Gemini Lost

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

After Ramirez informed me that the Congressman lived in Paradise Valley, I assumed that we were going to his home. Instead, we whipped through a business park. At this hour, the lot was nearly empty but Ramirez nestled into a parking spot that was a significant distance from the entrance of one of the buildings. When I noticed it was the only area not blanketed with light, I wondered if he’d selected it because it provided him with the cover of night.

He turned off the engine. “He’s in suite C-232, on the second—”

I put up a hand. “I’m sure I can find it. You’re not coming?”

Ramirez shrugged. “Wasn’t invited.”

I squinted at him but he continued staring out the windshield.

“Just go. The Congressman’s waiting. I’ll be here to take you home once you’ve finished your chat.”

I opened my mouth. Then shut it.

There was really nothing more to say.

In some ways, I was thankful.

In others—maybe with a different…audience—I could have used a pat on the back or an “atta, girl” as the butterflies danced in my stomach.

What was I walking into?

I made short work of the stairs and easily found the suite Ramirez had indicated. The lights were on and the main door was unlocked so I took it as an invitation to enter. I glanced around and while professional, the inside of the office was by no means lavish. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a business office.

“Hello?” I called out, not wanting to spook anyone not expecting my arrival.

Congressman Bob Fenton rounded the reception desk, looking very much the youthful, cherubic way he had when I had last seen him at my friend Charlie’s party with his lovely wife, Serena.

Gah! Once again, I was forced to remember the image of Ramirez’s ex.

I managed to rein in the green monster, focusing on the Congressman. Instead of party clothes, however, this time the Congressman wore a simple navy polo and jeans. I had to smile when I took in his Chuck Taylor All-Star high-tops.

“I admire your choice of footwear, Congressman.”

“Please call me Bob. It’s so nice to see you again, Arianna.” The Congressman smiled and extended a hand.

I took it and nodded. “Call me AJ.”

“Appreciate you coming, AJ. I hope your drive back wasn’t rushed?” When I tilted my head, he added, “Jonah told me you were in Los Angeles with Leah visiting friends. How is she, by the way? Doing freelance work, I hear?”

I nodded again, commenting that she was fine and that our trip was as well. Once the niceties were out of the way, Bob escorted me into a small office at the back of the space.

Noting the confusion on my face, he offered a brief explanation. “I have a formal office downtown, but these are the offices that house my former ‘day job’ so to speak.”

“I’m sorry, but what did your former job entail?” I was a bit embarrassed I had to ask.

Leah’s eyes would have rolled right out of her head.

He waved a hand, not the least bit offended. “Oh, estate planning, things of that nature. My business partner has taken over the bulk of the responsibility since I took office but I still have a seat at the table and a small space to call home, when I need some time…away.”

I nodded but wasn’t sure exactly what that meant—whether from home or the office of a public servant. After a few awkward moments of silence, he finally brought the horses back into the corral.

“Jonah told you I was approached.” His voice was so quiet I barely made out the words.

I noted it was not a question.

“He called it an ambush,” I replied, and though the Congressman nodded, his face turned the shade of a man who’d been sluffed a Scotch bonnet pepper.

“I was leaving my downtown office. It was late and I had waved the security guard off as he offered to walk me to my car. I was parked in a secure structure, just a couple of hundred feet away. What could go wrong, right?”

I shrugged. My luck had been less than fifty-fifty lately, so I probably wasn’t the best person to ask.

“Anyway, everything was fine. I got into my car. Called Serena to tell her I was on my way. She reminded me to stop and grab a bottle of wine for dinner. She always stays up and eats dinner late with me just so we can have some time together. There’s been so little of it lately.”

It was benign commentary—filler, really—so I remained silent as he looked at his hands, blowing out a breath before he continued, “I had just pulled onto the freeway, and there he was, whispering in my ear. We were damn lucky I didn’t hit the accelerator and crash into the car in the next lane.”

“Did you recognize him?” I asked.

The Congressman shook his head. “He was sitting directly behind my headrest, so even when I tried to get a glimpse of him in the rearview, all I could see was the bill of his baseball cap.”

“Smart,” I murmured, to which he nodded. “What did he say? Or, more importantly, what did he want?”

“You know. It was so weird. At first, he was congenial. His voice was calm and he talked about the weather, almost like we were conversing in line at the grocery store.”

“Did he direct you to drive anywhere?” I asked.

“No, and that’s one of the funny things. My mind had gone on autopilot and I did the same thing I usually did, I headed in the direction of my home. The wine store was on the way.”

It was an odd thing to mention but I prompted for him to continue.

“It wasn’t until we were nearing my usual exit that his voice became more harried and his words started coming out so quick that I had a hard time making sense of what he was saying. Up until that point, I didn’t feel as though he was going to harm me.”

“But then?” I prodded.

“I wasn’t so sure. He was almost frantic. I couldn’t tell what he wanted…money, information, favors.” Fenton shrugged.

“Maybe he wasn’t there to get something from you but to impart some information?” I suggested, causing him to start.

“How did you know?”

I shrugged. “What did he tell you?”

“He didn’t really ‘tell’ me anything.” I cast him a doubtful look. He had called me here for a reason, after all. He caught it and huffed. “Look, it wasn’t like some fortune cookie message, tied up into a nice succinct wrapper. It was more of a rant. And the less I understood, the more frustrated he got. It was like he thought I knew something I didn’t and so when he was trying to expound…whatever…it was falling on deaf ears.”

“He was agitated because you didn’t know what he was talking about?” I confirmed.

I wasn’t sure what it would yield me, though I was admittedly intrigued.

Fenton nodded. “Yeah. At least I think so. He kept talking about the rising of some consortium and how they would bring about the end of days. It sounded like a bunch of crazy, conspiracy theory rantings if you ask me.”

My heart did a little skip. It did sound a bit like Martin when he was on a roll, but he wasn’t one to get in a fervor or work himself up in a lather, unless…

“Did he make any references…to a person or a place? Or a name?”

Fenton sat for a moment, squinting as he tried to recall the conversation. Finally, he shook his head. “Not a name…a sign. An astrological sign.”

I sucked in a breath. “Which one?” I managed to whisper.

“Gemini.”

If the color had drained out of my face, he made no mention, continuing to ride that train of thought. “When he said it, I thought that perhaps he was one of those intuitive types, who had gotten caught up in the political scene and wanted to help me get my moons aligned or something like that.” He paused to chuckle.

I didn’t think so. Intuitive or not, most would not go to the extremes of ambushing a public official in his or her car, simply to read their zodiac sign. Still, I said nothing and let him continue.

“When I exited the freeway at the same point I usually did, he jumped out of the car at the first stop sign and disappeared into the shadows.”

“You’re kidding.” It wasn’t really a question but he shook his head. “Did anyone else see him? Anyone at the stoplight?”

“No. It was late. Traffic was light. I pulled into the parking lot of the wine store and called Serena. She immediately called Jonah, who agreed to meet me there. When he arrived, he checked out the car and found this.”

He pulled a business card from his desk—now sheathed in a plastic sleeve—and started to hand it to me but I shook my head.

I could see Nicoh’s smiling mug on the front from the way he’d held it. I’d seen the card enough to know whose it was.

Mine.