Rank: Lighthouse Security Investigations Series Page 2

Chuckling, he walked toward his SUV, waving at Horace before pulling out and heading down the lane.

  2

  “Hey, Mom,” Rank said, putting his phone on speaker as he stood in his bedroom, buttoning his dark blue shirt.

  “John! How are you?”

  “I’m good, Mom. How’s everybody there?” With a last glance in the mirror, making sure his appearance would blend in well at the exclusive restaurant he was going to, he smiled at the enthusiasm in her voice.

  “We’re good,” she exclaimed. “Your dad’s been trying to get the house ready for the winter, but I suppose North Carolina would still seem very warm to you compared to Maine.”

  “Yeah, but it’s beautiful here. You guys thinking of coming up for the holidays?”

  “Well, that’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. I’m not sure about Richard, but Carol and her husband are thinking about taking the kids to Disneyland for Christmas, so your dad and I thought that we might come to see you then. Of course, Thanksgiving will still be at our house.”

  His mind was firmly on the mission that evening, but at the mention of the holidays he could not help but think about the food-laden table at his parents’ house every Thanksgiving with his brother and sister’s family. “I’ll be there, Mom. I might even bring some friends this year.”

  “Your friends are always welcome, you know that.”

  “Hate to cut it short, but I’ve got somewhere I need to be. Tell Dad I said ‘hi’ and I’ll talk to you guys this weekend.”

  Disconnecting, he walked through his condo. Sleek and modern, he was a minimalist when it came to furniture and decorations. Probably due to his past as a SEAL and needing to pick up and move at a moment’s notice, he had not acquired a lot of things that were not necessary.

  After grabbing his keys and locking up, he headed out to meet the guys at the rendezvous point. Several blocks away from the restaurant, he parked behind a nondescript, panel van and got out of his SUV. As he approached the rear of the van, the door swung open and he climbed in, greeting Drew and Walker. They were dressed in all black, already set-up with earphones and speakers.

  “Josh and Clay at base?” he asked, knowing the question was not necessary. Just like with his former SEAL team, every one of the Keepers was always mission ready.

  A nod from Walker gave him his assurance and he readied to leave. “I’ll be inside at the bar. I’ll see who’s at the dinner and wait for Lawrence to give me the sign, then I’ll move through the kitchen and out the back door as soon you let me know that the alley is clear.”

  “You got it,” Drew said, excitement showing as he bounced his leg and rubbed his hands together.

  “This’ll be a piece of cake,” he predicted, making sure his tie was straight.

  Walker offered another chin lift as he fitted him with his sound and video equipment. “If I didn’t know you so well, I’d accuse you of being too fuckin’ cocky.”

  Laughing, he said, “Not cocky…confident. I did my homework. Nothing wrong with being confident when you know you’ve got a mission in the bag. This one isn’t even really risky, with Lawrence ready to talk.” Walker raised his eyebrow so he added, “I know, I know. Anything can happen, but I promise, this will go just like clockwork.”

  With a last check-in to Josh, he climbed down from the van and began walking along the sidewalk toward the restaurant. This area of Portsmouth had been part of a reclamation project and several new stores and restaurants had gone into the revitalization efforts. The old, brick building housing the restaurant had been refurbished, but maintained its look of elegant days gone by. The bottom floor was still fronted by large windows, allowing the shining lights inside to illuminate the street, creating a welcoming, regal effect. If he had the time, he would spend a moment soaking in the ambience, but he had a mission to focus on.

  Approaching the entrance, the wide, double front doors were covered with a copper awning and, stepping inside, plush carpet led straight to the hostess counter. To his left and toward the back were carpeted stairs leading upward to the next floor, which contained smaller dining rooms for intimate parties. Frank’s reservation was on the first floor, so he confirmed the layout and proceeded to the hostess.

  It had been a while since he had eaten in this restaurant but, having studied it extensively in preparation for this meeting, he knew that there was only one staircase leading to the second floor. There was a service elevator in the back of the restaurant, leading from the kitchen to a galley upstairs where the servers would bring the food for the dinner parties or meetings that were held on the second floor. The layout was going to make it perfect for meeting with Lawrence later—limited entry and exit points.

  “Good evening, sir,” the attractive woman at the hostess stand greeted as he made his way towards her, her smile welcoming. “Do you have a reservation?”

  “I’m meeting a friend at the bar,” he replied.

  “Certainly, sir. I hope you have a pleasant evening. The bar is just through the dining area toward the back.”

  With a polite nod, he moved with casual grace, his eyes alert while his mannerisms remained at ease. The restaurant was classic, traditional. Burgundy carpet helped to mute the sounds of the patrons enjoying their dinner and the soft gray walls held prints from the city’s historical archives. The tables were covered with white linens and the servers, attired in black pants and crisp, white shirts, bustled efficiently as they brought food and drinks.

  The bar, consisting of highly polished mahogany, ran along the back wall. On one side were the discrete doors leading to the kitchen and on the other was the entrance to the restrooms. Settling onto one of the plush, leather barstools, he caught the eye of the bartender and ordered a scotch. Not his favorite drink, preferring a beer while sitting in front of his widescreen TV watching a football game, he nonetheless took an appreciative sip.

  He did not have to wait long before his attention was snagged by a small group being seated. Right on time, Frank and Thomas Tercelli walked in with Lawrence. The three men were led to a circular booth on the side closest to the staircase. A great table position to see and be seen. He discretely watched as Frank and Thomas smiled at the hostess before giving their attention to the server, who took their drink orders.

  Lawrence stuck his finger in the neck of his shirt to give a little tug and Rank inwardly grimaced at the show of nervousness from his informant. As though the man suddenly knew he was being watched, he immediately stopped fidgeting and settled into his seat.

  The trio appeared to be making small talk, enjoying their drinks, appetizers, and conversation. When the server returned to refresh their drinks after about thirty minutes, Thomas slid from the booth and stood.

  “Dad, thanks for the drinks, but I’ve got to get home. I don’t like leaving Cheryl alone for too long,” Thomas said, his voice carrying over the subdued restaurant noise.

  Frank looked surprised his son was leaving so soon.

  Turning to his aide, Thomas said, “Lawrence, you want to walk out with me? We need to check a couple of things for our calendar of meetings for tomorrow.”

  Lawrence stared wide-eye up at his boss without saying anything for a moment and Rank held his breath, hoping that Lawrence would give nothing away. Finally, Lawrence lifted his drink, took a last sip and, over the rim of the glass, met Rank’s eyes in the mirror behind the bar.

  He breathed a sigh of relief as the aide stood quickly and, with a goodbye to Frank, followed the dapper young senator as he wove through the tables in the main dining room, occasionally stopping to chat with people.

  “Thomas and Lawrence are leaving. Let me know when they separate and Lawrence moves to the back,” he said quietly into his radio. And please, fuck, don’t let him move too quickly, drawing attention to himself.

  Walker acknowledged, “I’m at the front. I see them talking in the lobby.”

  Waiting to hear that Lawrence had moved away from the Senator, he took another sip of his drink.
Always sharp, he managed to keep an eye on the entire room while maintaining the appearance of a man simply enjoying an after-work drink. Frank’s gaze drifted toward the front and his eyes lit, drawing his own attention in that direction.

  In a room full of beautiful women, an extraordinarily elegant woman walked past him. Not having caught the front of her, he nonetheless admired the back view. Her black cocktail dress was fitted to her waist then flared out over her hips. The skirt was made of layers of material that swayed and flowed as she walked. It ended a few inches above her knee leaving her long, shapely legs exposed to be admired. Black, open-toed heels allowed her bright red painted toenails to peek through. A slim, black clutch was in her hands and he noticed she wore no jewelry other than silver hoop earrings, emphasizing her long neck.

  Her thick hair was pulled back in a sleek, low ponytail, the tresses hanging halfway down her back. The color was deep brown, but as she passed underneath the subtle lights of the restaurant’s interior, he caught a glimpse of russet highlights.

  Not usually one to be distracted while on a mission, he nonetheless watched in stunned silence as she made her way to Frank’s table. Frank smiled, lifted from his seat, and held out his hand to greet her. Taking his hand, she slid into the booth and Frank settled once more.

  “Some woman just walked in and sat at Frank’s table,” he muttered into his microphone.

  Josh replied, “Got a visual?”

  “Negative.” Not willing to risk anymore reporting, he carefully watched the table, shifting so that the camera in his tie clip would be able to capture her image.

  The woman ordered a glass of wine, but when it arrived she barely took a sip. Now that he was able to see her front, his interest was not just snagged, but captured. Her evening makeup, expertly applied with a subtle hand, highlighted her classic features. High cheekbones, full, ruby lips, and green eyes. The combination was exquisite and, if he were sitting with her, he would be mesmerized. Given the situation though, all he felt was irritation. Frank was married and he wondered if she were a mistress. The idea of her being Frank’s mistress bolted through him. Chastizing himself for losing focus, he studied the scene objectively.

  If the woman really was a mistress, it was a risky move, meeting her so soon after his son left. But he had looked shocked that Thomas had left when he had, so that did not make sense. Surely Lawrence would have indicated if someone else had been invited to dinner. So, who the fuck is she? Frustrated at the turn of events, he finished his drink while keeping his eye on the table.

  His research into Frank had not given any indication that there was a mistress, but he could not deny the woman appeared to know him well. Her smile was warm as she leaned toward Frank, listening to him speak, her face lighting with even more beauty as her smile widened. He lost his breath for a second at the carefree, easy look on her face and he wished, for the first time, to be doing anything but what he was doing. In that moment, he wished he was just a man at a bar who had the chance to meet her.

  As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he inwardly winced. What was wrong with him tonight? He kept his face schooled but, internally, one look at this girl and he had lost all sense. And that was just plain stupid, considering that she might be privy to some of Frank’s allegedly illegal activities.

  “Can you get a better visual?” John asked through his earpiece, shaking him from his thoughts again.

  “Negative.” Looking down the bar, he considered changing seats but decided against it. He did not want to give anyone a reason to take note of him.

  Walker reported, “Lawrence and Thomas still in lobby.”

  With his attention back on the table, he got stuck staring at the woman again and almost missed the appearance of Anatoly Kozlov. Hiding the jolt he felt at how uncharacteristically unobservant he was being, his curiosity so taken with the mystery woman, he surreptitiously watched as the Russian strolled toward Frank’s table and stopped.

  Frank blinked, frozen for a second before he greeted Kozlov and motioned to the woman, seemingly introducing her. He strained his ears but was unable to catch her name. As soon as Kozlov’s eyes landed on her, it was obvious his attention was riveted. Without being asked, Kozlov moved to her side of the booth, forcing her to slide around as he scooted in next to her.

  Her face tensed but she smiled at the newcomer. Was it annoyance at the interruption, having wanted Frank all to herself, or did she know who Kozlov was and was intimidated? Using his phone, he tapped out an encrypted message to Josh. Nearly instantly, Josh replied that he was running her image through his databases but had nothing yet.

  Observing Frank more closely, he wondered what his game was, meeting Kozlov in such a public place. The man had looked stunned to see Kozlov, though, so perhaps this was not planned. A drop of sweat appeared at the side of Frank’s temple and he discreetly wiped it away with his forefinger. He’s nervous.

  Mulling that over, he noticed the woman jerk, her lips pressing into a thin line as she glared at Kozlov. A disturbing thought hit him and he clenched his jaw. If she was Frank’s mistress, was the man the type to share his woman with business associates? Gauging Frank’s reaction, he appeared distracted, no longer smiling, and seemed to have completely missed the woman’s irritation.

  Just then, Walker said, “Thomas has been picked up in a limo out front and Lawrence is beginning to walk down the street toward the entrance to the alley.”

  Quickly considering the evening’s mission, he said, “Kozlov’s here. At the table. Keep an eye on him.” Lawrence was his priority, but they could not pass up the chance to get some intel straight from the source. He knew that Walker would quickly adapt to the change and Josh would be able to pull up security cameras to keep an eye on them.

  Without giving the Tercelli booth another glance, he paid his tab and walked to the back hall, bypassing the men’s room and moving past the kitchen to a stock room near the back alley. Receiving the all-clear from Josh, who was monitoring the security cameras, he pushed open the back door, quietly stepping into the dark alley to wait for Lawrence. Waiting near one of the dumpsters, he smiled as he lit a cigarette. If anyone came out, he would appear to simply be a patron looking for a place to smoke.

  While the mysterious woman had caught his attention while inside, he put her out of his mind. Josh and Clay would figure out who she was. For now, she was nothing more than a beautiful hiccup in his surveillance. With the self-assurance of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, he leaned against the wall and waited.

  His attention was riveted on the surrounding sounds, but the noise coming from the kitchen and nearby streets were a constant in the background.

  “Lawrence is headed your way,” Josh reported and he straightened from his position. So far, everything was going like clockwork, even with the appearance of the mysterious woman and Kozlov.

  He saw movement at the head of the alley and recognized Lawrence walking quickly on his tiptoes toward him. Reporting that he had Lawrence in his sights, he stepped away from the wall, tossing his cigarette down.

  “I’m sorry,” Lawrence said, his voice soft as his eyes darted around. “I didn’t know that Thomas was going to want me to leave with him so early.”

  “It’s fine,” he assured. “We’re used to things not always going according to plan. But you did good. Thomas has already left with his driver. Even though you didn’t get a chance to be with Frank alone, do you have anything for me?” He led Lawrence toward the brick wall, so they would be in the shadows.

  “I’m not sure. I’m almost positive that Thomas is not involved in anything. I know he’s a young senator, but he already has his eye on the presidency down the road. I don’t see him doing anything to mess up those chances.”

  “Do you have any evidence to support that?”

  Lawrence wiped the sweat rolling down the side of his face as his eyes darted to the side once more. “He has other people handle all of his campaign funds. He’s got knowledgeable people in
key roles and in our staff meetings he’s the one who keeps reminding us to do nothing that would appear negative in the press. He’s also very careful to hire people to handle things that he’s uncertain about.”

  “Can you give me an example?”

  “Well, uh…if we’re going to travel, he makes sure to find out what monies he can use and what he can’t. Even tonight, the dinner. He could’ve paid and just written it off, but he didn’t want that to look bad. He had drinks with his dad, and he paid for his portion and mine.”

  “Okay, then what about his dad, Frank?”

  Sighing, glancing around nervously, Lawrence replied, “That’s where it gets sticky. Frank’s got his hands in all kinds of stuff.”

  3

  Helena Jernigan had been enjoying her glass of wine with Frank Tercelli, discussing his company making donations to some of the nonprofit charities and organizations that she represented. That was, until a forward, creepy man unexpectedly joined them.

  Earlier in the afternoon, Frank had sent her a message asking her to meet him and his son for dinner at the Old Towne Restaurante. Considering she had skipped lunch, she was happy to have dinner be part of their meeting. Never knowing when she might need to meet with people in power and position, she kept spare clothes and makeup in her office, both of which had come in handy tonight.

  To her surprise, when she had arrived Thomas had already left. Not one to miss an opportunity, she had continued on with Frank and had held his rapt attention for a few moments, explaining her cause and the importance of her work, before his attention had dwindled with the arrival of the dark-haired, smarmy man who seemed to be incapable of keeping his hands to himself. Trying to maintain control, she toyed with the fork by her salad plate, imagining jabbing it into the back of his hand that was currently perilously close to her knee.

  Attempting to keep the smile on her face, she looked toward Frank and said, “Perhaps we can set up another time to talk about our shared interests.”