Page 9 of Once a Hero

Philomena fell off the chair before Jake could catch her. The maître d’ and several servers came over, but Philomena was not breathing. She was gone.

When Jake remembered the brooch that Philomena had put the table, it was too late.

The brooch was gone.

Chapter Four

The night masked their getaway in a van that Kenichi drove. Before Beatrice could calm down, they had arrived at their safe house in South San Francisco.

The garage door closed, and the van doors opened. Raynelle led the way to the kitchen door since she had the key to the rental townhouse.

Kenichi was out of it, having sat in the van and waited the entire time Beatrice and Raynelle was in the café. He went upstairs to get some sleep.

Raynelle put the kettle on to make tea. That woman didn’t sleep.

Beatrice closed the kitchen door behind her and locked it for good measure. She washed her hands and looked for something to drink in the refrigerator. It was bare. She found some glasses but they were covered with a soapy film of some sort. She grabbed a paper cup and walked to the kitchen sink. Tap water would have to do.

In the living room, where Kenichi had set up shop—laptops everywhere and all interconnected—Beatrice plopped down on a sagging sofa and kicked off her boots. She lifted the wig off her head and removed the mesh net wig cap.

Her prosthetic nose was still stuck to her face. She’d deal with that later.

The sticky soda on her blouse was drying. The blouse was probably ruined. Or not. She’d find out after doing laundry.

She closed her eyes and thanked God for keeping her safe.

Jake Kessler would be coming after her soon. He might not know about Kenichi and Raynelle, but he had seen Beatrice’s face under the wig.

I don’t care.

She fished the brooch out of her jeans pocket. On the drive here, Raynelle had explained how she swiped it off the café table when everyone was freaking out over Philomena dying in front of them.

There were three polished amber cabochons inlaid in thick gold.

Pretty, but not what she was after.

On the underside, there was an inscription of some sort. She pressed her thumb right in the middle of the brooch.

Nothing happened.

Her mind was in a fog—jet lag and a lack of sleep—and she tried to remember the notes she had read in Dad’s study back in Charleston.

Wait.

If there were two cabochons, then press the bottom.

If there were three…

Beatrice speed-dialed her brother on a secure line that Kenichi had set up via a virtual private network. “Hey Ben.”

At the other end of the line, her older brother Benjamin sounded groggy. “What time is it?”

“I think eight where you are.”

“Call me back at noon.”Click.

Beatrice tried again.

“What?”

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