Harold and the Angel of Death Read online

  Harold looked at the marble entryway through the opened mahogany doors and gawked in disbelief. A marble staircase with a wrought iron banister rose to the right. White marble walls encased the formal foyer. It was beautiful but cold and hard. A small mosaic was inlaid in the middle of the floor entrance. Harold wondered if they had entered a home or a mosque in the Middle East.

  “What do you think?” asked Garcia.

  Harold and Joshua were silent, but Maria responded, “It’s so beautiful, but it is hard and cold. I see why John tried to kill me. He had no warmth in his heart.”

  “Well, according to the eggheads at the company, John spent well over a cool million just on the materials for this house,” Garcia said. “I hope you like marble, because it’s all over the place.”

  The crew continued through the house. They entered an outdoor living room with brown wicker furniture. The far wall opened to a beautiful ornate marble fountain sitting in the middle of the patio. On the other side of the room were the swimming pool lined in marble and a concrete deck.

  Garcia turned to the group. “There’s a lot of indoor and outdoor rooms in this place.”

  Harold had grown bored. Darla could show him the rest of the estate when the two of them felt like exploring. “Can we do the rest of the tour later? I’d just like to unwind.”

  Garcia stopped and answered, “I’m sorry. I am going on like a real estate agent. Of course. Let me just show you a couple more things first.”

  The crew walked to the pool area. Fountains flowed from the edge of the pool into its cool water. A small bar sat off in the corner of the pool deck. Glass walled archways faced a narrow strip of well-trimmed grass and a row of deciduous trees. Beyond them grew native vegetation.

  “Everyone, I want us to meet here in a couple of hours. We’ll start our first brief on Chuck McGill.”

  “Where’s my room in this mausoleum?” quipped Harold.

  Garcia paused and his sunglasses turned his direction. “You mean, you don’t like it? I assumed you could appreciate the craftsmanship that went into John’s old place. I mean, the man was a menace, but he did have good taste.”

  Harold took a glance back in towards the living room inside the house. “I guess I’m just homesick. I mean, yea, I grew up with money, but we had a home. This place is hard, cold. It doesn’t feel like a home.”

  “Give it time.” Darla gently laid her hand on his arm. “Take it from someone who has moved a lot; no place feels like home until you get settled into your routine. Garcia, let me show him to his room. Why don’t you take Maria and Joshua to their house?”

  “Agreed. Doctor, Maria, please follow me.”

  The three of them headed back out the way they had come in. A smile crossed Harold’s face as he noticed Joshua reaching over to take Maria’s hand. He hoped one day he and Darla could be a loving married couple.

  Darla spoke with an edge of sarcasm in her voice, “I thought I’d never get you alone. Now you can tell me what you really think about your government housing.”

  “Yea, don’t give me any grief,” responded Harold. “I’ve just always lived in Malibu. I never considered leaving my family’s estate. I miss the hills and my view of the ocean.”

  “Darling, you’re sitting in the Gulf of Mexico. You’re not seeing the scenery because you’re in it. Let me take you up to your bedroom.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Darla slapped his shoulder. “Careful! You’ll get us both in trouble.”

  “Oh, is there a rule about that?”

  “You know what I mean. We agreed to wait.”

  He gave her a sideways grin. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t joke about it.”

  Darla gave him a light pop on his chest and walked towards the other side of the patio. They passed the fountain and walked up another set of marble steps that led up to a sundeck. Harold looked around.

  “Finally, some sort of view,” he muttered.

  Darla stopped walking. “Oh, I see. You like seeing above everything.”

  He waved his hand apologetically between them. “No, I’m not like that.”

  “Relax, honey. If I thought you were that kind of man, you would have never gotten beyond a handshake after I first met you. I guess it’s just this place. I’ve learned a lot about John since I came to this island. He really was a megalomaniac. Coming back here to clean up his mess, literally and figuratively, has been a real strain on me. You should feel honored. This is the first time I felt like joking with anyone since I got here.”

  “You can joke with me anytime.”

  Darla reached up and kissed him on the cheek. They walked along a covered walkway and passed by a beautiful mahogany porch swing and several other deck chairs before entering the master suite. Harold gasped. He was blown away by the beauty of the room. The walls were painted in sea mist, and the new white carpet and ceilings gave the room a happy, welcoming atmosphere. This feels like a home.

  “I hoped you’d like it,” said Darla. “I redesigned this room myself.”

  “I love it,” he said.

  “I couldn’t do much with the bathroom. John was into all sorts of marble designs, and we couldn’t justify tearing it out.”

  “It’s okay.”

  The master bathroom they walked into was a beautiful combination of white and brown marble. A large garden tub framed by two large Roman columns sat next to the far wall. An antique brass chandelier hung from the ceiling. A corner shower sat next to the door.

  “Now what?” asked Darla.

  “Honestly, I’d be happy if we could just sit on the porch swing and talk.”

  “I’d like that, but I can’t. I need to get things ready for our briefing. I promise we’ll have time to catch up later. Why don’t you grab some sun, and I’ll see you down by the bar?”

  Harold crossed his arms. “Business before pleasure, eh?”

  She reached up and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “I’m afraid it has to be that way if you want me around.”

  He sighed and dropped his head. “Okay, honey. Go to work. I’ll try and be a good boy.”

  Darla turned on her heel and then looked over her shoulder. “You’d better be.”

  Harold did not try to hide his stare as she walked out of the room. He had forgotten how happy she could make him. Maybe he would have to wait to spend some real time with her, but so what? He was just glad they were in the same house. He raised his arms over his head and let out a loud groan as he stretched his sore muscles. That flight over in the small plane had made him stiffer than he realized. As he walked back through the bedroom, he decided he could get used to some of this.

  Harold sat on the swing in the shade and slowly pushed the bench back and forth. The wood groaned at its newfound burden but held fast. He caught a glimpse of Darla from over the balcony, walking back towards the house with a folder in her hand. There was a lot to get used to, but having Darla around was going to make life around the mausoleum feel more like home.

  Chapter 11

  Joshua’s voice seemed to penetrate Harold’s mind, “Harry, Harry, wake up.”

  Harold could feel Joshua’s hand pressed up against his shoulder as he attempted to rock him awake. His body began to sway back and forth. Harold opened his eyes to see what was causing the motion. As the world came into view, reality rushed in on him.

  He had laid down for a moment on the wooden swing. In front of his face sat the arched, covered walkway of the new home. The unfamiliar smell of the Caribbean flooded his nostrils. The occasional call of an ibis or seagull could be heard as the fog began to clear from Harold’s mind.

  “Harry, it’s time to wake up.”

  “Okay, Doc. I guess I just needed a quick break.”

  Harold sat up. The chains and wood groaned at his sudden movements. Harold rubbed his face, gave his head a quick shake, and blinked his eyes. Part of him hoped it was one of his ridiculous dreams with John and he would wake up back at home in Malibu, but he knew
better. The world felt too real. He could smell the coconut suntan oil Joshua had put on. Harold was back in the land of the living, whether he wanted to be there or not.

  “Harry, come on, everyone is waiting for you downstairs.”

  The meeting. Have I really been asleep for two hours?

  “Sorry, Doc. I didn’t realize the time.”

  Harold rose up and took deep, cleansing breaths on the way down to the pool bar. By the time they reached the group, his head had cleared out any remaining cobwebs. The rest of the team was already sitting in the wickered dining furniture between the pool and fountain. Most appeared to have fruit juice, which Harold assumed was the familiar rum runner that Joshua and Maria espoused so often. Harold was in no mood for alcohol, yet.

  A man Harold had not met stood behind the bar. Harold approached it, hoping for something with a bit of caffeine rather than a cocktail.

  “What’s your name?” asked Harold.

  “Frank,” answered the bartender.

  “Wow, that’s the same name as our pilot.”

  “What will you have?”

  “I don’t suppose you can make a frap?”

  “Yes, with or without alcohol?”

  “The alcohol version sounds intriguing, but let’s go without it. I’m still waking up.”

  Frank nodded and began working his magic.

  “Frank will bring it over,” Joshua said. “We need to join the meeting.”

  Harold and Joshua walked over to the table. Joshua sat down next to Maria. A seat at the head of the table had obviously been left open for Harold. His rear barely touched the cushion before Garcia began to speak.

  “I hope you had a nice nap. Jet lag will come and go for the next few days. I’m giving everyone a week to settle in before the real work begins. That said, Darla and I need to fill you in on Chuck McGill now.”

  Darla jumped in, “Chuck is one of the most dangerous men I’ve ever met.”

  “You’ve already met him?” asked Harold.

  Darla tossed an eight by ten photo onto the coffee table between the drinks. “He looks unassuming. He’s five feet eight inches tall and weighs around two hundred pounds and can normally be found holding a cigar.”

  “He looks like a middle-aged tourist,” said Joshua.

  The photo showed a man in his forties with a white cotton button-down shirt like the ones worn by so many beachcombers in the Caribbean. He had on the usual tan khaki shorts. The photo ended at his knees, so Harold could only guess what shoes he wore, but he assumed they were probably the usual docksider styles seen around the marinas.

  “Does he smoke cigars all the time?” asked Maria.

  “Yes,” answered Garcia. “He smokes his cigars like I wear my sunglasses. Sometimes he doesn’t notice they’ve gone out or forgets to light them completely. We think it’s his one vice. Chuck is meticulous in his business dealings, and his lifestyle, except for his cigars.”

  “I think they stink,” answered Maria. “He should have a cleaner vice.”

  Joshua glanced over at Harold and tried to stifle a small smile that had crept across his face. Harold guessed that Joshua had not exposed Maria to his occasional cigar use.

  “As I was saying,” Darla said, “he is extremely dangerous. In addition to revamping Salvation Key, Garcia and myself have been working on a ruse to pull Chuck in close to us. It is rather complicated and involves most everyone seated here.”

  Maria tilted her head in and looked towards Garcia. “Most? Does that mean I’m not needed?”

  Garcia leaned closer and looked back and forth at Maria and Joshua before he spoke. “Maria, not everyone who is needed works on the front lines. Take Frank for instance. His job may seem unimportant, but his support on the island is invaluable to the success of this mission because it frees us up to focus on our tasks. Your job is to support us as well. Believe me, I would not have gone through the trouble and expense of bringing you here if I didn’t consider you important.”

  Frank walked over, and Maria stopped talking.

  Harold took the cold coffee-infused drink and sucked in a long swallow from the straw. It was perfect. “That’s excellent, thank you.”

  Frank gave a slight bow and a smile then walked back to the bar.

  Harold turned to Garcia and asked, “What’s with the two Franks?”

  Garcia tapped his finger on the table for a moment and then answered. “Everyone who works here is Frank. Unless she’s a woman, then it’s Alice.”

  Harold’s brow creased in confusion. “What? We can’t know their real names, but they can know ours?”

  Garcia reached over and picked up his drink. “Don’t let their roles fool you. They are some of our best undercover and self-defense agents. They keep their aliases, so we never accidently slip up and give their real names to somebody.”

  Maria interjected, “Are we really in that much danger?”

  Garcia stood and got everyone’s attention. He bent over and pointed again at Chuck’s photo. “I can’t overemphasize how dangerous this man is. This island is not on any map, but if it were ever discovered by Chuck, it would take more than Darla and me to defeat his men. As for their names, that’s for everyone’s security. You aren’t trained agents nor are you prisoners on the island. If you go to the Keys, or somewhere else, and Frank is with you, there is no chance you will accidently slip and use his real name. These agents maintain deep cover identities, and it’s important we keep them anonymous even here on the island.”

  Garcia maintained eye contact with everyone as he sat down.

  Harold asked, “What if two Franks are in the room with us?”

  Garcia exhaled loudly and took a sip of his cocktail. “There won’t be.”

  Harold leaned back and crossed his arms and legs, and Darla said, “There are protocols to who is where on the island. It’s all need to know, and trust me, you don’t want to know. It took Garcia and I a long time to come up with a security protocol that won’t negatively impact our living conditions.”

  “It impacted mine,” Maria quipped.

  Harold looked over at Maria and noticed her lower lip slightly pouting outward. “What did they do?” asked Harold.

  “They won’t let me work! I came outside to sweep our front porch, and Frank, or whatever his name was, came over and took my broom. He said that he was more than happy to take care of any cleaning for me. When I started to argue with him, he said I should get Joshua and come up here for the meeting,” exclaimed Maria. “They want me to sit around like some kept woman.” She then began to speak in rapid Spanish. Harold knew Maria never slipped into her native tongue unless she was extremely upset.

  Joshua reached over and took her waving hand into his. With his other hand, he gently rubbed and patted Maria’s hand and told her it would be okay. Maria snatched her hand back and folded her arms. Several seconds of awkward silence followed.

  Darla finally said, “Maria, what if I have you help me?

  “Doing what?” responded Joshua.

  Before he could complete a breath, Maria’s folded arm shot out from her body and struck Joshua across his chest in a fast but restrained blow. Shock appeared on Joshua’s face. He began to rub his chest and looked over at Harold, who quickly grabbed his drink and started sucking on his straw to restrain his laughter.

  Darla and Maria looked at each other from across the table like two sisters with a secret shared between them. A smile crept across both their faces, and then Darla continued speaking, “You know Harold and Joshua better than anyone here.”

  “Hmph,” responded Maria.

  “I need somebody to make this island our home. The staff here is terrific, the best we’ve got, but they don’t know what’s needed to make our living conditions more like home. That’s part of the reason everything feels more like a five-star resort than a residence.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Garcia. “You helped me put this together.”

  Darla turned her attention to Garcia. “A
nd we did the best we could with the information we had. But Maria has grown up with Harold. She knows what he likes and dislikes, and she’s known Joshua for over a decade.”

  Garcia protested, “But the expense. We hired a decorator to come through and change things just to make everyone feel at home.”

  “Boys, they just don’t understand,” Maria said.

  Darla looked back at Maria. “You see what I had to work with? Will you help me make this a home?”

  Maria nodded excitedly. “Yes. There are so many things I can do once our stuff arrives. May I remove some of the objects your decorator has put in?”

  “Of course,” answered Darla.

  “Please,” protested Garcia.

  Darla looked over at Garcia. “You’re CIA. This needs a mother’s touch, and Maria is the closest thing Harold and Joshua have to a mother.”

  “It sounds good to me,” said Harold.

  “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the mother analogy,” Joshua said, “but I know Maria will do a great job.”

  Maria pursed her lips, reached over, and kissed Joshua’s cheek. “Did I hurt you?”

  Joshua gave a weak smile. “No, of course not.”

  The room grew silent, and everyone took the time to finish their drinks. Frank came over and got the empty glasses.

  After he left again, Darla said, “Let’s get back to Chuck, shall we?”

  “Please continue,” said Harold.

  Garcia pointed back at Chuck’s photo on the table. “As I was saying, we have created a ruse. This all started right before the memorial service.”

  “Chuck was in Malibu?” asked Harold.

  Darla shook her head. “Not Chuck, but one of his men. His name is Nigel. He’s a Brit who likes to sell arms to al-Shabab in northern Africa, along with some ISIS factions. He claimed at the time he was representing European mercenaries that needed more modern arms. When I spoke with him, he said he knew about you and me. He also told me he knew your company was struggling and thought he might be able to help out.”