The Paranoid Thief Page 6

  Randolph watched the two men walk away without a backward glance before he took note of a sister door right across from his. Somewhat perplexed, Randolph flipped the card about in his hand before he swiped it over the reader to his door. With a glance down the now empty corridor, Randolph pushed open the fake oak door to reveal a thinly furnished apartment, complete with kitchen, living area, bedroom and bath. Though still uneasy with matters, Randolph stepped in and looked over the brown rug, light wood-tone wall panels, and Navajo white walls which showed signs of two wall hangings recently removed. He walked to the back wall-window to pull open the floor-to-ceiling drapes. As expected, the lightly shaded plastic-steel widow looked out onto another corporate building. So much for figuring out where I am, Randolph commented to himself, heading next for the bathroom.

  Once his physical needs were met and a modest time spent under the shower, Randolph left the basic bathroom and shower combination and ignored the queen-size bed outfitted with brown quilt and matching pillows to check out the kitchen and its cupboards. Here Randolph found a moderately stocked kitchen, as well as a refrigerator of fresh meats and vegetables. He then ran the selection over in his mind. Setting a few things out on the glass top dining table along with the standard spices, Randolph took note nothing was out of date and all were unopened, confirming in his mind someone expected this room to be occupied fairly soon.

  He looked over the stove and rubbed his freshly shaven face, feeling worlds better after the hot and cleansing shower. Now that he had time to think, Randolph rolled his eyes to the obvious questions running across his mind and decided to distract his understandable confusion by making himself a meal with a bit more taste then he’d been getting these last few weeks.

  Randolph sighed in some pleasure as he laid down the last plate of a well-rounded meal, which consisted of a chicken casserole, potato salad, fresh green beans and a real orange, sliced in eighths. He was just settling down to say grace when a pleasant voice spoke out.

  “Mr. McCann, Mr. Bennett and Major Wander are here to see you.”

  Randolph’s face took on the disgust he felt before he sighed in regret and pushed up from his meal to approach the door. Once the door opened to those outside, Jill was first in, now wearing comfortable jeans, a yellow/pink long-sleeve ruffle-collar blouse and light red vest. As Mr. Bennett walked in, Randolph saw Jill sniffing the air with a sub-vocal “mmm” while walking unerringly over to his untouched meal.

  “What’cha been cooking?” Jill asked as she looked over the bowls.

  “Nothing special, just a simple meal,” Randolph commented, taking note no bodyguards were with Mr. Bennett this time. But then again, why should they be? Randolph rubbed his neck as a reminder of what could very well be planted in his brain. Mr. Bennett obviously took note of the gesture as he passed but made no outward remark or smirk of superiority.

  “Simple?” Jill inquired, glancing his way. “This looks like you’ve put some time in it.”

  By the time Randolph closed the door, Mr. Bennett had made himself comfortable on the couch-chair and said mildly, before Randolph could answer, “It looks as if you’ve made yourself at home, Mr. McCann. Good; I like a reasonable man.”

  Jill picked up a fork and tried the casserole, smacking her lips with delight. “Hey, Mel, you’ve got to try this! Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, looking back up at Randolph. “May I?”

  “As you already are, go ahead,” Randolph answered, discounting the meal, as it would be cold by the time their meeting was over. He waved at the plate with a sigh.

  Jill took a seat in the only other chair in the room with a delighted smile on her face and began dishing out a good portion for herself. While she did so, Mr. Bennett crossed his legs and motioned Randolph he should sit down on the other end of the couch-chair. “The long and short of it, Mr. McCann, is that I run a task force dedicated to the betterment of our way of living. The projects we perform are solely financed by this corporation, with no outside funding or contributions, to make certain of no outside influences.” Mr. Bennett gestured at Jill and continued. “Major Wander and seven other teams, specially matched up, are my field operatives who help insure no corporations or foreign governments step on our rights of fair trade. This sometimes puts our teams in very dangerous situations; thusly my predecessor chose to enlist the aid of condemned criminals so no attachments could be traced back to us.”

  Randolph caught the meaning of his speech and remarked, “So in other words, I’ve been invited to the party and the implant is in place to adjust my attitude.”

  “Very perceptive, Mr. McCann. But let us simply call it a safety measure to protect us all.”

  “So that whole bit down stairs was my interview into your group?” Randolph received a smile from the executive. “So what would’ve happened if I’d failed? Would you have killed me?” The question was rather self-evident, but he had to ask.

  “No, Mr. McCann, you’d have killed yourself. There were three traps you could have activated, or let the major trip, which would’ve set off the chip in your head.”

  Randolph glanced at Jill.

  Mr. Bennett denied, “No, Mr. McCann, the major knew nothing about them, save you could be killed if you screwed up.”

  “Sorry, Randolph,” Jill said over a mouthful of potato salad, “but I’ve my own chip and therefore couldn’t warn you.”

  “I take it all the agents are equipped in the same way?” Randolph once more couldn’t help but ask the obvious.

  “Naturally. How else can we make sure of your loyalty? Besides, all save you are confessed killers. That, I’m afraid, was my slip up, but Jill assures me she can deal with the mistake.” Mr. Bennett stood, as if that should explain everything Randolph wanted to know, but then he added as an afterthought, “Regardless of the mistake, I’m dying to find out how you got those wonderful tools past the prison system and my own people. They look home made.”

  “They are,” Randolph remarked with some pride, though he’d be dammed before he showed these people his hiding place.

  “Well, business calls, so I’ll leave the pair of you to get acquainted. Let me know how things work out, Major. Till later, Mr. McCann.” With that said, Randolph’s new warden took his leave.

  As for Jill, she turned in the swivel chair, calling after Mr. Bennett, “Sure, Mel.” Then, downing a glass of wine she’d found already poured out in a crystal wine glass, she began, “So then, by what name do you prefer I call you, Randolph? Your file showed ten to twelve aliases.”

  Randolph shrugged. “Take your pick. I’ve worked under so many names, I’ve tried to keep from becoming attached to any.”

  “You’re also not much for partners either, just a lonesome dove in a world of ducks.”

  “That’s an analogy of my character I’ve never heard, but yes, I found out early in my career partnering up is the fastest way to get caught.”

  Jill stood. “Mmm, well, you’ll have to change that attitude, for you’re my new partner.” Randolph watched as Jill sat on the couch-chair and crossed her legs while she stretched out her arm on the headrest. Just as relaxed as you please. Then as Randolph digested her bit of news, Jill changed the subject by asking, “Do you cook other meals as good as this one?”

  “Mmm? Oh sure, my mother’s a chef for a trendy high-class restaurant.”

  “That good, uh? Wonderful, because I can’t cook.” Jill uncrossed her legs and slapped both knees in getting up. “Well, I’ve a few things to catch up on. So why don’t you have dinner ready around, what, seven?” Jill looked at the time on her watch. “And we’ll discuss our partnership after the meal.” Randolph eyed her and her easy way of handing out orders but decided to restrain himself from making any comments, at least not yet. He was about to say he’d need to visit the local store when she reached across the table and turned on the video screen he hadn’t looked over yet and punched up a cooking supply book.

  Jill pointed. “Just tell the screen what you need, and if it’s a
vailable, it’ll be here in an hour, at least so I’m told,” she admitted, indicating she’d never used the time-saving tool in the manner it was made for. Though Randolph was still swarming with questions, Jill headed for the door but called over her shoulder in warning. “Oh, and Mel wasn’t kidding about the chip. If you go outside your key card color, your head will feel like exploding or something far worse.”

  “Well, this has been a real fun day!” Randolph commented to no one save himself, as Jill had already closed the door behind her. With a roll of his eyes, Randolph sent a glare skyward, knowing he had to reorganize his mind. Like, for starters, am I really better off alive? Normally I’d have said yes. But with a touch to his neck, feeling the surgery scar he wasn’t so sure. I’ve dealt with electronics most of my life, he reasoned, I’ll just have to deal with this as I do all my other obstacles. For if it had circuitry, given time and equipment he could manipulate it, at least he hoped. Next in the plus column, Randolph understood this nice clean apartment was his to live in, including access to basic computing for ordering anything he wished to cook. In the minus column, I’m still a prisoner, and so far no one’s mentioned maid-service, he added after looking on the dirty dishes. However, weighing the plus and minuses on a scale makes no true sense till I fully understand my roll. As for what I’m going to do with Jill...Randolph considered, rubbing his chin before dishing out what was left of his meal and inserting it in a warming unit. That brings up another matter entirely. Looking at her tells me she visits the gym once a day, which means she wouldn’t be a pushover come the time I’m ready to disappear. And as for being my partner, I learned early on women are too damn fickle. One minute you’re working with one, and the next, you’re in bed with her moments before her husband walks in. Randolph rubbed his arm, remembering that experience, before he withdrew his meal and went over the food selection while eating. Since working for Mr. Hilden, I really haven’t had a well-prepared meal in a long while.

  Randolph put the steaks on “keep warm,” then tasted the meat sauce, deciding it needed a little more red pepper, when the nice voice told him Jill was at the door. With an unconscious wipe of his hands on the apron he ordered with the ingredients of the meal, Randolph made certain all was ready by a mental check list in his head before he removed the apron and crossed to open the door.

  The first thing Randolph noticed, as Jill walked in with a light smile and a twitching nose to the aroma of his cooking, was she’d changed clothes yet again. Now she wore an old-fashion long, pleated yellow skirt, an off-white short-sleeved blouse complete with ruffles, a delicate silver necklace and a set of ear rings bearing the universal female symbol of her sex. In her hands, which she held together in front, was a matching yellow purse, accented in silver. The whole outfit, right down to her two-inch yellow pumps, showed off to best advantage—that her athletic figure would allow—her small breasts and thin waist. Taking up the skirt in one hand, she moved it side to side, commenting. “I love these simple, free flowing outfits—they allow one total movement.” Jill stopped a few steps within so Randolph could close the door without thought before she turned to him and asked, “So what do you think? I’m a bit self-conscious about my short hair in this type of outfit, but since it’ll be only you and I for the evening, I thought it would be okay.”

  Randolph looked at her, speechless; it was as if he were meeting Jill’s twin sister! Hell, even her voice seems timid and vulnerable, a total reversal to her act in the cells! “Uh, you look fine, Jill,” he decided to answer, keeping his voice even.

  “Thank you, kind sir,” she replied with an old fashioned curtsy. “Would you mind inviting me in?”

  “Uh, sure, but you’re already in,” Randolph said, wondering what the hell was going on.

  Jill seemed to ignore that fact. “I know the pocket book is over-accessorizing, but I haven’t had the chance to try it out with this outfit.” Then she gave into her interest of the meal he’d prepared and smiled. “Mmm, that smells delicious. Do you mind escorting me to my seat?”

  For Randolph, the ensuing evening carried on in the same manner, just as if they were in a fancy restaurant, making him feel severely under-dressed in the gray sweat clothes he’d found in the bathroom earlier.

  Around 9 p.m., Randolph took away the dishes as their conversation of normality seemed to wind down and their meal was digesting very nicely. Once at the washbasin, Randolph heard Jill get up and sit on the couch-chair where he’d eaten his dinner. As he set the dishwasher, Jill composed herself like earlier in the day when Mr. Bennett was here. She began a new conversation with an air of disbelief in her hard-edged voice. “Well, I’ll say one thing. You have manners and can function reasonably well in polite society. I take it you learned this from your mother?”

  “Up until I was eleven,” Randolph answered, leaning back on the counter, trying to figure her out.

  “So what changed to make you take up your current occupation, if I may ask?”

  “The restaurant owner,” Randolph answered bitterly, remembering the guy and still finding the memory a raw wound.

  “Somewhat of a sore spot, I gather. What happened?” she asked with some interest.

  Randolph put away some of the supplies he’d left for the meal and considered shrugging her question off, then he sighed and figured, why not tell her. “The owner made my mother give him sexual favors to further her skills. But when he discovered she’d become pregnant with his child, whether intentional or not, he dismissed her like yesterday’s garbage and put her on the Blackball list for disreputable chefs. A death sentence for any aspiring chefs, as no respectable outfit would touch anyone on it with a ten foot pole. And as she never reported him to the ethics board in favor of learning her craft to better our future, all he need do was pay her a small amount of child support and she couldn’t touch him. So needing to help support our growing family, I started stealing.” At this point in his story, Randolph decided he needed a drink to wash out a bad taste in his mouth. So he pulled out of the refrigerator a bottle of vintage wine he’d ordered for the meal but had forgotten when Jill walked in, and poured her a glass as well. “About four years ago, after finding my skills were far better at this job then helping in the kitchen, I broke into his home, and using his own computer, made up transfer of ownership documents to his son by my mother and sent it though the court system with his signature.” Randolph set the bottle down and handed Jill her glass before he sat and remarked, with a slight curve of his lip, “I dearly wished I could’ve been there when my half-brother, sixteen at the time, walked in with my mother and claimed ownership of the place and the three other spin-offs he’d sold franchises to.”

  “But why didn’t you make your mother owner of the place? She has the experience,” Jill asked with honest curiosity.

  “True, but other than birthing my half-brother, my mother isn’t related to the bastard which would’ve stood out like a red beacon when he took the matter through the court system. But since the documents were in my brother’s name, and any blood test would confirm Mick to be his son, the man hadn’t a leg to stand on.”

  “So did you tell your mother what you did?” Jill asked.

  “No, but I think she suspects it. Regardless,” Randolph said as an afterthought, “I couldn’t tell her. If he managed to get her in court, the knowledge I’d done the deed would’ve come out, giving him grounds to revoke the ownership.” Randolph took another sip of the wine, liking the way the bouquet smelled and the delicate taste added to its overall character. “You now know a little of my story,” Randolph said in a decision to learn more, “so how is it you found yourself on death row, if I’m not mistaking Mr. Bennett’s favored recruitment method?”

  Jill eyed Randolph like she was put-off by his question, but in standing, she swirled the wine in her glass, heading over to the curtained window to look out for a moment before answering in a low and meaningful voice. “I was in charge of 129 raw recruits, given the task to toughen them up for combat duty
inside 3 months, when my commanding officer gave me orders midway in their training to take them out for a reconnaissance mission. Having just come back from a forced two-day march through a quite zone, I argued the mission on two facts. One, they were not combat ready and two, I wore them out deliberately to weed out the ones who couldn’t cut the mustard.” Jill downed the wine in one swallow, as if trying to wash away a bad taste in her mouth similar to his own before she went on. “Refusing his orders as was my right being they’d not finished training and I didn’t consider them ready for combat. He stepped out of regs and had me arrested for disobeying a direct order from a superior officer. Later that day, he assigned a desk jockey my unit, who foolishly volunteered, as he needed the combat time for a political career.” Jill let go of the curtains, leaned into the corner of the wall and crossed her arms a bit tightly in remembrance of that incident.

  “By the time I landed at H.Q. to await trial, I’d learned my entire unit had been wiped out, save for five men. After my court marshal and stance of five months in the brig for cowardice in the face of the enemy, a friend of mine in the correspondence center gave me a hard copy of something he had been ordered by top brass to file away without inquiry. Reading the documentation, it showed my unit had been wiped out due to a tragic clerical error. Reading further, the report went on about how a routine search and destroy mission had been given out to the air-boys along the same coordinates as I’d been ordered to scout.” Jill wiped away a stray tear then tried to square up her chin. “Anyway, the scuttle butt around H.Q. as I was packing told of my commander’s wife, having been insulted by one of the raw recruit’s parents at some function, had demanded my CO give her satisfaction. With minimal research on my part, it became quite clear my CO knew of the fly-boys’ orders. This fact was denied by my CO in court, under oath, who then gave testimony on the stand that the very major who took over my unit and lead my troops on the ill fated mission, had misfiled the information. Thus he held no knowledge of the mission.