Once Upon a Life - Short Listed on ONC2023

Chapter 15

The expensively furnished den took on a dark cherry hue in the dim lighting of an ornate desk lamp. Shadows helped conceal the bookshelves and wall decorations from the room's occupants. Behind a large, leather-topped desk, the features of the stern looking man shifted, jaw tightening, eyes slitting, as he listened with dismay to his guest.

The news was not good. In fact the news was downright disastrous. The man leaned forward, spitting out a reply laced with invective.

"There was always the risk, Morris, you knew that." Phillip maintained a calm facade.

"Risk? You assured me your so-called agency could handle everything so that there would be no risk. Seems to me you've created not only a risk but at a bloody botch-up . . ." The tirade petered out, and Phillip sat silently, watching the man whose reputation and secret he and his department had protected all these years. Never once an expression of gratitude, and even now, still an ungrateful, arrogant, foul-mouthed prick.

"We did everything that was possible at the time, and I think that we did a commendable job protecting your ass . . . for fifteen years, Morris."

"And what am I supposed to do now? Do you know how many people have been involved over those fifteen years you so boastfully quote?"

"I'll remind you, we didn't make the careless error in the first place. You came to us to save your bacon."

His glare crumbled, and his shoulders seemed to slide away from his neck.

"What can we do?"

"We have undertaken destroying all material that would connect all of us to the Phoenix programme. There is little else we can do. You'll have to take care of the people on your end."

"But that's impossible! If it ever comes out that our government was making under the table deals with parties around the world to establish political powers for financial gain . . ."

"Not our government, Morris, just a greedy segment that used our government as a means to establish your goals. Don't try hiding behind a flag you spit on."

Morris stood shakily, fingers on the desk supporting his lean frame. "You can get the hell out of here, Stone, and take your faux patriotism with you. And don't think this is the end of this matter."

"I didn't have to come here, Morris. It was a courtesy call, something you obviously don't understand." Phillip stood and walked to the door. "And you had better think twice before issuing threats."

******

We sat around the dining room table with drinks, and a large plate of Tostitos and dip. I couldn't help but smile when Kristen put them on the table, and she turned a lovely shade of pink when she saw me watching her. She covered the moment by asking about his wound.

"I didn't know what to think with all that shooting. When I saw you on the floor, and the blood--"

"It looked worse than it was, but thanks for your concern, Miss Howard."

"Kristen will do, Tom, after all we've been through."

We sipped our drinks in silence for a few moments, then we each tried some of the chips and dip, laughing about having the same thought. Then Kris and I looked expectantly at Tom.

"You know why they were set up here in Benton, so we'll take it from the disappearance. In 2004 the Crawfords left here, leaving everything behind. They took nothing, aside from necessary money and documents. Exactly how, we aren't sure, but they made their way to the Canadian border and crossed over."

"They had different ID." I said. "That speaks to some serious planning. And with kids that must have been dicey. You need definite proof of citizenship, and as legitimate parents."

"Right."

"Okay, we know they did it," Kris cut in. "Then what?"

"Disappeared again. Then one day you get a phone call that says - Phoenix is rising."

"And? Don't be so damned dramatic, Tom." Kristen dipped a large chip and crunched loudly.

"According to our guest, Agent Glover, that signal was supposed to indicate to this special branch of the Secret Service, the discovery of the Crawfords. Instead, it somehow went to your phone - a marvellous technological glitch."

Kristen paused with another loaded Tostitos, sagging with drip. "You mean I got that call by mistake?"

"Yep. The Crawfords were code named Phoenix, and Phoenix rising was to tell our friends that the Crawfords had surfaced, so they could swoop in and wrap them up."

"But it was Kris. What are the odds?" I said, watching her chew.

"And this Agent Glover gave all this up when you questioned him?" She chomped into the Tostitos, eyes round, waiting for a response.

Tom and I exchanged a quick glance, and I sipped my drink.

"Agent Glover was most forthcoming. As a matter of fact we- I- have made a cursory report to my bosses with our findings. They will start the appropriate investigative wheels in motion, and it won't be long . . ." Tom threw a grin at Kristen, that I didn't get, and she smiled back. "before the people responsible will be informed. That will include the official that originally left the document out that Frank Crawford discovered."

"What about the family? Won't they need them for testimony?"

"Nope. We still don't know where they are. The RCMP were notified, but we couldn't give them much to work with. What we learned from Glover is enough to open any doors that his bosses might want to try closing. As far as you two are concerned, except maybe for notarized statements, this is all over."

I turned to Kristen, the dip on her chin almost had me crying - she just looked so beautiful. Our fingers touched and Tom gave a polite cough.

"By the way, your car and weapon have been returned, and tank filled courtesy of Uncle Sam."

"Thanks. So, is this it for all of us?"

"As I said except for your statements, and they can be done at your cop shop. A federal notary will come by and let you know when."

"Are you leaving now then?" Kristen asked.

"I guess. My work is done, as the saying goes."

I looked at Kris, taking her hand. "How about one more dinner together, to celebrate and see old Passmore here off into the sunset?"

"Tom?"

"Miss Howard, I would be delighted to dine with you - and Dick Tracy - one more time."

******

Word spread quickly through the halls of government and a few private residences as well. The FBI was handing out subpoenas like advertising coupons and the intended recipients were scrambling. At an estate in the country, in an expensively furnished den, which took on a dark cherry hue in the dim lighting of an ornate desk lamp, the sole occupant sat slumped behind a large, leather-topped desk, his features stern and his jaw stretched tight, as he poured a glass of scotch from a crystal decanter. Shadows helped conceal the bookshelves and wall decorations from the ritual taking place.

The liquid flowed smoothly over his tongue, leaving a brief trail of heat. He set the glass down and opened the desk drawer, taking out the small revolver. With a final look about the room, he held up the subpoena he had received, glancing at the words, and shot himself in the head.

count to this point - 17,299