“Oh? You mean it was hollow?”
Try as she might, Laurina couldn't suppress the grin that appeared unbidden to her face. “Don't tell me you didn't know?” she smiled in mock surprise.
Abel slapped his forehead. “I had no idea. Oh you wicked little sisters!"
For a moment they laughed heartily while gazing at each other, lost in blissful memories of the past. However, once the letter’s implications dawned on them both, they quickly sobered. Abel sat down again and put his teacup aside.
“What does this letter tell you, Laur?”
“This letter states quite clearly that Galicia is not well at all. And that she being watched, and therefore had to smuggle a hidden message into her letter. That is why she mentions the lobster she wants to crack open with her bare teeth.” Laurina stared intently at her older brother.
“We need to crack the code in her hidden message!”
Abel nodded. “I see. And that's where I come in.”
She laid the letter down in front of him. “Abel, you have been interested in cryptography for ages; long before you became a researcher and computer geek, and even when we were back at the Home.”
“True enough. However, it’s been a long time since I’ve worked in that field.”
“Who cares? I’m sure you haven’t lost your deciphering skills. If there is anyone who can break this code, it’s you. Please Abel,” Laurina pleaded. “I know you’re hurt and angry at Galicia for leaving and not contacting you but this is serious. She needs your help.”
Abel looked at her for a long moment. Finally, he smiled grimly and shrugged his shoulders in resignation. “Bloody hell woman! You could con the pitchfork from the devil himself, and get it!” A hint of playfulness appeared on his round face as he smiled ruefully. “Well, I suppose I can’t very well refuse a challenge like this now can I? Let’s take a gander at that letter again, shall we?”
Abel studied the message, while a grateful Laurina stamped out her cigarette in the ashtray, and sat quietly awaiting his verdict. The ticking of the cheap plastic alarm clock on the windowsill became the dominant noise in the kitchen, drowned out occasionally by the bellow of a ship's horn or muffled by the rain drumming against the window panes.
“Hmm,” Abel muttered. “Galicia like fantasy novels right?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Please Laur, humor me and just answer my question.”
Laurina knitted her brow, as she tried hard to recall her younger sister’s lifestyle.
“Let me think.... she mainly read ‘Highlander’ tomes…Diana Gabaldon and the like…Irish Folklore. She loved anything Celtic, anything having to do with runes and all that. Bloody boring if you ask me.”
“Celtic runes, indeed! Well, look at this, will you...”
He put the letter on the table and pointed towards the top.
“Take a close look at the quotation marks in “dear” Sister.
“And this “o”… It differs from all the others o's. Basically it's just a small square.”
Abel shifted his 300 pound frame to the left and leaned against the refrigerator. He reached for an open bag of potato chips lying on top, and brought them down. Laurina suspected they had probably been lying there open since the night before.
“So what do these symbols suggest?” Abel asked patiently.
“Maybe they are special characters?”
“Bingo! And in fact, it’s from a specific alphabet! That's why I asked you about her interests, Laur. This small square is a relict from the Tyronic notation, an ancient Irish ampersand, which is still in use today.”
“And what exactly are Tyronic notes?” Laurina smiled slyly. “I doubt they have anything to do with music."
“Don’t be a twit Laur. It's Roman shorthand, which is used for text corrections in some parts; in fact, newspaper editors still use it today.”
Abel rattled the tea service as he suddenly staggered up from the table. Grimacing with pain, he reaching into his pants pocket, pulled out the bottle of Vicotin and shook out two pills. Popping them into his mouth, he washed them down with the last of his tea. “Let me get to my computer. I need to do some programming.”
“This won’t take too long will it? You know, I have an appointment this evening.”
Abel grimaced as he straightened, and shook his head reprovingly at her, like a parent would regard a child shunning homework for play. “It'll have to wait,” he said. “This is much more important.”
“Of course,” Laurina acquiesced quietly. “I'll ring up my “date” and tell him I will be late.”
“You do that,” Abel replied, as he disappeared into the back hallway.
Laurina walked back to the foyer, reached for the cell phone in her coat pocket and pressed a number on speed dial.
“Hello, Mr. Rickenbacker? Yes, this is she. Uh, yes, the weather is rather depressing. Oh no, everything’s fine, however I'm still with a client here. Can we reschedule our appointment by two hours or so? Yes, I have all the proper documents…no, it won't take long, as long as the location, appeals to you. Yes, nine o’clock then…Righty-o, see you then. Cheers!”
Laurina terminated the conversation and sighed, hoping that the time frame she suggested would be enough. Thankfully she heard the clattering of the keyboard from Abel's study showing that he was hard at work on the problem.
Willing herself to relax, Laurina walked over to the grimy window and looked out. The all day rain had finally stopped, at least for the moment, and a thick fog was beginning to form. As she rested a hand on the windowsill absently, she heard Big Ben tolling seven p.m. Scanning the horizon, she caught sight of the beam of a searchlight tracing arcs in the grey sky like the 20th Century Fox logo she had seen at the beginning of many a movie. She was surprised to find its rhythmic back and forth motion oddly calming.
It always seems like I’m waiting around for something. Waiting for Galicia to grow up and be off on her own, waiting for Abel to recover from his injuries, waiting for a mark to take the bait. Why do I feel like I’m in a holding pattern waiting for my own life to begin? It’s like I’m cooped up in a tower waiting for someone to rescue me, like some bloody fairytale princess. What would it be like to be free; to fly like a bird, soaring willy-nilly like that searchlight, with no obligations, no worries, no responsibilities to anyone but me?
She closed her eyes and imagined herself dancing again, pirouetting on a huge stage at the London Ballet. Twirling faster and faster, allowing the world to blur in front of her eyes in a rush of exhilaration. Then she came to rest, standing on point with her arms held aloft like the preening feathers of a red headed bird, before settling her body to the floor in classic form; all while her adoring audience bathed her in warm applause.
A few wistful moments later, she opened her eyes and allowed the image to fade from her mind as she sighed heavily.
Shit, who am I kidding?
Time passed quickly. Looking up absently at the cheap kitchen clock, Laurina saw that 45 minutes had elapsed since she spoken to Rickenbacker on the phone. Felling a bit antsy, she got up and strolled through the corridor to check on Abel’s progress.
Walking down the hallway to his bedroom office, she marvelled at how much of the walls were covered with shelves full of books, like a row at the Public Library. Entering the room, Laurina saw Abel sitting at his large “L” shaped oaken desk, hard at work on one of the three open laptops which occupied his “command centre.” Abel had stopped using desktops – he considered them too immobile. The contradiction made her laugh inside, since he was the most sedentary person she had ever known. The one he was currently working on was running a series of calculations; columns of numbers scurrying across the screen, like an image straight out of a Hollywood science fiction. She watched with interest as he pounded the keys, and instantly the columns of numbers changed into diagrams and characters.
Anonymously known online as Killjoy409, he was a fledgling hacker of some notoriety, having d
efaced the websites of several high profile companies of questionable reputation, as well as the sites of a few politicians. He relished his computer time, especially when he immersed himself in his “virtual world" as he called it; a realm consisting entirely of algorithms, letters, figures, intricate characters and complex calculations.
Glancing at the second laptop, she recognized one of Abel’s virtual worlds that he had been so keen about recently. The screen showed the backdrop of the courtyard of a medieval castle where animated characters engaged in warfare, striking each other repeatedly. Next to the main screen was a window where chat messages constantly appeared. Laurina recognized from her earlier visits that behind these animated characters were real players who had decided to meet up in this world to give each other’s avatar a thorough bashing. Somehow Abel saw a deeper meaning in this, as he often lost himself in this game world for weeks at a time. At times, he seemed to attach more significance to these online games than to reality itself, but Laurina was always careful not to call him on it.
The third laptop screen revealed another set of calculations, different from the ones on the first screen. This one contained one long column of numbers racing across the screen at breathtaking speed, while a flashing display on the side constantly presented new values.
“What exactly are you doing there?” she asked, casually indicating the third screen.
“Looking for extraterrestrial life,” Abel replied just as casually.
“The so-called SETI-Project.”
Laurina rolled her eyes and sighed.
“Smashing,” she said sarcastically.
Why not? Why wouldn't a computer geek be looking for ET?
“Bloody boring if you ask me,” the redhead replied.
“By the way Laur,” Abel said, ignoring her comment. “I'm transforming Galicia’s text into Tyronic notation; or, to be more precise, into numbers representing the notes. This program displays a graphical representation as soon as a significant pattern arises. You see? Here.” He indicated a graph. A letter “L” was already recognizable.
“And you think there is a complete sentence?” Laurina asked anxiously.
“The less you bother me, the sooner we'll know.”
“Okay, I'll shut my trap then,” she replied chagrined. “Do you have a Coke or a bottle of water or something? I could sure use a drink.”
“Check the fridge,” he dismissed her with a wave.
Walking back to the kitchen, Laurina opened up the ancient refrigerator. Unfortunately there was no cold water inside, but she did find a single bottle of Coca Cola next to an opened bottle of champagne. She could only guess at the story behind this bottle, but looking at it, it seemed clear that his champagne-drinking guest had fled the premises long before the bottle was close to being finished.
Abel probably put her off with his blather about extraterrestrials, his online worlds and his “Virtual Existence.”
Laurina shook her head, picked up the Coke bottle and walked over to the kitchen cupboard. After rummaging through the drawers for an opener and coming up empty, she opened the bottle with the edge of her lighter. She took a long pull directly from the bottle before nervously regarding her watch. It read 8:12 p.m.
For next half hour, she restlessly paced the kitchen. Hopefully her appointment would wait for her. She was glad that she didn't tell Abel exactly what she had planned for this chap. He probably would have tried to talk her out of it.
“Eureka!” Electrified by Abel's shout, Laurina bolted back toward his study in a rush. A second later she heard him cry out again. “Bugger me!” Abel stared at the screen in horror as she arrived at his desk. Finally, he looked up at her, and Laurina saw that the color had drained from his face. “Laur,” he said hesitantly. “Love, I don't know if you should read this or not.”
“You bloody well better get outta my way!” The redhead stepped around the desk until she stood behind him. She gazed at the screen, and recoiled as she read the prominent sentence that stood out in bold letters below the charts:
Forget me. Flee London, they will destroy you. If they catch you trust Kelder.
“Bloody hell!” the beautiful redhead exclaimed anxiously.
So Galicia is in some kind of terrible fix. And it’s nasty enough that she wants me outta the city to boot. But what happened to her, and who are ‘They?’ And why does she want me to trust Kelder? I’d rather trust a bloody rat! Gal has no idea that the good Inspector would love nothing better than to take me into custody, and lock me up in his special cell at the Yard.
Laurina made a decision. There was no way that she could ignore the frightening implications. Something ominous was going on, big enough to threaten her life as well. But Galicia’s safety had always been more important to her than her own. She had no choice but to try to save her.
Forget you Gal? You must be barmy!
Laurina turned on her heels and ran into the kitchen.
“Laur! What are you doing?” Abel exclaimed as he staggered from his seat and limped after her. By the time he reached the flat’s entryway Laurina had already donned her coat. He caught sight of the look of determination on her face and immediately knew what it meant.
“You’re planning to go after her aren’t you?”
“Abel, we have to do something! We need to get to Phoenix Arizona!”
“We?” Abel hesitated. “Well yes, you’re right of course. But let’s think about it for a moment. It'll be expensive love, especially on such short notice. We'll need cash and lots of it for the plane tickets, somewhere to flop, and hell we may even have to bribe someone.”
“That's why I can't miss my date!”
Recognition came into Abel’s mind.
“So it really is another con is it? And I’ll bet it’s a right profitable one at that. Laurina, what exactly are you planning?” When the redhead didn’t answer right away, he sighed heavily.
“Please love don’t do this, not again.”
“We don’t have a choice Abel. It’s the only way.” She clutched one of his large hands and held it tenderly. “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything stupid, I promise. Wait here until I get back, please. I promise I'll contact you the minute I’m finished, and we’ll make plans to leave for America.”
“But Laur, we’ll need a plan of action!”
“That’s where you come in Abel. Work out a plan, and we’ll figure out the details once we’re on the plane.”
She quickly made her way to the door preparing to depart.
“What if something happens and you get hurt or worse?” he said sadly as he walked up behind her. “I don’t think I could bear it.”
Laurina paused briefly at the door and looked at the big man. Lines of worry creased the center of his brow like a washboard.
Oh Abel. You’re always looking out for my welfare. You’re the best brother a girl could ever have!
She lightly touched his cheek with her right hand. “It’ll be okay Abel. You’ll see. Now buck up you bugger and wish me luck!”
Abel swallowed the large lump growing in his throat. Then impulsively, he pulled the redhead close, kissed her on the cheek and hugged her tightly. Reaching into a caddy next to the door, he pulled out a small red umbrella and pressed it into her hands.
“Here Laur, take it. It’ll stave off the worst of the rain. I’ll contact Clarence at home and take a leave of absence. He won’t be happy about it, but if I tell him it’s a family matter, he won’t say much. In the meantime, you mind your step! I have an awful feeling about this whole bloody affair and I’ll feel a damned sight better once you finish this caper of yours. Call me the minute you’re out of harms way, and we’ll meet up. And please, do be careful!”
Chapter 2
The deep, resonating sound of a foghorn moaned its sad call over the nearby docks. Once again, rain fell ever so softly from the sky, and seemed to add to the eerie mist that curled its way through the dark streets of London’s harbor district. A dark warehouse stood prominently am
ong a cluster of smaller buildings, keeping its solitary vigil over the Shipyard. The cavernous building was mostly barren inside save for the piles of discarded shipping crates and related debris that surrounded its edges. That and a large steel work table which sat in the center of the floor. Along one wall, a metal stairway ascended to an open maintenance catwalk that ran along both walls with one section that led to the lone upstairs office.
A large girder was suspended along the center of the ceiling, framed by the smaller ones which ran along both sides, curving down the walls to the floor, giving anyone who stepped inside the impression that they had been swallowed by a great metal whale. Attached to the center girder was a crane that was still in good working condition; perfect for moving crates of cargo to be shipped. Several thick linked chains dangled from the apparatus, and a hint of tinkling echoed through the warehouse as a slight breeze from the open windows above stirred them slowly to life.
The rain outside though light, seemed to beat thunderously against the metal roof of the warehouse. Through the dirt streaked glass, two figures could be seen in quiet discussion next to the work table.
The young woman was the taller of the two. The full length black leather coat she wore seemed too large for her frame, and gave her the appearance of a little girl playing dress-up with her daddy’s clothes. However, the small black leather mini skirt and black fishnet stockings underneath revealed her to be all woman. A closer look showed that the red silk blouse she wore was only partially tucked into her skirt, and her long shapely legs fell away into tall black leather boots. Her companion stood next to her nervously clutching a grey metal briefcase against his chest as if it were a life preserver. He was a short, plump, balding man in his late forties embodying the stereotypical British businessman; soft, well mannered and well fed. He wore the usual natty brown tweed suit and vest, as well as a white silk ascot which he thought gave his appearance a bit of dash. However, any hint of the debonair was quickly dispelled by the thick round horned rimmed spectacles the man wore on his plump oval face, and the continuous nervous sweat that appeared on his brow.
One Last Con Page 4