Allison worked industriously for the next ninety minutes on changing her appearance. When she was finished, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She leaned closer to see if there were any imperfections. She couldn’t see any.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
“Wife. Not anymore.”
“Mother. Always and forever.”
“Superagent? The best of the best.”
“And what else are you?”
“I’m an assassin doing my government’s bidding.” Tears burned her eyes at the out-loud declaration.
“Was an assassin is the operative word from here on in,” she told her reflection in the mirror.
Enough of that kind of thinking. Time to get a move on.
Allison pulled on a knee-length summery flowered dress with three-quarter sleeves. She stopped just short of looking dowdy. The padded corselet around her stomach gave her small frame a pear shape that made her look ten pounds heavier. The padded bra pushed her breasts up and out. She eyed herself in the wide mirror from all angles to make sure she hadn’t missed anything.
“Well, helloooooo there, Doris Brown,” she said, giggling.
Shoes. The dress called for sandals but this new Doris Brown opted for a pair of white Keds in case she had to run. No way could she outrun someone pursuing her if she was wearing leather sandals.
Every year at the fitness trials at The Farm, she’d always come in first, outrunning the star athletes. Like Luka said, she was the best of the best.
Allison looked down at the bottle of cherry-red nail polish in the nail kit sitting on the vanity. The last time she’d worn nail polish, she had been fourteen years old. She went to work filing and buffing her nails, then polishing them. She whipped her hands through the air to dry the polish and applied a clear coat to protect the polish. She was slowly getting the hang of all this. Oh so slowly. She kept waving her hands in the air until she was satisfied her nails were dry. She wondered what it would be like to actually get a manicure and a pedicure, to be pampered. Maybe someday she’d find out.
She looked down at her Doris Brown watch, big face, bright red wristband that matched the dress she was wearing. She’d spent two hours decorating herself. Time for a last cup of coffee. And then she’d leave. She wondered if there would be anything new on the news after the two hours she’d spent in the bathroom.
Allison plugged in the coffeemaker again, then started to make herself some coffee. She turned up the volume on the local TV channel to hear a frenzied anchor screeching that the Internet had crashed. “Crashed!!” he thundered to his unseen audience. Allison whipped around to pick up her laptop, turned it on, started her browser, and tried some Web sites. Nothing. Dead as yesterday’s newspaper.
Allison laughed. She had always been good at puzzles, analyzing things. It took her only a few seconds to put together in her mind the news she’d heard earlier about the war that was on for missing and exploited children with some beautiful wealthy countess. And now this! She was still laughing as she poured coffee while listening to all the talking heads screaming over one another on the TV set.
Allison sat down, coffee cup in hand as she stared at the frantic people on the TV set. They were acting like it was the end of the world. One of the commentators on the screen was saying, “Good Lord, people will have to actually talk to one another. Service providers cannot explain what’s going on; nor can they say when and if they can get the Internet back up and running. Furthermore, for some reason, the major cell-phone towers are also having trouble.”
Allison eyed the pile of burner phones on the table that were probably inoperable for now. God does work in mysterious ways, she thought. She’d be off the tube; no one would be able to get in touch with anyone else. She needed to move now and head to Washington in the hopes of hooking up with Harry Wong. If she couldn’t make verbal or text contact, she knew where his dojo was. She’d simply go there and hope for the best.
Allison finished her coffee, disconnected the coffeemaker for the second time that morning, rinsed her cup, and put the cup back into the cabinet.
Doris Brown was not the type of woman who would travel with a backpack, so she packed the laptop and the burner phones in a wide plastic produce carryall she found under the sink. In the bedroom, she found a duffel bag she filled with two other flowery dresses, a pair of jeans, three T-shirts, and several sets of underwear.
Allison made sure the back door was locked, and nothing was out of place. She was satisfied that the whole house looked like no one had been there recently.
Ten minutes later, Doris Brown programmed the GPS and was on the road and headed for Washington, D.C.
Allison turned on the radio and listened to the world going crazy. Yes sir, God did work in mysterious ways. And the best part was only twenty minutes had gone by since the crash of the Internet. Hopefully, it would stay down till she reached her destination, giving her the anonymity she needed for now.
* * *
Everyone in the war room gasped when each and every computer and laptop stopped being able to access the World Wide Web. Lady Justice disappeared in the blink of an eye.
“Holy crap! You honest to God shut down the Internet!” Dennis said in awe.
Abner leaned back in his chair and propped his size 13s on the desk. “I had some help,” he drawled. “But, yeah it’s shut down. We should go topside to see what’s going on. We won’t have cable, but the local stations will be broadcasting. I’m not sure which cell-phone towers are down. I need to talk to Phil. No reception down here. And, there’s nothing we can do down here anyway.”
The mad scramble for the stairs irked Cyrus, who was always first. He let it be known in no uncertain terms, and everyone stopped in their tracks to allow the magnificent shepherd to do his thing, which was tantamount to taking a bullet for whoever was behind him. In theory. Cyrus barked and took his sweet time sauntering to the staircase. He knew when things were at emergency level, and this was not an emergency. When he reached the moss-covered steps, he bounded up them like a gazelle, the others right behind.
Charles immediately turned on the twenty-one-inch television sitting on the far counter. He reared back for a better look at what he was seeing, a frantic anchor and his colleagues trying to explain something to the viewing public that even he didn’t understand himself.
“All we can do at this point is speculate. Our communication system crashed along with the Internet. I think it’s safe to say people were calling in wanting answers.” He stepped back to show a row of agitated people, talking heads, who were waiting to voice the same information only in a different tone of voice.
Jack looked over at Abner, who was staring at the TV, a satisfied grin on his face.
“You do good work, bro!”
“C’mon, guys, and you too, Maggie. I’m good, but I’m not that good. The honors go to Phil and his star pupils. PIP played a part in this, too.”
Dennis inched forward. “So, tell me, when it’s time to kick it back up, what’s involved?”
“Dennis! Dennis! Dennis! If I told you that, then I’d have to seriously compromise you. That means kill you. You still want to know?”
“Absolutely not. No sir, I do not want or need to know. I’m good, Abner. I mean I’m really good.” Dennis tried to make himself invisible. All eyes went back to the idiotic talking heads repeating the same thing over and over.
“People, check your cell phones to see if they’re working.”
“Dead,” Maggie said. Ted, Espinosa, and Dennis seconded Maggie.
Charles and Fergus shook their heads. “We’re down, too,” Fergus said.
“I have one bar,” Jack said.
Harry stared down at his phone, a look of surprise on his face. “I have four bars. For how long, I don’t know.”
“What about you, Abner?” Jack asked.
“I’m good. It’s a good thing, too, because I have to be able to get in touch with Phil.”
Jack mumbled under hi
s breath about all things electronic and satellites and all the other stuff he would never understand in a million years, yet Abner knew it all and even understood it. As did his colleagues.
“Do you think you should check in with your pals?” Jack asked, addressing his question to Abner.
“Nah. I don’t want to waste my bars. He’ll get in touch if need be. Is it just me, or aren’t you guys hungry? It’s past lunchtime,” Abner said, looking directly at Charles.
“How can you even think about food at a time like this?” Maggie barked.
“I can think about it because my stomach is letting me know it’s time to fill it. You don’t have to eat, but I do,” Abner barked in return. Maggie clamped her lips shut and stared at the TV, wanting to put her fist through it.
“What’s the game plan? Are we just going to sit here and look at one another, or maybe eat, then take a nap? What?” Ted demanded.
“We could read or talk to each other,” Dennis said. With no response, Dennis went back to staring at the TV along with Maggie.
Fergus started to bang pots and pans as Charles scoured the refrigerator for a simple lunch. “Omelets!” he proclaimed. “And tapioca pudding!”
Lunch over, Jack proclaimed the Internet had been down one hour and twenty-five minutes. “And we don’t know anything. The local news is just that, local. We know as much as they know. I think you should call your buddy to see what’s going on, and don’t tell me he won’t know. If he can crash the Internet, then he knows what the hell is going on. Government is shut down. Not that people care about the government, but they do care about not being able to get on Facebook. Which I agree is a sad state of affairs. Well, Abner, are you going to do it?” Jack demanded.
Abner was about to respond when his cell phone pinged. He almost jumped out of his skin. “It’s the CIA. I recognize the number. I bet it’s my old boss. Should I answer it?”
“Of course,” Charles said. “Information is power, remember that.”
Abner said hello and waited to see who was on the other end of the phone. Ah, the man he had worked for whose real name he didn’t know or want to know. The voice got right to the point. “I need you to come out here right now. The Internet went down. No one here has a clue as to what they should do. I was told to call you.”
“I don’t work for you anymore. I quit, remember? What makes you think I can fix whatever it is you want fixed?”
“Because . . . our mutual friend, the one who recommended you, said you were the best of the best.”
“Then you should be calling him and not me. I can’t help you; this is above my pay grade.”
“I tried and couldn’t reach him. Listen to me, Tookus. We’re talking national security here. Your country needs you. I’ve been authorized to tell you they’ll pay you whatever you want. Name your price.”
“This isn’t about money, sir. I’d do it for nothing if I could. I can’t even begin to know how to fix something like this.”
The voice grew desperate. “A million! Five! Ten! Get your ass out here right now before I send someone to fetch you. You won’t like that.”
Abner laughed. “You don’t know where I am. And, you don’t scare me. But let’s suppose I do . . . ah . . . know someone who just might, I say just might, know how to get you up and running, what would you say? Same deal? Anything he or she wants?”
“Yes, yes, for God’s sake. Whatever it takes.”
“I’ll check with the person and get back to you.”
Abner looked at the gang, and said, “Well! That just kind of fell into our laps. What do you want me to do?”
“Call Phil. Then call that person back and tell him Phil has a price. You want all they have on the Karas brothers, every scrap of information. When we have it in hand, he’ll get the Internet back for them, along with millions of other people.”
“Oh, man, Jack, you drive a hard bargain. Okay, let me call Phil to see what he has to say.”
Abner pressed the number three on his phone. Philonias Needlemeyer picked up immediately. “Get what you can out of him. Tell him if he holds anything back or isn’t shooting straight, you will bring the wrath of God down on him.”
“Dammit, Phil, you need to stop listening in on my conversations,” Abner said with no real anger in his retort. “I’m not calling you back because you can listen in on your own.”
“Ten four and out,” Phil said playfully before he broke the connection.
Abner looked at the gang enjoying the expressions on their faces. “Okay, here we go,” he said, entering the number that had just called him. It was picked up midway through the first ring.
“Well?”
“Well?” Abner said, parroting the man on the other end of the line. “I spoke to the only person in this whole entire world who can possibly help you. I say possibly. He wants to know what’s in it for him. I told him what you offered me. Unfortunately, he is not interested in money; he has plenty of his own. He’s willing to help, but for a price. A price you might not be willing to pay. No resets. One chance, and that’s all you get, so you might want to gather your people from the top of the food chain who have the authority to grant a one-ofa-kind wish. I’ll give you ten minutes, then I’ll call you back. Are we clear here?”
“Is it guaranteed?”
“Of course it’s guaranteed. The minute my colleague is satisfied that you delivered on your end, you and everyone else in the world will be up and running within ten minutes, twenty minutes tops. Or maybe six hours. That’s his timetable, and it’s a take-it-or-leave-it offer. Screw this up, and your whole agency is in the toilet. Those are my . . . ah . . . source’s words, not mine. I’m ending this call now.” Abner leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, a dreamy look on his face. “I hated that son of a bitch when I worked there.”
“I think we all figured that out already,” Harry said.
The minutes crawled by. When the ten minutes were up, Maggie raised her hand.
“Let’s let him sweat another five minutes,” Abner said.
Maggie thought the next five minutes were the slowest of her life. She literally screamed out loud when she said, “Time’s up!”
Abner bolted upright and pressed in the digits that would connect him with the man he’d spoken to earlier. He didn’t bother with the niceties. “What’s it gonna be, boys?”
“There are two ladies here,” came the inane response.
“And two ladies,” Abner drawled. “I repeat, what’s it gonna be?”
A voice that sounded old and reedy spoke. “We want a guarantee, young man.”
“I gave it to you earlier. Ten minutes, twenty, six hours tops. Turn up your hearing aid, mister.”
Another strange voice spoke. This one had authority resonating all over the room. “What is it your source wants in return?”
“Not much. The total file you all have on the Karas brothers. If there’s even one page missing, one omission, down you go, never to return. Ah, your silence tells me this was the last thing you expected. I’m going to hang up, give you five minutes, and if you don’t get back to me, I’m going to turn off my phone.” Not bothering to wait for a reply, Abner ended the connection.
“And how are we supposed to take possession of the Karas file, Abner?” Jack asked.
“What! You expect me to do everything! Figure something out. I did my part.”
Cyrus barked, then barked again to show he didn’t appreciate Abner’s tone, to which Abner made a barking sound in return, which meant cool your jets, dog.
The team looked at one another in a daze.
“I know! I know! We send Dennis, who will pretend to be a messenger. The Post uses a courier service in town. I know the manager, who will back up any story we give him to tell. He can be trusted. Dennis!”
Dennis was scared out of his wits. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he simply nodded.
“A piece of cake, kid. Really, a piece of cake,” Ted said.
“Oh dear, we’re t
hree minutes past the five-minute deadline,” Maggie said.
Abner reached for the phone. “You sure you want me to make this call, because I can tell you exactly what they’re going to say. They have no file on anyone named Karas. So, what do you want me to do?”
“If that’s how it turns out, simply hang up,” Charles said. “If they are as desperate as we know they are, they’ll call back. Make the call, young man.”
Since Abner always, well almost always, followed instructions, he placed the call. A third, never-before-heard voice said, “This agency does not—”
“I don’t want to hear your bullshit, General. I’m assuming you are a general who basks in his authority, but you have no authority over me or my source.” He ended the call and once again leaned back in his chair.
“We should start a pool. How long do you think it will take for them to call back?” Maggie asked. The entries were from eight minutes to an hour.
They all stared down at Abner’s phone, sitting on the kitchen table, waiting for it to ring.
“Doncha get it, guys. This is all a game to them. Trust me, they’re scrambling. Right now, it’s who blinks first. A no-brainer. We should go in the dining room, where the table is bigger, and play cards or something.”
Maggie threw a dish towel at him and missed.
“What now?” Ted asked.
“We wait.”
Chapter Eleven
Allison Bannon, now Doris Brown, settled herself behind the wheel of the SUV. She checked the rearview mirror and the side mirrors, which had all gone back to where the previous owner had set them when she shut off the engine. For some reason, the same thing had happened when she drove the SUV for the first time. She adjusted the steering wheel to match with her small frame, pushed the seat forward, then flexed her hands on the wheel. The nearly five hundred–mile trip she was certain would be made in relative comfort, with a few stops along the way for coffee and bathroom breaks. On the passenger seat was a map that she had to follow since the GPS wasn’t working. Following a route on a map was no big deal, but a GPS was the way to go. Since that wasn’t an option, she’d marked her route, estimating she would arrive in the District of Columbia after dark. A good thing. She had one stop to make once she drove out of the cozy little neighborhood—the nearest convenience store, where she could pick up a portable, battery-operated radio since the one that was installed in the SUV was stone-cold dead.
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