Spiderstalk

by D. Nathan Hilliard

  Which still left him absolutely nowhere.

  But he intended to change all that.

  He still didn’t believe the police’s scenario of a drug cartel. Not even the one featuring David and his family innocently stumbling onto some kind of illegal deal or operation and getting killed. What the old man said at the pool didn’t jibe with either of those proposals. Besides, the two people who tried to kill him didn’t look anything at all like somebody who came out of Mexico.

  With a sigh, he zoomed back in on the cell tower.

  Pulling out a pencil, Adam put an “x” in a small block on the top part of a piece of graph paper lying beside his laptop. Each x would represent one sheet of paper. He fiddled with his zoom a little more, checking the scale. Then he pulled himself to his feet and tottered over to the printer. After filling it with paper and checking its supply of toner, he returned to his chair and faced the massive screen again.

  “It’s okay, Tucker,” he whispered at the image of the cell tower. “I know you’re out there somewhere. Uncle Adam is going to find you.”

  Then he hit the “print screen” button.

  ###

  “What is he doing, Olivia?”

  Antonio leaned across the rental car’s front seat and watched his niece’s slim fingers fly over the keys of her laptop. They were parked across the street and half a block down from where Adam worked on his current project. They weren’t really watching his house, as that would be a difficult exercise through the rain-beaded windshield. Instead, they were doing something better.

  “He is printing out another satellite picture, in an area adjacent to the one he printed a moment ago.”

  She turned the laptop slightly in his direction, giving him a better view of what happened on the screen. One window on the monitor displayed everything appearing on Adam’s computer up the street, while another logged all the keystrokes he made. Everything he did on his computer registered on her laptop.

  While he liked to think of himself as comfortable with electronics, Antonio suffered a quiet twinge of awe at the ease with which Olivia defeated the security of Sellars’ wireless Internet connection. She did it with the same sedate composure she would show typing a memo. Simply completing another task assigned to her.

  While high-level hacking might be just one of his niece’s many talents, to him it represented technological prowess that approached wizardry. Feats like this made him worry about the safety of their own systems. It prompted him to voice his fear to Olivia, who coolly assured him their security and encryption methods protected them on a level surpassing anything available on the commercial market.

  And if he struggled to follow this kind of technological sophistication, how far out of touch with today’s world must the Council be? Most of those men grew up before cars were a common sight on the roads. How in the hell were they supposed to guide The People through today’s world of instant communication and enhanced individual capability? They were Model T’s in a world where the space shuttle was considered obsolete technology.

  This last thought brought him back to the present.

  Now he studied the parade of satellite images Adam Sellars methodically loaded and then printed out up the street. Antonio sensed a certain relentless single mindedness to the process he found fascinating. A type of doggedness that evoked a familiar feeling in him, as if he should recognize the activity happening on the screen in front of him but couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

  “What do you think he’s up to?”

  “I would surmise he is making a book, Uncle.” Olivia rested her chin on her hand, watching the screen with intent interest. “Or a very large map.”

  This felt accurate, but incomplete. And given what they knew, it didn’t make a lot of sense.

  “But why? And is it a map of the area that concerns us?”

  “It’s in the general region, but I don’t have enough information to speculate about the purpose of his actions.”

  They sat in silence as three more satellite photos were displayed then printed out. The nagging feeling he should recognize what was happening here grew by the second. This was something he had done before. Perhaps not on a computer, but the thought process and methodology were not all that different. He recognized the mentality on an instinctual level, and it only took another minute for a hunch to grow into a certainty.

  “You know,” Antonio mused, “If I had to hazard a guess, I would say he is hunting them.”

  “Hunting them?” Olivia arched an eyebrow. “Uncle, if our intelligence is correct then he doesn’t even have any idea who “them” is.”

  “Nevertheless,” he stared as another satellite photo filled the window on the laptop, “that is exactly what he is doing. He is laying the groundwork for a hunt.”

  “Without having a clue of what he’s hunting for?”

  “It’s a man thing,” he teased, “you wouldn’t understand. Besides, we don’t know what his motivation is, or why they are trying to kill him. We are also completely in the dark on the goals of Mr. Sellars, and whatever information he is acting on.”

  “Which doesn’t slow you down one second in arriving at a conclusion,” she noted. “Another one of those ‘man things,’ I presume.”

  “Exactly. And I think the time has come to start shedding some light on these mysteries.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim case from his breast pocket. Snapping it open, he revealed a syringe and a length of rubber tubing. He laid these items on the dashboard in front of him, then reached into his other pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

  “I thought you were going to do this tomorrow.”

  “Plans change. Sometimes you have to strike when the iron is hot.”

  “And the iron is currently hot?”

  “Yes.” He checked the pistol in his shoulder holster. “He’s alone and he’s right in the middle of doing something we’re curious about. It’s time to introduce ourselves.”

  “Just a second then.” Her fingers once more flew over the keyboard. “I’ve got an idea that might help.”

  ###

  “Okay, this is going to get old real fast.”

  Adam pushed himself up from the chair and went to feed more paper into the printer. He had a small stack of finished pictures printed out, and had already started to tape them together on the coffee table. The problem was the printer had some kind of mechanical glitch causing it to jam up any time he put more than six sheets of paper in the tray.

  This meant frequent trips across the treacherous deep shag carpet, to restock it with paper. He considered leaving the cane behind and just working his way along the wall to the printer, but that would add distance to a trip which was already becoming far too routine. So once again he high stepped toward the printer, making a point to pick his cane up and not let it drag and hang in the tall fibers.

  And naturally his cell phone rang when he teetered exactly half the distance between his chair and the printer.

  “Hey, Ellen.” He flipped the phone open. “What’s up?”

  It wasn’t Ellen.

  “Mr. Sellars?” The masculine voice carried a distinct accent.

  Adam almost fell from surprise, and caught himself on his cane. Ellen gave him this cell phone to prevent anybody from tracing him on his old one. As far as he knew, only Ellen and her secretary had this number. The shock of hearing a strange voice over the earpiece hit him like a blow to the gut.

  “Who is this,” he croaked over the phone, “and how did you get this number?”

  “My name is Antonio,” the richly accented voice spoke with precise enunciation, “and to answer the more important question that you didn’t ask, I am not one of the people trying to kill you.”

  “Really? Who are you then?” Adam tottered sideways then steadied himself against the wall.

  “I’m somebody you need to talk to.”

  That didn’t inspire a lot of confidence.

  “We’re talking.”
<
br />   “I mean in person, Mr. Sellars.”

  Adam closed his eyes and tried to force down the fear in his voice.

  “Well, there’s the trick, Antonio. You see, there are some very scary people who want me dead. And I’m a little leery of personal meetings right now.”

  “I can appreciate your concern. You are in very grave danger, and the people you are referring to are “scarier” than you know. The woman who attacked the hospital is not the worst of them.”

  Adam let the implications of that sink in.

  “You mean you know them?”

  “Only in the sense one knows one’s enemies. I assure you, Mr. Sellars, they would kill me as gladly as they would you. They have tried before.”

  “I would really like to believe that. No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  “So how about just telling me who they are, instead of us going through a bunch of cloak and dagger stuff. Tell me how a woman marches into a hospital and shoots her way through an entire squad of armed police officers, and then apparently leaps out a third story window to get away. Or how an old man can dodge bullets while trying to shoot me at my own swimming pool.”

  “All in good time, Mr. Sellars. As I said, we need to discuss this in person.”

  Adam shook his head and rubbed his temples. Doubt warred with fear, and he floundered for an idea of what to do. If this man told the truth, then he knew where the people who held Tucker could be found. But if he lied…

  “I want to believe you. I really do. But how can I know you aren’t one of them?”

  “Because you’re still alive.”

  “What?!”

  “Because I haven’t already broken down your door and shot you out of hand. If I was one of them, you would already be dead.”

  A knife made out of the coldest ice ran its tip down his spine.

  “You mean you know where I am?”

  “Yes, Mr. Sellars. You are at 1492 Sellway Drive. You are wearing a maroon sweater and gray sweatpants. You are currently leaning against the living room wall while ignoring the fact your printer has jammed up again. And most importantly of all, if I can find you this easily, I guarantee they can, too…if they haven’t already.”

  Adam gaped at the phone in his hand, at a loss for words.

  His entire sense of security in his new hideout had turned out to be an illusion. He could call for help right now, and hope they made it in time, or deal with this man himself. And while prudence dictated he take the former course of action, the man on the phone made a pretty solid case about his lack of lethal intent.

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Why don’t you open your door, come outside, and find out. I’m standing under the pecan tree, right across the street. I promise not to shoot you. I only want to talk, and try to get a better idea what’s going on.”

  “I thought you were the one who knew what was going on.” Adam hobbled over to the window and peeked out through the blinds.

  Two figures stood under the tree across the street.

  “No, I said I knew who was trying to kill you. As of yet, I don’t know why. It might surprise you to know that driving all the way to Houston to kill a man is not characteristic of these people.”

  “Really? They seem awful good at it.” Adam peered at the two figures under the pecan tree, trying to make them out better in the drizzling gloom. “I notice you aren’t alone. You didn’t mention that.”

  “My apologies, Mr. Sellars. Olivia is my secretary. I assure you she is quite non-aggressive and is armed only with a laptop computer. If it would make you more comfortable, she can return to the car while you and I talk.”

  Adam briefly considered the offer, and then concluded he preferred them together where he could see them both. Besides, so far this Antonio had been offering all the choices and he decided if he was going to take a chance and meet this man, then it might be to his advantage to change the terms of the meeting himself.

  “No. That won’t be necessary. As a matter of fact, why don’t you two just come on over here and we can discuss this indoors where it’s dry.”

  He hoped this offer would catch them off guard. Maybe give them something to think about, like the fact he might be armed himself and felt more comfortable facing them on his own home turf.

  And as much as it scared him, if he was going to go through with this meeting then meeting them on these terms made more sense.

  He heard the muted sound of conversation over the cell phone, and then Antonio returned.

  “Very well, Mr. Sellars, we will be right over.”

  “I’ll be waiting.” Adam snapped the phone shut.

  He tottered over to the fireplace and opened the ornate wooden cigar box sitting on the mantle. After putting his hand in, he withdrew a compact .380 automatic pistol. It wasn’t terribly powerful as firearms went, but it was easily concealable. Besides, he didn’t have a lot of experience with pistols…only the type of shotguns he had used to go rabbit hunting when he was a kid on the farm.

  He remembered Antonio describing his clothes and movements in the room, and knew it was probably a wasted effort, but he stuffed the small gun into the waistband in the middle of his back and pulled his shirt over it. After all, Antonio might not be able to monitor the room while in the act of crossing the street. And since his upcoming visitor saw fit to demonstrate his ability to see into this room, he intended to ask where the hidden camera was anyway. It still irked him that he probably had no surprises in case things went sour.

  Then he thought of Ellen’s gift.

  His other weapon leaned in the umbrella stand by the back door. It was a plain-looking, metallic black walking cane with a rubber grip. And while weaponized canes were nothing new, this one packed not one, but two surprises.

  The upper part of the cane concealed a canister of tear gas that could be sprayed at the pull of a concealed trigger under the handle. The bottom six inches of the instrument doubled as a stun baton, capable of delivering 800,000 volts to whoever it struck. Any attacker hit by his cane would be hitting the dirt in the next second or two.

  Ellen had presented it to him a week ago, refusing to take no for an answer. He thought the thing to be slightly silly at the time, but had to admit the gadget-loving engineer side of him was intrigued. It made him think of something out of a spy movie, and he even wondered if he could modify it to have a flashlight built into the handle later.

  Now he pulled the cane out of the umbrella stand exactly as a firm knock sounded on his front door. Even though he expected it, the sound brought him up short.

  It was the moment of truth.

  If he wanted to call 911, it had to be now or never.

  Adam paused and considered the notion for a second. There could be no way of telling how dangerous his visitors actually were…and he was no secret agent. He was just a scared and half-crippled man who wanted to find out what happened to his brother and family. Heroics were not his specialty. Especially not these days.

  But the man had said he knew the people who were trying to kill him.

  The same people who, if the old man at the pool was to be believed, claimed to have Tucker…and that’s what made the difference.

  “Alright,” Adam muttered to himself, “let’s do this.” He limped toward the door, new cane in hand.

  ###

  “Ellen! Hey, the shark comes to swim with the littler fish!”

  “Hi, Tony.” Ellen navigated the upscale crowd of Los Trabajos, to find a seat at the table of her fellow lawyers. “And I don’t see anything but sharks in this school of fish anyway.” She allowed herself to plop ungracefully into the proffered chair and ordered a margarita, with instructions to be generous with the tequila. The warm lights and noisy camaraderie of her favorite hangout seemed the perfect antidote to the dreary day outside

  “Hard day at the office?” the older lawyer commiserated, pushing a bowl of chips and salsa her direction.

  “Yeah.” She grabbed a chi
p gratefully and dunked it. “You know how it is when you have a friend for a client, and then have to deliver bad news.”

  “Adam?” Tony folded his hands on the table.

  “Yep.” She took a bite off the salsa-laden chip then practically snatched the drink from the waiter’s hand to wash it down.

  “That bad, eh?”

  “The worst.” She drained the drink, then motioned for another. “I’ll get around to calling him shortly, but I wanted to fortify myself for this one.”

  “Have you considered handing him off to another attorney?” The concern on Tony Pilados’ face was evident. “If you’re worried about him, I’ll take him. I promise the DA will be remembering you fondly after a week of dealing with me.”

  “Thanks, Tony.” Ellen laughed. “But Bob Zenderhaus has already agreed to take him. That’s part of the news I’ve got to break to Adam.”

  “Bob’s a good attorney. You’re not letting Adam down by passing him off to Bob. You probably should have done it earlier, you know.”

  “I know,” Ellen looked at the table, “but when I saw him at the police station, all wasted and helpless…and letting himself get run all over…well…it made me mad.”

  “And we all know what a pussycat you are when you’re mad,” Tony chuckled.

  “My rep’s that bad, huh?”

  “You are an angel of diplomacy. Let nobody tell you different.”

  “Oh, thanks!” Ellen guffawed. “You big liar.”

  “I’m a lawyer, it’s in my blood. So do you think Adam will take it badly?”

  Ellen shook her head sadly, grasping the next drink as it arrived.

  “No. He’ll probably just thank me for all I did. He’s changed. But that’s not the only thing that’s going to make this call suck. Right after I hung up from talking to Bob Zenderhaus, I got a call from the police.”

  “Oh, really? What else…”