“I’ve tracked down a couple of the guys in the Eighth.” He handed Frank a sheet of paper with the names from Preston’s unit, then left, closing the door behind him.
“Leonard Ames… wonderful…” Frank read, “died in a car accident in 1976. George Abbott is in a VA hospital in Dallas. I’ll get Janet to look up the phone number, see if I can talk to Abbott.” He punched the intercom on the phone.
Sam looked over at Jake. He was too quiet, ever since Frank explained the term lightning strike.
“Anything you care to share with us?” She studied his face, looking for any telltale sign of life behind those private eyes. There was an undercurrent in the air, electrical. She found herself admiring his chiseled features and rugged good looks.
“Not yet,” was all he replied.
She had to force herself to pull her eyes off him to check her watch. Tim was supposed to call her after he delivered his package to her house. Without his device, she would not be able to make her trip to Preston’s tonight.
Chapter 30
Lincoln Thomas shuffled to the kitchen in his modest three-bedroom brick house in San Francisco. From his kitchen window he could see the Golden Gate Bridge lighting up the night sky.
Again he had been unable to sleep. He told himself it was because of business. He should have hired an accountant rather than try to do his quarterly taxes on his own.
His daughter, Nina, had been by earlier to bring him dinner. She knew he never stopped to eat when he had to figure out his taxes. She had a key to his house and stops by to clean and do his laundry. He had resisted her offer for him to move in with her, her husband, Raymond, and their son, Raymond, Jr.
Lincoln had always been independent, didn’t want to be a burden on his family. He considered himself successful, accomplished what he wanted in life. Nina had been his greatest pride. She looked just like her mother, Sia. Dark hair, dark eyes. He had buried Sia ten years after Nina was born. Pancreatic cancer, the doctors had said.
Lincoln owned a successful employment agency with a staff of eight. Raymond was the vice-president. Thomas Associates was responsible for placing over three thousand Koreans in varying jobs, from offices to hotels, cleaning services, bakeries, retail stores, hospitals. Every type of market. And he made sure they all took night classes to learn English and skills that would make them more marketable. The people saw him as their savior. And it gave him an overwhelming sense of pride and satisfaction.
He walked through the tidy living room, past the awards hanging on the wall from the Chamber of Commerce, the mayor, the California Businessmen’s Association. Next to a picture of Sia and Nina was his certificate of U.S. citizenship, framed in oak, matted in light peach to match the peach floral couch. He ran his fingers down the frame. That had been his lifelong dream since he was five years old. He would sit and listen for hours to his uncle’s stories of life in America. He knew that was where he was going to live once he was old enough to travel alone.
He carried his cup of tea to the enclosed breezeway where he sat in the dark. On the coffee table in front of him was a copy of yesterday’s Korean Today newspaper. He could still hear Nina’s voice saying, “Didn’t you tell me once that you were in the war, Papa?”
Even in the darkened breezeway he could see the outline of the man on the front page of the paper. Do You Know This Man? the headline asked. It gave the man’s name as Harvey Wilson. A black man, young. Back then, they had all been young, too young. Lincoln himself had been fourteen. He had closed his eyes to that war, but obviously not his mind. Because in his sleep, he started to re-live it. Started to remember. Back then, Lincoln Thomas had been known as Ling Toy.
Chapter 31
“You didn’t have to come,” Sam whispered. The closet was dark. She could feel Jake’s body pressed against hers.
“Baby-sitting is not exactly my way of spending an evening either,” Jake whispered back. He wrapped his hand around the knob and slowly opened the door.
An earlier phone call to Juanita, Preston’s housekeeper, confirmed that Preston would be attending the Chamber dinner tonight.
“Wait.” Sam took a small remote control from her pocket, peered out at the bookcase to her right, and aimed the remote at the shelf which housed the video recorder. A tiny red beam located the one-inch hole which exposed the recorder’s control panel. With the press of a button, the remote sent the recorder into pause mode.
“Clever. Where did you get that?” Jake asked, stepping from the closet.
Sam smiled coyly. “A friend.”
“How much time does it give us?”
“About two minutes.” Sam opened the safe and pulled out several items. “There it is.”
Jake pulled Hap’s pin from his pocket to compare the two. Once Jake snapped pictures of the pins side by side, Sam placed Preston’s pin and the remaining items back into the safe.
“What are you doing?” Sam watched as Jake unscrewed the mouthpiece on the phone.
“Getting rid of evidence.”
“But I need…”
“We don’t have time to argue. Let’s go.”
Sam pressed the remote again to turn the recorder back on. They exited down the staircase in the closet, through the basement and out into the darkened yard.
They heard Jasper’s voice and the Dobermans in the distance, which prompted them to hightail it to the back fence. Sam remembered from her previous visits that it was a straight shot to the back of the property as long as they stayed close to the fence. No ponds or maze of gardens to run through.
Their feet hit pavement as they located a narrow access road used by the lawn service.
“How much farther?” Jake huffed.
“Not much.” Her arms pumped but she matched him stride for stride. “There are large boulders… we can use them to… get over the fence.”
The barking intensified, as if the dogs were right on their heels. Jasper had obviously unleashed them.
“Shit!”
“It’s just up ahead,” Sam said as the dark shadows of the boulders came into view.
They leaped onto the stair step boulders. As their feet hit the top of the wooden fence, Jake wrapped an arm around Sam and pulled her toward him, cushioning her fall onto the damp grassy hill.
They rolled together down the hill to Frank’s waiting car.
Sam slid open the patio door to find Abby emptying the dishwasher. Frank followed close behind, an arm wrapped around Jake’s waist.
“He’s hurt, Abby,” Frank said. Streaks of crimson ran down Jake’s face.
Abby, dressed comfortably in a nightgown and lightweight robe, quickly pulled her hair back and wrapped an elastic tie around it, preparing for whatever the emergency might be.
“It’s just a scratch.” Jake lowered himself onto a chair at the kitchen table. The hill they had rolled down had not been a smooth grassy knoll, but a hill speckled with rocks and debris.
“Let me see.” Abby pulled the bloody handkerchief from Jake’s forehead. “You might need stitches.” She placed his hand back on the handkerchief. “Hold it there.” Turning to Frank, she said, “There’s a first-aid kit in the gym.” She told Sam, “Get me a pail of hot water, a washcloth, and soap.” Next, she called Alex. Within minutes, Alex arrived with medicinal pastes.
“How did you manage to do this?” Abby pressed the hot wash cloth to Jake’s head. Her face was masked in concern and apprehension, but never panic.
“Two hundred and ten pounds hitting an immovable object,” Jake replied. His face was smudged with dirt, his jogging suit torn.
Sam grimaced at the sight of the deep cut. “Are you sure you didn’t break anything?” Sam asked.
“Maybe he should have X-rays,” Frank suggested.
Alex elbowed his way between the spectators. “I need room.”
Sam went to the counter to put on a pot of coffee. Frank joined her.