Krystal Scent (Krystal Vibration Series Book 2) Read online

  “What was it?”

  “A package for me from Amanda’s Boudoir.”

  “You ordered from Amanda’s Boudoir?”

  “I hate that stuff.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m shocked you ordered something.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “You don’t think I ordered it for you?”

  “When I brought in the mail, there was a package addressed to me, and it was from AB.”

  “I didn’t do it.”

  “I know you didn’t. But someone did. Someone who knows you order from there and wanted one of us or both of us dead. I punctured the tape and I immediately noticed a strange smell. Not the usual AB perfume aroma. The only thing that stopped me from opening it all the way was Shasta jumping up onto the chopping block. I grabbed her and then the phone rang. I then had to leave for the District.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In the District.”

  “Where?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Karen, what’s happening?”

  “I won’t be home for a few days. I’ll call you when I can come back.”

  “I can’t find Shasta.”

  Karen said, “Maybe…”

  “I hope you’re wrong, but I thought of that, too.”

  Karen gave Sharon her love and hung up.

  Sharon just stood there trying to make sense of what her sister had said. She decided to systematically search every room for Shasta. She looked in closets, under dressers, cabinets and beds. Finally, in the farthest room from the kitchen, beneath the daybed in the upstairs sewing room, she found Shasta licking her paws.

  Sharon gently pulled the kitten out from beneath the springs and immediately realized that her pet was injured. Her paws were bleeding and the fur was gone from her belly. Sharon immediately ran with Shasta to her car and drove off to see Dr. Kisselstein in town.

  Sharon returned an hour later with an antibiotic and Shasta wearing gauze on her feet and over that, strapped-on leather boots.

  CHAPTER 16

  The District

  The Homeland Security driver stopped in front of Lancaster House and walked around the car to open the door. Karen stepped out and looked at the building. The yard had an iron sign with the orange and blue insignia of her alma mater.

  The driver escorted Karen to the third floor, penthouse suite and then bade farewell.

  Karen stood still, her eyes unblinking, listening. She could hear the icemaker in the kitchenette getting ready to dump a fresh load into the bin. She could see that there was a thin layer of dust on the windowsill that the cleaning staff missed. She could feel cool air being pushed ever-so-slightly through the ceiling vents by a quiet fan. She could smell the oranges and bananas that were in the bowl on the table. She could also smell the scent of the lemon polish used on the furniture.

  She walked to the bedroom. A large king-sized bed filled the room. The closet doors were closed. Her curiosity caused her to open them to see what attire was provided. She smiled when she saw many of the blouses, skirts and other outfits that she might have purchased on her own. Even down to the shoes. She shivered.

  She checked the drawers in the dresser. The linen undergarments and cotton/polyester workout clothes were perfect.

  But what about my makeup?

  Karen walked to the bathroom and switched on the lights. On the vanity was a whole array of Savannah Mulan makeup representing every color Karen wore whether day or night.

  In the sitting area were copies of Architectural Digest along with various other magazines of Karen’s interest. On the end table next to the bed were three books by three of Karen’s favorite authors. Three novels she had yet to read.

  “How do they know all this?”

  Her cellphone rang. It was Sharon.

  “Where are you, Sis?”

  “I can’t tell you right now,” Karen said as she noticed a cellphone charger on the end table.

  “You can’t tell me? Why not?”

  “Homeland Security wants to prevent someone from killing me. Our phone conversations could be listened to so I have to be extra cautious. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I found Shasta.”

  “How is she?”

  “She must have been pulling at the tape on the box when it exploded.”

  In a low somber voice Karen said, “Oh Sharon, I’m so sorry.”

  “No, she’s okay. She’s missing some fur on her stomach and her front paws are raw, but the vet treated her and said she’d heal.”

  Karen was silent for a moment.

  “Karen, did you hear me?”

  “The label. I came close to opening it.”

  “Thank goodness you didn’t.”

  “I know. And if you had seen the box, you might have thought it was for you.”

  “Well, I know it wouldn’t have been for you. What did you think when you saw it?”

  “I thought you ordered something for me on your quest to change my style of dress.”

  Sharon was silent.

  “Sharon?”

  “I’m thankful you’re okay,” Sharon said. “When will you be able to come home?”

  “Maybe tomorrow. They’re assigning guards to us.”

  Sharon looked through the window, could see a car parked across the street from the entrance, and said, “They’re already out there.”

  “Good. Just realize that if you leave, they’ll follow you.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “I’ll call if I can’t.” Karen said and disconnected. She decided to see what food was in the refrigerator.

  After grabbing a bite to eat, Karen decided to get cleaned up and go to bed. Her paranoia prevented her from leaving the lights on to get undressed. She assumed that not only were the rooms bugged for sound, but cameras were in strategic locations to capture her every move or the movements of whomever stayed there—she could hear the buzzing and smell the electricity.

  She took her shower in the dark, slipped into a nightgown, and crawled into bed. Then she turned on the light atop the nightstand and picked up one of the books.

  ***

  Karen was committed to not missing a day of exercise. When she woke, she chose her clothes to travel back and forth to the gym, immediately dressed, grabbed her exercise garb, and her toiletries.

  At Etheridge’s direction, Karen called the Homeland Security number and requested a car. On the way to the fitness center, Etheridge called and asked Karen to come to the office as soon as she was through with her routine.

  Since high school, Karen had trained hard, almost obsessively and kept her stamina high for her teammates on the Golden Eagles soccer team.

  She didn’t know anyone in the Homeland Security conditioning facility, so she kept to herself and pushed through her routine.

  ***

  Cheyenne Hojarea stood by her locker, took out her camera, and displayed the video she had taken of Karen spinning through the number sequence of her padlock.

  While Karen exercised, Cheyenne walked over to Karen’s locker and ran the video so she could see Karen’s combination. She swung open the door, reached into Karen’s purse and took out the Jaguar, fob key. With a device Cheyenne had in her hand, she held the two together until she heard a beep.

  Cheyenne quickly replaced the key and closed the door, spinning the dial. She hurried to the end of the aisle, turned the corner back to her locker, and set the device on the shelf just as Karen appeared to unclothe and shower.

  Karen stripped off her clothes, replacing them with a towel, walked into the shower room to a vacant spot, turned on the spigot and adjusted the temperature. Once satisfied that the water was warm enough, she hung up her towel and stepped into the stream. Beneath the cascading water that completely enveloped her, Karen felt relaxed.

  At the far end of the stall, Cheyenne watched.

  As soon as Karen was finished showering and had turned off the faucets, Cheyenne walked over shaking a plastic bottle filled
with a power drink.

  “Excuse me, my name’s Cheyenne,” she said and held out her hand for Karen to shake. She was completely naked and devoid of any body hair. She was extremely muscular, ripped abs, and solid-looking breasts.

  Karen made no attempt to cover up.

  Cheyenne said, “Your body’s perfect. You’re curved in all the right places with toned arms, legs and ass. And your abs are amazing.”

  Karen grabbed her towel, held it over her arm, draped down the center of her body, and shook Cheyenne’s hand with the other.

  Again agitating her drink, Cheyenne said, “I’ve seen you in the gym before, but when you finish, you quickly disappear. This is the first chance I’ve had to say hello.”

  “I usually have to run to an appointment. I have one presently.”

  “What do you do?”

  Karen really didn’t know in what capacity she was employed by Homeland Security so she said, “I’m an architect.” Karen wasn’t interested in making any new friends. And she was somewhat suspicious of Cheyenne who continuously looked Karen up and down while continually shaking her container.

  “You maintain an extreme intensity in your workouts,” Cheyenne said.

  Now Karen became guarded. Cheyenne’s comment meant that she must have been watching Karen closely each time they were both in the gym.

  How many times?

  “I don’t think I work that hard. I’m sorry, I have to hurry and get dressed. I have a meeting in thirty minutes.”

  “Well, I’ll see you next time,” Cheyenne said, viciously shaking her drink. The cover flew off and the liquid flew at Karen.

  Karen was sidestepping it before it left the container. The orange, sticky concoction spilled onto the floor and splattered against the wall bouncing back at Karen; but she reacted so quickly, it fell onto the tiles without touching her body.

  “I’m so sorry,” Cheyenne said, her eyes wide in reaction to Karen’s reflexes. She bent down and picked up the cover and said, “I hope you forgive me. I’ll let you alone. See you again.” Cheyenne walked away, letting her towel hang from her arm.

  Karen watched until Cheyenne got to the corner of the room. She then turned to walk out of the shower and didn’t see Cheyenne pass a glance toward her before she walked out of sight.

  ***

  Cheyenne Hojarea left the gym and as soon as she got to her car, she phoned Homeland Security.

  “Etheridge.”

  “I made contact with her in the gym. She was standoffish as you said.”

  “Good. Good that you two met. Make sure you bump into her more so she gets used to seeing you. I want her watched just in case she stumbles onto something that we need to know before she acts on it. She’s new to us, and I don’t know how she’ll respond in the field and during counterterrorist assaults.”

  “Am I supposed to protect her?”

  Etheridge hesitated. “If the situation presents itself. But more than that, I want you to get as close to her as possible.”

  “How close?”

  “Use your own judgment. Did you get the code?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, her Jaguar’s in stall forty-seven. Plant a microphone in the car somewhere in the front, preferably on the driver’s side. Then go to her room at Lancaster House, and in her bag, there’s the false corner in the front compartment. Plant a bug there. It’s insulated, but we still should be able to pick up conversation if those speaking are close by.

  “I don’t think she’s aware of the hidden pocket. I gave the bag to her the other day and told her to keep it with her with all the information I gave her on what we wanted her to know,” Etheridge said.

  “It’ll be done,” Cheyenne said, and they disconnected.

  ***

  Wrapped in her towel, Karen walked to her locker and opened the combination lock. She swung the door and immediately felt uneasy. Her purse was not as she had left it. She smelled it. There was a hint of vanilla. She closed her eyes and the image of Cheyenne Hojarea walking across the tiled, shower floor filled her mind.

  She looked inside her bag. Her keys were in the left corner where she had placed them, but the fob was buried beneath the ring—not up and accessible.

  She snapped around to see if she was being watched. She turned and reached back into her handbag to check her wallet. Everything was there.

  Who was in her locker? Her purse? An employee? A member of the Gym? Cheyenne?

  Karen pondered all the possibilities as she dressed.

  Her driver was waiting in the lobby.

  Was it him? No, he’d be too obvious in the women’s locker room. Someone... Who? Why?

  She asked the driver to take her back to Lancaster House. Once there, she grabbed her new Homeland Security briefcase and stopped dead.

  That vanilla smell again.

  She looked around and brought the satchel to her nose.

  Vanilla. Maybe all Homeland Security items have that smell. But why didn’t I notice it before?

  Karen walked back down the staircase all the while hearing the faint buzzing of listening devices, not suspecting that there was one in her briefcase. She explained away the sound by believing that the whole of Lancaster House was bugged.

  She asked the driver to take her to Homeland Security headquarters. She sat in the backseat and listened to the quiet pop music the driver was playing.

  Not my taste, but I won’t be in here that long.

  ***

  The White House

  President Burke asked Jeffrey Haun, his Chief of Staff, to call Carl Etheridge and invite him to the Oval Office. When Etheridge arrived, he was escorted in immediately.

  “Thanks for coming over, Carl,” President Burke said. The president motioned to one of the wingchairs and said, “Have a seat.”

  An aid brought in a silver tray with two cups of coffee. The president picked up one and set it on the table next to him. And Etheridge did the same.

  “I was impressed with the way you handled the Labyrinth crisis.”

  “I was only doing my job, sir.”

  “I know you were, Carl. And now, I have another job for you. I want you to become the Director of National Intelligence. The Director has authority over the sixteen, member agencies. Your new office is located at 1500 Tysons McLean Drive, McLean. I’d like you to relocate immediately.”

  The president stood and Etheridge knew the meeting was over. He thanked the president and left the Oval Office.

  ***

  As Karen was being driven to Homeland Security headquarters, Etheridge was standing in the outer office of National Intelligence looking at the plaque on the wall. It had the symbol of “Officer of Director of National Intelligence—United States of America” in the center with the separate agencies surrounding it and their expertise. They included:

  1. Central Intelligence Agency—Covert Ops

  2. Defense Intelligence Agency—Military Secrets

  3. FBI National Security Branch—Aiding Investigations

  4. National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency—Imagery and Mapping

  5. National Reconnaissance office—Vigilance from Above

  6. National Security Agency—Eavesdropping and Code Breaking

  7. Treasury Office of Intelligence and Analysis— Following the Money

  8. State Bureau of Intelligence and Research—Diplomatic Support

  9. DHS Office of Intelligence and Analysis—Identifying Terrorist Threats

  10. DOE Office of Intelligence and Counterintelligence— Nuclear Security

  11. DEA Office of National Security Intelligence—Drug- Related Data

  12. Navel Intelligence—The Lay of the Sea

  13. Marine Corps Intelligence—Amphibious Acumen

  14. Coast Guard Intelligence—Homeland Protection

  15. Army Intelligence—Battlefield Support

  16. Air Force Intelligence—Overwatch

  Etheridge, walked into his new office, sat down behind his desk for a moment and took
a deep breath. He then got up and left to meet Karen Krystal at Homeland Security.

  ***

  Cheyenne Hojarea returned to her apartment in the District. She lived just off Columbus Circle at 322 F Street Northeast. Miraculously, she found a parking spot right in front of her building. She locked her car and opened the gate to the property. It was a late 18th century, white-washed, Queen Ann, Victorian, two-story house.

  She closed the iron gate and glanced at her boyfriend’s car parked across the street. She walked past the home security sign and up the steps. She reached the multiple, glass-paned door, unlocked it, locked it behind her and noted that the home-security code panel was “ready.” She walked up the one flight of stairs and unlocked the door to her apartment.

  “How did you know I’d be coming home?” Cheyenne asked, locking the door and setting the dead bolt.

  “I didn’t,” James said, polishing his pistol. “Thought I’d come over. Wait for you to arrive.”

  “Didn’t you have to work today?”

  “Called in sick. I’m tired of workin’ at that fuckin’ company. Think I’ll quit and find another job.”

  “Shit James, you can’t keep jumping from job to job. They run checks on you each time you apply for another position.”

  “They’re not goin’ to find nothin’.”

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  “Got one of those fuckin’ stolen-identity Social Security numbers. Besides, pretty soon we’ll be out a here.”

  Cheyenne looked out the window and sighed. She turned around when she heard the bed creak.

  James was lying on his back unbuttoning his jeans.

  Cheyenne couldn’t resist. She walked over and slowly peeled off her clothes. “I’ve got to head back to Homeland Security,” she said.

  “You know what I want, Baby” James said.

  “Place the gun on the floor, first,” Cheyenne said.

  James rolled to the side and did as she directed.

  ***

  Karen was driven to Homeland Security and Carl Etheridge met her in the lobby.

  “We have to go somewhere else. I want you to get your car and meet me in front of the building.”

  Karen knew that asking any questions would be futile, so she went to the parking garage and soon pulled up behind Carl Etheridge’s chauffeured automobile.