eyes defiant.
A few minutes later the limo pulled out of the warehouse. Jason was
slumped over in the backseat, several lacerations and deep bruises on
his face, his breathing irregular. Kenneth Scales had the laptop open
and was cursing loudly as he stared at the small screen, powerless to
reverse what had occurred minutes earlier. In a fit of rage he tore
Jason’s cell phone free from the cable and repeatedly smashed it against
the door of the limo until it dropped to the floor in jagged pieces.
Then he pulled a small secured-line cellular phone from his inner jacket
pocket and punched in a number. Scales spoke slowly into the phone.
Archer had contacted someone, sent some message. There were a number of
possible recipients and they would all have to be checked out and
appropriately dealt with. But that potential problem would just have to
keep. Other matters would now demand his time.
Scales clicked off and looked over at Jason. When Jason managed to look
up, the pistol’s muzzle was almost against his forehead.
“Who, Jason? Who’d you send the message to?”
Jason managed to catch his breath as he gripped his painfully bruised
ribs. “No way. Not in a million years, pal.”
Scales pushed the muzzle flush against Jason’s head.
“Pull the trigger, you asshole!” Jason screamed.
Scales’s finger started to press down on the Glock’s trigger, but then
he stopped and roughly pushed Jason back against the seat.
“Not yet, Jason. Didn’t I tell you? You’ve got another gig to do.”
Jason stared up helplessly at him as Scales smiled wickedly.
Special Agent Raymond Jackson’s eyes took in the area with one efficient
sweep. He moved into the room, shutting the door behind him. Jackson
shook his head in quiet amazement. Arthur Lieberman had been described
to him as a fortune-builder with a career several decades long. This
hovel did not conform to that description. He checked his watch. The
forensics team would be here shortly to conduct an in-depth search.
Although it seemed unlikely that Arthur Lieberman personally knew who
had blown him out of a peaceful Virginia sky, on investigations of this
magnitude, every possibility had to be explored.
Jackson went into the tiny kitchen and quickly determined that Arthur
Lieberman did not cook or eat here. There were no dishes or pans in any
of the cupboards. The only visible occupant of the refrigerator was a
lightbulb. The stove, though old, showed no signs of recent use.
Jackson scanned the other areas of the living room and then walked into
the small bathroom. With his gloved hand he carefully edged open the
door to the medicine cabinet. It contained the usual toiletries,
nothing of significance. Jackson was about to close the mirrored door
when his eye caught the small bottle edged in between the toothpaste and
the deodorant. The prescription label had dosage and refill information
and the physician who had prescribed it. Agent Jackson was unfamiliar
with the name of the drug. Jackson had three kids and was an informal
expert on prescription and over-the-counter drugs for a host of
ailments. He wrote down the name of the medication and closed the door
to the medicine cabinet.
Lieberman’s sleeping chamber was small, the bed little more than a cot.
A small desk sat against the wall nearest the window. After examining
the closet, Jackson turned his attention to the desk.
Several photos on the desk showed two men and one woman ranging in age
from what looked to be late teens ro mid-twenties. The photos appeared
several years old. Lieberman’s kids, Jackson quickly concluded.
Three drawers confronted him. One was locked. It took Jackson only a
few seconds to open the locked drawer. Inside was a bundle of
handwritten letters held together with a rubber band. The handwriting
was careful and precise, the contents of the letters decidedly romantic.
The only strange part was that they were all unsigned.
Jackson muddled over that one for a moment, then replaced the letters in
the drawer. He spent a few more minutes looking around until a knock on
the door announced the arrival of the forensics unit.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
During the time Sidney had been alone in her house, she had explored