Echo

no avail. Shaking his head in disgust, he left the room. He will allow her one week to snap out of it, even as he knew it looked unlikely. He hoped his backup plan was going to show some results. He had invested almost a year in the project. Time was running out.
    He decided to make a call, unwilling to wait any longer. The campaign was starting to suffer without her appearance. He changed into his boat shoes and walked out the French doors to the terrace. His panoramic view of Sarasota Bay was the best that money could buy, showcasing the boats tethered to his dock, the smaller unrecognizable 38 foot Bertram being made ready for his trip across the bay where he would dock at Marina Jacks. It was only a short three block walk from there to the Mosque.
    He hurried down the formal garden path bordered with his wife’s favorite yellow tea roses and made his way to the slip, quickly boarding along with his two bodyguards. Casting off, he gave them both instructions to stay with the yacht.
    Going below he donned his disguise, emerging as an elderly gentleman of vague Middle Eastern distinction. Nodding to his bodyguards, he hardly noticed the small school of dolphins amusing themselves in the wake of the yacht as it skimmed across the breathtaking bay in the shadow of Ringling Bridge. The occasional wave sent cold spray back into his now lined and aged face. He glanced down at his hands, recognizing how damp his palms were. He rubbed them lightly on his baggy cotton pants. A shiver past through him; making his stomach spasm with fear. Stoically, he shook it off. His only thoughts swirled around the bottomless power and iron fists of the important men he would soon meet with.

Chapter 17
    The drive to Norristown took about an hour with no traffic other than the occasional late night gin mill patron. It felt like they were on the lam, stealing away like guilty thieves in the night; leaving the house, chocked full of so many vibrant memories, not easy. A feeling of deserting her mother washed over Abby as the limo sped along the highway. Scotty moodily kept to himself in the corner of the car, a dog carrier for the purpose of hiding Echo at his feet.
    Echo and Barney sat next to each other, noses pressed to the smoked glass of the limo. The limo driver, if need be, communicated with them through an intercom, their compartments segregated by an opaque partition creating complete privacy. And for the first time in days, they felt safe.
    Five pieces of gold, individually wrapped in old wrinkled paper bags, sat on the seat with them. They decided not to let the gold out of their sight until Jose melted it down to be converted into cash. They planned to spend a week in Norristown while he completed the task. Half of the cash would be deposited in an account and a safety deposit box in Norristown’s largest local bank, The Doyle Farmer’s Trust. The rest would remain safely with them.
    Arriving at the hotel, they relied on their driver to check them in while they took the gold, Barney, his dog food and Echo, in her dog carrier, up to the penthouse. There they found two well-appointed bedrooms, a deluxe gourmet kitchen and a living room and dining room furnished in antiques. With a glance at Abby and Jose, Scotty took the smaller bedroom. Although it could hardly be called small, allowing plenty of room for Barney and Echo in the big bed with him.
    After putting the Do Not Disturb sign out, Jose sat them all, including Echo, at the mahogany dining room table. They all felt a bit sheepish and intimidated with their surroundings, having never laid eyes on such luxury and excess. All rich jewel tone fabrics, wainscoting and marble. Just the enormous hand painted ceilings were enough to make them feel intimidated. Their whole house would fit into the mirrored entry hall and bourbon, crushed velvet living room alone. Wishing circumstances were different, they realized celebrating their good fortune must wait. They must deal with the fact that two people died; quite a little dampener on things.
    “Well, is anyone going to tell me what happened to the skeletons that sat in our living room just as few hours ago?” The audible tension in Abby’s voice reminded the others of the problem.
    “We have them,” Scotty said.
    “What do you mean, we have them?” Abby’s face looked shocked. Jose reached over and took her hands, trying to reassure her, wanting her to stay calm as they tried to work this out.
    “Abby, we couldn’t leave