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Third Half Page 5


  You think of everything, Jack, she thought as she struggled to climb through the tiny opening. It wasn't as easy as it had been when she was a child, especially when hampered wearing Mary Catherine's attire. The rope seemed to twist and turn with every move, and hurrying wasn't helping the matter.

  She could hear the voices getting closer, and was certain she heard their footsteps on the stairs. Or is that my heart beating that loudly?

  Finally she managed to climb through the opening into the narrow darkened room. Leaning back through the hole, she quickly pulled up the rope ladder. She leaned back through the hole to get the tile she had pushed out of the way.

  Quickly she slipped it back into place, hearing the men's voices below her now. She didn't move. She didn't dare. She was even afraid to breathe. She just sat quietly, hoping they wouldn't discover the secret room right above them.

  Liane felt wet from perspiration. M.C.'s habit was just as hot as she thought it would be. She hoped she wouldn't have to wear it much longer. She fanned herself, allowing herself to finally take a few shallow, silent breaths.

  "The Boss expects us to find something here," a deep voice grumbled from below. "If not the money, the rest. No one was supposed to know about this place. The Boss was sure it would be stashed here."

  "What about the airport?" the other man asked.

  "Too obvious. Besides, their last trip came back empty."

  "This dresser is as good a place to start as any. We better check it good like everything else. He could'a hidden a key, or something, inside that'll give us a clue to where he stashed the stuff."

  She waited, wishing she had done something to hide the footprint that had revealed the hiding place to her. If the men saw it, she'd be doomed!

  "What's this?" one of the men bellowed.

  Liane caught her breath again, listening intently.

  "Looks like some kind of urn," the other man said, then laughed. "Maybe he's got someone's ashes inside."

  The two men both laughed, but Liane didn't think it was funny. She had only briefly noticed the urn on top of the dresser. But she recognized it as the one she had so carefully made for her brother three years ago when she had taken some ceramic classes. She had given it to him as a housewarming present that year.

  "Too heavy for ashes," the man said.

  She winced as she heard the sound of the urn breaking.

  "Feel like counting pennies," he said, laughing more.

  "Cut it out!" the other man ordered. "We don't have time for that."

  Another loud crash came from below. It sounded more blunt, like wood this time. If that's the dresser, I don't think anybody would distinguish the foot print in the dust. And from the sounds of it, they probably no longer distinguish the dresser either.

  After what seemed like an eternity, she heard them leave. But she knew she still wasn't safe. They'd soon be on their way upstairs to the rooms directly next to her. Only a few more rooms, then she hoped they'd be gone.

  Pins and needles stabbed at her foot, making her realize she had been sitting on it the whole time. Slowly she lifted her weight and stretched her leg in front of her. As she did, her shoulder bumped something – nearly tipping it over – and with a thud, a weight tumbled on top of her.

  In the darkness she fumbled for it, then sighed as she felt the heavy object in her grasp. She held it tightly against her, hoping the men hadn't heard the noise. Listening, she heard such racket, she doubted they'd hear anything!

  Her fingers gently ran over the surface of the object in her grasp. It seemed to be some type of figure made of pottery or ceramic. Feeling what was possibly four legs, she stopped as some pottery crumbled onto her lap. Now she felt something cold – metallic. And it was inside the pottery.

  Again she listened as the men spoke, right next to her now. They were obviously angry they hadn't found what they were looking for. "Let's frisk the barn, then get out of here."

  "What do ya think the Boss will pay to find the stuff?" the deep voiced man asked, but Liane couldn't hear the other's reply as they trashed still more of her brother's belongings.

  She closed her eyes and waited, knowing patience had never been one of her virtues. But tonight she had no choice. She was certain her life depended on it. She was sure these men meant business.

  As she waited she wondered what connection her brother had with these men. They had mentioned the Boss. Was their boss, Jack's boss too? And if so, what kind of work was he doing that brought him into contact with men who went around trashing people's homes.

  They had said something about an airport, Liane remembered, trying hard to think if she ever heard Jack mention an airport near his home.

  Suddenly she realized the sounds had stopped. The men seemed to be gone. She waited a long time before she dared make a move.

  Slowly she stood, still clutching the four legged object. She waited in silence, wondering if it would be safe to turn on the light. At the same time, uncertain if there was a light in this little room.

  Carefully reaching, she felt the top of the table she had nearly knocked over. There were a lot of papers strewn on top of it, but no light.

  With a room this narrow, she knew she had only to reach her arms out at both sides and she'd be able to feel the wall for a light switch of some kind. She carefully avoided the entrance, and stepped further into the room. One hand encountered a coat rack with several pieces of clothing hanging from it. The other hand fumbled over boxes.

  She took several more steps and bumped into something tall, narrow and metal. As she grabbed it to keep it from falling, she realized it was some sort of floor lamp.

  Quickly finding the switch, she flooded the tiny room with light. As her eyes focused to the renewed light a smile crossed her nervous lips.

  She looked at the antique lamp. This one was almost exactly like the one that had once been in their parent's home. Her brother seemed to remember many things from their past. The games they played as children, the hidden rooms with rope ladders, and family mementoes.

  But Liane knew without a doubt that now it was not a game.

  She quickly glanced around the room, her eyes stopping on the brightly painted pottery that had fallen on top of her. She now recognized the shape as that of a llama. Lifting it, she noted the chipped leg revealed a bright gold metal.

  "Sorry fella." She banged the ornament against the table to chip off the rest of the pottery.

  "Wow!" Her eyes grew bright as she lifted the golden llama artifact from the rubble. Without a doubt, she knew it was valuable, and more than likely made of real gold. She wondered whether it was worth more as a timeless treasure, or from the value of gold. It was heavy, and at around a thousand dollars an ounce. . .

  Her mind returned to the money her brother had sent Mary Catherine. Probably the money the men had been speaking about. And the rest, as they called it. She looked around at the many crates.

  She checked to see what was inside the crates stacked against one wall. Each box contained two more pottery articles of various shapes and designs. She lifted one pottery bowl out of the straw packing. She tapped this one on the edge of the table, not surprised when the hardened clay fell away and revealed a precious metal bowl.

  "Oh Jack, what have you gotten into?" She moaned as she looked around the small haven. On the wall she saw the clothing she had felt in the darkness. With disbelief she held it before her for a closer examination. "A priest?"

  Although her brother had once studied for the priesthood, she doubted he had kept these as mementoes. Besides, priests in New York City didn't wear the white, light-weight suit she was now looking at. These were designed for much warmer, tropical, climates.

  Her eyes returned to the statues. Instinctively she knew there was a connection. She returned the suit and walked over to the table full of scattered papers. Please let there be a clue.

  She found scribbled notes mentioning names and places she had never heard of before. But one name seemed to keep popping
up: Juan Suarez.

  The maps she found were of Peru, many showing jungle areas circled in red. She read the names of some cities and one, Pucallpa, stirred her memory. Why does it sound so familiar?

  She was so deep in thought when the telephone rang she nearly jumped and gasped. She hadn't even noticed the cell phone buried beneath the papers. Now she wondered if she should answer it. Thank Goodness it didn't ring when those apes were here destroying the place.

  On the third ring she picked it up and waited for a response. "Jack?" The strangely familiar male voice said. "Is this you, Jack?" He sounded impatient.

  "Who is this?" she finally asked, but was given no reply, as the line went dead. The man had swiftly ended the call after hearing her voice.

  "Damn!" She slammed the cell phone back on the table, the paused before picking it up again and slipping it into a pocket. If only I knew what this mystery was all about. There's so many loose ends.

  She returned her attention to her brother's notes. He had been scheduled to do a show in South America. A nightclub in Lima, Peru called the Conquistador. She also knew her sister was supposed to leave in the morning for a small village in Peru.

  Now she remembered where she had heard of the town Pucallpa. Mary Catherine had mentioned that as the town closest to the small mission school where she was going to teach.

  Is there a connection? She knew she'd have to find out. Didn't many fugitives find refuge in South America?

  It was as good a place as any for her to hide until the authorities found out she wasn't responsible for Ralph Devereaux's murder. And while she was there, she could possibly find some lead to the whereabouts of her brother.

  Quickly she made her way back down the rope ladder, carefully returning it and the ceiling tile. She noted that the men had left little unturned in their quest, and found the rest of the house in much the same disarray. She was thankful she had found the security of the little room before they had found her.

  Vanity made her stop before a mirror. She was glad she did. The black and white veil she was wearing was askew and had some streaks of dust, obviously from all her recent activities upstairs. She brushed at her skirts, noting they were filthier than the rest.

  Again looking in the mirror, she saw there was a smudge of dirt on her forehead and what looked like fingerprints on her cheek. Not at all the picture of her meticulous sister.

  Then M.C. would hardly be likely to get herself into this sort of jam. "No, she just gets me into it," Liane spoke to her reflection, then looked contrite as she knew it was unfair to blame her sister. "No, it's your fault, Jack!"

  She tried to wipe the smudges off her face and only succeeded in making it worse. She looked at her filthy hands and knew why. With a sigh she hurried into the bathroom to clean up. She knew she could never return to the convent looking like this.

  In the bathroom she leaned over the sink to scrub her face. Then she straightened, pulling a towel to her face, to dry it. She lowered the towel and looked in the mirror to make certain she hadn't missed any of the dirt.

  The mirror reflected a strange orange glow. Eyes wide, Liane turned and raced to the bathroom window.

  "Oh my God!" she exclaimed as she saw that the glow was coming from the windows of the barn. The two men had said they were going to check the barn before leaving. They must have set it on fire.

  She quickly removed the cell phone from her pocket and dialed nine-one-one, not even certain who she'd find on the other end, still doing it instinctively. Within a second a woman responded. Liane quickly said there was a fire and gave her Jack's address, making certain to add the city and state. She hung up when asked who she was.

  Within seconds she was outside and off the porch. She knew Jack kept his horses in stables behind the barn. As she hurried in that direction she didn't notice the car lights headed right for her until the car was practically on top of her.

  In a panic, afraid it could be the two men coming back again, ready to run her down, she dove out of the way, into the bushes that lined the driveway.

  "Sister, are you all right?" She heard Ronaldo's frightened voice as he jumped out of the car and came to her side.

  "We've got to get the horses out," she yelled as he helped her to her feet. She didn't wait to see if he followed as she raced toward the back of the barn.

  Ronaldo was right on her heel. "What do I do?" he shouted, eyes wide, as she opened the gate and headed straight for the stable doors. "I never rode a horse."

  "You're not riding them, you're guiding them to safety," she yelled above the roar of the fire and the shrill cry of frightened horses. She could feel the heat coming off the back of the barn and hoped the dry wood would hold back the flames long enough for them to set the animals free.

  She was thankful she had once dated a young man who had owned horses. At least something good had come from the experience. She remembered he had taught her, that a frightened horse would become a docile, helpless creature if you covered his eyes. Otherwise, sensing the danger, even your own fear, a horse would not allow anyone to guide them from the security of their stable.

  She spotted some horse blankets hanging on a rail and grabbed them. "You have to use this to cover their eyes or they won't let you take them out of the stable," she yelled as she tossed Ronaldo one of the colorful blankets.

  She had only a second to worry about his inexperience with horses as she watched him race past her to the next door and mimic her actions.

  "Don't stand in front of them, or in back of them," she shouted. "Try to stay beside them! And close the stable door after you get them outside or they'll go back inside again."

  That was all she had time to say as she opened the stable door to a huge black stallion. The giant, ebony equine reared his great head, as she cautiously approached him.

  As she tried to toss the blanket over his eyes he reared. He came down again hard, then paced nervously. She came close with the blanket again but he was too swift.

  "Do you want to burn in the flames of hell," she shouted, making one more attempt with the blanket.

  Finally she had the blanket over his head so she could guide him to safety. As she led the horse outside, and set him free she realized she must have just tangled with Lucifer, her brother's latest edition to the stable.

  For someone who wasn't familiar with horses Ronaldo had already led two mares to safety. There was another stallion and a mare with foal. This time she took the mare, knowing the mother would most likely be protective of her young.

  The roan mare's nostrils twitched as she smelled the smoke, her eyes seemed to roll back in her head, possessing a frightened, wild look.

  "Come on girl," Liane said in a soothing tone, trying not to show her fear as she approached the huge horse.

  The mare paced much like Lucifer had, but fortunately she did not rear as Liane threw the blanket over her head. "It's going to be all right girl," she said again as she guided the horse toward the door, turning to make certain the foal was following.

  Liane sighed her relief as both made it safely from the stable. But she didn't have much time to relax.

  The sounds of sirens were fast approaching and Liane could see the red flashing lights from the highway as they turned in the lane. "Please Ronaldo," she said. "Trust me, I can't let them know I'm with you. Tell them you were alone."

  She was grateful as he agreed, not taking time to question her reasons.

  The young man did a remarkable job for someone who had been raised in the city, possessing no experience with horses, she thought, as she hid beneath a blanket in the back of his car. He also had a strong sense of loyalty for he had not revealed that she had been there with him.

  "I had a fight with my girlfriend's father," he explained to the police officer who was questioning him. "I decided I needed to get out for awhile, so I went for a ride. I just drove, and drove. Anyway, I ended up here," Ronaldo said.

  Liane knew he was taking the risk that he'd be blamed.

 
"I had to slow up for a car that pulled out of this driveway," Ronaldo continued when the Police Officer asked for more details.

  "Then I had to wait as another car pulled from the side of the road after the first car. About that time I looked over and saw flickering light coming from down here. I realized it wasn't light. It was flames. So I turned in the driveway."

  "A green Ford Taurus was the car coming out of the driveway." Ronaldo gave the police officer more information about the cars. "The one that followed it was a brown sedan. I think it was a Crown Vic."

  Liane suspected Ronaldo was telling it exactly as it really had happened. She knew the green Ford Taurus was the one driven by the two men who had trashed her brother's house, and she felt certain they had been the ones who started the fire. She also had a good idea who was driving the brown sedan.

  The police officer asked for Ronaldo's licence and registration. Ronaldo came back to the car to get the registration from the glove box.

  "Stay low," was all he had time to say before the officer came to the car.

  "What you got in there?" the officer asked.

  "Not sure – like I said, it's my father-in-law's car," Ronaldo replied.

  Liane swallowed hard, hoping the officer would not check for himself. If he did, it would put an end to her search for her brother. Maybe even an end to her freedom. Just as she heard the sound of the back car door opening another voice sounded close by.

  "Yoh! Jake," a man called. "They're calling you on your radio."

  The officer seemed to be gone an eternity. Liane was beginning to get claustrophobic beneath the thick blanket. Add to that the combined smell of perspiration, acrid smoke, and something equally unpleasant she must have stepped in. She was beginning to feel sick.

  "Looks like you can go." The officer's voice came again from beside the car. "Just got confirmation on that car you saw leaving."

  "Sister, are you in some kind of trouble?" Ronaldo asked when they were safely back on the highway and he had pulled to the side so she could get back into the front seat. "If you are, maybe I can help."