THE LOST DAUGHTER CAPER

by Austin Camacho

  "I can't let you live after going in that safe." Jeff Aaron held the small revolver steadily at his side. "I've never killed anyone before, but, you know, I don't think it will be as difficult as I expected." Jeff's face glowed with anticipation, but he was not an experienced assassin. That gave the woman facing him her chance.

  Felicity O'Brien stood cornered on the balcony of her own apartment. Her long evening gown and high heels felt inappropriate for facing a crazed gunman. She backed slowly into the evening gloom, her face displaying the expected degree of fear while her mind searched her available options, looking for an escape. In the end, there seemed to be only one.

  Letting her facial expression slip to total horror, Felicity took one step back too many. She let out a short shriek, her arms windmilling wildly as she leaned backward. With a flurry of swishing taffeta, her body flipped over the balcony and into the darkness, leaving the gunman standing alone.

  Jeff was briefly paralyzed with indecision. Had she really fallen to her death? Should he run? He had never done anything like this before. He had better take a look to be sure.

  His stomach lurching in anticipation, Jeff slowly stepped to the rail. He swallowed hard, then looked down. It took him a moment to realize that nothing lay on the pavement five stories below. The redhead had disappeared. Panic gripped his heart. He pocketed his thirty-eight quickly and bolted for the elevator.

  Felicity O'Brien had fallen past the balcony below her own and desperately reached out to grasp the rail of the next one. She gritted her teeth against the sudden stop which threatened to tear her shoulders out. She could take time for only two deep breaths before hauling herself up to the safety of the narrow balcony. Her shoulders and fingers ached, but they would have to wait. She told herself it should be no big deal. She had practiced this kind of deadfall maneuver countless times. After all, you cannot depend on your natural gifts if you want to remain the reigning cat burglar for long.

  Thankfully, no one was home in the apartment Felicity had unexpectedly dropped in on, so she needed no explanatory story. Less than four minutes later she reached the ground floor and had her black Porche 911 moving down the wide Houston street toward the city's heart. Her assailant had lost her, at least for the moment. She needed a safe place to think, so she sought the anonymity of a very public place. A few minutes later she was considering her situation over a hot cup of coffee in a small diner.

  Felicity could never live in this big brassy town. Houston reminded her of Las Vegas on a bad night. She had only rented an apartment to stay in town long enough to ease herself into Houston high society. She planned to case the area, pick out a couple of good scores, and move on. She had not figured, however, on having her life threatened.

  Had she been careless? How did Aaron know she had robbed his house? They had only met once. He could not have spotted her as a thief in that brief encounter. And even if he did, what would possess him to try to kill her? Why not just call the police? Well, she would simply have to have a second cup of coffee and think it through one more time.

  Felicity had found her niche in life early. She had extraordinary night vision, a photographic memory, steel nerves, an excellent sense of timing and a native instinct which always seemed to steer her clear of danger. Obviously she was meant to be a thief. Although born in Ireland, she travelled the world over, applying her skills in a different city every few weeks. As was her pattern she arrived in Houston alone and within days, eased smoothly into the social life of the well to do.

  She remembered meeting Jeff Aaron and his wife, Linda, at a cocktail party at their home. Jeff was a tall, handsome blond with deep blue eyes and that perfect tan that only comes from a booth. He had made his considerable fortune as a financial advisor. He smiled too much. Yet, something in his eyes told Felicity that he had the capacity to be ruthless in business. He leaned against the oversized brick fireplace in his den and talked freely about his past, his future, and his plans. Jeff Aaron was his favorite subject.

  Linda had made an impression on Felicity because the women seemed to be complete opposites. Felicity was tall and shapely, while Linda Aaron was no more than five foot two with a small bust and hips. Felicity's red wavy hair hung nearly to her waist. Linda's hair was mousy brown with an occasional gray strand, cropped short. While Felicity's eyes were a piercing green, Linda's matched her hair. Linda seemed to overdo her makeup. Felicity hardly wore any.

  "So you're Bill Collier's date tonight," Linda said, smiling up into Felicity's eyes. "He usually sticks with the local talent. You're obviously new here."

  "Does it show?" Felicity asked, sipping her brandy. "I've recently come into some money and decided to move up in the world. Billy's helping me find a good home around here. I've got to get out of that dinky apartment soon."

  "Don't feel bad," Linda said. "Your skin is kind of fair. You'll fit in better when you've picked up a good, solid tan. And don't worry about fitting in here. With Bill as your ticket you'll be a `good ol' girl' in no time. Jeff and I, we had to fight to be accepted here."

  "Really?" Felicity doubted this woman had any trouble fighting for what she wanted. "So what's the secret of your success?"

  "Conformity," Linda said. "All you need is the tan, and to play tennis, and ride horses, and learn those insipid dances, and don't have a family because kids get in the way of your trips to Club Med."

  Felicity sensed resentment there, and she recognized the feeling. After all, she had never been much of a conformist herself.

  A little later during the party, Felicity slipped away from the polite conversation to visit the rest room. On her way, she found the basement door, and the security system downstairs. She opened the burglar alarm control box and quickly surveyed its contents. She could see connections for six separate systems. Photo relay alarms with infrared pulsed beams. Ultrasonic motion sensors as backup. Not bad. She inserted her own plug in power module and closed the box.

  She was back upstairs and in the conversation in time to hear about the host's three week vacation coming up in a few days. She had never been missed. She hoped it would be as easy to escape her boorish date at the end of the evening.

  Felicity smiled at the waitress when her pie arrived. Her mind was wandering back to that night just three days ago. She had parked four blocks away from Jeff's and Linda's spacious ranch home and walked past sculptured hedges and lawns right up to the front door. After all, sneaking around made people suspicious. She wore a black stretch top and pants, with her hair tied back in a green ribbon. In her shoulder bag she carried a wireless radio remote control.

  People used RF remotes all the time, to raise their garage doors, or to turn off appliances and lights at a distance. Felicity had simply adapted the device to her needs. With the touch of a button she turned off all the burglar alarms and security systems in the Aaron home. It took her less than a minute to pick the lock.

  Once inside, Felicity applied her own systematic search technique. The layout of the house was recorded in her memory. She started in the huge master bedroom. The most obvious place to begin was a walk in closet. Jeff's closet was Spartan and yielded nothing of interest. She expected better luck in Linda's.

  Closing the closet door tightly, Felicity turned on the light. Linda's wardrobe was vast and expensive. Her tastes tended toward the conservative, but Felicity noticed one rack of dresses which seemed too young for Linda. Pushing them aside revealed a row of wig heads on a low shelf. Moving the plastic heads revealed the door to a safe.

  Felicity loved combination locks. The miniature stethoscope she kept in her bag allowed her to hear the tumblers. She probably opened the steel door faster than its owner did using the combination. Then she stretched a gloved hand inside, expecting to find jewelry or cash. Instead she encountered a stack of poorly posed snapshots.

  Puzzled, she stared at one closely. It was a shot of a girl, whose age Felicity guessed at fifteen or sixteen years. An older man stood with his arm around her. Perhaps an uncle. The girl had long blond hair and freckles, and a shiny clean face which was eerily familiar. This had to be Jeff and Linda Aaron's daughter. Her resemblance to Linda was uncanny. She was smiling in that way teenagers do when they are being teased. On the back of the photo, someone had written "Juliet and Uncle Sid" in pencil.

  Curious, Felicity reached farther into the safe, this time retrieving a stack of cassettes. Each was labeled with the name Juliet and an accompanying number. Correspondence?

  Felicity was only puzzled because she remembered Linda telling her at the party that she and Jeff would never consider disrupting their perfect life with a child. But why hide a child they obviously cared about so much? Could fitting in be this important to anyone? These pictures must be precious, or they would not be stored in a safe. The tapes were bound to be recorded letters home from, well, where ever one stashed a child.

  Well, it really did not matter to Felicity. Behind the tapes she found what she was really looking for. Linda was partial to pearl necklaces, and Felicity loved her for that. She found several strings of pearls, perfectly shaped, carefully matched, easily fenced, and almost impossible to trace. There was also a nice little plastic packet of investment grade diamonds and twenty thousand dollars cash. A good night's work.

  From here there was no art to Felicity's business. It was simply a matter of leaving things as she found them, and removing her plug in module from the security controls. She was soon cruising toward her temporary home and a hot shower.

  She always felt a bit of a letdown after a successful caper. Hers was a lonely life, despite the glamour and wealth she had amassed in so few years. Texas was getting old. She would probably hang around for another week or so, then ship the car and fly back to her home in L.A. or New York. Or maybe Paris. Right then her immediate future held only an empty apartment and a glass of Bailey's Irish Creme. Or so she thought.

  Felicity paid for her order and left a hefty tip as she rose. She knew she had to get to a motel. Returning to her apartment would be suicide. Her entire take from this city's rich but unwilling contributors was locked in her car's trunk, to be shipped with it to her next stop. She was sure she had left no clues to her identity at the scene of these crimes. She was quite surprised when Jeff had appeared at her door minutes ago. He was smiling and pleasant, but she knew it was false. A warning buzzer had gone off in her head, alerting her to danger. That was why she had led him over to the balcony during their conversation. And she had been wise to hang her purse over her shoulder. One minute they were discussing social life in the New South, the next he was waving a gun in her face.

  She was sure Jeff was capable of using his weapon, but he was no cowboy, or self defense nut. So, he must be a criminal himself. She had no other reasonable explanation for why he would come after her personally instead of going to the police. And only someone else in her business could have told him which of his recent house guests was a professional thief. That would mean excellent underworld connections. He was dangerous, and the only way to escape the danger for good was to find out just what he was hiding.

  She would have to get back into the house.

  Felicity checked into the first motel she came to. Her lack of luggage made her more aware of how vulnerable her position was. She had made her dramatic exit from the apartment in a full, ankle length dress. She was hardly dressed for a break in. Nor did she have time to arrange a sophisticated scheme for entry. She knew Jeff would not kill for the money or jewelry she took. She must have seen something she should not have, and whatever it was could be moved at any time. Her mind returned to the hidden pictures and it occurred to her that the answer to her puzzle had been right in front of her face. If she could get in tonight, she could find what she needed to protect herself.

  Cheap stores seem to stay open later. In two stops Felicity was able to buy an expendable set of work clothes: black leotards and tights, gloves, socks and sneakers. She then drove to the Aarons' neighborhood, parked in a secluded place, and went to sleep in her car.

  Felicity awoke at three-thirty in the morning. She stretched, frowning at what she was about to do. It was all she could come up with, but it stunk. She squirmed into her work clothes in the back seat of her Porche . Her hair was piled and pinned on top of her head and covered with a black silk scarf. She retrieved her black bag from the trunk. It contained all the tools she would need.

  The night was a deep black, dripping ink onto the suburban streets. Felicity moved from one splashed shadow to another, invisible in the gloom. A quick running circuit of the Aarons' contemporary home revealed only one car. That meant one of them probably was not home. She sure hoped it was Jeff. In the back yard she pulled a black nylon line from her bag. A blackened steel grapnel hook hung at one end. She spun it three times above her head, then flipped it to the roof. It caught the end of the large brick chimney.

  "Now the fun begins," she whispered to herself. With rubber soles braced against the white brick wall, Felicity hauled herself up, hand over hand. She moved like a silent spider on her slender web line, slowly yet with smooth, steady progress. Once at the top she squirmed over the eaves. She carefully moved upward on fingers and toes, toward the center ridge.

  Her breath caught in her throat as a shingle slid lose under her foot. She watched it fall in apparent slow motion, to crash like a damaged UFO onto the lawn below. Like a modern day gargoyle, Felicity hung frozen on the roof for five full minutes.

  She heard no sound from inside the house. Her heart eventually slowed to its normal pace. She pulled herself through the darkness to the chimney, looked down into the square brick tube and sighed.

  Felicity felt she was beyond this sort of thing professionally, but this was an emergency. She dropped the nylon line down the flue, its hook still secure on the edge. With infinite care, she slid into the funnel feet first, and lowered herself slowly down. Her breath bounced back into her face in the narrow space, carrying soot and the gagging smell of creosote. She knew how many people killed themselves doing this every Christmas season, but she shut that thought from her mind. They were idiots. She was a professional.

  After interminable minutes, Felicity's feet swung forward into thin air. Seconds later, she was in the den on all fours. With eyes, ears and instincts, she probed the house for any sense of movement. She knew that motion sensors covered the rooms adjacent to all doors, and electric eyes covered all the windows. Luckily, it had never occurred to Jeff that anyone would suddenly appear in the den.

  Church mouse quiet, Felicity stalked across the carpet in a crouch, stopping at the master bedroom. The door stood half open. Someone lay there in the darkness. Felicity released her held breath when she realized the figure was too small to be Jeff. She crept to the bed as silently as a cheetah stalking an antelope. As she moved she pulled a cotton pad from her bag.

  It must have been the acrid stench of the soot that awakened Linda Aaron. She spun to stare at the blackened face of her assailant. Felicity shined her pencil torch into Linda's eyes while rushing across the room. Linda's mouth opened just as the cotton pad covered her face, stifling her scream. One deep breath sapped much of her resistance. A second breath, and a third, and she was out cold. Felicity dropped the ether pad and pulled a vial of nose plugs from her bag. She shoved one into Linda's left nostril. The anesthetic soaked plug would keep her out for hours. Felicity smiled. She would have all the time she needed.

  In seconds she had the safe open again and was tossing things on the floor. She had no use for the pictures, each showing a different uncle, but she did need the cassettes. And when she took the cash on her last visit she had noticed film canisters behind it. They would contain the negatives, and they were what she really needed. Almost as an afterthought, she picked up one wig, then closed the closet door and continued through the house.

  She knew Jeff must have an office in the house, and it took her little time to find it. She turned on his home computer, and looked through his software while it booted up. She found precious little in the way of accounting records. Certainly not enough business to support the Aarons' lifestyle. But, of course, Felicity knew they had other sources of income. She did find a disk containing a long list of names and addresses in various of cities. A client list, perhaps. She could use a copy of this one. Before leaving, she typed a message on the monitor screen.

MEET ME AT THE CIVIC CENTER

CONFERENCE ROOM B, AT 4 PM

TO DISCUSS TERMS OF TRUCE.

NO GUNS

  The Civic Center in Houston is the Albert Thomas Convention and Exhibition Center, right in the center of town. Before arriving there, Felicity had to leave the Aarons' home by the back door and return to her motel. Arriving before sunrise, she treated herself to a long hot shower, a soak in a perfumed tub, and a four hour nap. By noon she had purchased new clothes for her meeting. Then she had to effect a convincing accent and concoct a believable story in order to book the conference room "for her civic group" on such short notice.

  Felicity was standing at the far end of the conference room when the Aarons walked in. She wore a brick red business suit, the skirt hitting her at the knee. It complemented the brighter red of her hair. Despite her long night and busy morning, she looked bright and chipper. Much better than either of the others in the room. Linda in particular had lost her healthy glow, and dark circles showed under her eyes.

  "What's the matter, Linda?" Felicity asked as the other two sat at the conference table. "You're looking poorly, dear. I know you got plenty of sleep."

  "I take it you're responsible for that," Jeff snapped. "I pulled that drugged thing out of her nose this morning after looking for you all night. Now what's this all about?"

  "You know what it's about. It's about blackmail."

  "I don't know what you're talking about," Jeff said, following Felicity with his eyes as she paced slowly around the room.

  "Don't insult me. You had to have some criminal contacts to find out what I do for a living. And if you were legit, you'd have called the police about your loss, not come after me with a gun."

  "Doesn't prove anything," Jeff said, crossing his arms. "I can still go to the police."

  "Be serious. I figured it was blackmail when I thought about the pictures. At first I figured you had a daughter hidden away, until I looked at the pictures more closely. Besides, a child would be hard to control, wouldn't she?"

  "Jeff, make her stop," Linda whined.

  "I won't stop. I guess you figured out that important people cheat on their wives often enough these days that it's hardly enough to blackmail with. But pederasty, sex with a minor, now that's an act even today's politicians would want to keep quiet. You must be quite an actress."

  "I'll have you killed," Linda said through clenched teeth.

  "Oh I doubt it. You see I've got it all. With your slight figure and height, you have no trouble passing yourself off as a girl in her early teens. As I saw last night, you have quite a youthful face without all the makeup. Young looking clothes and a blonde wig complete the picture. You seduce your targets during your little vacations every year. And your sick husband even manages to actually get the acts on tape, doesn't he?"

  "Where are my tapes?" Jeff was calmer now.

  "Later. To top it off, you usually get a picture of her with her latest catch. You must set it up very carefully. I noticed that each picture features a different older man. Quite a list. I left you the pictures and took the negatives. Of course, after the fact, the girl disappears from the face of the earth, since she never really existed to begin with. You make the contact, and the money comes rolling in."

  "It is a neat business," Jeff said, "and you seem to have it all in a neat package. It is quite profitable."

  "It must be. Nobody seems to know you in the financial community in this town. Just a cover, I guess, for your real business."

  "It's not bad," Linda put in. "I work maybe four weeks out of the year, and we live very well."

  "We could cut you in on it, Ms. O'Brien," Jeff added. "My associates tell me you're a professional. We could count on your silence for a fee, I suspect."

  "Thanks, but I don't want any part of your sleazy business. I don't earn every dollar I get, but I do work for it, and I don't trade on other people's vices. I just want out of this. Now, here's the setup. If anything happens to me, three different attorneys will post sample negatives and tapes to the police with your names and address. They're in sealed packages to be opened only in case of my having an untimely accident. You back off and I back off. Nobody gets hurt. Deal?"

  "What happens to us?" Linda asked. "Without those negatives and tapes..."

  "Ask your husband. He'll tell you the marks don't know you've been taken. As long as they think you've got that evidence they'll keep paying. Now, what about it?"

  The couple looked at one another. After a pause, Linda nodded slowly. Jeff rose and extended his hand to Felicity.

  "I believe you have us at a disadvantage, Miss. I suppose we can do business your way. Sorry about the gun bit earlier. I panicked. Shall we say we have...an arrangement?"

  "Yes, we shall, but you'll understand if I don't want to shake your hand on it."

  Dusk found Felicity O'Brien driving her Porche 911 straight into the sunset on Route 10. The complex vocal artistry of Clannad filled the car. She liked night driving and she intended to stay behind the wheel all night. There was a special solitude in pushing a vehicle at high speed through the blackness of a long Southwestern road. She had decided to drive on to her Los Angeles place, stopping at a roadside motel when necessary to freshen up.

  She understood Jeff Aaron well enough to know he would come after her eventually. She was prepared to be careful for a while. It should not be necessary for long. After all, some of Jeff and Linda's "clients" were fairly prominent, and therefore powerful men. Felicity had not trusted the cassette tapes and negatives to any lawyer, but rather to the United States Postal Service. Those items, along with the Aarons' location, would arrive at the home of each of their blackmail victims in a couple of days. Very soon the payments would stop arriving and by then, Jeff may realize he was minus one computer disk. He might even put two and two together and realize Felicity had a copy of his list of victims. But it might not take that long for one of his targets to see that Jeff and Linda Aaron were the one who had an untimely accident.

  With a sly smile, she settled back to enjoy the drive.