Breach of Power

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Authors: Chuck Barrett
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need the money. I do this because I enjoy it and want to stay busy. If I sat around here every day with my thumb up my ass, I'd probably die in a couple of months. Zula Mae…" DeLoach pointed to the door. "…Nosy woman but she takes good care of the house which leaves me time to do this. I'll only charge you what it costs me—basically chemicals, electricity, and supplies. To do this right, you're looking at around five or six hundred dollars, payable in cash, before you get the book back. Those are my terms and as you can probably guess, I'm quite inflexible. But rest assured, the restoration will be done properly."
    "That sounds more than reasonable. Quite frankly, I expected to pay more." She smiled again at the old man. "I can't imagine why my uncle put this book in the freezer. He moved to the States in his twenties. I'm hoping it has my family history in it, which is something I'd like to know more about."
    "I understand, Ms Regan." DeLoach paused.
    "Please, call me Ashley." She tried to look calm. Had his suspicions already been raised? Was her story not convincing enough?
    "Very well, Ashley, a word of caution. Family is important. Roots are important. But I have lived long enough to know that all families have secrets. Some with dark secrets. I hope your uncle's book does not alarm or disappoint you."
    "My uncle was an eccentric old man. My parents thought he was crazy, but as a kid, I thought he was neat." She paused. "There's no telling what's in that book."
    "As long as you're prepared."
    "Nothing about my uncle or his life would surprise me." She shifted the subject back to the old man. "The librarian at the college told me you're an expert, how long have you been doing these types of restorations?"
    "Over fifty years of document restoration and thirty years of genealogical studies."
    "Genealogy?"
    "Yes. I used to teach a course at the university," he paused, "until they decided I was too old."
    "Nonsense. I can't believe they would waste your knowledge and experience."
    DeLoach stared at Regan. "They wanted new blood. Someone younger, someone more in touch with the digital age, they said. I taught the old school methods of research in libraries and courthouses with a small amount of emphasis on the use of the Internet. They claimed they wanted it the other way around. I think they just wanted to pay a smaller salary."
    DeLoach stood. "Call me in a couple of days and I'll give you a progress report."
    DeLoach yelled. "Zula Mae, you can quit listening through the door now and show Ms Regan out, please?"
----
    P ointe-à-Pitre , Guadeloupe

    A bigail Love stared down at the four-foot gap between the East Tower and the West Tower of the condominium complex then gazed out across the few remaining lights in the sleepy Caribbean town. She tossed her nylon rope across the chasm to the roof of the West Tower, stood on the two-foot high ledge and held her breath. She was on the rooftop of the eight-story East Tower and she knew the fall would be nearly a hundred feet. She'd practiced this jump several times in her room. Now was the moment of truth. She bent her knees slightly, flexed her muscles and pushed off with all her strength.
    Love's small framed cleared the two-foot ledge on the West Tower and as her feet touched the rooftop, she tucked and rolled and then sprang back to her feet. Just like she'd practiced.
    She grabbed her nylon rope, secured it to a vent pipe, and walked to the edge of the roof. Two floors below was the Kingsley's unit.
    It was funny how things worked out, she thought; she had been so worried about when she would get to case the Kingsley's condominium but Teresa Kingsley had innocently made it all possible.
    Dinner with the Kingsleys the previous night went so well that Martin insisted she join them again tonight. Teresa seemed excited but Abigail Love saw through Martin Kingsley's motives. He wanted Teresa out of his hair and Abigail was the perfect solution.
    Teresa and Love spent the day

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