“Dad made me memorize a saying to remember it. Let me think…” He stared at the ceiling, his finger tapping his mouth. Great. Our entire future for this mission depended on John’s memory. We were sunk.
John sighed. “Let me see…it was something like, ‘three primes, separated by two, backward in order, the shed will find you.’”
I hit his arm while Mark made notes on a piece of paper from his pocket. “What kind of clue is that?” I screamed. “It makes no sense at all, the shed will find you, my foot!”
“Wait, Amy, ignore that part,” Mark said. “Think about the other three lines. Three primes.”
“Well, if it’s three digits, which is most likely, then the numbers can only be 2, 3, 5 and 7. Those are the only primes that are one digit.”
“What about the number one?” John asked.
I wasn’t about to go into the reason using theorems, history, or ring theory in Mathematics. “Because the definition of a prime says it has to be higher than one.”
“How do you know that?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes at him. “I’m getting my Master’s degree in math and business computing in two weeks. I just finished all my coursework. Don’t you listen to my phone conversations when I call?” I was ready to smack him over the head for the umpteenth time.
“Oooohhh, a Master’s degree,” he said in a childish voice, the scum.
Mark sighed and turned to me. “So we’re looking at 2, 3, 5 and 7. The second part says ‘separated by two’.
“That would probably mean that the digits are two from each other, as in 3, 5 and 7.” I glanced at his paper. “Backward in order, probably means the answer is 753.” I turned to the woman. “Did you have a storage shed with a number 753 on it?”
“Yes, we do. Under what name?”
“Gerald Summers,” John said.
The woman pulled out a huge file of index cards and began to leaf through them while she hummed some old hymn. At least someone was good and moral and got to go to church on Sunday.
Mark wrapped his arm on my shoulders and whispered into my ear. “Recognize the song?”
“Yep,” I whispered back. “I’m Waiting Till Eternity.”
“Very funny,” he whispered. “I was being serious.”
I listened some more, but couldn’t remember the title. “Not really.”
“Oh, so you must need to get to church more.”
Smart aleck. I was ready to slap that smirk right off his face.
“Here it is,” the woman said. “All paid up for eight more years, too.”
John shot me a dirty look, but I ignored it.
“You may go through those gates and the shed will be the last one on the end of the second row from the left.” She pointed toward our left, so I didn’t have to ask the obvious if she meant our left or her left.
“Thank you,” I said.
As we left the small office, Mark pulled the key and combination out of his pocket. The rest of the group followed us, parading down the long row of storage sheds and to the end of the second row on the left.
Mark unlocked the shed with the combination, but before he could open it, he faced everyone. “Whatever’s in here should be divided equally between the three kids. Agreed?”
Everyone nodded. He opened the door and there, before us, was one giant trunk. He flipped on the light and we all stood around it.
“How are we going to divide one trunk?” Randy asked.
John slapped him over the head. “Idiot. It’s what’s inside that’s important.” I hated my family sometimes, and now knew why I lived so far away from all of them.
Mark knelt down to the lock and opened it with the key. He pushed up the top and we all looked inside. John removed what was inside, a huge painting covered in clear plastic.
“Holy smokes!” Annemarie exclaimed. “Do you know what that is?”
“A painting?” Brandy asked.
Annemarie shot her a dirty look. “I was an art major in college. This looks like a painting that was stolen from the Louvre after the Second World War, and no one has been able to find it.”
John checked the corner and swallowed hard. “It says Danais,” he whispered. “So Dad was a thief?”
“Jacques Danais? The famous French painter?” I asked. I left my gaze study the thing, a gorgeous painting of fields of white tulips with a boy riding a horse through it, heading toward mountains. “This thing must be worth millions!”
“At least,” Annemarie said.
Mark pulled out his cell phone. “Dad, I need help. Do you still have your contacts with the CIA?”
“No government employees!” John yelled.
“Hold on a minute,” Mark said into the phone then faced John. “These guys are retired and kind of operate outside the law. They’ll never tell. Trust me.”
“I don’t want to go to jail,” John whined. He looked at the painting then put it down carefully, wiping the sides. “I don’t even want my fingerprints on this thing.”
Mark walked outside, talking to his father on the phone, then motioned for someone to come to him. As soon as Andrew approached him, he whispered into his ear. Andrew left, then returned a few minutes later with the SUV. They loaded the painting into the back, and Mark ended his call with his father, walking back inside the shed.
“Not to worry,” he said to John with a friendly slap on his back. “Dad and his friends are on it, and they ‘found’ it but don’t remember where. It’ll all be taken care of, and very anonymous.”
“Why would Dad have that painting?” I asked, staring into the empty trunk.
Mark joined me, then began knocking inside the trunk. He finally knocked on the bottom, turned to me and grinned.
“False bottom?” I asked.
He nodded and John helped him lift a panel from the bottom of the trunk. Inside was one piece of paper. He picked it up into his hands and stared at it.
“Amy, time to get that program written,” he whispered.
I looked at the paper and sighed. Whatever was there was in code. Great.
“That’s it?” Randy asked. “A stolen painting and a piece of paper with junk on it?”
“There’s the trunk,” John said. “I’ll take that, you can have the stolen painting and Amy gets the piece of paper. Deal?”
“No deal,” Randy said. “I don’t want to be caught with a stolen painting. No way, no how.”
“I think we should load up the trunk and close out the account,” Mark said. “No use keeping the shed if it’s only for this trunk.”
“I agree,” John said.
I was still studying the code when Mark leaned over to me. “Anything?”
“Oh yeah,” I whispered. “I think I need a pen and some paper.”
They loaded the trunk into the back of the second SUV, moving the back seats to accommodate the huge trunk. We pulled out of the storage area, and John and Mark went to settle the account. I continued to work on the puzzle in front of me, solving it in a few minutes.
“Where to?” Mark asked me as soon as he got into the car.
“To the house,” I answered.
“You solved that jumble of letters already?”
“Sure. Piece of cake. Dad and I used to do cryptograms all the time.”
“I never could get the hang of those,” Randy said. “What does it say?”
“We’re going to the house,” I answered. He didn’t need to know the specifics because he’d just ask more questions that would be more than he could handle. However, I could play with his head. No, I’d have an unfair advantage, unless if I quizzed him on the name of the President of the United States. He probably figured out that answer.
We all got into the SUVs. Since John and his family got into the other SUV along with the rhyming couple, Mark and I could finally be alone, along with Andrew, William, the trunk and painting. The other two thugs were in the other SUV.
“The CIA guy is meeting us,” Mark said. “I also got a call from the FBI
in Denver that your tracking device has become a big deal. They’ve arrested two Chinese guys and a Greek man trying to find you.”
“Greek? How did they get the code for it?”
“Someone at the top of the U.S. Government has probably been handing it out, but I don’t know why. You’re safe for now, because the FBI has been trailing us since we landed in Philadelphia.”
“I’m glad. What would two governments want with me, anyway?”
“The NSA thinks it’s either your thesis or the project you just turned in. They’re investigating Dr. Urban and the entire University to see if there was any way anyone could get access to it without you knowing. That project is being studied carefully, and the FBI and the Department of Homeland Security are very interested in talking to you.”
“Because of that project?”
“Yes. You don’t do racial profiling in it, but assign weights to each individual, giving them a positive or negative score according to their life habits. If they get a positive score, then those are the ones they should go after, reducing their load unbelievably. Also, you get your data from sources other than driver’s licenses, because no one can really live off the grid in the United States.”
“It was only obvious,” I answered. “It’s not rocket science.”
Mark faced me. “To them, it is, and they want you to work in a remote town with barbed wire around you and the compound, with military men surrounding you all day, every day.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“No, I’m not. I promised them I’d keep you safe, but we’re going to have to step up security. If just one terrorist thinks you have their number, you’ll be killed.”
“All because I enjoy this type of work?”
“That, and you’re good at it,” he answered with a kiss to my cheek.
I had to change the subject. “So are you missing much at work today?”
“No, actually. I took the entire week off last week. I was going to go visit my family.”
“You were?”
“I was going to take you with me, too.” He gave me his best puppy dog eyes, and I almost melted.
“Why?”
“To introduce you to them and show you around.” He took my hand. “I was serious about that marriage thing back on Saturday, too.”
“I see that. Granted, I didn’t believe you. When did you take the week off?”
He glanced around the car, then leaned toward my ear. “Last week, before I even met you.”
“Do you know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done?”
“You can show me later,” he whispered, then winked.
“I’m serious. I really do appreciate it. The roses, the flights, the meals, the wedding. I appreciate it all.”
“You’re welcome, but you’ve paid me back a thousand-fold, my dear.”
“I have?”
He just nodded and smiled.
We drove to my parent’s house in Chester County, to the east of Lancaster. As soon as we pulled into the driveway, a flood of memories hit me, forcing me to wipe a few tears.
“You okay?” Mark whispered.
“Yeah. It’s almost as if Dad and Mom are still alive. I’m just waiting for them to run out of the house to say hello.”
He took my hand, gave my cheek a kiss, and we got out of the SUV. I saw John and Randy wiping their eyes as well, so I didn’t feel quite as badly for being sentimental. We all missed our parents and our lives at our old house.
Another car drove into the driveway and two FBI men got out and introduced themselves to us. As we all walked up to the house, I held my breath while John unlocked the front door. As soon as he opened it, those great memories of my childhood all faded. Someone had been in the home, because papers and furniture were strewn everywhere. That person really wanted to find something, leaving no corner unturned.
~~~~~
Chapter 9
We all stood staring inside at the front door.
“Think the cleaning lady was angry?” John asked.
“When’s the last time someone was here?” I asked him.
“I had someone check on the place every month,” John answered. “Dad didn’t want it sold until my fortieth birthday, in case one of us needed a place to live. I was paying utilities and had someone check up on it.” He glanced at the date on his watch. “They would have been here last week.”
“Who was supposed to check up on it?” I asked.
He glared at me. “Ned Putnam.”
“You don’t think he was going to Colorado to meet with you, do you?”
“I have no idea.” John walked into the house, careful not to disturb anything on the floor. “Uh-oh.” The FBI men followed him, their guns drawn, followed by Mark’s thugs.
“What is it?” Randy asked, taking a step backward.
“Don’t come in here,” John said. “Randy, take Brandy, Annemarie, and the kids back to the car. Now!”
Randy did as told, while Mark and I glanced at each other. We finally took a few steps to stand beside John and the small army with him. There, in the kitchen, lay a dead body.
“Oh no,” I whispered. “Not another dead body!”
“Don’t they say deaths come in threes?” Mark answered. “Jack, Ned, and now this guy.”
One of the FBI men pulled out his cell phone and called for backup while we walked back into the messy living room. He walked out of the kitchen, then faced Mark. “Sir, we’re going to advise you get out of this area. We’ll take care of things here, and we’d like you to meet someone in Maryland to protect you.”
“Good idea,” Mark answered. “Can we come back after this is cleaned up? There are some personal things inside the house that these people want to get.”
“I understand. We should have it all cleaned up by morning.” He leaned closer to Mark. “However, if that’s who I think it is on that kitchen floor, this place will be crawling with reporters.”
“Who is it?” I whispered.
“It looks like Timothy Thayer, a four-star General with the U.S. Army, but I might be mistaken.” He pulled his partner over to talk to Mark and I returned to the SUV. Mark joined me in minutes, and we began down the road toward Maryland, talking to the Madcap thugs during the almost three-hour trip toward Washington, D.C., stopping just north of the city in Maryland. Mark made a few phone calls during the time as well, while I tried to get all the facts straight with Andrew’s help.
When we got to the outskirts of D.C., Mark ended his latest phone call and faced me. “We’re going to drop your family off at a safe house, then head out to visit my parents.”
I glanced down at my clothes and straightened out my hair. “I look like this and we’re going to visit your parents?”
“Relax,” he answered. “They don’t know we’re married.”
I searched in my purse for a brush. “Men just don’t understand some things.”
His arm was around me instantly. “They’ll love you.” He moved closer to my ear. “I know I do.”
Andrew spun around from the passenger’s seat while William drove. “So this is a real marriage after all?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered. “It’s the real deal. Mark’s a good guy. Anyone who can put up with my family and not get angry over their stupid comments is golden in my book.”
“I am?” Mark asked.
“More than golden. But don’t let it go to your head. I still have to live with you.”
He chuckled, then gave my cheek a kiss.
We stopped at a huge home north of Washington, D.C., where we were met by various members of the military. One big man pulled Mark aside, so I joined him.
“Sir, we’d like for all of you to stay here tonight.”
Mark checked his watch. “I have one stop to make, then we’ll be back.”
The man took Mark’s arm. “No, you don’t understand. The Chinese are in town. The murderers left a calling card at the home in Pennsylvania, and it was from the Chinese people
after your wife. They threatened both of you. Also that was a four-star General who was found dead. His body has been identified.”
Mark glanced at me. “I see. Can I bring my parents here to see us? I really have to talk to them.”
“Let me call my superiors. Oh, and someone wants to take the possession off your hands and return it to its rightful owner.” The man grinned and winked.
Mark smiled. “So Oscar’s in town?”
The man grinned. “Sure is. He’ll be here any minute.” The man walked away and we were ushered inside the mansion along with my family.
“Oscar?” I whispered.
“Ex-CIA,” Mark said. “He’ll love this mission. He’s going to take the painting back to the Louvre and put it at the back door. It’ll be all over the news in a few days. Just wait for it.” Mark walked me to a corner of the large living room, while the rest of my family checked out the home. I heard them spout words of amazement from everywhere, impressed with the layout. I couldn’t blame them. The place could’ve been featured in any magazine, with the price astronomical.
“Amy,” Mark whispered. “What was in the note you found in the trunk?”
“It said to check for the hidden room in the basement,” I whispered into his ear.
He sat back in surprise. “Hidden room? Did you know about that?”
“No. That’s why I have to go back and see what’s in there. I hope it clears Dad’s name for the painting in his possession.”
“Was your dad friends with any generals in the army?”
“Not that I know of. But he didn’t talk about his days in the military much at all. You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if his background had something to do with me being chased.”
“It appears so.” Mark took my hand and led me to the kitchen. “What’s for dinner, by the way?”
“You want me to cook for everyone?”
He began to laugh. “No.” We entered the kitchen to see three men in chef’s uniforms working at cleaning the stove. “Do you mind if we make dinner?” Mark asked.
“Dinner?” replied a man at the stove. “Have you all eaten yet?”
Saved By The Glass Slipper Page 16