Shatter Point

by Jeff Altabef

  “How about for the Fourteenth Colony?” asked Jack from the backseat. “Have you ever canceled a policy for Rachel?”

  Aunt Jackie glanced in the rearview mirror. “That’s none of your business, sonny boy.”

  “This is our exit, Aunt Jackie.” Tom pointed at a rapidly approaching turn off. “Watch out for the blue car in the right lane.”

  “What did you say, Thomas?”

  “We need this exit!”

  Aunt Jackie jerked the wheel to the right, screeching the tires, and slid the car onto the exit ramp at the last possible moment. “You don’t have to shout.”

  The blue car slammed on its brakes to avoid the Silver Bullet, but the unmistakable sound of bumper smashing into bumper sang out as a truck rear-ended the blue car. Tom spun to see the pileup on the highway. Three cars and the one truck had twisted together by the time the Silver Bullet turned off the exit.

  Mary navigated Aunt Jackie down a small gravel service road just wide enough for the car. Branches scratched against the Silver Bullet’s sides as she had difficulty keeping the car in the middle of the path. When they reached a small widening, Mary directed her to swing the car onto the grass.

  When everyone tumbled out, Jack bent and kissed the ground.

  Aunt Jackie swung her leg back to kick him, but Tom held her back at that last second.

  An almost full moon shone through the clear night sky, providing enough light for them to make their way. Mary led them along an old deer path, past a small stream, around a massive rock outcropping, under a canopy of tree branches, and toward the golf course.

  When the manicured fairway came into sight, Tom grabbed Mary by the waist. “Wait!”

  The group froze.

  He released her and squatted low, swinging his head left and right.

  “What’s wrong?” Jack asked.

  He pointed at two tiny red dots spaced fifty feet apart, sparkling in the dark. They originated from small black boxes thirty feet in the air, affixed to oak trees.

  “Those are heat sensors. They’ve probably installed them around the entire edge of the golf course. They use infrared technology to register any large heat sources that cross the line. That way, they can ignore the small critters and focus on the heat signatures of the larger animals. They can tell deer from bear from humans. If we cross it, security at the resort will know.”

  “We can still send in Aunt Jackie. She’s so small, they’ll think she’s a raccoon,” Jack joked.

  Tom shot him a look.

  Aunt Jackie stomped down hard on his foot, and pulled Excalibur from her bag. “Can’t we shoot the darn things? They won’t be able to register anything with a bullet through them.”

  Tom waved her off. “No, we can’t. We would have to take out two of them, and that would definitely be suspicious. They’ll know we’re here.”

  There must be a way around them. We need the element of surprise.

  He dropped his backpack and rummaged inside. “Got it!” He withdrew a small plastic bottle.

  “That’s genius, Tom,” Mary said.

  “What’s genius?” Jack asked.

  Tom lifted the small bottle. “This is a petrol-based flammable that burns super hot and bright. If we dose one of these loose branches, we can create a torch that will burn out in a few seconds. The heat sensors will be blinded. It will look like a quick flare on the video feed, something these sensors are prone to do. With any luck, they’ll think it’s a simple malfunction.”

  Tom scanned the nearby forest. “These sensors are programmed to sense heat sources below them. If I can climb a nearby tree and toss the lit branch so it falls from above, then it will appear like an instant flare-up. The branch should burn bright enough and long enough for us to scoot to the other side without them detecting us. The key is to find the right tree.”

  He pointed to an oak fifteen feet from the sensors. “That one will work. The sensors detect heat in a band twelve feet or so wide. That oak is far enough away and tall enough that I can toss the branch by the sensors. They’ll probably come out and inspect them eventually, but they might not treat it as an emergency. It should buy us time.”

  Jack found a dead branch and handed it over.

  Tom dosed it with the fluid and scampered up the oak tree. When he climbed into position, he lit the branch until it burned white hot, and tossed it high in the air. It landed in the middle of the invisible sensor line.

  Tom jumped from the tree.

  They huddled together and raced across the imaginary line as one, the light from the burning branch temporarily blinding them.

  As they reached the manicured fairway, Tom heard bleating in the distance. “What the heck is that?”

  “Sounds like sheep,” Jack answered.

  “The golf course was designed after a Scottish links style course,” Mary explained. “They imported the sheep to make it seem authentic.”

  “Of course they did,” snickered Jack.

  All that wealth, thought Tom. No wonder Mom thought she couldn’t tell anyone about Cooper. But now we know, and his money won’t protect him for long.

  Reaching the lodge was easier than Tom had imagined.

  They trekked across the deserted golf course and used the GPS in Mary’s phone to find the starter’s station near the first tee. The resort used the latest in living computer technology.

  Mary needed a direct line into the hotel’s computer systems, and the computer at the small wooden hut served as her portal. More worried about external threats than anything that might originate on resort grounds, the resort staff had left the computer unlocked.

  Mary hacked the username and password without difficulty, and injected a cancer through the resort’s computer as if it were a vein leading to the hotel’s blood stream. Once the resort’s system recognized the foreign body, the cancer multiplied and mutated at a faster pace than the resort’s defenses could contend with.

  Mary now controlled all the security video feeds, heat sensors, and security personnel communications from her tablet. With a wide grin on her face, they piled into an unused golf cart and motored toward the lodge.

  The main building resembled a nineteenth century hunting lodge on steroids, with a soaring inverted v-shaped portico, dark brown cedar shingles, large two-story windows, and a steep hunter green tiled roof. Well-placed spotlights lit the three-story building. Two armed guards patrolled the front of the lodge, and a solitary guard, dressed in black, circled the exterior toward the back.

  Tom parked the golf cart behind a maple tree.

  Mary studied her tablet. “There’s no mention on the system where the offline records are kept. My best guess is the general manager’s office. It’s the largest office on the third floor in the back corner.” She pointed to a dark window in the corner of the wooden building. “The ball should be in full swing. Everyone’s attention will be in the ballroom, which is on the other side of the lodge.”

  Aunt Jackie squinted at the building. “Leave the guard to me.” She nodded at the lone gunman on patrol.

  “Why don’t we just send him to the pool instead?” Mary typed on the tablet. “Apparently there’s an emergency by the pool house. We should have plenty of time to reach the door before he comes back.”

  The guard hesitated, checked his mobile computer, and moved away from the lodge toward the pool.

  Aunt Jackie eyed the tablet through slanted eyes. “Where were you when I needed help in the business?”

  Tom led them at a slow jog to the back door, staying in the shadows. Their feet crunched softly on the grass. After Mary unlocked the door with her computer, he inched it open and, upon seeing an empty hallway, led the small group inside.

  Flickering sconces lit the hallway, casting orange light off the wood paneled walls. A live jazz band played in the ballroom, their music loud enough that no one would notice the little noise Tom and the others made. He held the door open as they darted inside the back staircase.

  “The video camera
s are on a five-minute loop,” Mary said. “We can go without being seen, but we won’t be able to spot security coming at us either.”

  Tom raced up the two flights of stairs. At the top, he glanced at Jack. “Are you ready, brother?”

  “Whatever it takes.”

  “We go on three.” Tom started the countdown. “One... Two....”

  Jack flung open the door and charged into the empty hallway, gun held out.

  “I thought we were going on three!” Tom grabbed Jack by the arm.

  His brother shrugged him off. “I’m the oldest. I’m first in.”

  Mary unlocked the general manager’s door. A variety of animal heads hung on the walls of the vast office, most big game. Mounted on plaques, deer, moose, elk, zebra, bear, and a lion all stared down at them menacingly, but also a number of birds of prey, like owls, hawks, and one stuffed eagle. A giant black bearskin rug covered the center of the floor. At the far end toward the windows stood a massive desk fashioned out of logs that looked as if Lincoln might have used it as a country lawyer.

  Mary shuddered. “Who would want to be surrounded by these dead animals all day?”

  “A creep,” Aunt Jackie answered. “I’m going to wait outside and keep a lookout.” She glided from the room, pistol in hand.

  “Okay, so where do we look?” Jack asked.

  “Anywhere something seems out of place,” Tom said.

  Jack gravitated toward the wet bar in the corner while Mary searched the desk.

  Tom studied the room, looking for a good hiding spot. He started with the interior wall as the most likely place, and strolled over to investigate.

  The animal heads created an unsettling jigsaw puzzle. He examined the plaques closely. A grizzly bear head hung at eye level caught his attention. The oak plaque read, “Momma Grizzly—April 9, 1910.” Momma grizzly bears were famous for their protective instincts, and the lodge originally opened in 1910.

  Too many coincidences.

  The plaque appeared too large and rectangular for the animal’s head. Tom glanced at the hardwood floor. Scuffs at the base of the plaque created fine grooves lighter in color than the rest of the room, as if many shoes had stood in this spot over the years to study the fierce creature.

  He smiled and felt around the edges of the plaque for a lever. After an unsuccessful pass, he studied the face again. Come on, this has to be the right plaque.

  He concentrated on the face, his attention drawn to the teeth. There were thirty-nine in all, and he remembered reading that a full-grown grizzly should have forty-two teeth. This one had lost a few over its life. The front left incisor, smoother and shinier than the rest, had an empty space behind it. He reached in and pulled on it. A spring twanged and the plaque swung from the wall.

  “I’ve found the safe, but it’s not what we thought it would be.”

  Hidden behind the plaque was an antique gun safe made from heavy, hunter green steel, with the name Remington inscribed in gold at the top, with a round dial and stainless steel latch.

  “Where’s the electricity and the computerized locking mechanism?”

  Mary searched the web and found a hit. “It’s an antique. It opens on a simple three-number combination. First spin of the wheel goes around twice to the right, second once to the left, and the last stops straight at the final number to the right.”

  Jack sidled over to Tom. “How do we break in?”

  Mary studied her tablet. “They used to use dynamite back in the day, or a trained safecracker who could hear the tumbling mechanism behind the steel. When it clicked, that would be the right number.”

  Tom kicked the wall in frustration. “Great. The damn thing is so old it’s more secure than it was a hundred and fifty years ago. We’ll never crack it.”

  “Not so fast, brother. Sometimes, we have to try something besides math and science.” Jack slapped him on the back and removed his earplugs. “My hearing has improved over the past few months. Let me give it a go.”

  Tom held his breath as Jack placed his ear against the cold steel. Jack slowly spun the dial, inching it forward, stopping and going as he went. On the second try, he twisted the latch and swung the door open.

  Just as the safe unlocked, the door to the office crashed open. A hulking security guard stood in the doorway, and he didn’t look happy.

  Jack froze at the sight of the giant security guard and wondered where Aunt Jackie had gone. Before he reached for his dart pistol, her scratchy voice came from behind the enormous guard.

  “Move!”

  The bear-sized man staggered forward into the room. Blood dripped from his face as he tenderly held his right arm in his left hand.

  Aunt Jackie slammed the door shut behind her, shot her foot out, and crunched the back of the man’s left knee.

  He went down hard on his face in the center of the bearskin rug with a screech. “Help me! She’s crazy, that one is!”

  Jack stared at her openmouthed, his eyes threatening to pop out of his face and roll on the floor in shock.

  She grinned. “I would have killed him, but you all seem squeamish about that sort of thing.”

  Twang.

  Mary shot the guard with a poison dart in the back.

  “Nice work,” Aunt Jackie said. “Have I told you how much I like you? If only Jack could find someone like you.”

  “There’s no time for that, Aunt Jackie,” Tom blurted out, his face reddening.

  “Now that’s a safe.” She whistled and pointed Excalibur at the Remington. “None of that modern crap.”

  Mary stepped in front of Jack to examine the safe to look for the off-line records.

  When he turned to help, a sharp pain split his head and his skull nearly exploded as a fuzzy vision of a face flashed across his mind—a face with deep blue eyes, a perfect tan, and a bright smile.

  He focused hard on the face and seeped inside the image, like water soaking into a sponge. As the pain grew more intense, he shook and fell to his knees. His mind filled with thoughts, images... rage. An infant and a stern old woman scowled at him. Other faces stared at him also, expecting answers, decisions. He fell deeper into the image and hazy visions of his mother filled his mind, which filled him with anger and desire and hate. The world turned dark and he collapsed to the floor.

  ***

  Jack woke to find Tom and Mary’s concerned faces pinched tight and hovering over him.

  “Are you all right?” Tom asked.

  The pain in his head had subsided into a dull ache. “We need to return to the city, Tom. He’s close to his shatter point. I sensed him.”

  “How could you do that?”

  “I don’t know. These feelings just come to me. This one was intense. I practically saw his face. He’s just barely holding on to reality. We have to hurry.” He couldn’t explain these visions without sounding silly. Tom viewed the world through a black and white scientific prism, whereas Jack had experienced a kaleidoscope of color.

  “Mary has what we need,” Aunt Jackie said. “There’s no sense lingering. Let’s move.”

  She tenderly squeezed his arm. It surprised him.

  Tom helped him to his feet. “I’m going to call Doctor Beck, Jack. I don’t like these headaches.”

  “After we get Mom back.” He had the uneasy feeling it would be too late anyway. His phone buzzed, but he didn’t need to check the number to know it was Darian.

  ***

  Tom drove as Aunt Jackie sat in the passenger seat and fell asleep, snoring loudly.

  Jack grunted from the back. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but turn up the volume on the country music. She sounds like two dogs fighting.”

  The old records were coded, and Mary tried with no luck cracking it. As the car rolled down the highway, her typing grew louder until Tom thought she might break the keyboard.

  “Argh!” she moaned. “I can’t break this code without a key. I need the name of one of the guests and their resort number. If I have that, everything else w
ill follow. Without it, the files are useless.” She pounded the armrest.

  Aunt Jackie woke from her uneasy slumber. “Call Rachel. Maybe she can help.”

  Mary hit the speaker button and dialed Rachel from Aunt Jackie’s secure phone. “We’re on our way back. We’re all fine. The trip was successful, but I can’t break the code for the files. I need the name and number the resort uses for one of the guests.”

  “Does it have to be an old guest or can it be a current one?” Rachel asked.

  “An old one would be best. One from our timeframe would be great, but if I had a recent one, I could figure out the correct format and hack back from there. It will take longer, but it’ll give me something to work with.”

  “Okay, I’ll speak to Bacchus about it. The resort seems to fit his crowd. Meet me at the safe house on the Upper West Side. I’ll make sure you have clearance to pass the checkpoints. We’ll regroup there.”

  Tom pressed down on the accelerator. He didn’t have a premonition like his brother, but he felt time running out just the same.

  ***

  Cooper gripped the phone. “Do you like the roses, Lori? They’re Juliet Roses. I had them flown in from England. Their distinctive peach color should match the rug in the foyer perfectly.”

  “I threw them in the trash. They’re no good.”

  “Why? I thought you’d love them.”

  “No, they’re too dark. As usual, you....”

  He let the phone fall away from his ear and lost track of his wife’s complaints as he began to wander around his sanctuary. No one else knew about his safe place in Greenwich Village. Connected to an old apartment building where the poet E.E. Cummings had once lived, his sanctuary was hidden in the basement behind a false wall, where the original wine cellar once stood.

  A few people knew he owned the abandoned building. His mom asked him about it once, and he waxed poetically about the connection to Cummings and Dylan Thomas and other nonsense. She didn’t really buy it, but she stopped asking about the place, which was all he wanted.

  He circled among the wine racks. Digital candles flickered at exactly the same rate and intensity as the candles in the monastery at Mont Saint-Michel in France. The light danced off the glass mason jars—seventy-two of them.