Conquests of Eric RochetChapter 12
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The talk with the criminal defense lawyer, Dunmore, didn’t take long.
“Mr. Ramos, can I call you Doug? You are no dummy, but you also aren’t someone who has had to deal with the cops a lot. Their only focus is on closing the case. If they can talk you into admitting something that helps them, they won’t care if it is morally right or not. I don’t want you talking to them at all, unless I am present and, under no circumstances, should you submit anything in writing without going through me first. It is my job to make sure you are safe.”
“Not a problem, I wasn’t going to give that first asshole the time of day anyway, but the Chief sounded okay, but what about the Feds?”
“We’ll call them back in here, but the same goes for them, even more for them. Before we talk to them, I need to hear your side of the story. I already know about the threat; I just need to know what has happened since that day in your apartment and especially what you remember about the attack on you.”
Doug filled him in, telling him about the Feds dropping the guard on his house and about what he saw and did outside the florist.
Dunmore asked several questions, clarifying, and Doug thought he might have made a good Army Intelligence type. His cross-examination was able to help him remember a few details that he’d forgotten.
The FBI agents wanted to hear his story, and told him that they had identified both men as two of the three they had been looking for; one of the two was supposed to have been in Chicago, and the other was the missing third man. He admitted that there was an internal investigation starting over the report from Chicago, but he was assuming that it was a simple misidentification issue.
Doug wasn’t so sure.
“So, your stalking goat found two of them for you. What about the third? Are you putting agents on my place again?”
“Would you consider protective custody?” the Agent asked hopefully.
“Yeah, no, not going to happen,” Doug said flatly. “I can afford to have private security if I decide I want it, and I have things to do that I can’t do if I’m stuck in some shithole safe house playing solitaire.”
The FBI agents left with promises that they would let him know if they got any creditable information on a new threat, and with assurances that they would let him know if they found the third suspect.
“JJ, you have personal protection people as part of your firm, right?” Doug asked after the feds had left.
“Yep, good people too. We do a lot of VIP details in here Miami. Visiting celebrities, foreign nationals, and so on,” she confirmed.
“I want to hire your firm. I want at least two men, around the clock, on the elevators to the penthouses. I’m more worried about them getting to you and Chris than I am about me at the moment, I have that uniformed goon on the door. I want someone on Chris whenever you aren’t around as well.”
“I don’t need a damned babysitter, Doug, and I can damn well afford to hire someone myself if I decide I do.” Christine looked scandalized at the thought.
“Hush, Chris. I’m talking business with the owner of security firm I just hired. If I want your opinion, I’ll make an appointment.” Doug said, trying to smother a grin. He continued, ignoring his sister’s sputtering.
“I’ve been thinking about getting someone, a kind of admin, to run errands, help me out when I need it. I’ve been putting it off since I got back, but I’m going to need help despite my wounded pride. Short term, do you have someone who can deal with cleaning up after a cripple? I’ll start looking for someone more permanent later, after things settle down.”
“God Damn it Doug. You know I hate that fucking term.” JJ fumed, glaring at him. She wasn’t the only one. Lane looked annoyed as well and Christine just looked sad. “Yes, I have someone, assuming it is ok if he is a she. Carol is available for assignment. She is ex-Secret Service, was a protection specialist assigned to the State Department for a little more than five years. I made her an offer when she was in town, protecting some South American shithead.”
“Um ... I don’t know, JJ. I’m sure she is awesome at what she does, but I need someone who can ... Damn it, I fell in the shower the other day!” Doug was blushing, not meeting the eyes of any of the ladies present. Dunmore was deliberately looking off into space, distancing himself from the whole conversation and trying not to grin. Doug scowled at him anyway.
JJ busted out laughing, and Christine joined in. Doug snuck a glance at Lane and was gratified to see she wasn’t laughing, not out loud anyway. The merriment in her eyes was enough to make him blush even harder.
“Don’t be a candy-ass, Doug. I think she can handle seeing Wee Willy Winky,” JJ teased.
“Great. Just great. Here I am, laying in a hospital bed with tubes everywhere, fighting for my life and this is what I get, the vagina monologues.” Doug grumbled halfheartedly.
The tube in his chest came out a week later, which meant he could finally leave the hospital and for that, he was eternally grateful. JJ was by to see him every single day, usually stopping by first thing in the morning and bringing him decent coffee. Lane had been in to visit every day that she was in town, but her travel schedule meant he’d only seen her twice more in the week and a half that followed.
On his final day, while waiting for the bureaucracy of the hospital to grind onward and process his discharge, he’d a new visitor. Doug noticed her when she entered the room, her eyes scanning, seeming to miss nothing. She even went over and peeked into the open bathroom door before she approached the bed where he was sitting.
She was tall, pushing six feet, and looked very solid in the way that only someone who was serious about being in shape conveys. She was wearing a blue blazer and matching slacks, with a lighter blue blouse, and unless Doug missed his guess, that bulge under her arm pegged her as law enforcement of some kind. He was guessing a Fed. Her hair was a very light blonde, but very short, a pixie-ish style that suited her angular cheek bones and strong jaw. She wasn’t traditionally pretty, but she was striking.
“Mr. Ramos, I’m Carol Wysnewski. My employer, Mrs. Ramos, is on her way up, bringing your chair, but I wanted to come and meet you first. She tells me that you need someone who can watch your back, and if needed, wash your back.” Her eyes flashed with humor, and the corner of her mouth twitched.
“She said that, did she,” Doug asked, amused.
“Hmm ... something, to that effect, yes sir.”
“Don’t do that.” Doug groused, shaking his head.
“Sir?”
“That. Don’t call me sir.”
“Yes sir.” Carol said, then paused and grinned. “What would you prefer, Mr. Ramos?”
“How about Doug,” he asked.
“If you insist, though I prefer to remain professional in public.” She seemed deadly serious now, and Doug doubted that he would get her to change her mind. She looked like she was braced for an argument, standing with her head held high, her shoulders back and her hands clasped behind her back. She met his eyes squarely; no give at all.
Doug sighed, and shrugged.
“So, you are going to be my keeper? Did you lose a bet?”
“Nope. I finished my previous assignment two days ago, and I wanted to work. She explained about the attack on you, about her relationship with you, and that she wanted someone she could trust to watch your back.”
“Are you going to have any problems looking after a triple amputee with a contract on his head,” Doug asked, curious to hear what she said, and what she didn’t.
“Since I probably don’t have to worry about you sneaking out and picking up hookers or trying to score some blow, I imagine it will be just fine,” she countered, tilting her head. “I’m not going to have to worry about that, am I?”
“Not this week,” Doug replied with a straight face. “Let’s give it a shot, and if we don’t want to shoot each other in a couple of days, we’ll discuss making it longer term. Assuming that is okay with you? What should I call you? Is Carol okay?”
“Anything but Ski, Carol is perfectly fine.”
The telltale whine of electric motors, muffled but instantly recognizable to Doug, heralded the arrival of his chair and, presumably, JJ. She was grinning as she walked through the door, the chair following along behind her like a loyal hound. Doug’s phone was in her hand, and he could see the control interface app on the screen.
“This thing damn near got away from me downstairs so I thought I’d better leave it on the slower mode. I tried sitting in it, but it is damned uncomfortable when you have nowhere to put your feet.”
“Gee, I never noticed.” Doug said dryly.
JJ gave him the evil eye and shook her finger at him. “Keep it up, smart ass, and you will be here for another week while they try to get this phone extracted.”
“Oh! Look, I’m quaking in my boots.” Doug replied, sticking his tongue out at her.
JJ turned to Carol and, with a long-suffering expression on her face, sighed theatrically.
“See what you are going to have to put up with? Now you know why we are charging him so much, it is hazardous duty pay. Hell, a week with him and you might start wanting to shoot him yourself.”
“I have three older brothers and three younger brothers, Ma’am. I think I’ll survive.” Carol said, actually smiling this time.
Doug tried not to stare, but it was difficult. When she smiled, it completely transformed her face. Something about it seemed to soften the hard planes, to make her light up from inside. It was startling! He started to say something, but then reconsidered.
“What’s this about washing my back? What the hell did you tell her?” Doug asked, glaring at JJ.
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