Fatal Justice (Jack Lamburt #1)(38)

She looked around and leaned in close, like she was preparing to pass me Russian nuclear weapon secrets. “Sammy. Sammy something,” she whispered. “The papers say they went off grid and did that witness protection thingy. But we know better.” She smiled and winked at me.

She reached across the table and grabbed my hands and squeezed them tight.

“Thank you for saving her. I know how it works with those mob people. How it’d never end if you followed the rule of the law. Something that you pride yourself in doing.”

If she only knew...

“Did Stuart see the security video?”

“No. Soon as I watched it, I deleted it. Nobody will ever know, as long as that wussy ex-boyfriend keeps his mouth shut. Aren’t you worried about him telling?” She laughed and shook her head. She paused for a second, and a seriousness returned to her face that I rarely saw in her. She leaned in close again. More top-secret highly classified document passing. She whispered, “At one point, I thought you were going to shoot him.”

I laughed it off. “Ha. I guess you haven’t heard? I convinced Harold to join the Marines. He reports to Paris Island in a few weeks. We’re having a going away party for him next Saturday at the Red Barn. I hope that you and Stuart can make it.”

“Oh, that’s good. Yeah, Stu is off next Saturday. And he always liked Harold, so I’m sure that he’d like to go.”

“Excellent,” I stood up to leave and gave her a hug and a smile. “Just keep him away from Frances.”





Epilogue





While I was busy dumping Fat Sam into the Atlantic, Debbie was rushing London to the Vet for an emergency operation.

He’d taken a bullet to his chest and wound up expiring on the operating table, but the Doc told me that his heart condition was a lot worse then he thought, and even though the bullet did kill him, his time was very limited. As in ‘I’m surprised he lasted this long’ limited. That would explain how tired he seemed all of the time.

I couldn’t help but admire him even more now, going out in a blaze of glory like that. Leave it to London to come through one final time and save the day. I could only hope that I would be that lucky when my time was up.

I built a coffin for him out of some pressure treated lumber. I put his bed in the coffin and laid him down on his right side, his favorite way to sleep. He looked so peaceful. Debbie tossed in a few of his treats, along with his chew toys, and I placed a photo of Cheryl next to him to keep him company.

We buried him right next to my hammock, so that he’d always be by my side.

A week from Tuesday I have an appointment to get my first tattoo. It’s going on my chest. When I showed Jamie at the tattoo shop in Cobleskill the photo of a head shot of London that Cheryl took when he was only a year old, she smiled and nodded. “Nice.”



The end



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FREE Preview; Airliner Down Chapter 1





December 27, 9:43 p.m.

Two hours before the event

As the big airliner climbed past twenty-four thousand feet, the air pressure detonator worked exactly as planned. In retrospect, it was all too easy. A small metal box, about the size of a child’s shoebox, held the components of the bomb: a nine-volt battery, a small brick of C-4 plastic explosive, a sealed glass capsule, and a digital timer.

The box was attached to the forward bulkhead in the nonpressurized nose cone of the airliner. The reduction in air pressure as the airliner climbed in altitude caused the air inside the thimble-sized glass capsule to expand until it burst. The shattering of the capsule completed an electrical circuit and started the digital timer.

In two hours, the timer would reach zero, and the nine-volt battery would fire an electrical charge to the blasting cap in the C-4. The blasting cap would detonate the C-4, and the explosion would rip apart the big airliner, sending the three hundred plus holiday vacationers to their deaths.





Airliner Down Chapter 2





Five hours before the event

Inside Terminal Six at Los Angeles International Airport, off-duty airline pilot Kevin McSorley rolled his carry-on luggage over the gray tiled floor towards the check-in station at his departure gate. Midevening on a Tuesday in the week between Christmas and New Year’s was a quiet time for the airlines, and he had the terminal mostly to himself. Off-key, he sang out loud, “Deck the halls with boughs of holly,” as he made his way through the terminal. He daydreamed about his upcoming flight to Hawaii and the six nights he would spend in a five-star hotel with a beautiful woman. His woman. “Tis the season to be jolly…”

His iPhone vibrated in his pocket, indicating a new text message. He retrieved it, and as if on cue to verify their strong mental connection, it was Margie.

Margie: Just got in, hotel rocks!

Kevin: cool, you naked yet?

Margie: Still in the lobby Kevin: is that a yes or no?

Margie: Sophomoric Kevin: just at gate now

Margie: Wow, u r early. Can’t wait, eh?

Kevin: u bet, baby!

Margie: Hitting the gym and then the lounge for food

Kevin: don’t pick up any strangers Margie: Define stranger??

Kevin: sophomoric Margie: Kisses. Hurry here!