by Peiri Ann
“How’d you end up with Rick?”
I looked back at him, watching him try to figure out what was going on. I hoped he wouldn’t figure it out. “I ran into him.”
“A boy saw you get into a silver car. Not a cab. Where’d the car take you?”
Questions, questions, questions. Questions for which I had lies for answers. And Kyle had this thing he did, something he looked for in my eyes to determine if I was lying. I tried to keep my eyes focused on him. And not look up and to the left… or maybe he could read me when I look to the right… or could it be just straight up? I wasn’t sure, but I kept looking directly at him as I said, “How was it?”
“What?” He shifted, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “No, don’t answer that. It feels like a trap question. I don’t want to argue with you. Rick won’t tell me how he came upon you. You won’t tell me how you came upon him. I just need to know.”
“It just happened.”
“Okay, I waited outside long enough.” Rick walked through the door. “I was trying to give you all some time to talk, but this conversation is going nowhere. Don’t worry about explaining the drive, Val. I got it.” Rick walked to Kyle, showing him the flash drive. “Val got this drive from the old man you two saw on the train. It’s some type of scrambled code. She couldn’t crack it, and Reagan couldn’t crack it. It’s up to the mastermind of code cracking, The Kyle. Here.” He slapped the drive in Kyle’s hand.
“I’ve talked to Reagan, you, and Val and not one of you have mentioned anything about a code, or a flash drive, or the fact that the old-ass man on the train with the newspaper gave this to you.” He looked at me and breathed heavily. “I feel like everyone is out to get me,” he muttered.
Rick peeked at me when Kyle looked away. I scrunched my nose at him. He returned it.
“No, Kyle. I’m not after you. Let’s get the code cracked. See what’s on it,” Rick said.
My phone chirped as I grabbed the Mac from the chair near the bed. Val and Rick sat on the bed and I took the chair. Val was distant; I expected her to be. Rick was Rick. But them… together… seemed like they were up to something.
BNFCTR: KS…M.I.A…? I have one for you. Reid Franciscan. 48 hours. 1.2 mil.
I didn’t have the time. I could use a trip, a nice Kill Bill. But no, I was plugging flash drives into laptops. I clicked the dialogue box to open the files the drive contained. Thirty-two boxes popped up one after the other. A rectangular box opened once they were all finished, requesting a password.
“Did you all try to enter a password in the actual password box?”
“Yes,” Val answered.
I shook my head; that’s dumb. I cracked in to bring up a hidden password box like the code said. In the box directly under the password box, it gave an embedded code, meaning, encoded password input. But I wasn’t about to tell Spirit that.
It took me forty-five seconds to crack the childproof code. The only reason it took that long was because there was a security wall from entering in the wrong password too many times.
The dialogue boxes all closed into one. I read it before letting them know I’d cracked in.
I tried to stop my hands from shaking as I read my father’s name at the top of the page: Joseph Kyle Shultz. Below his bold name read: Identity, admitted. Last Log In: March 15, 2015. That’s this year. That was impossible. Below it read his children’s names and those of his wives. Two wives were listed. My mother and a woman named Lyra Shultz-Melor.
I scrolled through the screen, trying to seem casual to Spirit and Rick. Trying to seem like I was frustrated because the code was harder than I thought to crack, but I was in shock and desperate to know more information.
I scanned through the paragraphs of information, seeing “Connections with Melor,” “Drug Lord—Top Manufacturer,” and “Benefactor.” I saw the countries he had been in over the past ten years. “Current location: Berlin” flashed big in my sight, although the words were in the same font. It got worse the more I scanned. Hits called by him matching the names I’d been texted, matching the name I was just texted.
My name had its own section. Who I’d worked for, who I’d killed, what agencies I’d shut down. The terrorists I’d helped, the drug lords I kept in the market when I shut it down, the recent additions to my life—Richard and Valerie, my current location… Berlin.
I didn’t know what to make of it. I saved the page and scattered the code on my hard drive before I scrambled the code on the flash drive again, making it even harder to be cracked if it ever left my hands. And I didn’t intend for it to ever leave my hands.
I ripped the drive from the computer, feeling it slip out of my grasp from the sweat that gathered on my fingers.
“Did you do it?” Rick startled me.
“What?” I asked, looking at him with wide eyes and hitched brows. I just about felt my eyebrows touch my hairline. I tried to calm down. I breathed… it wasn’t working. My leg started jumping and my confusion flared as I tried to grip all the new information.
“The code.”
“Oh.” I casually leaned back in the chair. “No, I couldn’t; you all blocked it. Um, can you two excuse me? I’m going to lie down for a while. I’ll see you two later.”
“No, Kyle. Come on, let’s go out for lunch,” Spirit offered.
“That’s a good idea. Go for lunch, but only for a couple hours.” Rick gave Spirit a warning look. I wondered what lay behind it. “See you when you get back, Kyle,” he added after a long pause.
I eyed them. My heart was already beating rapidly in my chest. Watching them made me skeptical and the roughened beats of my heart began to hurt. Anxiety.
I tried to smile, but it required too much work. So I stuck with a nod, saying, “Yeah, Spirit. I’d love to have lunch with you.”
Spirit and I strolled hand in hand through a garden, near a zoo. She liked the area, frequently taking deep breaths, taking in the scents of the flowers. She was comfortable and relaxed but avoided looking at me, and when she did, she made sure to not let her eyes wander or shift around like she usually would.
I squeezed her hand and let it go.
She did the same to me. “Hey.”
“Wassup?”
She stepped closer to me and pulled my arm around her shoulder. “Want to hear something weird?”
“Go for it.” I looked up at the sky. The sun broke through the clouds where it could. This morning was chilly but doable.
“I want you to hold me. Find a bench we can sit on and I lean against you while you just hold me. Don’t ask me any questions. I can’t talk to you. Only hold me.”
I pulled her against me. “Why can’t we talk? We always talk.”
“I don’t want to lie to you. I’m practicing honesty,” she said sarcastically, but she was being honest.
I decided to ask questions. “Where’s your phone?”
“In my pocket.”
Lie number one. “It’s not. Your phone had a picture of your parents. That phone has no screensaver at all.”
“Took them down. It depressed me.”
Lie number two. “How’d you run into Rick? Why were you with him early this morning? You called me from his phone.”
“I know.”
And here comes lie number three. I waited as she figured it out.
“When I left—”
“In the silver car…” I offered.
She quieted. “Hmm… I don’t recall this silver car you told me about. Maybe the boy was mistaken.”
Lie number four. “Oh, was he?”
“I ran into Rick on my way to the airport. He told me you were crying about me being gone and he thought it’d be a good idea to take the edge off because he was concerned about you going out and finding me without knowing where to look. I called you, but I was still upset.”
“And you and him stayed together?”
“Yes, he…” She stalled. “He needed to look out for me. He said you were worried about my safety so
he was sticking around ‘til I got it together.”
“Together? What was in shambles?”
“Kyle, there’s a bench.” She pointed to one sitting at the edge of the sidewalk in the flowers.
She was killing me, stabbing me through my chest with no cares, no concerns, and no regrets. I walked with her over to the bench. I sat, she sat. She didn’t lean against me so I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her to lean on me. I was at a loss for words, so I gave her what she wanted… nothing.
Spirit dozed and I looked around, spotting a man looking at me over a newspaper. The flash drive in my pocket suddenly got heavy as I remembered Spirit mentioning that the man in the train gave it to her.
He sat some feet away from me on the other side of the sidewalk. Once he saw me looking, he folded his newspaper over but didn’t put it down. With his free hand, he reached over the edge of the bench seat and grabbed a thin black box from beneath it. He nodded at me.
I reached down and moved my hand under the bench until my fingers grazed over cold metal. I pulled it away from the bottom of the bench and brought the phone to my face.
It rang, silent, a number made of all zeros displayed on the screen.
I looked from the phone to the man. I stared at him as I slid my finger across the screen to answer. Keeping my eyes on him, I brought the phone to my ear.
“Kyle Shultz?” he questioned, clear, no accent.
“No. Frank McCormick,” I corrected.
He placed the phone in his lap and spread open the newspaper. “Did you get my message?”
The old man no longer sounded old. Not like the shag his voice had on the train. He still wore a hat with round spectacles, his grey hair snuck out of his hat, and his mustache was thick, the color of salt and pepper.
“Yes,” I answered, assuming he was referring to the flash drive.
“Did you read it?”
“A bit.”
“Read all of it.”
“Why?”
“Read every word.”
“Who are you?”
“The creator of the file.”
I didn’t look to see who created the file. “And who would that be?”
There was a long pause. “How’s Leen?”
My stomach dropped. I tried to not let my shock reflect in my face. “Who’s Leen?” When I was a child, my father called my mother Leen. I didn’t want to believe it.
“Anna? Nixon? I’ve heard he had a little girl, Chrissy. Bet she’s beautiful. The young girl sleeping against you, Valerie Harper. She’s up and down, but given the right out… the right opportunity… in deciding what is most important, you will not be. You’re here for something; it can’t happen. Listen to Richard. Purcell is setting you up. No one will watch your back, no one will look out for you. Be smart. Keep your head in this game, because that’s what it is.”
“So what are you… another pawn?”
“If that’s how you’d prefer to see it.”
“Name?”
“Joseph Kyle Shultz.”
“Position?”
“Deceased. Murdered by Nixon Weaver.”
“How are you alive?”
“I wasn’t murdered,” he stated smoothly.
I felt like I was trying to unravel some large mystery. He wouldn’t give me more and I knew why. We were always being listened to.
“Careful to ask the right questions.”
“I know.”
“Run your fingers along the left side of your lady’s neck.”
I did, feeling a circular edge under it, a small stick. A tracker.
“And her hip,” he informed.
I nodded. “Who?”
“Mm… you.”
Me, meaning I’m targeted… again. “New assignment?” I asked.
“Multiples.”
“Did Leen know? Does she know?” Did my mother know my father was alive—alive and married to another woman? Did she make us believe she’d killed him, that he was dead for all these years, when really he wasn’t?
He folded his paper, placing it on his lap. He looked at me. Even though he was a good distance away from me and I couldn’t see directly into his eyes through the reflection on his glasses, I felt him looking me right in my eyes. “Yes,” he said evenly.
The world closed in on me. My stomach squeezed tight and I felt like I wanted to vomit.
“We speak periodically.”
I clutched the phone tight in my hand as I was compelled with anger. I couldn’t believe it. Why would she lie? Why would they lie? Why would they make us go through all of this bullshit for all these years?
“It was to keep you kids safe.”
My head fell.
Val moved, waking.
“Goodbye, Shultz. Put the phone back without being seen. Watch your back.”
Val was slowly waking, and I discreetly placed the phone back under the bench.
“What time is it?” she asked, scooting down the bench so she could lie down. She placed her head on my lap and looked up at me.
I looked at my watch. “It’s twelve twenty-five.”
She yawned, covering her mouth. “I want to go home.”
“Where is home for you, Spirit?”
She looked me in my eyes, and hers shifted to the right and upward. She didn’t have one. Where her parents had lived before they died probably would have been her home. But no longer. “Missouri,” she said, closing her eyes.
“Let’s move there, me and you.”
She shook her head.
“Yeah, I guess not.”
The old man on the other bench—my dead father—was gone and the bench had new tenants. A man and a woman. They were innocently making out.
“Spirit, Spirit, Spirit…”
“Hum? Hum? Hum?”
“I really like you.”
“I know. I really like you too.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out the black phone. Spirit’s phone was white. She thought I was stupid. She didn’t open her eyes until the phone was directly in her face. “Ugh…” she grumbled.
“Is that something you have to do that just came up?” I asked, looking at the couple across the way. Their kiss didn’t look real; they were both extremely stiff and the guy kept looking over her shoulder in our direction.
“Yes, an hour,” she answered honestly.
“Then let’s go. Wouldn’t want you to be late.”
She sat up. With her back to me, she looked over her shoulder. She gave me a quick glance and then turned back. “You’re right.”
I watched her stand. She was tense, looking around us like she knew someone was watching. Maybe the kissing couple. They were standing now.
I stood and we headed in the direction we had come from. I walked behind her, grabbing her hips to slow her down. She slowed, allowing me to pull her against me. I kissed her cheek. “Don’t fuck me over, Spirit. My feelings are deep for you and I don’t want you to play me.”
I put my arms around her in a hold and she wrapped hers over mine. “I won’t fuck you over, Kyle. I love you. Oddly… I love you. And I wish you loved me in return.”
“I don’t trust you, Spirit.”
Her arms wrapped tighter around mine. “I wouldn’t trust me either.”
That was the truth. And the truth hurt.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, especially in such a beautiful place. But remember that couple that was awkwardly kissing back there?” I asked Kyle.
“Yes.”
“I think they’re following us.”
“Someone is always following us. What’d you do this time?”
“How do you know I did something? What if they’re following us for something you did?”
“You always do something, Spirit. I’m tired. I don’t feel like running away from people. I don’t feel like shooting at people. I definitely don’t feel like starting work earlier than I have to. I thought we could eat and then have a nice stroll through the park. But no…” He whined and complained, an
noying the hell out of me.
“Kyle, stop complaining. You wanted to date me, a female professional assassin. Val, professional killer. Val, two-million-dollar hit list. Val, everyone wants her dead. Val—”
“I get it,” he said regretfully.
My heart stalled and I swallowed hard, insulted and taken aback by the full-on regret in his voice. I wanted to get into it, I wanted to. But… it wasn’t worth it. He was right to regret wanting to have a relationship with me. His key I don’t rule. I don’t have relationships because women suck… like Valerie Harper… she sucks.
Okay, so he has never said that but I know that’s how he feels.
“Okay, Kyle. Anyway. Before you make me feel like more of a shit ball than I already do, how about we grab a car and get out of here.” I stole a look over my shoulder and the guy and girl were still behind us. It would have been too much for the hit to be called off. They were still after me…
“Okay, Spirit. After you.” Kyle waved his hand toward the street.
There was this scheme over here where you can pay to rent a car. You pick it up and drop it off wherever the nearest drop is to your destination.
Kyle paid for the car at the kiosk and no sooner did we drive off in the compact Smart car than the other couple was getting in a car and taking up slow pursuit behind us.
“You’re loaded?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered roughly, flooded in attitude.
“What the hell, Kyle? What is your problem? Not ten minutes ago you were cool, kissing me, holding me… Now all of a sudden I’m a werewolf and you’re a vampire.”
“I’d actually prefer if you referred to me as the werewolf and you can be the vampire. It just makes more sense. Because vampires are blood suckers and they hypnotize you with their eyes. That’s what you do. You have these amazing hazel eyes that send me jumping through fire loops, they make my fucking heart go insane, pumping erratic and hard as shit in my chest.” Twice, he banged his fist on his chest as he drove, picking up speed. “All to get my blood pumping! You hypnotize me, fool me, and trick me to get my blood pumping, so you can suck me dry, Spirit. So you can fucking drain me because, in the end, that’s what you want to do.” He turned hard and I hit my head on the window. “You are a cold-hearted, blood-sucking vampire. So I want to be the werewolf and you will be the vampire of your analogy. And let me now mention I am in another goddamn car chase with you and some other people who are trying to kill you.”