Chapter 5

I cracked the door from the stairwell into the main lobby of the office building and connected with everyone within range.

Shooters!

No, not shooters. Watchers. Shooters were en route.

How did they find me? Was Colleen in danger? I connected with her.

Where are you? I asked.

At the Institute. Why?

My enemies have found me. I wanted to make sure you're safe. Don't leave the Institute. Stay in a crowd if you can. I'll get back to you soon.

Two watchers. I also figured that there would be at least one more man waiting in a vehicle outside.

Was Marna safe? I connected with her. She was fine.

They'd followed me to the office building or picked me up here. In either case, they hadn't known my destination within the building. I'd been with Marna for over an hour. The shooters could arrive at any moment.

The yellow Hummer is damned conspicuous, I thought. Should I abandon it? No, Luke Upton's identity and address are listed on the registration and insurance card in the glove compartment. Fortunately, the Arizona license plate on the Hummer isn't the plate registered to the Hummer.

Move! I urged myself. Move before the shooters arrive.

I stepped out of the stairwell into the lobby. Neither watcher noticed me. Their focus was the elevator lobby. Amateurs. I cast my mind through the glass entrance doors of the building. Nothing, which meant nothing except the watcher waiting outside in a vehicle was more than thirty feet away.

I found him when I opened a door, and when I stepped outside, he saw me. I watched as he hurriedly dialed his cell phone, and his eyes widened when he noticed me walking quickly and directly toward him. The sight of my XD-9 in my hand terrified him. He dropped the cell phone and started the engine in his car. By then I was standing next to him.

"Drive away now, or I'll kill you, and don't come back for your friends," I said loudly enough for him to hear me through the closed car window.

My telepathic sensor told me the two watchers inside had stepped outside. As the watcher in the car backed out of his parking space, I turned toward his cohorts and pointed my weapon at them. They scattered. Tires squealed as the watcher's vehicle sped away.

I jumped into the Hummer and drove away. To make sure I wasn't being followed, I took a number of unnecessary turns before I guided the Hummer up a ramp onto a freeway going north. If I were being followed, the surveillance team was beyond expert, which wasn't the case with the watchers at the office building. I didn't have a tail.

I debated whether to pick Colleen up at the Institute or drive directly to my house.

My house, I decided.

If the house was still a safe haven, the odds that Colleen was safe were good, and she could drive herself to the house. The sooner I removed the yellow Hummer from the streets of Phoenix the better.

I connected with Colleen and brought her up to date.

The Hummer's blown, I said.

Waddaya mean? she asked.

It's yellow. It's conspicuous. It's associated with Morgan. We'll need to park it until I eliminate my enemies.

A shame. How about this? When you pick up the Mercedes from Jasper, leave the Hummer with him. Tell him to paint it a different color.

I chuckled. Good thinking. I'll do it. What color?

Doesn't matter. Any standard color for a Hummer except yellow. White if it's standard. Most of the vehicles in the Phoenix area are white. White would blend in the best.

All right. If the house is clear, can you leave... ?

Class is finished, cowboy. Gary and I are chatting in an empty kitchen. I can leave anytime.

Ask Gary if he'll follow you home.

He can't. His car is being serviced. I was planning to give him a ride to his house.

Bring him home with you.

All right.

I'd met Gary. I'd been in his mind. I connected with him as well as Colleen and listened as she told him the new plan. He didn't care where they went as long as he was with her. Crap!

I exited the 101 and headed north on Scottsdale Road. When I was certain I didn't have a tail, I pulled into a parking lot and checked the Hummer for a homing device. I'd left the vehicle unattended in the presence of my enemies. The last thing I wanted was to guide my enemy to my home.

Sweet thing, I said silently, are you aware that Gary is head over heels in love with you?

No! I experienced her sigh. Maybe, sort of. He's... well, since he broke up with Loren, he's been more... attentive is the best word I can think of to describe how he's been. Lately, I've been wondering if his feelings for me have become stronger than mere friendship, but he's said nothing, so... She sighed again. Dammit! How should I handle this, cowboy?

No homing device.

I'll leave the method to you, but handle it soon. The longer you wait, the more he'll hurt when you push him away.

Fifteen minutes later, with a sigh of relief, I knew my house was still a safe haven.

Come on home, sweet thing, I said to my lady.

In a monitor in the security room, I watched Colleen's Cadillac wind around the curves as she moved up the mountainside.

You're clear. No one is following you, I told her silently. I'll open and close the gates for you and meet you and Gary at the bar. I'm thirsty.

I'd also monitored Colleen and Gary's thoughts and conversation as they drove to the house. She still hadn't confronted Gary's lovesick crush, and the young man had it bad.

I was chugging from a cold bottle of beer when she and Gary arrived at the top of the stairs. She dropped her stuff on an end table, walked to me, wrapped her arms around my neck, and kissed me until my toes curled. Whew!

She leaned back from the passionate embrace, gazed lovingly at me, and said, "Cowboy, you're a pleasure to come home to. I sure do love you." Then she kissed me again.

Ah, you decided to demonstrate how much you love me to back Gary off, I said using mind-talk.

Uh-uh, I'm just happy to see you alive and unharmed. I'll back Gary off when I drive him to his house later.

Colleen excused herself. "To put on something more comfortable," she said.

I offered Gary a beer, which he accepted.

"I like your house," he said. And your woman, he added silently. And there's the rub. She's your woman, not mine.

"Thanks. I didn't know I had a place I called home until recently." I knew Colleen had already told him my real name and about the memory loss that made the Ken LaPlant alias necessary.

"I'd be terrified if I woke up with no past, even know my own name," he said.

"It was... uncomfortable, I admit."

"Do you remember everything now?"

"No. I remember a lot, but not everything. Colleen told me you broke up with Loren."

"Yeah. I found out she didn't care about me. I... ah, I have money." He looked around. "Probably not as much as you, but... Loren, she was interested in my money, not me."

I grinned and decided to give Colleen a leg up by letting Gary know, in no uncertain terms, that Colleen was my woman. "I don't have that problem, not with Colleen, but if I had access to all my memories, I suspect I'd remember a girlfriend from my past who was just like Loren. Colleen and I fell in love with each other before I found out I had money."

He tipped up the bottle of beer and guzzled.

"My amnesia has been rough on Colleen, Gary. I want to thank you for being her friend. Friends mean a lot to her, and I know she considers you a friend."

He nodded. "She's... ah, special, easy to like. She makes being a friend easy." Easy to love, too. Ah, fuck, who am I kidding? She loves him. He loves her. I don't have a chance.

Now that's straight thinking, young fella, I thought. Keep it up, and you'll be fine.

"Has she told you she's studying kung fu?" I asked.

"Yes."

"I built a kwoon - that's a training hall for kung fu - in my house. Would you like to see it?"

"Sure."

As we walked down the stairs, he suddenly realized if I included a kwoon in the design of my house that I must be heavily involved in martial arts. He also wondered how good I was.

I opened the doors to the kwoon, and we stepped inside. "Have you studied any of the martial arts, Gary?"

"Tae kwon do when I was a boy. I didn't stick with it, though." A failing of mine, he thought. I start something, drop it, and start something else.

He noticed the Shaolin wushu weapons standing in a rack along one wall. "I thought kung fu was... well, was just hand-to-hand fighting."

"That's what it is - mostly. These are ancient weapons." I drew a saber and twirled it around. "I spar with Colleen's teacher using these weapons." I put the saber back in the rack. "Sparring is good exercise. Let me show you my Zen garden."

We walked outside. "Kung fu is a Chinese martial art form. My garden is Japanese. Because my business often takes me out of town, I needed a simple, low-maintenance garden, and as you can see my 'dry-landscape' style garden is simplicity personified, but it's also complex. I meditate out here because the simple beauty of my garden triggers contemplation. I created my garden to be viewed, not entered. I enter it only to rake the sand and trim the foliage."

"It's beautiful," Gary gushed.

"Thank you." I clicked my tongue. Where are you? I asked Colleen.

The question is where are you?

Gary and I are outside by the Zen garden.

Should I join you there?

No. We're on our way back upstairs now. I've been preparing your boyfriend for a letdown.

Humph, he's not my boyfriend. He's just a friend.

Halfway up the stairs, an alarm went off. I took off like a shot and rushed into the security room. My eyes skittered from monitor to monitor. As I shut off the alarm, Colleen came into the room.

"There," she said pointing.

"Yeah, hikers, I think," I said with a groan. A man and woman. I zoomed the camera for a close-up of their faces. "Teenagers. I'll go warn them off. You..." I stopped talking when I turned and saw Gary standing in the open doorway behind us. His eyes were wide with shock, and his jaw gaped.

I grinned at him and said, "I'm a nut for security, Gary."

"Good job with Gary, sweet thing." She'd not only let him down easy, she'd also retained his friendship, and the young man had promised not to say anything to anyone about my security system. What's more, she'd accomplished the goals without lying, except through omission, or divulging my protection business or the threats I faced.

"Thanks. Gary's a good guy, cowboy. He's got some growing up to do, but then I do, too. That's why I understand him so well. Ellie's the perfect girl for him, but she's hung up on that jerk, Keith Holder, and until about an hour ago, Gary had his sights set on me. You impressed him, cowboy. He couldn't stop talking about your Zen garden."

"He knows his major weakness. I don't know why he keeps making the same mistake over and over again."

"Waddaya mean?"

"He starts projects but never finishes them."

She frowned. "You know you're right. He's been thinking about dropping out of the Institute."

"That'd be a mistake. He has money. Encourage him to stick with it and open his own restaurant later."

She nuzzled my neck with her face. "You're so smart."

"Uh-uh. I'm just a telepath."

That made her laugh.

"Let's open my safe," I said.

She lunged back and looked up at me with surprise.

"Marna Crispin is not only my personal attorney, she's also the executrix of my estate. As such, if something happened to me, she'd need access to the contents of the safe." I chuckled and told her the combination. "Do you recognize the numbers?"

She frowned and then grinned. "You're kidding."

"Nope."

The contents of the safe were a treasure trove. It held the expected documents, like my Last Will and Testament, titles to the house and vehicles (except for the title to the nondescript sedan I believed I owned), insurance policies (which reminded me to change the beneficiary on the life insurance policy), passport, social security card, my high school diploma, the credit cards I'd cancelled and replaced, blank bank checks and deposit slips, and stock certificates, but it offered some surprises, too.

My birth certificate listed my mother's name, Crystal Upton, but no father, and I was born on December 25th, a Christmas baby, which brought forth some memories about my birthdays, some of them heartrending, others joyful. Mr. Bart made a special effort to celebrate my birthday, not just Christmas.

Was my mother still alive?

During my lost six years, besides being Mr. Bart's caregiver, I managed to attend college. I found the diplomas: a B.S. in Criminal Justice and a MBA, both from the University of Nevada in Reno.

I found an address book, which excited me momentarily until I discovered the contents written by my hand in the leather-bound tome were in code, a code I couldn't remember, dammit.

I pulled out a cardboard folder wrapped with a rubber band that was stuffed in a corner of the safe. It contained a complete new identity for me, a man named Thomas Gilford, including a driver's license, passport, social security card, a credit card, a checkbook with an apparent $5,000 balance in the account, as well as library and voter registration cards. The Thomas Gilford identity was more complete than Luke Upton's. I'd found my wallet in a cubbyhole in the armoire the second night I stayed in the house. It held my driver's license, but no credit cards or voter registration and library cards.

The conceal-carry gun permits for seven different states, including Arizona, would come in handy.

Knowing the importance of cash money, I shouldn't have been surprised to find $100,000 in $100 used bills, but I was. The serial numbers weren't sequential either. I checked.

The bearer bonds were the big surprise. The total value of $1,000,000 astonished me. Talk about mad money!

I also found an unlabeled CD. I immediately stuffed it in my laptop, and then groaned with disappointment. It was encrypted, and I didn't know the key that would unlock the data.

"Probably my Referral Source List," I muttered.

A small bag containing 20 one-caret loose diamonds surprised us, and I discovered Colleen was like just about every other woman ever born. The sparkling gems excited her more than the bearer bonds.

"What's this key?" Colleen asked.

"A safe deposit box key," I said. "Gordy will probably know which bank it belongs to."

The discovery of a shoebox full of old photographs brought tears to my eyes. Colleen and I settled on our big bed with our backs against the padded headboard and studied each of them together.

"That's Bartholomew Q. Craven, my sponsor, my mentor, the father I never had," I said. "I called him Mr. Bart." The picture showed him just a little older than he looked the first time I met him.

"Ah, you remembered him," Colleen said.

"Yes. I..." Tears watered my eyes again, but I managed to tell Colleen about my lost years without breaking down until she did. Then we held each other and cried together.

When we recovered we returned to the photographs. "Look, there's Gordy!"

Colleen laughed. "Yep. Good golly, he even looks like a bully."

"He stopped being a bully after I whipped him, sweet thing. He became my best friend. This is a picture of Nicky, the boy I was protecting when I tore into Gordy."

"Ooh, cute. What happened to him?"

"He's dead. He committed suicide when he was sixteen. We had about one suicide a year at the orphanage." I felt his loss all over again.

Empathizing, Colleen asked, "Should we cancel the trip to Reno?"

"No, but there's no rush now. We'll wait until your semester break at school."

"Okay. Your Glaring Exception List is down to four items, cowboy. You're making real headway."

I gave her a hard look. "To uncover the identity of my enemies, Colleen, I will need to walk the streets of Phoenix as Morgan."

I know, baby, she thought. I don't like it, but I understand.

I met with Gordy for a number of reasons. I wanted the address, phone number, keys and access code for the penthouse condo I used when assuming my Morgan persona. He gave me the address and phone number, but couldn't help me with my other requests.

"Have you been in the condo?" I asked Gordy.

"Sure, more than I've been in your house in Carefree." He chortled. "That condo is a bachelor's pad extraordinaire."

"What about the vehicles? Where are they garaged?"

"In the parking structure adjacent to the building. A Lexus and a Cadillac Esplanade, both white."

"Where did I keep the keys for them?"

"I don't know... wait, I do know. Look in a snifter on the back bar."

Ingrained habits, I thought. The key to the condo will probably be my fingerprint.

"Does Morgan have a safe?"

"Yep, behind a hinged painting in his home office."

"Is there a computer in the office?"

"Yep, and to anticipate your next question, I don't know the password to the computer."

"I found a safe deposit box key in my safe. Can you point me at the bank where I rent the box?"

"Not off the top of my head. I can research your expenses and determine the bank, but please try the bank where you have your checking account first and save me the trouble." He laughed heartily.

"All right. Let's talk about the office for Protect & Serve. You said it was an executive office."

"Yep, you know the kind. You rent an office and share other amenities with the other tenants, like a conference room, copy and fax machine, a receptionist, etcetera."

When asked, he gave me the address and phone number for that office. No key.

"Do I retain a criminal attorney?"

"No, but you hired one a couple of times. Tim Blount, a real piece of work." He gave me Blount's phone number.

"Did I hire him as Morgan or Upton?"

"Morgan."

"Next item. Please send a copy of my current financials to Marna Crispin. She's the executrix of my Luke Upton estate. Send her updated financials once a year, more often if you think it's advisable." I gave him Marna's address and phone number and tossed a couple of old photographs onto his desk.

He picked them up and studied them. "Judas, I was a pugnacious little shit back then, wasn't I?"

I laughed heartily. "Would you like copies?"

"You bet. I take it these were in your safe?"

"Yes. Let's go to lunch, that microbrewery place."

"Microbrewery place! For crissake, Luke, you own half the joint. You'd think you'd remember its name."

We left his office laughing.

The executive offices where Protect & Serve maintained its office were plush and professional. The receptionist - her desk sign told me her name was Leticia Ramos - greeted me with an honest smile.

"Morgan, it's been a while," she said.

I returned her smile and said, "Too long, and what's more, I've mislaid the key to my office."

"Again?"

"Yeah."

She pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. Bending and displaying a lot of alluring cleavage, she opened her desk drawer and extracted a set of keys. "I'll let you in. Would you like to order a replacement key?"

"Sure."

"I'll have it at the front desk when you leave."

Is he watching my ass? she asked herself as she walked down the corridor in front of me.

I wasn't, but if that's what she wanted I saw no reason why I shouldn't satisfy her wish. A nice ass it was, too. Not in Colleen's class, but then Colleen's ass was in a class by itself.

She unlocked and opened my office door, reached in and flipped switches, lighting the room.

"Thanks, Leticia," I said and started to walk by her.

She stepped back and we collided. I grabbed her to keep her from falling, and her body melted against mine.

"Nice save, Morgan," she breathed.

"I try."

"And succeed."

She stepped back and walked away. Just before she turned the corner, she looked over her shoulder to see if I was ogling her ass. I was, which pleased her. She flashed a great smile and disappeared from view.

The office was large and looked out onto an interior courtyard. I settled behind the desk and picked up the phone. I didn't dial it. I checked it for a listening device. The phone was clean, but a visual inspection wouldn't reveal a phone tap. I pulled a bug detector from the bag I carried. It was a doozy, detecting radio signals from 10MHz to 3GHz. Five minutes later I figured the office was clean.

I opened my cell phone and called Jasper. The Mercedes was ready. I told him about the paint job I needed for the Hummer. He quoted me a price. I agreed with it, and asked him what the work he did on the Mercedes would cost me. When he responded, I said, "Cash?"

"Cash is good, but I can't complain about the way your paymaster treats me, either."

"I'll have him call you."

"All right."

We made arrangements to trade vehicles that evening at the same place I'd met him to hand over the Mercedes. I didn't want to drive the yellow Hummer during daylight.

"Jasper, I need a hacker. Do you know one?"

"For computers?"

"Yeah."

"No, but I can check around if you want."

"Do that. I'll see you tonight."

I called Gordy. Yes, he knew Jasper. Yes, he'd pay him, but from what account?

"Use Luke Upton's funds," I said. "And..." I hesitated because at that moment an idea hit me. "And open an account as if Upton were the principal."

"That'll work," Gordy said.

"Gordy, have I hired other protectors to work with me on other jobs?"

"Sure, almost every job. You either need backup on a takedown for a recovery or replacement shifts on a protection gig."

I grinned. "Name me some names, good buddy."

"Company names or individuals."

"Individuals first, and then company names."

He rattled off some names and one of them rang a memory bell. The bell wasn't Big Ben. It was more like one bell on a tambourine, but it was a bell.

I jotted down the name and phone number.

"Keep going, Gordy," I said.

When he finished, I had enough little bells for half a tambourine. "The phone numbers, Gordy, are they direct or through an agent?"

"Don't know. That was your bailiwick. Do you want company names now?"

"No. I wrote down four names: Trevor Peterson, Mark Richardson, Heather (no last name), and Ruben (no other name). I need their daily rates and I need to know whether I used them on a recovery or a protection assignment."

"Hang on."

I checked on Colleen while I waited. She was en route to the kwoon and a kung fu class. We chatted silently until Gordy came back on line and gave me the information I asked for.

Four names, daily rates, and specialties. A call would determine if they worked through an agent or were independent. I didn't have an agent, but only because Mr. Bart drilled marketing through a referral system into my young brain. Most protectors needed an agent to sell their services.

I read my list:

Trevor Peterson, protection, $1,000/day

Mark Richardson, protection, $1,000/day

Heather, recovery/missing persons, $2,000/day

Ruben, recovery, $1,500/day

None of the names made the hair at the back of my neck itch, but that meant nothing. Heather's specialty, Gordy told me, was finding missing persons, usually children. I called her number first. A machine answered. I left my name (Morgan) and cell phone number. A machine also answered my call to Ruben. Trevor Peterson worked for a company headquartered in L.A., and he wasn't available. A woman, not a machine answered my call to Mark Richardson. She told me that Richardson would return my call before the day ended.

I crossed Trevor Richardson off my list and started a new list. Then I called Gordy again.

"What now?" he asked.

Suddenly, it dawned on me that I was eating up all of Gordy's time. He probably had other clients, clients he was neglecting to serve me.

"If you're busy, we can talk later," I said.

He chortled.

"I mean you're probably neglecting other clients..."

His chuckle turned into a full-blown belly laugh.

"Morgan," he said when he finally stopped laughing, "I service two clients. Count 'em. One, Morgan. Two, Luke Upton. That's the way it's been since about three months after you walked into my office five years ago. I have a partner who handles the firm's other clients." He sighed loudly. "Confession time. I'm good with numbers, so I went to college and learned how to be an accountant. Then I went to work for an accounting firm. You can't imagine how boring that was, Morgan. Working for you and Protect & Serve and Luke and his investment business takes all the boring out of accounting. You could cut my hourly rate in half, and I'd just cinch up my belt and keep working for you. You won't do that, though. You'd raise my rate, but you'd never cut it, and Luke lets me ride his investment coattails, which made me a rich man in my own right, so if I ever sound grumpy or unhappy or harried, ignore me. Lay it on me, man. Waddaya want?"

Damn! His heartfelt words brought tears to my eyes, and such loyalty and devotion demanded open communication.

"Gordy, if needed, could you clone yourself?"

"Waddaya mean?"

"Protect & Serve is a one-man band. I plan to turn it into an organization. I've been playing with the numbers. With sixteen operatives on staff, I can net close to $5,000,000 a year. I'll make more money and with the firm headquartered in Phoenix, I won't need to be away from Colleen ten months out of every year."

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!"

The doorman at the condo building where I resided as Morgan knew me by sight and called me by name. His nametag gave me his last name. I didn't know his first name.

"How's it goin', Buchmann?" I said.

Buchmann? he thought. He always calls me Bucky, the only resident in the building who calls me Bucky. I sorta liked it. Why the change?

I laughed and said, "Just teasing, Bucky. I haven't been here for a while. Has anyone stopped by asking for me?"

"Oh, yeah, three or four good-lookin' gals. One of them, Candice, she... ah, somebody killed her while you were gone, Mr. Morgan."

I grimaced. "I heard. If I find out who did it, I'll be the sonofabitch's judge, jury and executioner, all rolled into one."

"I'd sit on that jury, Mr. Morgan. Candice was good people."

"Any strangers ask for me?" I asked.

"A couple. They didn't leave their names."

"When?"

"A while back."

"No one recent?"

"No, sir."

I nodded, walked to the elevator lobby and pushed an up button. Doors opened and I stepped into the cab and pushed the button for the tenth floor. The elevator didn't move. I started to walk out of the elevator when Bucky stepped in.

"You don't have your elevator cardkey with you, right?" he said.

"Nope."

"Did you lose it or forget to bring it with you?" He pushed a cardkey into a slot and pushed the 10th floor button.

"Lost it," I said as the doors started to close.

Bucky held the doors open. "I'll have another made for you." Good, that'll get me a $20 bill, enough to buy my gas for the week, he thought.

"I'd appreciate that, Bucky," I said and peeled off a fifty from the cash in my pocket. He took the money, and it disappeared in his pocket. After he stepped out of the elevator, the doors closed and the cab ascended to the tenth floor.

The tenth floor contained two penthouses, not one. I wondered who lived in 1050. The lock for 1000 was indeed a fingerprint lock, and the lock was alarmed. I found the keypad for the alarm in the hall closet. The same numerical code that disarmed the alarm in my house turned off the alarm in the condo. I locked both dead bolts and attached the chain.

After a click of my tongue, I said, I'm in the condo, sweet thing.

I sensed Colleen's chuckle. And your interruption just got me knocked on my ass.

Sorry about that. Is Sifu conducting the class or one of his advanced students?

An advanced student, Jim Gill, in fact. Have you talked to Sifu about Jim yet?

No. Would Sifu mind a mental interruption?

She chuckled again. I don't know. Interrupt him and find out.

Okay, bye for now. I reduced my connection with her and connected with Sifu. He sensed my intrusion.

Is this a bad time for you, Sifu?

No.

Good. I have two quick questions. Is Jim Gill trustworthy?

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Protect and Serve

Paul Phenomenon

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