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Dan peered through the peekaboo window of the kitchen oven, trying to determine whether it was time to open the door.
Timing was everything in gourmet cooking, and particularly important for flatbread dishes. You didn’t want to undercook and serve mushy flatbread. You didn’t want to overcook and serve crackers. But when you open the door, your lose temperature consistency and won’t get it back for at least a minute, by which time the flatbread would almost certainly be less tha optimal.
Cooking was traumatic—but in a good way. And a welcome respite from the more physical traumas of the past few days. Cooking wouldn’t make them go away. But focusing on something else, even for a brief moment, was a welcome respite.
Out the corner of his eye, he saw Maria enter the kitchen. Long thick black hair. Trim figure, apparent even in baggy, casual clothes. BLM lapel pin. Beautiful. She stood close, but not too close. Closer than she did before they shared that first kiss on the back patio, but she didn’t throw her arms around him or anything. She stood tentatively, as if she weren’t quite sure what to do with herself. “Smells wonderful.”
“Let’s hope.” He made a point of smiling. He knew she was trying to feel her way around this new...whatever it was. Not pushing. But perhaps persistently reminding.
“Nice to have you around. We missed you. I mean, you know. All of us.”
He smiled. “I missed you, too.”
“Kitchen hasn’t smelled this good since you took off on your...vision quest. Or whatever. Jimmy tries to cook occasionally...but...it’s not the same.”
“He gets all his recipes from the DC Heroes Cookbook. Which was written for eight-year-olds. Super Hot Dogs and Bat-Nachos.”
“What are you making?”
“You’re about to see. Stand back, please.” He opened the over door and a rush of hot air blew upward. Wearing his oven mitts, he removed the oversize sheet pan and placed it on a trivet. Eight pieces of flatbread adorned with zucchini and tomatoes sizzled. “Perfect timing.”
Maria peered at the pan. “Have we had this before?”
“No. This is my super-special Flatbread Not-Pizza. Flatbread and ricotta-based spread, adorned with baked veggies.” He paused. “It’s for special occasions. And special people.”
That perked her interest. “It is?”
“It is.” He removed his mitts. While it cooled, he would added the chili flakes, fresh basil, lemon zest, and honey drizzle. But that could wait a moment. “Maria, I very much appreciate how...understanding you’ve been.”
She inched a bit closer. “You mean about you taking a powder just when it looked like we were starting something?”
“I made a commitment.”
“I know. And you asked if we could put this...whatever on hold till you worked it all out.”
“I need to get my life in order. I have to learn the truth about what happened to my father.”
“I understand. We don’t have to rush...whatever this is going to be.” She paused a moment, and when he didn’t say anything, she added, “Because this is going to be something, right?”
He started adding the dressings. “You did notice that I’m making my special Not-Pizza, right?”
“Yes...”
“It’s a Relationship Dish.”
“It is? Like, that’s a thing? Relationship dishes?”
“Of course. Only for people who are in a relationship. Yet to be defined.” He turned to her, reaching out slightly. “That okay with you?”
“Well...sure.”
Their heads moved closer...and of course at that moment Jimmy came bounding down the stairs. Red cardigan, last button undone. Bit too much hair oil. Loafers. Jimmy was an invaluable member of the team. He usually handled the legal writing, and he had connections with virtually every useful person in town. “What’s going on down here?”
They both straightened. “Maria is helping me cook.”
“Uh-huh.” He walked past them and took a whiff of dinner. “Oh my gosh. That smells heavenly. We’ve missed you, Dan. And not just your cooking.”
“Thanks.”
“But mostly your cooking. Got any more plans for the day?”
“Just lunch with my posse. Thought I might get in a little kite-surfing. Then back to—”
Garrett entered wearing a Rays t-shirt and carrying his laptop. He was a former prosecutor and easily the most conservative member of the team. “Do I smell lunch?”
“You do. Everyone grab a plate.”
Dan had almost forgotten how much he adored his team—his law firm, technically. The mysterious Mr. K, who only appeared to them via voice-only Skype, was the leader, but the four of them worked together on almost everything. Mr. K had remodeled a fabulous Snell Isle mansion into their office space—complete with a gourmet-grade kitchen. He would stay with this firm even if they met in a shack—but the mansion was better.
Breaking with tradition, they each took a bar stool around the kitchen bar. Close quarters, perfect for chatting and catching up.
“Judging from what I read online this morning,” Garrett said, “you’ve gotten yourself into a hell of a mess, Dan. Why am I not surprised?”
“Because that’s the story of his life,” Jimmy sniffed.
“I understood when you wanted to learn more about your past. How did that turn into a sting operation with international organ smugglers? Or a courtroom execution? I don’t think these associations that are beneficial for the firm.”
“I’m not entirely sure how this happened myself. Did you have any idea how pervasive organ smuggling has become? It’s a billion-dollar business. Some authorities believe there are more black-market organ sales than legal ones.”
“Hideous.”
“And the cargo we uncovered was living human beings. Intended to be harvested for their organs.”
“Like something out of a horror movie. But I’m not sure how it relates to your father’s case. Or how it’s beneficial for this firm.”
“If you prevented those girls from being cut up for parts, that’s good enough for me,” Jimmy said. “Hank has told me about those Salvadorian butchers that claim to be surgeons, even though they have no real training whatsoever.” Hank was Jimmy’s husband, also African-American, an ER doc at a local hospital. “Sounds horrible.”
“Organ smuggling has become a worldwide problem,” Dan continued. “These organ cartels exist all over the world—Russia, China, even some European countries. The largest near us was Los Caballeros Templarios.”
Maria jumped in. “The Knights Templar Cartel.”
“Exactly. A quasi-religious crime syndicate. How you combine Catholicism with kidnapping humans to harvest for organs is beyond me. But that cartel recently suffered some law enforcement problems and diversified into other illegal operations—like mining, and logging, and extortion. It’s believed that created an opening for the cartel that was already sex trafficking into St. Petersburg.”
Jimmy winced. “Isn’t there anything we can do about this?”
Dan shrugged. “The only real solution is to increase the number of legally available organs, but so far, they’re in short supply. What we should have is a global policy of presumed consent. That would increase the number of organs available by something like 25-30%. But so far, only the US, Brazil, and a few European countries have done it.”
“Whatever. Far as I’m concerned, what Dan did makes him a superhero.” Jimmy beamed. “He’s our Aquaman. As I may have mentioned.”
“Once or twice,” Maria said, muffling a grin.
“I think you’re both missing the point,” Garrett said. “Dan is putting the firm at risk—and for what? His own private thirst for knowledge? A vendetta?”
“That’s not fair,” Jimmy said.
“I hear what you’re saying,” Dan said. “But we’ve damaged the cartel. Seriously. We’ve dinged it and nicked it before, but this time we’ve truly done some damage. If we can bring it down for good, once and for all, we’ll have done an immeasurable service to this community. To the world. Thousands of people will be safer. Maybe millions.”
“This is a law firm, not the Justice League. This is not our job.”
“My father used to talk about keeping the faith. With your family, your community, the people you work with and the people you love. I think he walked the walk—”
“And paid a huge price for it.”
Dan drew in his breath. “He kept the faith. I’m going to try to do the same.” He paused. “I’m going to try to be worthy of him.”
Maria cut in. As Dan knew all too well, she was often the peacemaker between him and Garrett. “We understand completely, Dan. But we still miss you. When are you coming back to work?”
“I’m really no closer than I was before to learning what happened to my father, how the most decorated member of the St. Pete police force ended up behind bars for a murder he didn’t commit.” He paused. “I just wanted to stop in and see you guys. I kinda missed...all of you.”
He saw Jimmy’s eyes dart, first to him, then to Maria. “Uh-huh. All of us.”
“Yeah. Even you.”
Jimmy pressed his hands against on his cardigan. “Is this Relationship Not-Pizza?”
“Excuse me?”
“This is a Relationship Dish, isn’t it? That’s why we’ve never had it before.”
“Relationship Dish?” Dan asked. “Is that a thing?”
“Don’t play coy with me. Something is going on here. I can smell it.”
He forced himself not to look at Maria. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A pinging sound emerged from Garrett’s laptop. “It’s Mr. K,” Garrett explained. “Apparently he wants to talk.”
“I didn’t know we were having a meeting.”
“Neither did I.” Garrett pushed a few buttons and turned up the sound. “Hello, Mr. K. Can you hear me?”
A familiar voice emerged from the speakers. “Loud and clear. Hello, team. Am I interrupting?”
“Nah. We’re just eating. Go ahead.”
“Thanks. I just wanted to chat with you all while Dan was in the office. Glad to have you back, Dan.”
“Thanks.” How did K know he was here? How did he know they were all together? K always seemed to know everything about everybody’s everything. A little spooky, really.
“What’s for lunch?” K asked. “I’ll bet Dan made something wonderful.”
“We’re having Flatbread Not-Pizza.”
“Really?’ K sounded perplexed. “Isn’t that a Relationship Dish?”
“Ok, now I’m smelling a rat.” He glanced at Maria, who had her phone in her hand. “Have you been texting people?”
“Perish the thought.”
“It would explain a great deal.”
“Dan,” K said, “I heard about what happened at the dock a few nights ago. And that horror show in the courtroom. How’s everyone taking it?”
“The courthouse is closed and likely to stay that way for at least a week. They’re scrubbing it down and hiring extra security. Anyone wants to file anything, they have to do it electronically.”
“Any idea why the deputy did that?”
“It appeared he did not want The Captain to talk.”
“But why?”
“I’m baffled. I’ve known Dick Ennis for years. Didn’t know him personally, but he seemed like a good guy. We assume someone got to him, one way or another.”
“Money won’t help him when he’s dead.”
“No, but it might help his family. His wife seems to have disappeared.”
“Kidnapped? Blackmail?”
“That’s what everyone is assuming. But unless they find her, we’ll never know for sure.”
“Then we’ll never know. What about the girls locked in the hold of that cargo ship?”
“They all seem to have survived the ordeal, thank goodness. Most were seriously malnourished. And dehydrated. But they’re coming around. ICE is involved, and the FBI. They’re trying to return the abductees to the families. If they have families.”
“Most won’t. Smugglers target vulnerable girls without strong family connections. People who won’t be missed.”
“I know.”
“You might...think about handling some immigration cases again, Dan. See if you can help people find a place in the world.”
“Happy to do it, K, but—just to be clear, I’m not coming back to work yet.”
“Sorry to hear that. We need you. We’ve been shorthanded for too long. Still investigating your father’s case?”
“Yeah. Everywhere I go I run into closed doors and brick walls. No one will talk.”
“To a persuasive guy like you?”
“I think Sweeney has gotten to them. Threatened them. Bribed them. To be honest...this is getting more than a little frustrating. I can’t give up.”
“Agreed.”
“But it seems futile to investigate. Every lead is a dead end.”
The kitchen fell silent for a moment. He heard the faint crackle of static on the Skype line.
Finally K spoke. “I know one way to get someone to talk. Even Conrad Sweeney.”
“And that is?”
“A court order.”
“Like a subpoena?” Maria asked. “But you can’t get a subpoena unless—” Her voice dropped off. “Oh.”
“Exactly.”
Dan tilted his head. “K, are you suggesting...?”
“I read that Mr. Sweeney is opening yet another one of those women’s shelters this afternoon. Supposed to give a little talk and hold a press conference afterward. He’ll be taking questions.”
A small smile played on Dan’s lips. “So...anything could happen.”
“But Dan—be careful. You know you’re playing with fire.”
“I know Sweeney’s dangerous, if that’s what you mean.”
“You’re right, but it’s not just him. You interfered with a South American cartel. If they can get to a courtroom deputy, Dan, they can get to anyone. No one is safe. Not you, or anyone on this team. No one.”