SERENITY: A Path Home (Beauty 0f Life Book 6) Read online

  “Absolutely. Thanks.”

  Lexa handed over her plate and watched as Dan scraped them onto his enormous portion. “So you like them?”

  “Pistachios are my second favorite nut, after walmuts.”

  Bram chuckled. “Allie can say walnut now.”

  “I prefer saying walmut.” Dan flashed a grin at Bram.

  Full beyond belief, Bram leaned back in his chair and scanned the team. Today was turning out alright. Whatever Nick said to Dan on the roof broke the tension. Dan had come down in a better mood. Boss must have said something to Jon too because he toned down his hyper-vigilance, which in turn ended Dan’s scowls and growls.

  Satisfied, but seeing one last portion left which he didn’t want to go to waste, Dan asked, “Anyone want more mascarpone?”

  Jon quipped, “Dano, eat it before the boss goes for it, or I’ll have to add another mile to his run.”

  The team laughed as Nick rolled his eyes. With a grin, Dan eagerly scooped the remainder of the cream, strawberry, and nut concoction onto his plate.

  After Dan finished, he shifted his gaze to Loki. “Any ideas how to get back at Bravo Team for their little prank?”

  Loki rubbed his hands gleefully. “Oh, yeah! This is gonna take some work though, and we need to bring Echo Team in on it. Also, we have to contact Bravo Team’s significant others to make it work.”

  “Wow! Must be some idea. Tell me,” Dan said.

  Loki moved closer to Dan and started to whisper the details.

  Lexa swiveled and stared out the window. Her decision last night to let Loki and Dan go to dinner alone had been the right one. She could see those two might become as close as Ray and Loki one day, which filled her with a warm sensation. Lexa shut her eyes and listened to the men around her as they discussed various topics. My family. Men who won’t abandon me.

  The last thought zinged around in her mind as she realized she did need men in her life … these men … her surrogate brothers and father. Another small piece of her wall tumbled as she recognized she had opened her heart to them and found beauty as her mom envisioned.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the klaxon alarm followed by Tia’s announcement. “Alpha Team critical call. A suspicious package, possibly a bomb, was found at the Annual French Hen Culinary Competition being held at the Trinity Convention Center.”

  “Lucille gets to come out and play!” Loki excitedly exclaimed as he ran for his tech room to get her.

  Dan deadpanned to Lexa as they headed out to gear up, “Might be nice if Loki could show just a little enthusiasm.”

  Lexa chuckled. “I know what you mean. Loki is awfully dour lately. Something has to be done to cheer him up.”

  Dan grinned, glad everything was back on an even keel with the team.

  Persona Non Grata

  11

  December 14

  Outside Trinity Convention Center – 1:00 p.m.

  Alpha Team arrived, and Loki maneuvered Lucille toward the entrance of the center while Nick engaged with the first responders. Jon and Bram reviewed the blueprints Ray obtained en route. Lexa and Ray went to instruct the constables to extend the perimeter containing the growing number of evacuated people. Dan grabbed his MP5, and a shield then followed Loki as he customarily did on bomb calls.

  Dan protected Loki on these calls. It had been his task ever since the team discovered he had experience with IEDs, landmines, and incendiary materials. He preferred this position on calls involving explosives because Dan didn’t want any more buddies blown up—Buzz, Gambit, and Robbie were enough.

  Ray had been relieved when Dan voluntarily took over the role. The team was well aware that things which went boom made Ray uncomfortable. His anxiety with explosives increased after the call where he knelt helplessly in front of a string of grenades. Ray professed to this day he was grateful Dan neutralized the subject, even though the shot grazed his arm, otherwise half the team and all the hostages would’ve been toast.

  Jon glanced up from the blueprint and caught sight of Dan trailing Loki, almost to the doors. Despite Bram’s words of caution, he felt strongly about Dan being in a position to be injured today. He called out over the headset, “Dan, I want you on crowd control out here. Ray, take the shield and go with Loki. Bram and I will clear the building with the uniforms already inside. Lexa, try to find out why we might have a bomb here.”

  “Copy,” three of four acknowledged.

  Dan was irked. “My duty is to protect and assist the bomb expert.”

  “Not this time, Dan. You’re out here,” Jon declared as he and Bram jogged toward the entrance.

  Ray trotted over and took the protective shield from Dan. “It’s better this way today. You’ve had a rough couple of days.” Following Loki, Ray pushed away his anxiety, focusing on the job at hand. He did this before, he could do it again, even though he disliked being anywhere near bombs.

  Loki glanced at Ray. “One man down range. You won’t need to be too close, buddy.”

  His voice calm and smooth as always, hiding the undercurrent of his real emotions, Ray said, “Got you covered.”

  Seething, Dan clamped his jaw shut to prevent cussing and voicing things he would regret later. The mother-hens needed to lay off him. He was fit to do his job and should be allowed to do it—not coddled like a child. Jon must think I’m weak. Dammit, I’m not!

  Inside Trinity Convention Center – 1:15 p.m.

  Loki and Lucille approached the suspicious package in the electrical room which was next to the large banquet hall currently set up for the cooking competition. He turned his head to Ray. “As far as you go.”

  Ray nodded and kept watch, preventing anyone from entering the room as Loki assessed the situation. He hoped it was a false alarm.

  Moving Lucille forward, Loki reported, “Package appears to be a pressure cooker. I see some wires on it though. Sending Lucille in closer to sniff.”

  Lexa shared information with the team. “Apparently, this competition is a big deal. Entrants come from around the world to compete. It isn’t immune from controversy. Last year, three chefs were disqualified for recipe theft. All three were upset and disputed the accusation. The competition also draws animal rights activists who have an issue with how poultry is raised. The Free the Fowls group pickets the event every year.”

  Nick nodded to the patrol officer after concluding the conversation and determining the whereabouts of the Trinity Convention Center General Manager so he could ensure all parts of the building were being evacuated. They had five other events besides the culinary competition underway which meant several hundred people needed to be moved to safety.

  As he jogged toward the center, Nick directed, “Lexa, find details on the disqualified chefs. They may be disgruntled and want to cause problems.”

  “On it, Boss.” Lexa began searching for contact information for the chefs.

  Nick changed to a walk and realized Jon was right. He should hit the gym and workout with the team more often. “Dan, do you see any protesters?”

  “Yeah, about three dozen. They’re a vocal lot.”

  “Go talk to them and learn what you can about the group.”

  “Copy.” Dan briskly strode toward the demonstrators.

  Jon communicated their status to the team. “Many contestants refuse to leave. They’re concerned their dishes will be ruined or are afraid someone will sabotage their efforts. Ray, I need you in here to help clear the competition area. We have a language barrier with some of the people. They only speak what sounds like Spanish, and since you speak Portuguese, you might be able to make them understand they must exit.”

  “No meu caminho,” Ray said then added, “That means, on my way.” He turned to check on Loki and found him engrossed in his analysis of the device. The area appeared secure, but he still disliked leaving him uncovered. Though it wasn’t out of the ordinary, calls were fluid, and their roles dictated by the current needs. It was one reason they cross-trained in all areas.
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br />   Outside Trinity Convention Center – 1:30 p.m.

  Dan approached the loud protesters trying to discern who might provide him with information he needed. No one stood out as the leader as he scanned the mix of people.

  “Free the fowls!” the group chanted.

  “Who is in charge?” Dan asked.

  A woman, dressed as if she stepped out of a French fashion magazine, came forward. Speaking with a soft French accent, she said, “I am.”

  “And what is your name?”

  “Mrs. Oiseau Ponceuses, but everyone calls me Birdie. Are you here to shut down this competition which proliferates the inhumane treatment of fowls?”

  “No, but I need to know a bit about your group and why you are protesting.”

  “We’re a group of bird lovers who are steaming mad at the foul methods used to raise commercial feathered friends. Have you ever seen the conditions they live in? It is inhumane.”

  “But why demonstrate here?”

  Birdie smiled. “My spouse organizes the event. He created it to spite me ten years ago after an argument because he knows I adore birds.”

  “So, you have a beef with him?”

  “No, not him, I love my husband dearly. I only use the Compétition française de poule to further my own cause. It is a great way to get visibility because it is world renown and receives lots of press. So, we kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.” Birdie giggled at her attempt at humor.

  Dan wanted to scratch his head at her thinking. He turned and quietly said, “Boss, I don’t think the bomber is part of this group. Strange relationship but the protest organizer is the wife of the man who runs the contest. She has no issue with him and only uses this as an opportunity to publicize her cause.”

  “Okay, Dan.” Nick’s eyes widened as he witnessed the group of chefs arguing with Jon, Bram, and Ray. Things became physical as one chef took a swing at Jon and several others threatened the guys with kitchen utensils. When Ray was whacked with a wooden spoon, he knew he had to bring Dan in.

  He wanted Dan outside for the same reasons Jon did. Dan needed to be away from the action if at all possible, but with the situation deteriorating rapidly he was needed in here. “Dan, come help clear the competition area. Be advised things are turning ugly in here.”

  Inside Trinity Convention Center –1:40 p.m.

  As Dan jogged inside, he slipped his hand between his vest and shirt and rubbed his chest. Still a little sore, the motion aggravated his muscles, but that wouldn’t prevent him from doing his job. He scanned the mayhem inside and grinned as he went into action. Dan approached the first chef station. “You need to evacuate now.”

  The chef sneered at him and used a fake, pretentious, French accent. “Je ne comprends pas l’anglais.”

  Dan glanced at the table and noted a recipe written in English. Like hell he doesn’t understand English. I can play his little game though. He spoke in fluent French as he told the man to exit the building. “Vous devez quitter le bâtiment maintenant.”

  Vexed his language ploy didn’t work, the chef’s accent disappeared, and he switched to English. “You can’t make me go! I won’t leave. I am Chef Orloff Faverolles. World renown for my French hen dishes. I’m set to win this competition.”

  Talking wouldn’t work, so Dan gripped the man’s arm and started moving him towards a uniformed officer. “Well, Mr. Faverolles, you’re leaving now, or I will arrest you.”

  Chef Faverolles yanked his arm out of Dan’s grip. “Alright, but it will be your fault if I lose this most prestigious culinary competition. You’ll be persona non grata in my establishment. Oh, wait you’re just a stupid cop you wouldn’t comprehend my meaning. Let me rephrase that for you.”

  Dan responded in Latin, “Noli vexari. Ut profluenter Latine loqui. Dubium esse volo visere non tibi usquam popina.”

  Entirely confused, Orloff’s eyes squinted at the cop. “What did you say?”

  Unable to hide his smirk, Dan replied, “I said, don’t bother. I speak Latin fluently. Doubt I would want to visit your restaurant anyway.” Dan shook his head as the man huffed and followed the officer out. He went to assist Bram who was arguing with five chefs. These people are crazy. There is a bomb, and they are more worried about winning a competition than getting blown up.

  Chuckling at Dan’s remark, Lexa clicked open a file. Russian, French, Catalan, and now Latin. How many languages does he speak? She refocused on her task searching for information which might be useful.

  Loki called out, “Boss, they wired the device into the electrical system. I’m gonna need to shut off the main power to defuse the bomb.”

  Nick surveyed the chaos. “Do it, Loki. We have yet to contain the area.”

  As the power went out and emergency lighting kicked in, riotous behavior began. Many competitors started loudly complaining their dishes would be ruined because the ovens turned off. Dan and Bram got the five men under control and after handcuffing two they handed them over to uniformed officers to escort them out. Jon and Ray were still dealing with a group of ten. Jon wanted to aim his weapon at the unruly lot but refrained.

  Loki let out his held breath as he clipped the last wire. “Bomb defused.”

  Nick sighed in relief. “How long until the electricity is back on?”

  A frown came to Loki’s face as he examined the mess in front of him. “Um, well, not anytime soon. I had to cut a lot of wires to decouple the bomb from the main circuitry. They’re gonna need an electrician to fix this and test it before power can be restored.”

  “Understood,” Nick said and then strode over to the organizer to deliver the bad news.

  Lexa finished running background on the disqualified contestants and discovered an interesting detail. “Boss, two of the three live in France. They’re not in Canada at the moment. The third was allowed back into the competition this year. Mr. Orloff Faverolles.”

  “I just sent Orloff Faverolles outside with a uniform,” Dan said.

  “We should talk with him. Dan, do you recall what he looks like?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go find him and take him to Lexa. I’ll be out in a moment.”

  “Copy.” Dan hustled outside seeking Faverolles.

  Outside Trinity Convention Center – 2:00 p.m.

  As Dan exited, he sighted Faverolles and headed in his direction at a brisk walk. The chef glanced at him then started to run away. “Ah crap! Boss, in pursuit of Faverolles. He saw me and ran.”

  “I got Dan’s six,” Lexa said as she raced from the command truck following the directions Dan called out to her.

  After a short distance, nearing a wall and unable to go any further, Orloff glanced behind him. Damn the cop is still there. He leaned heavily on the wall.

  Dan slowed and approached cautiously. “Orloff Faverolles, stay right there. We need to talk to you.”

  Lexa pulled to a stop behind Dan and aimed her MP5 at Faverolles. “Got you covered, Dan.”

  When Faverolles put up his hands and offered no resistance in the face of a weapon aimed at him, Dan moved forward, patted him down, and cuffed the man. “Why did you take off, Mr. Faverolles?”

  Orloff haughtily puffed out, “That is Chef Faverolles to you.”

  “Alright, but why did you run?” Dan asked again maintaining a professional tone and eliminating name and title.

  “It isn’t against the law to go for a jog. I was only getting some exercise until the competition started again.”

  Lexa lifted a brow as she looked at the heavy-set man who appeared as if he had eaten one too many of his own meals. Personal thoughts aside, in a respectful tone, Lexa said, “I’d like to talk to you about last year’s competition. You were disqualified. Can you tell me about that?”

  “Lies! Complete fabrication. I did not steal Francis Marans’ recipes!” Orloff asserted. “Francis only won because he accused me. Well, I’m going to win this year.”

  “Lexa, Dan, bring Mr. Faverolles back to the command truck. We
can question him further there,” Nick said.

  “Let’s go.” Dan’s grip on Faverolles tightened to guide him forward.

  As they walked, Lexa covertly observed Dan. He held himself a tad stiffly, and she caught him rubbing his chest. When the opportunity presented itself, she would discreetly offer him some pain meds.

  Inside Trinity Convention Center – 2:20 p.m.

  Loki secured the squib, a miniature explosive, into the blast box attached to the back of Lucille. It was a strange bomb to Loki. The device had a minimal blasting effect and was typically used by the movie industry to simulate bullets. The explosive power would be small, but it would have damaged the circuits causing the main power to be cut. However, it wouldn’t have affected the emergency backup system which was on a different panel. Why would someone place a bomb in this manner?

  As Loki maneuvered Lucille out of the electrical room, he spoke to her, “You did excellent, Lucille. You let me know precisely what I was dealing with—just a wee squib. Only enough to ruin the circuitry if it went off.”

  Ray overheard Loki and teased, “It didn’t go boom, but I think you succeeded in doing what the bomb was intended for.”

  Loki stopped Lucille and glanced back at the room he exited. He raked the lock of wayward hair from his forehead. “Yeah, I guess I did, huh.” He shook his head and continued at a slow pace behind Lucille.

  Several of the team chuckled.

  Halfway across the room, Loki paused again. Havoc reigned with a dozen or more angry chefs squawking about the electricity being off and ruining their competition. One mad-as-a-hen chef turned and glared at him. The antagonism in the man’s eyes made Loki nervous. He pushed Lucille’s joystick forward, moving toward the exit as fast as possible.

  Yells of, “That’s him!” and, “He turned off the power!” followed.

  Something hit Loki’s back with a thud. He glanced behind him and was astonished to see a trussed up and buttered hen on the ground. Loki ducked and covered as a barrage of hens and vegetables pelted him.

  Jon, Bram, and Ray witnessed the mob of chefs pointing at Loki. Oh shit, they all thought and started towards Loki as soon as a chef shouted, “Get him!” The three reached Loki after he took cover behind Lucille trying to fend off poultry, potatoes, carrots, beans, onions, tomatoes, and other assorted food items being hurled at him. Nick arrived only moments after the others.