Sleep escaped Jefferson. It gnawed at him that Angelica had not shared the bit of information about the murder of Donna Barnes Reardon, Hamilton’s cousin. She had to have known because she was right there in New York when it happened. Maybe she wasn’t aware, given that she had been Santiago’s prisoner, but this was a serious matter, and it was hitting mighty close to home.
It pissed him off more that he and Margo had to uproot and leave their home for an undisclosed place because of what he feared was near. He had not been as close to God as he should have, but he was certain that Margo’s direct connection to the Father was what saved their lives. If Jefferson was a praying man, his single prayer was that God would strike Santiago dead and rid the city, state and country of a horrifying and treacherous menace.
Unsure if they were in Fayetteville or a neighboring city, Margo and Jefferson had been placed in an unmarked police vehicle and whisked away to an undisclosed location. The only thing Margo and Jefferson knew for sure was that they were holed up in a hotel suite that offered a temporary shelter away from home.
He held Margo close, satisfied that she had finally drifted off to sleep. Even her snoring was music to Jefferson’s ears because Margo’s fear was greater than his own. Uncomfortable with security protecting their privacy, they were grateful for their protection nonetheless. Jefferson considered sending Margo to Atlanta to stay with her brother or with Ivy and J.R., but when Jefferson approached her with the idea, she pulled rank and insisted that she was going to stay by his side.
Patting Margo, Jefferson eased from underneath the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. With his elbows on his knees, he placed his forehead on the ball of his knuckles and contemplated what he should do. It was still a good idea to remove his family from harm, but he wanted to do something to make this nightmare end.
Noises in the hallway made him look up and turn his head toward the door. Cautiously, he got up and tiptoed toward the door. Reaching the door, he stretched his ear to see if could hear what was going on. Muffled words were traded but none that Jefferson could decipher. Again, he heard footsteps that seemed to be retreating-and then quiet again.
A thin layer of sweat formed on his face. Jefferson moved from the door and went to the bathroom. He relieved himself and took a face cloth and washed his face. Leaving the bathroom, Jefferson breathed a sigh of relief but was startled when he saw Margo sitting up in the bed.
“What is it, Jefferson?”
“Can’t sleep. I still hear the shots in my head from earlier this evening. I see Santiago’s face mocking me-telling me that my time is up.”
“Stop it, Jefferson,” Margo pleaded. “We can’t give into the fear or it’s going to swallow us up.”
“I’m trying, Margo. God knows I’m trying not to worry. We came so close tonight…so damn close. We could have been lying in the morgue alongside Hamilton. I keep asking myself, why? Why now?”
“We don’t know the answer to that but we have to trust that the police will do their job. We have more security protecting us than they do at Fort Knox. Unless Santiago has a well-trained network, I believe the feds and the police are in a good position to apprehend him before he does anymore harm.”
“Why didn’t they stop what happened to us tonight?” Jefferson asked with a tremble in his voice.
“Santiago had to make a move. Unfortunately, we were the targets. You know what happens when a criminal becomes anxious to carry out his mission; he sometimes becomes careless and sloppy. His desire is so strong to get revenge that he will stop at nothing to carry it out. It’s only a matter of time before he’s caught.”
Jefferson looked at Margo. He wasn’t sure where the confidence she exuded came from, but it was what he needed at this moment. Margo exercised such control over her emotions that it surprised him.
“I love you, Margo. Even at three o’clock in the morning, you’re so full of wisdom.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t afraid of the big bad wolf, but I can’t allow fear to control my destiny. Come and sit down next to me.” Margo waved Jefferson over and patted the bed. “Give me your hands; we’re going to pray.”
Jefferson sat next to Margo and put his hands in hers. He looked at her with a smile, said nothing and closed his eyes.
“Dear Lord, Jefferson and I have come to You as humbly as we know how, asking once again for Your help. There’s a crazy, mad man roaming the city who wants to kill my husband and others. I know there’s nothing too hard for You, Lord, and I ask that You would put Your loving arms around us and protect us from all hurt, harm, and danger that threatens to kill and destroy our family. I know that we don’t always deserve Your love and blessings, but I ask that You do this for me…for us.
“My husband is a good man, Lord. He’s paid for his mistakes and he wants to do the right thing. Please forgive us for those things we have done that weren’t right in Your sight and restore us to good standing with You. You are an awesome God, Creator of all things. You would not have put the sun, moon, and stars in the heavens if you didn’t love us the way you do.
“Again, I submit my request humbly to You because You’re the only one I know who can get us out of this jam. These things I ask in Your name, Amen.”
Jefferson opened his eyes and kissed Margo. “That was beautiful. How did I get so lucky to have the best woman in all of the universe?”
Margo turned away and wiped the tears that had converged at the corners of her eyes. God, forgive me for my transgressions, she prayed silently. She opened her eyes and fell into Jefferson’s waiting arms. With all the firepower that surrounded them, standing guard to take out the enemy if it should decide to raise its ugly head against them, Margo and Jefferson made love, after which they settled into a restful sleep.
Jefferson’s body shook. He woke and sat straight up in the bed. Loud noises resounded in his head-rat-a-tat tat, rat-a-tat tat, rat-a-tat tat, rat-a-tat tat. His dreams would not retreat and release him to the real world. Santiago, surrounded by his death squad with automatic weapons, stood only several feet from his defenseless body, spraying him over the city street without an ounce of remorse.
“Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh.” Jefferson struggled to catch his breath, reeling from the dream. He clasped his throat with his hand and then dragged it down to his heart, letting it lay there for a moment until his heartbeat became normal.
Margo’s body shifted. Not feeling Jefferson next to her, she sat up in the bed. Adjusting her eyes to the darkness, she reached out to him. “What’s the matter, baby? What’s, what’s wrong?”
“Go back to sleep, Margo. I’m restless…couldn’t sleep.”
Margo sighed. “I feel guilty because that was the best sleep I’ve had in a while. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Sighing, Jefferson looked back at Margo, contemplating if he should share his dream, and voted against it. “I want this to all go away,” he finally said. “Do you mind if I turn on the TV? I need a distraction.”
“Go ahead, but turn it down low. I can’t stand loud noises early in the morning.”
Finding the remote, Jefferson switched on the television. The morning news with John and Barbara flooded the screen.
“We have a breaking news story out of Fayetteville,” Barbara said. “Denver Grey is live in Fayetteville now.”
“Thank you, Barbara,” Denver said. “We’ve learned that last evening, around nine o’clock, the home of Jefferson and Margo Myles, in the Jordan Estates subdivision here in Fayetteville, was riddled with bullets gangland style by unknown assailants as they drove past the home. An eyewitness to the event was able to obtain the license number and identify the make of the car. The Myleses, in the meantime, were taken to an undisclosed shelter under police protection.
“Many may remember that, five years ago, Jefferson Myles, a well-known businessman in the city, was involved in a covert organization called Operation Stingray and convicted of embezzlement. Mr. Myles was recently released from prison. Operation Stingray-headed by then leader Robert Santiago, who is still at large-was an underground organization that purchased stolen weapons from Ft. Bragg Army Base and then sold them to a rebel group in Honduras.
“The police have made a positive ID of the license plate and have the name of the owner of the vehicle, which they will not release at this time. They do say, however, that Mr. Robert Santiago, who has eluded police dragnets for five years, may be linked. There is some speculation that the murder of former Lieutenant Hamilton Barnes, who was killed at Central Prison earlier this week and was also a member of Operation Stingray, may be the work of Robert Santiago. Mr. Barnes will be laid to rest tomorrow.
“We will continue to update you on this news story as information becomes available. I’m Denver Grey reporting to you live from Fayetteville. Back to you, Barbara.”
Silence gripped the room, save for the newscasters’ continuing coverage of other local news stories. Jefferson sat glued to the television, as if in a trance, without batting a lash. Margo heard the news as well and sat up in the bed, now fully alert. Slowly, she lifted her hand and touched Jefferson’s shoulder.
“Did you hear what they said?” Margo asked.
“Didn’t miss a word. Santiago is written all over this atrocity. And you know what, Margo? I don’t feel any better with all those policemen sitting outside. He’d shoot all of them to get to me.”
“Why didn’t he try to take your life while you were in prison, as you believe he did with Hamilton?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about that. As I try and analyze this thing, I believe it all begins with his wanting to get even with Angelica.” Jefferson jumped from the bed.
“What is it, Jefferson?” Margo asked in alarm.
Jefferson continued to pace the floor with his thumb under his chin and his index finger across his nose. “That’s it!”
“That’s what?”
“Santiago wanted to control Angelica, to get her in his clutches. She owed him after she ran out on him to warn Hamilton and me that there was a hit out on us. I believe that Angelica wasn’t playing the game he wanted her to play, so he had Hamilton killed to put the fear of God in her, and after she ran out on him, he was out for blood.”
“But why you, Jefferson? You had nothing to do with Angelica.”
“Everything connected to Angelica and Operation Stingray is tainted. Santiago has declared war and is making every effort to see that we pay for the demise of that group, although only Hamilton, Angelica, and I did time for our part in Operation Stingray.”
“It always comes back to Angelica. When will men come to their senses about the likes of that woman?”
“Margo, Angelica was trying to start her life over. If you ask me, it was almost as if she was drawn to New York by Santiago. I know it sounds far-fetched, but I wouldn’t put it past that master manipulator to have pulled something off like that.”
“You’re sounding like those soap operas now-too good to be true. But, baby, I’m beginning to think like you. Humph. You may not be far from the truth, not far at all.”