O’Reilly ignored the comment and looked over at Jen. “I’m sorry Jen, but this means that you’ll have to forego attending the funeral. I’d like the three of you on the first flight out in the morning to Saint Petersburg. Sam and Cardinal are on their way in as we speak; they should be here in the next hour and a bit. You can brief them up when they arrive.”
The speed things were unfolding even surprised Mitchell, who was used to making things happen on the fly.
“Okay, then, I think that covers everything,” announced O’Reilly as he stood up. To Jen, he said, “Good luck in Russia and keep me updated with daily situation reports. As for you two,” he said to Mitchell and Jackson, “I’ll see you in Baton Rouge on Sunday.” With that, he left the briefing room.
Fahimah reached over and placed a hand on Jen’s shoulder. “I’ll look after the travel arrangements for all of you. When Sam and Gordon get here, I’ll fill them in. Why don’t you and Ryan nip home and pack?”
With a devilish grin on his face, Mitchell said, “Smartest thing I’ve heard all day.”
“Well, ain’t that grand,” complained Jackson. “You two get to go home and play house while I try to figure out a way to tell Kelly that I’m leaving her alone again.”
“Good luck with that,” replied Mitchell as he slipped his arm under one of Jen’s and escorted her out of the conference room.
“I wonder if there’s decent florist nearby,” muttered Jackson to himself, knowing that he’d have to make it up to his wife one way or the other.
16
Located just over forty kilometers outside of Dallas, David Houston’s ranch was not what Mitchell had envisioned it would be. For all of his wealth, Houston’s home was a subdued grouping of homes built in the style of a log cabin. The main building was a three-story home that was set back from the other smaller dwellings. In front was a small, man-made lake. Several swans floated on the dark-green water. As their limousine drove up the long driveway, Mitchell could see three horses running free in a field beside the road.
The limo pulled up at the front door.
Mitchell and Jackson didn’t wait for the driver to get out of his seat; they let themselves out. Although it had been snowing when they left New York, at Houston’s home it was a warm and pleasant day without a cloud in sight. Both men instantly regretted not checking the forecast before leaving, as they were dressed for cooler weather — not the warmth of a December in Texas.
The front door to the home swung open and out stepped Houston. He had on a pair of blue jeans, a partially-undone white shirt, a tan-colored vest, and a pair of well-worn cowboy boots. He looked more like a man about to go for a horse ride than the owner of a multi-billion-dollar corporation.
Houston walked over and stuck out his hand in greeting.
When he shook Mitchell’s hand, he said, “Please let me pass on my condolences for the loss of Miss Vega. I can assure you that this heinous crime will not go unpunished. I asked my attorney this morning to offer the sum of one hundred thousand dollars for any information that leads to the arrest of the people involved.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied Mitchell. “That means a lot to Nate and me.”
Houston let go of Mitchell’s hand and quickly shook Jackson’s. He turned around and invited them inside.
The interior of the home was breathtaking. Tall, arched windows all around the room let in the sunlight. A large stone fireplace, built into the wall at the other end of the wide-open living room, had a small fire going. It may have been warm to Mitchell and Jackson, but to the people who lived here year-round, it was downright chilly. Mitchell guessed that the room was used for entertaining Houston’s rich business clientele.
“Drinks, gentlemen?” asked Houston as a beautiful young Hispanic woman in a white shirt and long, flowing, blue dress entered the room.
“It’s past noon back home,” replied Jackson. “So why not?”
“Sofia, three glasses of Kentucky Bourbon.”
With a bright smile, Sofia turned around, walked over to the well-stocked bar at the other end of the room, and poured the drinks.
Mitchell took a sip of the bourbon and was surprised by how smooth it tasted. He wasn’t much of a drinker; however, he had to admit that Houston seemed to have good taste when it came to his liquor.
“Will there be anything else, sir?” Sofia asked Houston.
“No, that will be all for now,” replied Houston. “Please tell Geneviève that there will be four for lunch today.”
“Very good, sir.” Sofia turned to leave. With an alluring smile at Mitchell, she slowly walked out of the room.
“Are all your staff female?” asked Mitchell.
“Yeah. I never married; it keeps me feeling young to have a houseful of young women to look after me,” answered Houston. “And before you two gentlemen get any ideas, they work for me and that’s it. I’m way too old to be chasing after fillies their age.”
“I’m going to leave this part out when I tell my wife about this trip,” said Jackson.
“I hope you gents don’t mind if my nephew joins us for lunch,” said Houston. “He’s in town and asked if he could meet you.”
“No, not all,” replied Mitchell.
“The more the merrier,” added Jackson.
Mitchell set his drink down and looked over at Houston. “Sir, I don’t know if the police have already spoken to you about what happened; however, if you have any suspicions about who could have been behind Maria’s murder and the theft of the probe, I’d really like to know.”
“Ryan, please stop with all the formalities and please call me David.”
“Sir, you can take the boy out of the army, but you can’t take the army out of the boy. It’s force of habit, calling you sir, and it’s not likely to change.”
“Fair enough,” replied Houston. “As for your question, no, I haven’t been interviewed by the police. My lawyer spoke to them on my behalf. Son, you’ve got to understand there’s an awful lot of people out there who would like to get a jump on me. I have my suspicions about who could have pulled this off, but they’re just that, suspicions. I have no real evidence to back them up.”
“Well, if you think of anything, please keep us in mind.”
“Of course.”
“Sir, lunch is ready,” announced Sofia.
“You’re in for a real treat. I had Geneviève prepare a healthy meal for us,” said Houston.
“Healthy,” repeated Jackson.
Houston patted his midsection. “I’ve got to watch what I eat as I get older. Every meal can’t be steaks and spare ribs.”
“Today’s could have been,” muttered Jackson under his breath.
Outside, a man in his early thirties with short, blond hair and a well-tanned face, wearing a light-gray business suit, waited beside a large wooden table. The family resemblance was obvious.
“Gentlemen, may I introduce to you my nephew, Owen, my brother’s oldest son and the CEO of Olympus Space Technologies,” said Houston proudly.
“Gentlemen,” said Owen, firmly shaking hands with Mitchell and Jackson.
They all took a seat at the dining table. Mitchell grinned when four young women came out and served them lunch. They were all different. One was African-American, one was Hispanic, while another was Asian and the last girl had very pale skin, blonde hair and bright-blue eyes.
“Your staff, are they from all over the world?” Mitchell asked Houston.
“You have a good eye,” replied Houston.
“They’re hard to miss. Most of them could easily make the cover of a fashion magazine.”
“I think an international flavor helps brighten up my home.”