Laynie Portland, Spy Resurrected Page 9

  “I’m sorry to hear that. However . . . their absence may be providential.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ruth took Kari’s hand between both of hers. “Kari, you know I would never purposely hurt you, right? And Søren, you know I have only love and the best of intentions toward your family, yes?”

  Søren looked from Ruth to Kari. “You’re a great comfort to Kari and our family. We will always be grateful that you came to share this time with us, Ruth.”

  Ruth smiled. “You may not be thanking me for coming after you’ve seen who I’ve brought with me.”

  Kari cocked her head. “What’s going on, Ruth?”

  “A change in plans, I think.” She released Kari’s hand. “One moment, please.”

  Ruth opened the door and gestured into the hallway. A man and a woman appeared in the doorway. Søren immediately recognized the large—very large—man but not the hijab-wearing woman beside him.

  “Marshal Tobin?”

  “Yes, sir. Sorry to barge in on you like this.”

  “We . . . we were told you weren’t allowed to come to the memorial service.”

  “Officially, we aren’t even here, sir. Begging your pardon, may we intrude on your family gathering for a few minutes?”

  Søren gestured them inside, and Tobin made introductions.

  “This is one of my coworkers, Miss Jessup.”

  Jaz was untying her scarf and didn’t acknowledge Søren or Kari until she’d removed it. “Whew. Stuffy.” She nodded to them. “Jasmine Jessup. Please call me Jaz. Bella is a friend of mine.”

  Søren, trying hard to maintain a hospitable manner, said, “So, both of you have flown the coop to attend the funeral service?”

  “Not exactly,” Tobin supplied. “Uh, we realize you are sitting down to lunch shortly, but Jaz and I have come from the DC area to speak to you and your wife . . . on an urgent matter. May we have a few minutes of your time?”

  Søren looked from Jaz to Tobin and back. “What you’re wearing. It’s a disguise?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you the hacker who stole the Ukrainian mob’s financial records?”

  Jaz nodded.

  “But if they have followed you here . . .”

  “They haven’t. I promise.”

  Søren wasn’t convinced, but he shrugged his acquiescence. “Kari, what do you think?”

  Kari motioned Jaz and Tobin to the table. “Let’s let them speak, whatever it is.”

  Jaz sat but didn’t wait to get started nor did she mince words.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Thoresen, the time to act is *bleeping* short, which is why Marshal Tobin and I are here. We’re unconvinced that Bella died in that car accident or that the body shipped back to the States is hers. We aren’t saying it isn’t her, but we’d like the opportunity to prove, one way or the other, that it is or isn’t. We need your permission to have a pathologist examine the body. Since you are burying her tomorrow, it must be today.”

  Thunderstruck, Kari stammered, “Y-you what?”

  “We need your permission—”

  “I heard you. I just can’t believe what you said.”

  Tobin forestalled Jaz with a heavy hand on her arm. “Please forgive us for our rather blunt start. I’ll back up a bit. Just yesterday, we came to the realization that we have no actual proof that the body recovered from the car accident is Bella’s. Director Wolfe has only the word of an onlooker. And so, rather than suffer from uncertainty and regret the rest of our lives, we are here to suggest that perhaps you, too, would appreciate the certainty of knowing that it is your sister you are burying tomorrow.”

  “Her body was burned beyond recognition,” Kari muttered.

  “We believe we have a means of determining if it is her body or not.”

  “How? By what means?”

  Tobin cleared his throat. “About six weeks ago, Bella and I were nearly killed by a car bomb.”

  Already hanging on every word, Max breathed, “Holy cow.”

  “You know that you cannot repeat a word I say here, right, Max?” Tobin asked.

  “Sure, sure. No problem.”

  “Thank you. To continue and make a long story short, Bella and I were far enough from the explosion that we only suffered minor injuries.”

  Jaz rolled her eyes. “About lost your kidney, Tobin.”

  “Not germane to the present situation, Miss Jessup.”

  “Whatever.”

  Tobin pressed on. “All you need to know is that Bella, who was running away from the bomb when it exploded, received a number of shrapnel wounds to her back, some deep enough to require stitches. To sum up, any decent pathologist could examine the body, even though it is burned, and determine if it shows any recent cuts.”

  “Speaking of the body,” Jaz interjected, “what arrangements have you made?”

  “Director Wolfe made all the arrangements, even provided the cemetery plot so our names would never appear in any records,” Kari said. “He chose and paid for the funeral home, too. He rented the facility for two full days for our exclusive use.”

  “And Bella’s remains?” Jaz asked.

  “I understand that they arrived by plane this morning and would be delivered to the funeral home.” Kari glanced at her watch. “About now.”

  She stared hard at Tobin and then Jaz. “Say, only for the sake of argument, that I was willing to go along with this ‘suggestion’ of yours. How in the world could I locate and hire a pathologist on such short notice?”

  “I already took care of that,” Jaz said. “Dr. Sydney Huber. Recently retired but highly reputable. I’ve booked him for the day. He’s waiting for me to forward him directions to the funeral home.”

  “But how would you pay—”

  “I posed as a partner in your lawyer’s firm and promised him $25,000. Used your lawyer’s firm to keep your name out of the transaction. You’ll need to arrange payment of the actual fee, of course. I don’t kite checks. Anymore.”

  Tobin stepped on Jaz’s foot.

  “Ow.”

  “Less is more, Vyper.”

  Kari waved her hand. “Stop it. What about—”

  “I also emailed Dr. Huber an airtight nondisclosure agreement, the template of which I may or may not have pilfered from your law firm’s network. Dr. Huber is to bring the signed and notarized NDA with him. The agreement states that he stands to lose his entire fee should he, in any manner, speak of or refer to today’s, er, activities. Ever.”

  Kari, hands flat on the table and red in the face, spit back, “It appears my lawyer’s firm needs to upgrade their security.”

  “Most definitely. And, as I may be freelancing soon, I could forward you a bid if you like.”

  Tobin interjected, “We don’t have time for this. Like Jaz said, the time to act is, er, short.”

  Kari glanced at Søren. “What do you think?”

  “Harebrained scheme from start to finish. Would never get off the ground in Nebraska.”

  “Agreed. And?”

  “This isn’t Nebraska. It’s New Orleans. Anything goes here. I think you should do whatever will give you the most peace of mind, Kari. No regrets, right?”

  “Right. No regrets.” She looked to Max. “What do you think?”

  “I’m with Dad on this, Mom. We should know for sure. You should know for sure.”

  Kari reached over and hugged Max tight. “I love you, Max.”

  Tears stood in his eyes. “Love you, too, Mom.”

  Kari lifted her chin to Tobin. “What are you waiting for, Marshal? Time is short.”

  Chapter 8

  THEIR THREE-CAR CARAVAN arrived at Lavalle’s Legacy Funeral Home. Kari led them inside where they were greeted by a pleasant but somber older gent.

  “Good afternoon. I’m Charles-Pierre Lavalle, the owner of this establishment. I’m afraid we are closed today through the weekend, but perhaps I might be of assistance when we reopen on Monday?”

  “Thank you, but we alre
ady have business with you. I believe my sister’s remains should have arrived here today for her service tomorrow. We’d like to see them.”

  “See them? Oh, dear. I’m afraid, that is, I cannot—would not—recommend such a thing, and I, uh, that was not my understanding—”

  Tobin shouldered his way past Søren and Max and pulled his badge from his pocket. “Pardon me. US Marshals Service. Which room, please?”

  “I do apologize, but, well, you see, I cannot—”

  Tobin was accustomed to reading people and their unconscious cues. As Mr. Lavalle delayed, he also flicked his eyes. Toward a hallway.

  “Thank you,” Tobin said. He gestured with a jerk of his head and marched in the direction Lavalle had unintentionally indicated. When Jaz ran to catch up with him, Kari, Søren, Max, and Ruth did, too, leaving Mr. Lavalle alone in the lobby.

  “Wait! Please . . . oh, dear.”

  As Kari had mentioned, Lavalle’s was a small establishment. The hallway led to only one door with a nameplate that read Embalming Room. Tobin threw open the door and charged in. He took in the room in a glance—sinks, cupboards, counters, stainless steel tables, equipment, and paraphernalia, a lone metal casket resting on a trestle—and three individuals, one standing behind the casket.

  Tobin came to an abrupt stop.

  Jaz ran into his back. “Tobin! What . . .”

  Tobin spoke, but not to her. “Director Wolfe, sir?”

  “Marshal Tobin. I wondered if I wouldn’t see you here.” He murmured to his companions, two armed behemoths in suits, “Wait in the lobby until I call you.”

  “Sir, our orders were to—”

  “And you have delivered the remains to me as ordered. Well done. Now wait in the lobby, please.”

  “Yes, sir.” The guards made their exit, side-eyeing Tobin as they left.

  Tobin said, “I’m assuming Richard called you?”

  “He certainly did.” Wolfe glanced at Jaz. “Nice getup.”

  “It’s effective,” Jaz muttered.

  Wolfe then addressed Kari and Søren. “Mr. and Mrs. Thoresen. A visitation today was not part of the agreed-upon arrangements.”

  Kari moved toward the casket. “Perhaps we wanted to acquaint ourselves with this place before the service tomorrow. Check on the arrangements. May I ask why you are here?”

  “I was required to sign for the body at customs. Arrange for transport from the airport.”

  Kari placed a trembling hand on a corner of the casket. “I see that you’ve removed the shipping container.”

  “Entirely in keeping with tomorrow’s service.”

  Kari stroked the soft metal patina under her hand. “We agreed that the casket should remain sealed, did we not?”

  “Yes. Given the conditions, that was the wise decision.”

  Kari pointed to the end of the casket. “Then why this?” She pulled the crank handle from the casket’s keyhole and held it up. “As you said, opening my sister’s remains—given their condition—wouldn’t be wise.”

  Wolfe pursed his lips. “Some aspects of the arrangements are classified, I’m afraid.”

  Kari shook her head. “That’s not good enough. Why are you really here?”

  “I’m not at liberty to answer your questions, Mrs. Thoresen. Why don’t you tell me why you are here?”

  “It seems that my law firm has hired a pathologist to examine the remains.”

  “Oh?” Wolfe seemed surprised.

  “We need to know for certain that this is my sister’s body, that she truly is . . . gone.”

  Wolfe looked to Tobin and Jaz. “Is that what this is all about? Why you two broke security, why you are here?”

  Jaz nodded. Tobin answered, “Yes, sir. You see—”

  Kari interrupted. “None of that matters at this point. The pathologist will be here shortly. Until then, I’ll just keep this.” She held up the crank handle.

  “I see. However, I must insist—”

  A tap sounded on the door. Søren opened it to the funeral director.

  “Pardon me. There’s a gentleman in the lobby. Says he is here to meet a Ms. Brunell?”

  Jaz lifted her hand. “That would be me.”

  “You’re making awfully free with my attorney’s name,” Kari grumbled.

  “I’m surprised no one has hacked his offices before now and robbed him blind.” Like an impressive card trick, a stick of gum appeared in Jaz’s hand. She unwrapped it, folded it in fourths, and popped it into her mouth—all one-handed. She grinned around the gum. “Just imagine what I could do for your attorney’s cybersecurity.”

  “Frankly, I’m terrified.” Then Kari half-smiled. “Let’s meet this pathologist, shall we? Since I seem to be on the hook for his fee?”

  “Hold on there,” Wolfe protested. “What is it you have planned?”

  Jaz answered. “The pathologist is going to tell us if the body in that box is Bella’s.”

  Wolfe opened his mouth to protest again, but Jaz forestalled him. “It will be a short exam. We believe we have a simple but definitive means of proving whether it is her or not.”

  Kari added, “And don’t even consider calling your guards to remove us, Director Wolfe. I’m not leaving here until I’m satisfied this is or is not my sister.”

  Wolfe folded his arms. “Fine, but the point of my making the arrangements was to provide a buffer between Bella and her family—your family—for their safety. I require, therefore, that no one identify themselves to this pathologist except for—” He pointed at Jaz. “Ms. Brunell, did you say? Furthermore, I will remain in the room to observe the process.”

  Her hand again caressing the casket, Kari nodded. “All right.”

  “I need agreement from everyone, please.”

  Søren, Ruth, and Max nodded. Tobin and Jaz did the same.

  Jaz addressed Mr. Lavalle. “Show the gentleman in, please—after which, you may excuse yourself.”

  Wolfe added, “Mr. Lavalle? Before you go, I want to remind you of our contract. Absolutely nothing that happens here today ever leaves this place—not without you and your business incurring serious repercussions.”

  “I know, I know,” the frazzled man tossed over his shoulder.

  Søren spoke up. “Uh, Kari? Why don’t we let our friends handle this while you and I and Max wait . . . elsewhere?”

  Kari swallowed, then nodded. She handed the crank to Tobin, then she, Max, Ruth, and Søren left the room just as Mr. Lavalle showed the pathologist in. He was short and chubby in a down-south, Boss Hogg sort of way, and he dragged behind him a sizeable stainless steel case on wheels. One of the case’s wheels rolled with an annoying squeak.

  “Dr. Huber?” Jaz asked.

  “That’s me.” His eyes widened a little as he sized Jaz up. “Ms. Brunell?”

  Jaz, in return, blew a bubble and popped it. “Yes, I’m Ms. Brunell. You have the signed NDA?”

  “Uh, certainly.” He produced it. Jaz examined it and handed it off to Tobin.

  “This way, please.” Jaz led him to the casket and waited until Lavalle left, closing the door behind himself, before addressing the doctor.

  “As I said in our email communications, these human remains are said to belong to a friend of ours who perished in a traffic accident where the car caught on fire and burned.”

  “But you are unconvinced that they are your friend’s remains?”

  “Yes, that is the gist of our concern.”

  Huber removed a small notebook and a pen. “Gender, female. Race?”

  “Caucasian.”

  “Age?”

  “Forty-six.”

  “Height?”

  Jaz sought Tobin’s eyes. He answered, “Between five foot nine and five foot ten.”

  “Five foot ten,” Wolfe said quietly. “One hundred thirty-six pounds at her last physical.”

  “Dental records?”

  Jaz replied, “No. We have no means of positively identifying her remains other than one possibility. A lit
tle over a month ago, our friend sustained several cuts on her back. Cuts that required stitches. The deepest cut was under her left shoulder blade.”

  “Ah. Very good. That recent an injury—if the burns haven’t penetrated too deeply into the derma, should be visible under magnification.”

  He looked around the room. “I require a table where I can unpack my case and remove a few instruments.”

  Tobin pointed to a wheeled cart against the wall. “Like this?”

  “That will do. Also, if I could prevail upon one of you to roll that embalming table alongside the casket after I have opened it? Yes, that one. And I will require the assistance of one of you gentlemen to lift the body from the casket and place it on the table. I will do a complete examination of the body, both posterior and anterior, that is, front and back, and will need assistance to flip the body over when it is time.”

  “I—” Jaz, for all her bravado and steely demeanor, fled the room.

  Tobin did not move, but the color drained from his face. “I don’t think I can . . . see her like that, Director.”

  Wolfe placed a hand on Tobin’s shoulder. “This is not the job for you. Go on, now. I’ll do it.” He removed the crank from Tobin’s hand. “You have my word. I will take care of her.”

  Tobin, tears glistening in his eyes, followed Jaz from the room.

  WHILE KARI WAS USING the restroom, she heard someone else come in. When she left the stall, she found Jaz leaned against a wall. The woman had yanked the hijab from her head, revealing damp, purple-tipped hair. She had her face pressed to the cool wallpaper.

  Kari washed up, but Jaz didn’t move.

  “Are you all right . . . Ms. Brunell?”

  “Very funny.”

  Kari hesitated, then put her hand on Jaz’ back and scribed gentle, soothing circles on it. “Would you like me to bring you some water?”

  “I’ll be okay in a minute. Just . . . couldn’t stay . . . in there.”

  “Me, neither. Not for love nor money—and it’s okay.”

  Jaz was quiet, and Kari continued to rub her back until Jaz whispered, “If . . . if it turns out that it is Bella . . . and she’s really dead? I’m sorry for putting you through this.”