Page 126 of Maddy's Justice

“Yeah, I think so.”

FORTY-ONE

Evan Carlin did not wait for the helicopter to completely land. When it was within ten feet of the ground, he opened the door and dropped the stairs. The big bird was almost down while Evan quickly walked away. His boss was waiting for him.

“You have good, reliable people on station keeping an eye on them?” the island’s owner asked. This was the third time he had asked Evan that question. Evan took it in stride.

“Yes, sir. They are my people I brought up from the island,” Evan replied.

“Quentin went back to Minneapolis?”

“Yes, sir,” Evan answered.

“These two are professionals. Be very careful with them.”

“Yes, sir,” Evan replied. “Their vehicles are tagged. We won’t lose them.”

By now the two men were almost at the main building when Odessa joined them.

“The helicopter is not leaving?” she asked when she noticed the netting over the compound going back into place.

“I plan on turning around today,” Evan replied.

The three of them ascended into the basement and settled on the couch in the soundproof room.

“The owners of the house in Schaumberg Rivers and Carvelli go to are ex-FBI. Sean O’Rourke and a woman, Helen Gregg. Both retired. O’Rourke was pretty high up the FBI ladder. Deputy Assistant Director for Intelligence,” the island’s owner told Evan.

“That is certainly not good,” Evan replied.

“There’s an understatement. What do we do about it?”

Odessa answered his question. “We need to find out what they know.”

“And how many others are involved,” their boss said.

“Sir, it’s probably safe to assume a couple of things. One, if they are in Chicago, they are after Labelle. Two, they don’t yet know about you.”

“Yet,” the island’s owner replied.

“Perhaps it is time to move on. Eliminate some problems in Chicago and…”

“I have too many people in Mexico and South America involved to do that. They are not people who will simply shrug and let it go.”

“No, sir.”

“We need some intel. We need to find out everything they know.”

For the next hour, the three of them conducted a brainstorming session. The island’s owner told Evan what he wanted. Then they discussed three or four ways to get the information. They finally settled on one then came up with a simple, efficient way to accomplish it.

Cliff Spenser had a serious problem. While the brainstorming session was taking place up North about Maddy and Carvelli, Cliff had been in a meeting with just himself and Brandon Stafford. It really was not much of a meeting. Stafford had told Cliff what he had done and worse, what he had not done.

It was all so surreal that Cliff was at a total loss what to say. When Stafford was finished, Cliff could only mutter an almost incoherent reply as he stood up and left. Instead of going back to his office he left the building.

Three o’clock in the afternoon and Cliff Spenser was on a bar stool working on his third scotch and soda. Worse, he was drinking house scotch and did not even notice it. His mind was elsewhere trying to decide what he should do.

Brandon Stafford, in Cliff’s opinion, had made a rash, irresponsible decision. Now Cliff was trying to come up with the best way to cover himself from the fallout. Cliff had been putting off the action he knew he had to take.

He tossed the remainder of his drink down, threw a twenty and a ten-dollar bill on the bar and left. Once outside, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the sunlight. Cliff had reached a decision or, more accurately, stopped putting off what he knew he had to do. He started walking down the busy sidewalk while dialing a number from memory.

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