Final Turn: A story of adventure intrigue and suspense. Read online

  "We will get it working Roger, on time and on budget." Roger felt himself being surveyed by an experienced look, one that could penetrate directly to the salience.

  "You always have Jack. I know you will this time." Roger didn't have to mince the sincerity of his comments with his friend.

  He watched Jack wave a cheerful adieu and haul his squared frame back to his own office. Roger knew there would be some trying times ahead for Jack; he would be under pressure. They both knew well enough that the implementation of complex new computer systems did not always go smoothly. Roger' own commission would not come until the client had accepted the system. Roger didn't understand all the technicalities, but he had confidence in Jack and Bill. It was a bold show of confidence in technology by a firm that did not have its own resident expertise in the field. An impressive contract for EDS and if things went well, Roger would be a bright star for having brought it in the door.

  ****

  By three o'clock Roger parked his car out on Sam's driveway and was inside in two bounds. Behind the house Roger had built a gazebo for Samantha. With shutters for the windows and a small heater inside, it was usable all year round. This was Sam's favorite hiding place and for both of them it was a great spot to hang around in the cool evenings.

  Shadow, Roger’s woolly dog, was lying on the living room rug. Shadow was a cross between a Chow and an Alaskan Husky; medium height, wide and solid. He had the disposition of an absent minded Professor and mostly stayed at Sam’s house. Here he had a back yard and a park nearby for daily excursions.

  After receiving his well-expected pet and belly scratch, Shadow followed Roger as he skipped through the kitchen and out into the gazebo. Sam was seated in an oversized wicker chair with neatly stacked piles of papers on a desk in front of her, the nearest pile held down by a glass of wine. To one side another table held more papers and files while the couch opposite was nearly obscured with the same. Sam sat in the center as if she had summoned the files to her for consultation. Sam always sat well postured, her shapely figure just on the lean side of plump, contoured as if by a lustful sculptor. She still had all the style and rhythmic sway given to her by her Caribbean ancestry. An athletic scholarship had brought her to Canada from Jamaica. In university, Sam had been a classical hundred-meter girl, strong and fast. For a few years after graduation she had coached a track team. Sometime later the Caribbean female instincts must have taken over. Her athletic bounce on muscular ebony legs had transformed back to a gentle, rhythmic sway when she walked and a posture that belied a basket of breadfruit balanced on her head. Her gentle country ways and happy outlook were an enchantment to Roger. A finely sculptured face and oversized soft brown eyes forewarned of a quick mind and an agile imagination. She had a heart melting, honest smile delivered by a perfect set of large pearly teeth.

  Sam had been Roger's steady partner for nearly three years. Roger thought of his relationship with Sam as the right one, one waiting for something to finalize it. So did she. Yet, they had different ideas of what that meant and neither had an immediate motivation to do anything. Sam was a self-made woman. She took pride in telling people that she had never worked for anyone in her life. Her success was her own and she conveyed the kind of confidence envied by many and sought by all. Behind the charm and beauty lived a shrewd, passionate and competitive woman. She had one of those ways that made men feel like she lived partly in their camp and made women wonder what she did there.

  For the last few years Sam had been operating a small company specializing in producing family histories for clients. A Genealogist, she called herself when asked. With plenty of skills based on a healthy interest in people, a gift for foreign languages and an acute acumen for digging into things, she had decided there was a good market. So far she was right. Some clients were the curious; others were the very serious. Sometimes someone looking for their natural parents sought her services or perhaps a dispute over an inheritance brought her business. Sometimes the clients were just people with a genuine interest in their roots.

  "What you up to?" Roger asked giving Sam a hug and kiss from behind the chair.

  "I think I might be the one bright spot in the local economy. A family has just contracted me to establish their relationship with an Austrian nobleman who died recently. There are big dollars in the estate." Sam welcomed Roger with her radiance. She sat before her profusion of letters and newspaper clipping all held down by her wine glass. The bottle stood at the edge of the desk with an empty glass waiting for Roger to arrive. He helped himself.

  "Is this a done deal already?" Roger asked as he settled back into a vacant spot on the old chesterfield with his glass, a profusion of hanging plants, garden tools and netting as a background.

  "It's a done deal and I'm already into it. There is even a chance there may be a trip to Austria in this."

  "Trip to Austria. These people must really want to know their relatives."

  "The man is a retired Colonel in the Army, Colonel Josef Grawitz. His family has been in here for several generations. Many of the men had served in the military in England and Canada." Sam returned her papers into several brown envelopes and curled up in her chair to face Roger. She had selected this kind of work with a thorough understanding of herself and her needs. Then she had made it work. Roger had a lot more admiration for self-made people than those who served their time in a corporate cubicle pushing someone else's paper while getting their own ulcer.

  "Does that make it tougher? I mean, it’s probably harder to trace people in the military, particularly higher ups who might have been involved in secret activities." He was thinking of Lindquist.

  "It might be, but the military does keep good records on their people. We have a good museum here with a library. I've already called and plan to meet with the curator. Colonel Grawitz himself is dead. He died shortly after the Austrian nobleman did, but the inheritance should go to his estate. His widow, Lady Grawitz no less, is my client." Sam had a serenity and purpose about her that came to the surface easily. Roger enjoyed listening to her.

  "I was over to see Trudy earlier. We talked a bit about the investment club. She said that Loretta would be there tonight. Maybe we can probe her a bit to see what the prospects are." Trudy was Jack Fischer's partner. About a year ago Sam had convinced Roger that they should make some investments together. If nothing else, she saw it as something they might as well do together as separately. Besides, she didn't really have enough money on her own. Neither did Roger. They had pooled their money and joined a club organized by one of Jack's friends. The club had invested in some real estate on the west coast, a tract of land that could increase in value substantially once it was zoned for sub-division. So far all it had done was given them a common point for concern. Roger was still hopeful that this investment would work out but he was skeptical of dealing with a club.

  "Does anyone know what's happened to our application to sub-divide?" Roger asked her.

  "That's what everyone is hoping Loretta will know. She just came back from a trip to her company's office in the area. Apparently, she went in to see the local municipal people and asked about the application. On behalf of the investment club." She saw a look on Roger's face that betrayed his own lack of confidence in that source and added, "I know Loretta is just the real estate agent but she was there so it could do no harm."

  "We're going to need more than someone not doing harm to get this thing off the ground. Until that property can be sub-divided our money is tied up." Roger knew if he went further into his opinion of the real estate business he would begin to sound cynical to Sam. "I suppose we should just resign ourselves to this as a long term investment, we're both stuck with it for a while."

  Sam gave him a questioning look. She wondered whether he thought that was good or bad, and she did not mean from the financial standpoint.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The house stood near the center of the block. It was magnificent with its sandstone walls, copper eaves troughs and a fieldstone chimney that stood at least ten feet taller than the slate roof. Nearly the entire block was taken up with cars, from Volkswagens to Jaguars. Jack had invited everyone in the firm and it seemed that most had come. Sam pulled up to the right side of the triple driveway and let Roger out to move the wheelbarrow. That was Jack's way of reserving a spot for them next his own Corvette. As they stepped towards the door, Sam could hear voices from the patio behind the house. They came with a strained tone, yet to be lubricated by time, conversation and liquor. It was a Monday night but it was also the company's tenth anniversary. Jack had offered to host a get together but had refused to do it on the weekend. Weekends were for flying. With both Lindquist and Roger were sympathetic of such a viewpoint and that meant there had been no objections.

  They let themselves in through the broad oak door and stepped into the foyer that held other new arrivals. Trudy was about to show the house to a small group of them. Trudy Stubbier was a self-assured woman, about Jack's height but luckily with none of his horizontal dimensions. Nearly the same age as herself, Sam thought of Trudy as older but wasn't sure if this came from demeanor or from appearance. Trudy did dress in a manner that admitted resignation to her prosaic figure and spoke more directly to status. She welcomed Sam with a hug giving little indication that they had already spent part of the day together. Sam stepped aside to let Trudy greet Roger. He received a more formal greeting, a respectful one brought about either by Roger's relationship with Jack in the office or a just a more reserved feeling between himself and Trudy. Sam maintained a warm smile. She and Roger decided to join the tour as much out of interest as in support of their host. Still, it was always nice to see it all again.

  Trudy stepped to the side as if the house would present itself. It welcomed the que
sts with lustrous warmth. The foyer blended wood, light and wall tapestries with the sweeping arch of a curvaceous stairway to create a space that was large, yet gave its focus to the quests and bestowed a feeling of comfort and sanctuary. To one side, the stairway offered itself first with wide shallow steps and then narrowed and turned as they lofted the quests onto a balcony that stood in semicircular guard over the entrance. Behind the carved walnut railing an open archway introduced a study with a view of the foyer to one side and trees and sky through its sliding glass door opposite. The door gave access to a small balcony that overlooked the garden. This was Jack's lair. Here stood his computer equipment, his library and many of his personal accolades. Diplomas and degrees hung from the walls like trophies. Photos and other memorabilia of his air force career were conspicuously absent. Trudy stayed at the door as the quests made a quick circuit of the room. Further along the balcony two stalwart doors guarded bedrooms beyond. Descending the stairway, the guests crossed the wide, rustic oak planking of the entrance to enter a side hallway that lead to the kitchen and the remainder of the house.

  As the shadow from the neighboring house slipped over the patio, Jack came into the house with a shiver. The guests followed him like sheep, each with a glass and absorbed in conversation. Once inside, everyone was anxious to find a new conversation partner. As if the change in scene itself had commanded it, the conversation turned to office politics. Sam saw Roger was anxious to avoid it as he seated himself on the corner of the fireplace, next to a chair taken by Jack. She sat next to Roger, content to just listen. Roger and Jack spent many hours together, at work and at the flying club. Sam was not there for many of them. She liked to watch Roger talk with his friends; it showed a side of him that she wouldn't otherwise see, it was different from when he talked with her.

  "I've got the fellows busy with the installation for eStorage so maybe I'll take Wednesday off." Jack announced with conviction.

  "You don't expect any problems then?" Roger asked with what Sam knew was a shade of apprehension.

  "No, everything looks great and I'll only be away for a day. I'd like to take a run out to the old farm. I need to see what kind of shape the place is in." Jack looked into his glass. Sam knew that Jack had been raised on that farm and wondered how he felt about that.

  “You going to visit, or some other reason?" She asked. "I remember you mentioning the farm, it isn't being used is it? Like farmed.."

  "It's not being used and there is no one to visit. It's just a quarter section. I've decided that I'm going to sell it. It’s costing me taxes and I get nothing from it. The land is mostly rocks anyway. The rocks do more damage to the machinery than the harvest is worth. The soil is lousy and half of it floods in the spring. Besides, there’s little point in owning farm property these days. It should sell. It's a nice secluded spot and there is a large machine shed with big door that must be of use to some farmer around there. None of it is of any use to me." He said that as if he really meant it.

  "It would be a shame to sell your birthplace." Sam said realizing that not many people these days kept their original home, farm or otherwise, in the family. "You don't really need to sell it. Maybe it will mean something later, to your children." Jack took that comment with an almost visible jolt.

  "No." He said rubbing his forehead with his hand. "No, I don't think I need that." Jack squeezed his temples together between his fingers and his thumb and got up. "I think I'll get a refill. How about you guys?" He walked off with a collection of glasses.

  "Let me show you where it is." Jack said when he returned with new drinks. He had brought along a map. He pointed to a mark on the map about fifty kilometers north of the city. Sam knew that Jack was quietly proud of having been brought up in the country. It was something he did not share with many people; few seemed to understand what it meant.

  "There aren't many people living around there any more. The young people move to the cities and the old people either follow or die off." Jack said tersely. "Last time I was out there only one of the neighbors was left. Just an old lady living by herself about a half mile away. She's the last of them. Her husband is dead now and she'll just stay there until she dies." Sam felt a little sad for her without even knowing her.

  "Have you ever thought of going back? Starting over out there?" Sam thought about Jack's past. "I suppose you could have tried that when you left the armed forces. Instead of going back school."

  "How could I? You can't ever go back." Jack said with a note of abandonment. He looked at the map as if he were seeing the countryside itself. They sat in a moment of silence as Jack slipped into the past. There were times when Jack looked lonely, even in his own house full of his friends and co-workers. He would easily become detached, lost. Sam looked at his dark, handsome face and wondered what it would take to get him to talk. She knew he trusted Roger and hoped that someday he would trust her too.

  From within the gathering in the kitchen a faint voice caught Jack's attention. It was Loretta. He seemed to have been waiting for her. He rose to go towards her saying, "I think I'll just have a word with Loretta about Real Estate sales now."

  Roger was left holding the map. He folded it and stuck it into his jacket pocket.

  Sam spotted a figure down the hallway that ran back to the foyer. As it came more into the light of the kitchen, she saw it was Robert Lindquist. He walked with purpose, like he was expected where he was going. As he came into the kitchen the attention of the gathering focused upon him. He seemed accustomed to that; perhaps he expected it. He surveyed the group with a manner that both presented him and took in every detail. The level of conversation diminished audibly. From amongst the group emerged Loretta, leaving Jack standing alone. She intercepted Lindquist as well as the focus of the group. Taking Lindquist's arm she steered him to the side, monopolizing him. Sam sipped from her glass and watched with growing interest. She could sense Roger watching her.

  Lindquist always looked the part of a General. He stood tall, handsome with grayed temples and eyes like windows into a brilliant mind. He radiated a social eminence that he had cultivated in the highest circles. It was odd to watch him in this circle of mostly ordinary people. It was well known that he was extraordinarily wealthy, beyond what was reasonable for his career. He had lost his wife several years ago and still lived alone leaving few with much knowledge of his personal life.

  "Let's go over and talk with those two." Sam said to Roger feeling confident he would know whom she meant.

  "You be my guest." Roger said as he rose. "I think I'll get another wine. Want one?" She gave him her glass and each set off.

  Loretta saw her coming over Lindquist's shoulder and flashed a smile with more style than warmth. Likely, she was checking if Sam was someone important she should be talking to. It seemed not. Greetings done, Sam stood next to them and watched Loretta's ostentatious plastic routine. Lindquist appeared captivated by her conversation but Sam strongly suspected he had mercifully slipped into a temporary coma. Marvelous, to be able to do that, she thought. Loretta seemed to be talking one subject while thinking another. She looked over to where she had abandoned Jack. He stood with a few friends around him, glancing across. With expensive eyelashes, Loretta beckoned him over and she immediately began to survey the room again. She spotted Roger carefully threading his way through the guests with a couple of glasses. She called out to him, not realizing he already had their destination in mind. Sam wondered about Loretta’s intentions and she was not moving until she found out exactly what they were.

  Jack took a spot in the circle next to Lindquist, away from his eyes. When Roger arrived Loretta seemed to poise herself to make an announcement. Following a few greetings, she did just that.

  "Last week I spent several days in Vancouver. I took it upon myself to meet with the county authorities concerning your sub-division application." She knew she had all the principal members of the investment club there. "Apparently a sub-division won’t be granted. Likely not for the next five years, minimum." She said that as if she were expecting someone to thank her profusely for having gone through such trouble. No one did. Lindquist's expression did not change. To him it seemed like just more idle cocktail chatter. Jack's dark eyes stared vacuously into his glass, his thick beard concealed jaw muscles slightly flexed. Sam could more easily read the restraint Roger was exercising. She knew he was on the verge of lashing out at Loretta. He had suspected something like this. He wouldn't do it here, not in front of Lindquist and Jack. She also knew that was exactly why Loretta had chosen this time and place. She had made her little announcement under the protection of social graces. She had clearly sold the property to the investment club on the premise that sub-division was inevitable and immanent. For Sam and Roger it meant their funds were tied up now for years. As Sam looked across to Roger when he handed her a glass she saw look bearing the abandonment of Mosses. There really wasn't much to be done, especially when the other club members were able to take the setback in stride. ‘Grin, bare it and act noble’, Sam thought.