An Unlikely Hero (1) (3 page)

Tony looked more closely at the monitor. “I know one thing for sure-if that sweet thing was my wife, I wouldn’t be just givin’ her a peck on the mouth.”

Chase watched the woman stand rigidly as her family faded from sight when he realized she was staring at the van. A bewildered look caused her brow to crease as she shaded her eyes to block the glare of the warm California sun. But in a moment she’d come to terms with whatever tumbled in her imagination and retreated into the house.

“Whoops! We’ve been made, Chase. Mrs. Scott is phoning the police!” Tony grinned and patched into her phone line. “Grass Valley police. Yes. Not a problem. We’ll send a car around right away.” Tony disconnected. “She could be trouble.”

“Move the van down the street. Have Thomas bring the truck around and I’ll get in after I have a look around. Police reports say something shot into the sky and disappeared in this area. This place would be on the right trajectory for it to land.”

Tony started the van. “Too bad we didn’t get the report until this morning. Whoever shot that thing off was long gone by the time Enigma raided the house. If we hadn’t got a lucky break about that missing radioactive material in L.A. we’d never even give this a second look. Finger prints are being run but the boss doesn’t expect they were that sloppy.”

“Probably burned their prints off before they started the job.” Chase frowned. “Looked like whoever it was left in a hurry. Neighbors didn’t seem to know much about them but why would they? That section is made up of blue collar workers. This area,” Chase lifted his chin as he stared at the Scott house, “smells of money, nannies and once a week gardeners. Our little Grass Valley housewife over there can smell trouble a mile away. She’s probably president of the neighborhood watch committee.”

Satisfied that the police would take care of the suspicious van across the street, Tessa eyed the swaying flowerbeds in the backyard with pride. Hard work and a green thumb had transformed a lifeless space into a calming retreat that her family cherished and friends admired. The explosion of reds, yellows and purples breathed life into every corner of the acre she called home. White vinca and snow-on-the-mountain outlined every mulched bed and walkway. The tall white picket fence separated the Scotts from a grouchy neighbor, but even he could often be spotted admiring the beautiful, almost wistful atmosphere that Tessa had created. It was during this moment’s pause that something caught her eye in the flowerbed. Whatever it was, the sun bounced off its metallic finish and caused Tessa to squint.

Walking to the object sticking out from one of her prized tea roses, Tessa began to imagine that this must be another one of Daniel’s new inventions. Roughly, she fished it out and held the two-foot missile-like structure in her hand. If it had been Sean Patrick’s, the toy would have been a gun, G.I. Joe or some futuristic weapon. Daniel on the other hand would insist his creation have lights, a whistle, and obnoxious noises and would most likely have a computer adapter. His argument would be that this toy would eventually have a higher purpose for the good of mankind. At least that’s what he tried to tell her every time they went to Toys R Us or a computer store.

Tessa turned it over, examining it closer. Definitely Daniel’s. The lights were flashing and a ticking sound made the projectile vibrate in her hand. She couldn’t remember buying this toy or a kit to make such a thing. There didn’t seem to be an off switch and the humming was getting a little too high pitched for her liking. Nonchalantly, Tessa hit it with the heel of her palm. The ticking and humming stopped but a slight vibration continued.

“Great! I broke it,” she moaned. Once more she hit the toy with her fingertips. This time it shut down with a hiss.

“You need to control those boys of yours,” fussed the neighbor, Mr. Crawley. “They make too much noise!”

“Yes, Mr. Crawley.” Tessa could hardly contain the giggle that threatened to escape her lips as she eyed the grouchy neighbor leaning over the fence so that the sun glistened off his partially baldhead. He began a litany of complaints so that Tessa finally rolled her eyes in exasperation and sighed. She was sure that he must complain that Santa Claus possessed too great a giving spirit. “Sorry, Mr. Crawley.” Tessa continued to tolerate the daily borage of complaints because the old man lived alone and was a Korean War veteran. Her grandfather, had he been alive, would have approved. Deep down, she knew it was Mr. Crawley’s way of getting her attention. His next comment however, took her by surprise. “You should’ve gone with your husband!” He shook his finger angrily at her. “A woman shouldn’t stay home alone.”

Tessa made some excuse to escape and headed back to the house carrying the toy only to drop it clumsily onto the floor as she entered the mudroom. She wiped her feet, picked up the toy and carried it into the family room where she tossed it into the toy basket near the fireplace. Just as she placed her cup of morning coffee into the microwave the doorbell chimed.

“Yes?” Tessa eyed the man as she tried to see where the missing white van had gone. But her eyes landed on the brown pickup in her driveway with the logo “CIA Plumbing.”

As Chase gazed into Mrs. Scott’s tranquil blue eyes he seemed to lose his voice. She reminded him of a painting he’d once seen in the Art Institute of Chicago. His thoughts jumbled and his heart began to pound. The unexpected sensation made him feel awkward. His eyes drifted up to her windblown blonde hair that hinted at unruly curls, and then slid down to her small nose and moist lips that looked too perfect for a housewife with three kids and a mortgage. His eyes continued to travel down her body noticing the curves a man could get lost in. Mrs. Scott certainly didn’t subscribe to
thinner is better.

“Yes?” she repeated impatiently.

“You called for a plumber?” Chase’s good old boy voice was a little overdone.

“Three weeks ago.” She guarded the door as if it were Fort Knox. “And I didn’t call CIA Plumbing.”

“I know. The service you called is sumped,” he laughed at his bad joke, especially after she didn’t seem amused. “Plumbers have to hand out some of their load. You got me.”

Tessa eyed him cautiously. He was too handsome to be a plumber and she was sure his faded jeans weren’t going to slide down over the crack of his butt when he crawled under a sink. “What does CIA stand for?”

Again the good old boy laugh. “Central Intelligence Agency. Thought it’d make people trust me.” His grin was disarming.

“Clearly you’re a little out of touch with what is trustworthy. Do you have a card?”

As Chase fumbled for a business card the voice in his ear remote spoke, “Jeeze! Are you sure she doesn’t work for us?” Tony sounded concerned his buddy wasn’t going to get inside the house. What was Chase doing? He didn’t usually stall for time. “The bomb is definitely in or around the house, Chase. Be careful. Thomas and I got your back if she spanks you.” Chase frowned at hearing both men chuckle.

“Here ya go. Look lady, I got lots to do. If ya don’t need me now, fine! He took out a work order from his pocket. “You Mrs. Scott?”

“Yes.”

“What’ll it be?”

Tessa read the card and stepped aside for the cocky plumber to enter.

“Upstairs bathroom. There’s a leak under the sink and I think there’s another one in the powder room,” she pointed down the hall, “down there. I hear this drip in the wall too.”

He held up a tough looking hand for her to be silent. “Enough. One thing at a time.” Chase started up the spiral staircase and disappeared from Tessa’s sight.

She frowned as a sigh escaped her lips. A fleeting thought occurred to her about calling the number to check on the plumber but then her eyes fell on the gallons of paint Robert had brought in for her. Stacked on the dining room floor, along with brushes, drop cloth and edging tape, it gave Tessa a sense of dread. This didn’t look like much fun and she certainly wasn’t in the mood to get started. Today would be a free day. No kids. No husband. No counting calories. No problems.

Tessa could hear the brown-eyed plumber in the kids’ bathroom as she retrieved her cup of coffee from the microwave and leaned against the counter. Her mind drifted to her family and she wondered what they were doing. Already she doubted her decision to stay home. Her soul was empty without her precious family.

“Dad, she’s going to hurl!” shouted Daniel as he tried to edge away from his sister in the backseat.

Robert heard a disgusting liquid sound hit the back of his seat. The smell of vomit filled the car instantly along with the soft cry of his daughter and the moans of his sons. Fortunately he’d reached the overlook at Donner Pass. A sarcastic thought of the Donner Party turning their noses up at wanting to eat his family crossed his mind as he jumped out of the car and opened the door to inspect the mess his daughter had created.

“I’m gonna be sick too!” Daniel flung open his door and gagged over the edge of the rock wall lining the overlook. Sean Patrick was soon beside him gagging as well.

Robert stared at the pink, lumpy explosion on the back of his seat, Heather’s lap and her clothes. She reached out to him and he froze. His first thoughts were, “Yuk! I’m not touching that.” But then he carefully reached in and released her from the small car seat, lifting her carefully to the ground. “There, there, sweetie. Daddy will get you some water and some clean clothes.” As he began damage control he heard Tessa’s words of warning. “Don’t feed them greasy fast-food for breakfast. It sometimes makes them sick.”

“We’ll keep this our little secret from your mother, huh kids?” Robert coaxed as they began on their way once more.

Sean Patrick, sitting in the front with his father, crossed his arms as if in protest. “We’ll see how the rest of the trip goes. Sure wish Mom was here.”

“So do I,” thought Robert in dreaded anticipation of the next two weeks.

Chase searched through the bedrooms and the baths upstairs with no luck of finding the weapon. The Enigma Agency hadn’t wanted to alarm the neighborhood or the town. The news media could make any dangerous situation into a circus. Whatever happened at the garage that caught on fire a street over the night before was still a bit of a mystery. Evidence indicated a possible bomb had been launched. This place appeared not to have suffered any recent trauma other than a floor littered with toys and ballet slippers. He listened carefully for a ticking sound but only heard the soft humming of Mrs. Scott downstairs stirring happily in the kitchen. Was that the smell of cookies baking? He tapped the earpiece roughly. “Nothing, Tony. Any signals?”

“Sensors say it’s inside. Try downstairs. Better fess up and get her the hell out.”

Stealth-like, Chase slipped down the stairs and into the front parlor to get his bearings. He could see into the dining room easily and beyond into the kitchen. The family room appeared to be off the kitchen. Quickly, he changed positions in order to get a better view of the far room. Nothing unusual.

“You’re close, Chase. Really close. What’a ya see?”

“Nothing!” he growled deep in his throat.

Tessa felt another presence in the house. Maybe she should have called to check out the plumber. He could be an ax murderer for all she knew. The aroma of baking cookies permeated the warm country kitchen. She stopped stirring the remaining cookie mixture and slowly turned to look at something that caught her attention from the corner of her eye. Gasping, Tessa put her hand to her throat as a short, thin man stepped out of the mudroom into her kitchen. His ruddy complexion was dark and uneven. Bushy eyebrows nearly grew together over small jet black eyes that glared dangerously at her. There was no lust, just anger and contempt. His narrow lips were nearly hidden by a thick black moustache. Tessa froze momentarily with fear. All the CSI and Law and Order television shows she had ever seen flashed through her mind. She would be the next victim soon to be the plot around the hit series that aired every night of the week. The man crouched forward, taking one slow, unsure step as his ebony eyes narrowed then searched the room and those beyond like a mine sweeper bent on avoiding disaster.

“Honey,” Tessa called out in a loud shaky voice. “We have company!”

Chase stiffened. He could see the Middle Eastern man clearly from his half hidden position in the dining room. Whispering warily, Chase reached out to his partners in the van. “Tony, guess who’s here?” No response. “Tony?” An uneasy realization washed over Chase, knowing he may very well be on his own. His partners had been neutralized.

Tessa could feel her legs dissolving into liquid Jell-O as her hands reached back to steady herself against the counter. “Get out or I’ll…”

“Shut up! Where is the bomb?” The man growled in a heavy accent she recognized only as Middle Eastern. “Quick or I’ll kill you here!”

Tessa glanced at the door and could see the plumber creeping closer. He held his finger to his lips and motioned for her to edge closer so the invader would follow. She realized he planned to jump the mad man before her. “Look, I don’t know what you want! But…” Slowly, dangerously, Tessa moved toward the brown-eyed plumber waiting to save her.

“Enough! The bomb, woman! The bomb!”

Tessa tried to steady her quivering voice. “No. I’ll never give it to you.”

The dark man stopped his approach.

Chase froze as well. She knew. Who was this woman?

“That’s right,” she tried to keep the wobble out of her voice to stall as her eyes tried to watch Chase without being obvious. “Who are you?”

He clenched his fist and threw his head back with a frustrated yell. Slowly he lowered his beady, insane eyes on her as if any moment he would explode. “I am Jamaal! Now tell me where it is or I’ll slice you in a million pieces. You are alone. There is no one to help you. The bomb, woman!”

The memory of two airliners crashing into the Twin Towers jolted Tessa into an uncommon courage she didn’t know she possessed. “Jamaal, you’re too late. Someone was already here.”

Jamaal leapt across the kitchen floor, grabbing Tessa by the throat. From the fold of his ragged shirt he produced a long knife. Tessa’s eyes bulged at the sight of the weapon with a fleeting question of whether it was just rusty or stained with dried blood. “American whore, tell me who it was before I…” Jamaal’s nose was but inches from Tessa’s, but her wide, terrified eyes were focused on something behind him. Just then Jamaal felt a tap on his shoulder. Even with his body rigid with shock, he managed to slowly turn his head to see the brown eyed plumber, smiling a toothy grin, with a M9 Beretta pointed at his ear.