by Alton Gansky
“I was only joking when I called you a nervous flier,” Judith confessed.
“A joke to you; a fact for me. I hate flying.”
Judith gave a reassuring smile. “I’m starting to sense that. Bad experience?”
He nodded. “A commuter flight out of Asheville to Atlanta. We hit cruising speed and altitude. The pilot switched off the seat belt sign. I unfastened my belt. Ten minutes later we hit a pocket of bad air. The plane dropped a thousand feet before leveling off. The sudden drop sent me flying from my seat. I smacked my head on the overhead luggage rack. I gave up flying.”
“Yet here you are.”
“Not by choice.” He frowned. “I don’t suppose this thing has a printer in it.”
“It does.” Judith reached down and to her right and pulled a thin mahogany table with a thick bar-top finish from a recess in the bulkhead. The table pivoted into place and a metal knee bracket locked it into place.
“Clever.” Luke reached for his computer.
“One doesn’t spend millions for an aircraft like this without getting the kind of necessities business execs need. There’s a USB cable to your left. Pull it from its holder and plug it into your computer.”
“All the luxury a corporate warrior could want.” The sarcasm was clear.
“A company jet is not just luxury, Luke. When you pay an exec mid to high six figures, you don’t want him cooling his heels in some airport lobby waiting on the mercy of the airlines to get him back and forth to meetings. More than that — and you of all people should appreciate this — is the security issue. The jet allows us to keep execs safe and the material they carry safe. It’s an ugly world out there.”
“You’re preaching to the choir about the ugliness of the world.” He set his computer on the table. “I don’t see the printer.”
“It’s up by the galley. It would just be in the way in the cabin. It’s a color ink-jet. Will that work for you?”
“Perfect. This will take a moment.”
“We’ve got less than an hour before we arrive in Fresno. I wonder …”
“What?” Luke leaned back as he waited for the computer to boot up.
“Our cell phones have been cut off but — ” She nodded to a green telephone handset that sat snug in a cradle in the bulkhead.
Luke pursed his lips. “It might. Is it on the same cell carrier as your phone?”
“No. I’m going to try.”
“I wouldn’t. Even if our — employer — has thought of that or couldn’t cut it off, he would certainly have your company phone tapped, or have bugs placed in your office and that of your assistant.”
“If I don’t call in, my assistant will slowly go nuts. Sooner or later, she’s going to call the police assuming I’m hurt or have been abducted.”
“I think he wants us cut off from everyone.”
“Frankly, I don’t much care what he wants. He’s not our friend, Luke; he’s our problem. I’ll do what I have to do to protect myself. I’ve gone this far because I have yet to figure a way out of this, but I will not be his puppet.”
“We are already his puppets. That began when we answered the phone.”
“So you plan to just go along like a sheep following some sadistic shepherd?”
“Don’t start with me. This morning I was a happy recluse sitting at my computer reading blogs and juggling investments. Now I’m a refugee fleeing my past and on a mission to save a boy who might not even exist. For now we move with caution.”
“We do? You calling the shots now?”
“What?”
Judith knew from his expression that he understood her. “What is it with men? Do you think this is some movie where a man and woman are teamed up and the man makes all the hard decisions because the woman is just too frail or stupid to make the right choices?”
“I said nothing like that. Sheesh, get over yourself, woman. It’s your life, your jet, your phone, do what you want. Do you want me to step outside while you call?”
Judith started to snap back but the image of Luke stepping outside a jet traveling four hundred miles an hour and thirty thousand feet above the earth tickled her. She swallowed the laugh but couldn’t hide the smile. She grabbed the phone before Luke could comment and dialed her office number.
Seconds ticked by at glacial speed. Judith was about to hang up when the crackly ringing gave way to a familiar voice.
“Find, Inc., Judith Find’s office, this is Terri, how may I help you?”
“Terri. It’s Judith.”
“Ms. Find? I’ve been worried.”
Ms. Find? She only called Judith that in the presence of others. Someone must be in the front office with her. “Terri. I had to make a sudden trip and won’t be in the office this afternoon — ”
A loud pop stabbed Judith’s ear and she almost dropped the phone. The pain faded in the thundering pounding of her heart as she heard Terri scream.
The line died.
eleven
We have to turn around!” Judith released her seat belt and shot to her feet, then thought about what she was doing. She could contact the captain through the handpiece she held a moment ago. That was one of the reasons it was there. She reseated herself and reached for the phone.
A hand stopped her.
“Wait,” Luke said. “Tell me what happened.”
“I have to tell the pilot to turn us around.”
“In a second; first tell me what happened.”
Judith felt fury rise in her. She didn’t like explaining herself under normal conditions; stress made her all the more obstinate. She jerked her hand away. “I’m telling you something’s wrong.”
“I’m not arguing with you. I’m trying to understand.”
She clenched her jaw then let it relax. Reason pushed and shoved against the fear that clouded her judgment. “I heard something. A loud pop, then Terri screamed.”
“A loud pop? Like a gunshot?” Luke leaned forward.
“No. It sounded electrical, like a short in the phone.”
Luke pressed her. “What kind of scream?”
“What do you mean what kind of scream? How many screams are there?”
“Come on, you know the answer to that. There are scores of screams. Did she scream like something surprised her or like someone with a bloody axe just walked in the room?”
Judith thought, the sound of Terri’s voice still ricocheting in her mind. “Surprise, I guess.”
“Not terror, but surprise?”
“I guess. I don’t know. How am I supposed to know the difference?”
“Okay, something startled her but didn’t terrorize her. That’s good.” Luke’s eyes darted from side to side and his brow furrowed.
“We don’t know that. I’m guessing.” Judith reached for the phone again, picked up the handset but didn’t dial. “You don’t think we should turn around?”
“No. It would be counterproductive for us and for the Puppeteer.”
“Why should I care? If Terri’s in danger, I should be there.”
“Really. Let’s see: if we turn around, we could be back on the ground in thirty or forty minutes assuming we can land right away. By the time you get to the car and drive to your office another twenty or thirty minutes will have elapsed. Figure an hour.”
“If that’s what it takes.”
“I can understand the desire to go back, Judith, but have you thought that you might be doing her a greater disservice than aid?”
Judith tilted her head. “A disservice?”
“Yes. What just happened? You called your office, you connected, and then something happened on the other end. Part of our marching orders was not to contact others. This guy means business. I doubt he’s going to tolerate much rebellion on our part.” He leaned back. “Remember I said that he might have your offices bugged or your phones tapped. You told me he knew what your office looked like. Someone must have spent some time in there and they may have planted spy cameras, listening devices, and wh
o knows what else.”
Judith reset the phone. “How could he know … You mean that he or one of his minions was listening in when I called and did something?”
“Exactly. I’m guessing they planted a device in the phone to deliver a shock, or sound, or even destroy the electronics of the phone. It could be one of a hundred things.”
“But why?”
“To keep you incognito. Most likely it was a message to you. Who knows what the next message will be like? It could be worse.”
“And so by going back, you’re saying I could be further endangering Terri?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“But you’re just speculating.” The fury roiled in Judith.
“That’s true. I could be all wet. Are you willing to take the chance that I’m wrong?”
Judith thought for a moment, letting her gaze roam out the window. She felt so alone, her mind as inconsequential as the few gossamer strips of clouds beneath them.
“No.”
Terri examined her left hand. It bore a red stripe across the palm. For a moment she thought she saw a blister rising, but none appeared. Her left ear hurt, her knees felt weak, and her stomach flopped like a fish on a wood dock.
“Are you okay?” Marlin reentered the office through the same door he had fled a few seconds before.
“I … think so. I feel a little funny. Maybe I should see a doctor.”
“Of course, of course. Was that Judith on the phone?”
“What?”
“Focus, girl. Was that Judith on the phone?”
Terri wondered how long the jail sentence was for stabbing an obnoxious clown with a letter opener. For a few seconds, Terri was ready to pay the price. “Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing. Well, nothing I could hear.” She looked at the pieces of the phone on her desk. “How can a phone fracture like that?”
“I don’t know. Are you sure she didn’t say anything?”
Terri reached for the letter opener with her undamaged right hand, took it, then used it to push the phone’s receiver toward Marlin. “Here. Why don’t you call her yourself?”
Marlin looked at the phone. “No, thanks.”
Terri put down the letter opener and opened her handbag. She removed a compact and popped it open, using the mirror to look at her ear. Other than a slight reddening, it seemed fine. Returning the compact, she examined her hand. The red mark was already fading and would probably be gone by the time she could be seen by a doctor at any urgent care.
She looked at Marlin.
Marlin looked at her.
Finally, Terri spoke. “We should do something. I’m calling the police.”
“For a technical failure?”
“Technical failure? Look, I’m a little too rattled to play good-employee-bad-boss. So get as angry as you like, but this is not technical failure. When was the last time you heard of a phone zapping its user and blowing itself apart?”
“It didn’t really blow up. It just sort of fell to pieces.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Find, you didn’t stay around long enough to see what happened. It went off and you disappeared.”
“A reflex action. You’d have done the same.”
She moved into Judith’s office, Marlin close behind. “Call it what you will, it was abnormal. I’m calling the police.”
“We don’t need the negative publicity. I forbid you to call.”
She stopped at Judith’s desk and looked at the phone. She hesitated. She looked up in time to see Marlin smile.
“I see you’re coming around. Do not make that call.”
“I’m not coming around.” She walked past him, through her office, and to the elevator. She punched the call button.
“What are you doing?”
“I think I’ll use the pay phone in the lobby. Whoever rigged my phone may have rigged Judith … Ms. Find’s.”
Marlin seized her arm. It felt like a vise had closed on her flesh. She refused to wince or reveal any sign of pain.
“Let go of me or the phone will not be the only thing lying in pieces up here.”
“You think I’m afraid of you?” He laughed.
“Can you say assault and battery? If you fear bad press about the police investigating my phone, imagine what the press will do with a story about the senior VP of Find, Inc., abusing a female employee. It might even have an effect on stock prices. Who knows?”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“Try me.”
The elevator arrived. Terri stared into the cold eyes of Marlin. He relented, releasing her. Without a word she stepped into the elevator and let its doors shut. The look on Marlin’s face chilled her.
As the elevator descended, a wave of nausea rolled through her. She had never stood up to someone as rich and powerful as Marlin Find. In truth, she had parroted what she had seen Judith do a few times. Courage was not her strong suit.
She thought of the phone.
She thought of Judith’s call.
Soon a blizzard of fear drove the nausea away.
Terri began to cry.
twelve
Judith struggled to focus. Terri’s startled scream still resonated in her mind. Luke had printed several documents: the boy’s picture, the Word document, an Internet-generated map of the house they planned to visit in Fresno, and the photos of themselves from years before.
“There has to be something we’re not seeing.” Luke shifted the papers on the small desk as if by rearranging them he would see them with new insight.
“I can’t get past his eyes. Surely someone has been playing with the photo in the computer.” Judith picked up the color print of the boy named Abel Palek and saw the same dark hair, the same fair complexion, the same serious look, and the same lavender eyes.
Lavender eyes. It made no sense. Judith had nothing more than high school biology but she was pretty sure purple eyes were unnatural. She had read novels where the author had described a character, usually the beautiful protagonist, as having violet eyes, but these were as purple as lilacs. “Maybe he’s wearing contacts?”
“Maybe. I don’t think it’s possible for a human to have purple irises.”
“Why would someone fit a boy with colored contact lenses?”
“Maybe he has a vision problem and the purple tint protects his retina. Maybe … maybe … I got nothing.” Luke leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “We’ll be landing soon and I hoped to have more info than we do.”
“If the Puppeteer wants us to find the boy, then why give us so little information?” Something else about the photo puzzled her.
“Perhaps it’s all he has.”
Judith didn’t agree. “He has too many resources. If he knows so much about us that he knows the secrets that would make us his marionettes, then how can he be so ignorant about this?”
“I don’t have a clue.”
Clue? Was that it?
Judith shoved the photo across the table. “Can you zoom in on this?”
“You mean zoom in on some part of it? I can with the computer, but looking closer at his eyes isn’t going to help.”
“I don’t want to see his eyes. I want to see the floor.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I am. Just show me some of your computer kung-fu or whatever it is you do and give me a close-up of the floor.”
Luke leaned over the table again and started tapping keys. In a few moments he had the picture on the screen displayed by photo soft ware. He turned it so Judith could see. He moved the cursor to the toolbar and tapped the icon of a magnifying glass. “Say when.” He tapped the icon again and the picture grew larger.
Judith leaned in. “There’s something familiar about the floor.”
“It just looks like a wood floor; maybe one of those laminate jobs — ”
“That’s it!” Judith pulled the computer closer and took over the keyboard. She worked with computers every day. This wasn’t complicated
. She zoomed in closer and closer. “This photo is unusually clear.”
“It’s a big file. Almost two megabytes.”
“I don’t believe it.” Judith raised a hand to her mouth. “What are the odds?”
“What do you see that I don’t?”
Judith turned the laptop so Luke could see it. “You hit the nail on the head when you mentioned laminate.”
“I don’t follow.”
“How do I explain this? There are different types of wood flooring and different ways of installing them. For example, a true wood floor is a series of narrow planks connected by a tongue and groove edge. The wood is glued if it’s being installed over a concrete substrate or toenailed if placed over a subfloor. Because the planks are true wood all the way through, it’s an expensive way to go but the floor usually lasts longer and is easier to repair.
“Most laminate flooring consists of a thin layer of decorative wood — say red oak — over a fabricated substrate. Those floors are usually installed by floating the floor over the subfloor.”
“Floating?”
“The flooring snaps together. It isn’t nailed or glued. It allows the floor to expand and contract.”
“I don’t see why any of that is important.”
“The floor in this picture is a laminate. The style is called Blocked Maple. I know because I designed it.”
“You designed the image used on the floor?”
“Not personally. We have a design department and sometimes we use outside designers. They approach us and if we like what they have, we make suggestions, buy the rights to the image, and farm it out for production. We handle the marketing.”
“And you recognize the pattern.”
“It’s as unique as a photo of your mother. You look at something long enough and it gets burned into your memory. This pattern was designed and photographed by a guy named Stewart Blink.”
“Stewart Blink. That’s his real name?”
“I doubt it. Some of these artist types like to remake themselves.”
“I never thought of a floor designer as being an artist.”
Judith smiled. “You need to broaden your horizons, Mr. Day Trader.”
Luke sighed but didn’t object to the dig. “How does any of this help us?”