Disappearing Queen

By J. J. MacLeod

Disappearing Queen is is the third book in the Harry & Company Mystery series. Harry is caught between a rock and a hard place when girlfriend Brenda faces major surgery at the same time his friend Charlie needs help finding his missing wife, affectionately known as 'Queen Mary'. While struggling to maintain his commitments to Brenda's recovery, Harry and his Company friends trace Mary's many identities back to her pending testimony against the Russian Mafia. Intent on learning the mob's plans for revenge, the team discovers that the Russians have markedly different priorities and many more lives are at stake. When the federal authorities finally close in , the psychotic mob leader escapes and Mary's fate is sealed in a violent confrontation at the Mexican border. The language is mild but suggestive and there are enough plot twists and turns to delight the reader.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. J. MacLeod
• Release date: Oct 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311410276

J. J. MacLeod

J. J. MacLeod is retired from the computer industry and lives with his wife of 50 years in Washington state. They enjoy classical music, grandchildren, travel and volunteering in the community. Proceeds from the sales of 'Harry & Company Mystery' ebooks are donated to local charities.

Book preview

Prologue

There are more slaves today than there were during the Civil War. A $32 billion business affecting more than twelve million victims, human trafficking ranks second only to drug smuggling among the world’s largest criminal enterprise. Men, women and children are routinely abducted, bought and sold as captive labor for work in the streets, massage parlors, hotel rooms, restaurants, farms, factories and even private homes. In the U.S., the easily accessible network of ports, railways and interstate highways makes New Jersey a major hub for smuggling free labor into some of the worst jobs imaginable.

Lyudmila had seen all this and more by the time she was old enough to go to school. Her Papa was in the trade, having used it to escape the poverty and abuse he was born into in Siberia. He had scolded her often because it was dangerous to go near or even talk to the people in the basement. They were his business and she was to have no part in it. But she couldn’t shut her ears to the sounds coming from below the floor. She could tell that there were men and machines working during the day, but it was at night that she heard the soft cries of women and children.

Everything was going to be different when they moved to America. Papa was excited about having a better job and a house of their own where no one lived in the basement. Lyudmila would go to school, learn English and find different work in a place called New Jersey. The old ways would stay in the old country and they would all have a new life. But it was all a lie.

There were schools where Lyudmila, now known to her American friends as Lucy, learned to speak English without an accent. The family had a house of their own and even moved to a bigger one as Papa became more successful. No one lived in the basement, but men would visit from time to time and talk behind closed doors for hours on end. It was almost like when she was a little girl, listening to them talk about business, how much money they made, how many were coming next month, how many had died and what had to be done with the troublemakers. Lucy had become an accomplice to Papa’s trade.

In time she came to learn all about the business and the man who was now in charge. He wore expensive clothes and jewelry, said what he wanted and threatened anyone who disobeyed. Fortunately Lucy was too pale and skinny for his tastes, but her younger sister was much prettier and full-figured. When the man in charge made lewd comments in front of Papa and he pretended not to hear, the man in charge did what he wanted. At first her sister resisted his advances, but he persisted with expensive gifts and drugs to soften her resolve. Once she was hooked all it took was more drugs. She no longer cared about anything else. He had what he wanted and soon tired of the game and moved on. Lucy’s sister knew where to go and what she had to do to score more drugs, and so she did. No one threatened or forced her; she went of her free will to become like one of those who used to live in her basement.

It broke Papa’s heart. He had sacrificed his soul to lift his family out of poverty and couldn’t prevent his own daughters from falling into the abyss. One night he drank too much and went after the man in charge, who then shot Papa dead in front of the whole family. Lucy’s world collapsed around her. She knew she had to get away before it sucked her in as well, but she had no papers and was afraid of what they might do if she tried to run. Instead, she would do her job, keep the ledgers and forget about what the numbers represented. She would dream about other places to live and other ways to make a living, but she would never forget what had happened or the man in charge who had taken everything from her.

****

I was on my way to the Emergency Room when my phone rang again. Already in a rush to find out how my girlfriend Brenda was doing after taking a nasty fall at work, I let it go to voicemail. There was nothing important enough to make me stop to take a phone call at this point. My truck didn’t come equipped with that Bluetooth hands-free gizmo and I probably wouldn’t use it if it had. Trying to drive while holding a cell phone in one hand is crazy, but even trying to carry on a conversation is risky. There are enough distracted drivers in D. C. as it is.

Apparently she had been working on a research assignment at the Library of Congress and took a tumble down one of their marble staircases. The staff panicked when she couldn’t stand up and called an ambulance, but at least they let me know where they were taking her. Of course I was all the way across town meeting with a new client, going over the topics they want me to cover in the class I’ll be teaching there next month. It’s garden variety industrial security, basic bread and butter these days for my fledgling business.

Parking a full-size diesel pickup can be a chore, especially in the crowded parking deck across from the hospital. The truck came with the fifth-wheel trailer I picked up a few years back after losing the house in my divorce. It runs OK and takes me where I want to go with reasonable economy for something that weighs two and one-half tons. When Brenda gets to the point where she’s ready to spend more than one night in my RV at a time, we’ll take a nice long trip together and visit all the places we’ve never been to. I hate flying and we can see so much more at ground level, once she gets back on her feet.

The harried clerk at the reception desk pointed me to a row of curtained cubicles at the back of the busy ER. I was struck by the cross-section of humanity jammed into the waiting area, all hoping to be the next ones to be called. Even when you’re wheeled in through the ambulance entrance there’s no guarantee that someone will be available to assess your condition. We have the best health care system in the world for those who can afford to pay for it.

I told the pleasant young man dressed in purple hospital scrubs and holding a clipboard that my name was Harry Wilson and I was looking for Brenda Foster. He found her name on the second page, told me that she had been taken to X-Ray and led me through one of the curtained openings to wait for her return. Inside the cubicle was a molded plastic side chair, a small metal chest of drawers and an open space for the wheeled hospital bed that had taken Brenda to radiology. Nurse purple scrubs was also kind enough to offer me a cup of coffee, which I greedily accepted. Then I sat down to wait, nearly crushing the iPhone I had stuffed into my back pocket on the way in.

There were signs everywhere forbidding the use of cell phones, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to at least see who had called. When you run a one-man consulting firm you have to stay on top of things and be responsive whenever clients are ready to communicate. In this case it wasn’t a client, or so I thought at the time. An ex-CIA colleague with the incongruous name Charlie Short had left me a voice mail message that I’d have to retrieve once I was outside the building. Before his retirement to Florida, the six-foot-four-inch Charlie had been in charge of transportation within the Agency.

In my twenty-five years with the Company I came to know many strange and interesting people. With a population of almost 20,000, it would rank pretty high on a list of small towns in America. Charlie had been the go-to guy for moving people and goods by sea, air or land anywhere in the world. He had an amazing memory and an endless supply of short jokes, going all the way back to his junior year in high school where he grew almost eight inches over the summer. Now fleshed out at over 300 pounds, his jokes were even funnier.

The last time I saw him was when Brenda and I stopped by his retirement home in Winter Haven, Florida. We were trying to figure out why someone would have killed Brenda’s ex-husband and needed Charlie’s help to unravel the mystery. Anyway, he and his second wife have a beautiful place right on the lake where they dock their pontoon boat. Charlie calls it the Queen Mary, a pet name he also uses for his wife. As I recall, the two of them met at a senior center dance, hit it off and got married after a brief whirlwind courtship. He’s crazy about his little bleached blonde with a suntan the color of a western saddle. We didn’t spend much time with her, but I’ll bet that anyone who runs a successful real estate business in the highly competitive central Florida market is no bimbo.

About then the curtain parted and a female nurse in purple scrubs wheeled Brenda’s bed back into the cubicle. She looked a little sleepy, so they must have given her something for the pain. Other than that, she didn’t look too bad to me.

Judging from the look on your face I must look awful, she said.

No, you look terrific. I’m just concerned, that’s all. What did they have to say about your accident?

They didn’t have to say anything. I already know that I tripped over my own big feet and fell on my stupid knee.

No, I meant about when you can get out of here. Was anything broken?

You mean besides my pride? No, they haven’t told me anything. They just gave me an injection for the pain and wheeled me up to X-Ray.

So, what happens now?

"How should I know? I guess we just wait for the doctor to show up. Why, have you got somewhere to go?

Dear Heart, you know that I’m here for the duration. There is nowhere else on earth I’d rather be at the moment.

I’m full of pain meds and you’re full of crap. You must have wrapped up your teaching gig for next month. Besides being my girlfriend, Brenda is also my business partner in charge of back office operations.

I’m almost there. They’re going to send me some changes and I’ll have to amend the contract. If they add enough people I may have to go another day to fit everyone in.

It all sounds good, you money-grubbing silver-tongued devil. The more the merrier.

Yeah, as long as my feet hold out and it doesn’t interfere with our travel plans.

What travel plans? I’ll probably be in a body cast for the next year.

Now don’t say that. You’ll be up and around in no time. I just got a call from Charlie Short and thought it might be fun to take a trip to Florida in the fall.

You’d better check the weather forecast first, Toots. It’ll be 95˚ in the shade with 90% humidity until well into December. Millionaires’ weather doesn’t begin until mid-January.

OK, so we’ll go in January. I can wait.

Then you better let Charlie know we’ll be coming later.

Oh, I haven’t talked to him yet. He just called and left a message and I haven’t called him back. They frown on using cell phones in here.

Then go outside and call him back. I doubt if we’ll learn anything in the meantime and I’m curious about why he called. Besides, I need to close my eyes for a minute.

When I played back Charlie’s voicemail it didn’t sound like him at all. Coming from a guy who routinely conjured up wise-cracks when all the wheels were coming off the wagon, he sounded almost panicky.

Harry, this is Charlie. I need your help, man. I really need your help. Call me back as soon as you get this.

Thumbing through the phonebook Brenda set up on my iPhone, I couldn’t remember whether he was listed under C for Charlie or S for Short. She must have anticipated my dilemma because she did both. He answered even before I heard the first ring.

Charlie, I just picked up your call and...

Man, when can you get here? Queen Mary’s missing and I don’t know what to do.

Somebody stole your pontoon boat? I blurted without thinking.

No, I don’t give a damn about the boat. It’s my wife who’s missing. She just vanished three days ago and nobody has seen her or her car. The local cops are no help and I’ve looked every place I can think of.

OK, why don’t you slow down and take a breath. Tell me about when you last saw her. Was she upset or preoccupied or anything? Did you two have a fight or was she drinking?

She was perfectly fine, Harry. We went out to dinner, had some laughs and then came home and went to bed. She was still sleeping when I left to go fishing in the morning. When I got back she’d already left for work. Then about two o’clock her office called to say that she’d missed an appointment and did I know where she was.

And you told them that you didn’t have a clue.

Bingo. Her cell phone went straight to voice mail and I must have left her a dozen messages. I drove around our usual haunts to see if I could spot her car, but no luck. So I had her office checking local hospitals while I called both the Police and the Sheriff.

You said the local cops were no help.

They came out and looked around, but ended up giving me the usual BS about missing persons. Unless there was some indication of a crime, the best they could do would be to try to find her car and let me know if anything turned up.

What about her office staff. Did anybody talk to them?

Sure, but we can go over all this when you get here. How soon can you come?

I can’t really say, Charlie. Brenda took a bad fall and I’m calling you from the hospital. As soon as I know something I’ll let you know. But believe me, I’ll get there as soon as I can.

Jesus, it never rains but it pours. I’m sorry to hear about Brenda, man. Don’t worry about me. I’d be doing the same thing in your place.

Why don’t we do this, Charlie? I’ll have Nicky call so you can give him all the details you have on Mary. He has contacts all over the world and will get the word out while I’m cooling my heels here.

You’re saying if Mary left town on her own that Nicky can follow the electronic breadcrumbs. What if she’s sitting at the bottom of one of our famous lakes?

Whoa, Charlie, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re tired and not thinking straight. I’m practically there beside you and we’re going to see this through together. We have world class resources at our fingertips, so why not use them? As soon as Brenda is on the mend I’ll be there in person. In the meantime, I need you to tell Nicky everything you know. OK?

I am tired. Tired and scared. The truth is that I don’t know all that much about Mary. If there’s anything in her past that’s connected with her disappearance, I’d rather know it now. So, yeah, have Nicky give me a call and I’ll give him everything I can.

Now you’re thinking. Just hang in there while I find Nicky, and then get as much sleep as possible. Stay away from the bottle for a while. It’ll do more harm than good.

Nicky Richards had been born in the Ukraine and was trained by the Soviets to spy on America’s manufacturing industry. I busted him when I was part of an FBI-led task group and turned him into a double agent. That may sound like a real coup, but he was a smart young guy and could already read the handwriting on the wall. The USSR was rotting from the inside out and it was every man for himself. So, Nicky took the deal, did a good job, changed his name, became a U.S. citizen and turned himself into a capitalist pig.

Together with his Italian wife Sophie, Nicky now runs NA Richards & Company, the largest specialty electronics distributor on the east coast. He’s a bootstrap engineer who has access to all the latest commercial and military electronic gizmos in the world. His contact list alone is worth millions on the open market. And he owes it all to my best friend, the late Jeremy Foster, who kept Nicky out of prison, sponsored him for citizenship and underwrote his first business loan. There is nothing Nicky and Sophie wouldn’t do for me or Jeremy’s ex-wife.

I got this, Harry. You just take care of Brenda and I’ll follow up with Charlie. Let’s hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. If she was snatched up by someone from her past she could be anywhere after seventy-two hours. I know some people who should be able to find out if there was a contract out on her.

Good thought, but don’t dangle it in front of Charlie right now. He’s about an inch from coming unglued. Keep me in the loop and we’ll sort out how to feed it back to him.

You got a deal. And let us know if there’s anything Brenda needs. It’s all I can do to keep Sophie from running over there right now.

Tell Sophie to cool her jets until we know something. This could take some time to sort out if she did more than break a leg.

Don’t you get ahead of yourself, Harry. She’ll be fine.

Brenda was talking to a man in green scrubs and a long white coat when I returned to the cubicle. He glanced at me, figured out that I belonged and continued speaking to her.

The good news is that the trauma appears to be isolated to the knee. Your patella is fractured and we’ll need an orthopedic consult to determine the extent of the damage.

How long will that take? she asked.

I really can’t say, but we have orthopedists on staff, so it shouldn’t be long before someone comes to examine you. After that it depends on what they discover.

And what’s your opinion?

I think you’re fortunate that you didn’t injure your neck or spine. That would have been much more serious. Knees can be repaired or replaced. It’s a very routine procedure.

Like $10,000 routine or $100,000 routine?

That would depend on your insurance, length of stay and rehabilitation plan. We’ll know better after the consult. But right now I have other patients waiting. It was nice meeting you and good luck Mrs. Foster.

Nodding to me on the way out, he slipped past the curtained doorway and left us alone.

You heard pretty much everything he had to say. My vitals are stable, I had a bad fall and need to take it easy because of the pain meds, watch out for any signs of a concussion, blah, blah, blah…

Don’t be discouraged. You’re lucky you didn’t break your back or your pretty neck.

Yeah, well why don’t we trade places and see how you like it? I can’t be laid up in bed right now. I’ve got so many things to do: finish the research and write a report, prepare for the next board meeting, find another woman to fill the vacant seat, update your books, not to mention all the housework I’ve been putting off so the other stuff could get done…

Brenda, take a breath. You’re having a bad drug trip here. I’ll help you with all that stuff and we’ll get through this together.

Sure, I can just see you hunched over my keyboard looking for the ampersand key.

You know what I mean. Typing may not be my thing, but I can cook and clean house and hire someone who actually knows how to type. And we’ll send out an SOS and find you some good candidates to sit on the board.

Harry, I don’t mean to take all this out on you. It’s really sweet of you to be here, but just shut up and let me rant and rave, OK? It’s therapeutic.

So I sat quietly while she counted her worry beads and then talked herself into believing that it could still get done, even if she had to get around on crutches. She was still worried about the Foster Foundation board and the growing pile of loan applications they would have to go through during the next meeting. One empty board seat wouldn’t kill them, but another strong female voice would help to balance the deliberations.

I forgot to ask, were you able to get in touch with Charlie? she asked. Is January OK with him?

We never got that far. He’s in a panic over his wife’s disappearance. She dropped out of sight three days ago and hasn’t been seen since.

Oh My God, and here I am whimpering about a sore knee. What happened to Mary?

That’s just it. Nobody knows. She went to work as usual but didn’t show for a client meeting. That’s a big no-no in real estate. So her office called Charlie, he called the cops and nobody’s seen any sign of her or her car.

Could she have been kidnapped? she asked.

"Should have been