doctor Mike remarked softly they could always call for the submarine to rescue them if they got in trouble.

  Both wore civilian clothes in order to blend into the tourists crowding the shop along this street. Even at this late hour in the warm evening air, couples wore shorts and colorful shirts and dragged along their children. Doctor Mike was dressed in a white shirt with long sleeves, jeans, and sandals. She wore her tripod necklace tucked under the top of her blouse. Loggerman had an orange and black Oriole baseball shirt coming down over his jeans, covering his Ka-Bar knife. His jeans covered the top of his boots.

  They walked across the wide avenue away from the submarine museum and entered a side street. After about two blocks Doctor Mike called a halt. She said they had arrived at the avenue on which Stephanie’s bar was located.

  Loggerman looked around and spotted several gaudy nightclubs. The area for at least both sides of three city blocks was crowded with drunken men and women talking loudly and laughing. The curbs were overfilled with parked and double-parked cars and pickup trucks. One woman, with her breasts showing, tried over and over with a beer bottle to hit a man covering his head and standing next to her. A screaming woman with straggling hair rushed from a nearby bar to help her. Both women went back into the bar and the crowd dispersed. The man stood with his hand holding back blood trickling from his mouth and teeth.

  They walked further through the mob. A triangular sign built out over the
street advertised the name, “Naked 18” in red letters on a yellow and white background. Vertical displays with pictures of naked women dancing inside decorated each side of the large glass entry door, also shrouded in posters. A stubby man with a half-finished cigar in his mouth and a white and black checked cloth suit asked them to step inside, puffing smoke to give emphasis.

  “This is her bar, “said Doctor Mike.

  The man waved his cigar and said, “It’s fun for couples, I guarantee.”

  Doctor Mike smiled and the cigar man opened the door with a flourish.

  Inside the barroom was shut off from the street noise. It was dark, only lit with small yellow bulbs stretching along its back wall. They helped to illustrate the liquor bottle rack glinting to customers an invitation to drink. A flabby fat bartender with staring eyes filled a drink order. He delivered it to an older blonde woman in a plump miniskirt standing at the end of the counter. She looked Doctor Mike over and smiled her bright teeth behind her stark red lips. Doctor Mike nodded at her companion and the woman turned away to her drink.

  Scattered along the counter were men and women sitting on tall stools, fondling each other between sips from champagne glasses and tall beer bottles. At the back of the room on a platform lit in blinking neon a man with upswept orange hair moved back and forth in time to the loud rock music he played on his audio equipment.

  A naked woman, dressed only in stiletto heels, moved in rhythm on the stage built a foot above the bar. From time to time she would pick up money placed on the stage by her audience, waving her lips in a seductive smile.

  They sat halfway down the bar. In a few minutes the bartender took their orders. After serving them, his eyes searching their faces intently, he moved back to his rows of liquor. He sat on a round stool, watching them with no expression.

  “He thinks we are cops checking on his drug dealing,” whispered Loggerman. “Guess my jeans and oilfield boots didn’t impress him.”

  “He saw the outline of the big knife,” she answered.

  Loggerman tasted his beer and, as he did, he looked around. He saw no one who resembled what he thought Stephanie might look like.

  “I’ll probably spot her first.” She put her arm around him and nuzzled his neck.

  “We ought to do this for real sometime,” said Loggerman.

  “Wait a minute,” said Doctor Mike. “I see her.” She nodded to the back where several booths were set against the wall opposite the bar and the stage.

  A woman with long blonde hair sat back to them in the last booth, her head low, talking to a man in a stylish lightweight blue suit. The man looked around to study the dancer and then turned back to his date.

  “He doesn’t look like a regular. He’s too well dressed,” observed Loggerman.

  Doctor Mike whispered, “I know him. He’s the security manager of the nuclear plant located south of Baltimore. He was on television last week guaranteeing the facility could continue to produce electricity even if it were bombed by terrorists.”

  The blonde stood and walked to a restroom. She did not go in but went to her left, back under the disc jockey’s platform.

  The man got up. He passed by Loggerman and Doctor Mike, smelling with cologne as if he were drowning out the bar odors. When he opened the glass exit door street glare and noise invaded the darkness, quickly disappearing in the darkness inside as the door closed behind him and the bar returned to its steady rock beat noise.

  “Let’s go back to bathroom,” Loggerman said, getting off his stool and taking her hand.

  The nude dancer who had been on the stage had finished. She climbed down a short set of steps in front of them.

  She said over her shoulder, “Did you like my dance?”

  “I did. So did my date. Will you come back on?”

  “Blondie is next, then another girl, then me. You sit down and wait and I’ll be back.” She touched Doctor Mike’s cheek and said, “I like girls, too.” She fluttered into the bathroom.

  The disc jockey played a Cyndi Lauper song.

  Loggerman whispered, “Cyndi was always Stephanie’s favorite.”

  A light illuminated the dark corridor under the disc jockey. A woman stepped out, adjusting her costume. The light went off behind her.

  Stephanie was a tall woman wearing high heels and a tiny bikini.

  She spotted Loggerman and casually said, “You want to see my strip? I’ll be on in a second. You’ll see something amazing.” Then she winked, “You got to buy me a drink if you want to sit with me,” she said, her eyes concentrating as her hand added more lipstick.

  “No drinks, Stephanie,” said Loggerman.

  “My name is Blondie.”

  She looked at him, suddenly realizing who he was. She exclaimed, “Daddy!”

  Doctor Mike came forward. “Yes, it’s your Daddy, Honey.”

  “Oh, my God! How did you find me?” After a long moment she added, in a whisper, “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “You shouldn’t be here, either. Where’s your mother in all this?” Loggerman moved his hand to illustrate the seedy bar.

  “This is what we do as volunteers.” Her face grew angry. “You killed our friend Cole.”

  “I didn’t. It was a rigged thing.”

  “He did not. We rescued him from Ferrars who tried to murder him,” said Doctor Mike.

  She looked at her father. She nodded, “I thought it was a lie by Ferrars. I told you not to trust Ferrars. He’s the reason I have this assignment. Mommy says she will be killed by him unless I do this work.”

  “She will be killed?”

  “Yes. She told me.”

  The song started again. The disk jockey called down in a high voice, “Blondie, you’re on.”

  She started to move past them.

  “Stephanie. Your mother lied to you. I don’t know why, but she did. She was not afraid when I talked to her. She said you were happy because you were getting a rifle.”

  Stephanie looked perplexed. “She didn’t tell you of her fear of Ferrars?”

  “No. She warned me to stay away. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I trust my mother not to lie to me.”

  “She has put you in danger. You have to come with us.”

  “I have to save her.”

  “The man you were with will be questioned. If you are captured as one of the spy volunteers, you’ll go to prison. I’m here to get you free of this nightmare. I guarantee you a pardon if you help us.”

  “You are lying about my mother.”

  “Come with us and find out,” said Doctor Mike. “If she’s innocent, we will help her against Ferrars.”

  The bartender had moved from behind the bar. He stood in the walkway staring at them.

  “Let’s go,” said Loggerman.

  He unbuttoned his blue work shirt, leaving him still covered with his white undershirt. He wrapped the shirt around her shoulders.

  “I will save her life,” she said.

  Customers and their bar mates were in the walkway as they moved towards the exit door. Some were drunk and jostled them with angry comments. The disc jockey was still waiting for Stephanie to come on stage. He started her music again. Some of the crowd clapped in time and looked around for her to start her moves on stage. A few of the clients began to move along with Loggerman, anxious something was wrong, and trouble was coming.

  A woman began shouting for Blondie from near the dressing room, “She’s not here. She’s not here.”

  Stephanie pressed against the front door, the edge of the glass opening to the street allowing street lights to flicker from outside. She looked back at Loggerman, her face lit by the brightness. The street barker moved toward her, saying, “What’s the matter, Blondie? I been telling them you are coming on with your dance.”

  The crowd outside in the street had swelled since Loggerman and Mike had entered. A woman held a microphone toward him, saying, “We’re from Baltimore news. Are you Loggerman? Did you kill Cole Tinker?” She wa
s accompanied by a man with a large video camera. Members of the crowd also held up cell phones seeking pictures.

  He did not answer.

  A man in the back, his bright green shirt glimmering in the street light, yelled, “I told you it was him. He’s the murderer. He killed Cole. I called you and said he was here. Where are the police? I called them too.”

  The crowd began to chant, “Killer! Killer!”

  Two men dressed in black clothes stepped in front of the camera. Loggerman recognized one of them as the cleric who had been at the Tinker meeting in River Sunday.

  He said, holding a cane in his left hand, “Turn around and go back into the bar. Do it now.”

  As the clerics held back the crowd, Loggerman followed Stephanie and Doctor Mike back into the darkness of the Naked 18 club.

  The glass door closed behind them. Faces of the reporters and the angry crowd pushed at the glass. The door shook with the pressure.

  Inside the bar was in chaos. The walkway was filled with customers and their girls, all trying to get to the front door. With the crowd outside pushing in and the customers pushing out, the door had become a logjam.

  Loggerman spotted the bartender, his angry face coming at him from behind the bar counter. The man’s left hand was sliding along the top of the bar counter. It moved under the polished wood and came up quickly holding a snub nosed revolver. As the flabby man tried to take aim, Loggerman whipped his knife upward under the man’s hand, and slashed off the gun wrist. The revolver crashed into the bar ceiling, hand and gun still attached to each other. The bartender fell against the wall behind him screaming, his eyes wide as his stunted arm poured forth his blood like a hose.

  “Follow me, Daddy,” Stephanie shouted over the screams of the customers. “I know a way.”

  They stepped around a naked woman who had fallen on the floor in front of a booth. She was yelling “Come back you bastard, you didn’t pay.”

  The terrified disc jockey stared at Stephanie as she led them into his cubicle. “I played your music.”