Untangling the Black Web

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Untangling the Black Web Page 20

by T. F. Jacobs


  Her jaw drops. We’ve always been cordial, but now I’ve crossed the line. It was an asshole thing to say, but I need her to know I’m serious.

  She grunts then turns to Evan.

  “I’ll see you upstairs,” she says, attitude in her voice. She probably doesn’t want to reply to my comment because of Lexi. She thinks it isn’t fair to do that to me just after my wife has died. Probably thinks Lexi is the reason I’m out of line. And technically she’s right.

  She walks off down the hall, and before she turns the corner, Evan calls back.

  “Honey, I’m not coming to bed. David needs my help.”

  Her eyes are like knives. I saw the look before on a few occasions from Lexi. It’s the one that implies real trouble is about to begin if an apology isn’t had.

  But Evan’s apology doesn’t come.

  “We’ll be quiet. Try to get some sleep without me,” he adds.

  She laughs then shakes her head. I know there will be some serious trouble between them later, but screw her. She is not going to argue that her sleep is more important than this. I don’t care that she makes fifty times what I or Evan make—it’s just sleep.

  She darts off down the hall and out of sight.

  “Sorry, man,” I offer.

  “Don’t worry about it. She’ll get over it. She gets like this when she doesn’t get her sleep.”

  I have met her enough times to know this happens more often than just when she doesn’t get her sleep. She’s a day trader, and I’m sure it’s the nature of the business. Bullies who power their way into getting what they want.

  Aly comes in from behind us a moment later, still in her scrubs but looking rejuvenated.

  “Okay. Let’s begin,” I announce.

  Evan starts the coffee maker. “Let’s do it.”

  Chapter 15

  We’re burning the midnight oil.

  After reviewing the files on Connelly’s computer, Evan is finally convinced that he can make this go national, even if the biggest thing he’s written to date was a piece about a local mayor’s abuse of power embezzling funds from city taxes.

  We’ve got files on 426 members of Congress, but not all of them are still in office. Some are out of the spotlight altogether, but some, like Mark Donahoo, have moved up in the world.

  Mark is now secretary of state, and according to Connelly’s file on him, he’s been taking bribes from Russian and Iranian oil companies in exchange for looking the other way when it comes to sanctions.

  Another file alleges that Congresswoman Sanchez slept with Gary Tumbler before he became president.

  We’ve got a file on several congressmen who took cars from auto manufacturers trying to stay open during the bailout. We’ve got several on congressmen who have children in private schools at no cost in exchange for federal subsidies. We’ve got Republicans proven to be anti-gun and pro-choice. We’ve got Democrats who staunchly believe that gay marriage shouldn’t be legal and that healthcare shouldn’t be given to the poor. We’ve got forged birth certificates. Illegal immigrants. Homicides that have been covered up. Countless affairs of members of Congress and their spouses. A whole slew of men using prostitutes, including Byers, the sick son of a bitch. And politicians in bed with every lobbyist known to man. Several of them who now work for those same lobbyists on multi-million-dollar salaries. Wonder how they got those jobs.

  It’s not just speculation—Connelly has physical proof to back up everything. There is enough in these files to literally bring Washington, DC, crumbling to the ground. But that isn’t our goal.

  Our goal is to prove Connelly and Jones committed numerous crimes. To prove they’re trying to kill us. To prove they killed Dominique and Lincoln. To prove they deported Brit. To prove they’ve done whatever they’ve done to Alex and Rob. To prove that they’ve done this to keep us quiet. To prove that they are in bed with lobbyists in order to progress their own personal needs. And they are going to give us whoever is at the head of this thing. I’m willing to omit files from our leak if Connelly and Jones will help us get the information I need in order to light a fire under my American True Care case.

  Five a.m. rolls around, and we hear movement upstairs.

  Aly has downed at least ten cups of coffee, going on forty hours with no sleep. Evan has had at least five. I haven’t touched the stuff. Maybe I’m losing my mind, but I feel more alive than I ever have. I know we are on the verge of breaking this whole thing open, and that justice for Lexi is almost here.

  We have most of the articles, videos, and files ready to leak if anything happens to us. We’ve created a site that will go live in two days on its own. If we are still alive at that time, we will take it down. We’ve also drafted tweets, e-mails, and press releases that will go to many of the major news outlets, including WikiLeaks. Getting these stories out before I make my case will only help in court, by planting the prejudice in the public’s mind ahead of time.

  If we die, the whip, the Speaker, and the entire House of Representatives die too. Figuratively, at least.

  We look up from our work as Christie comes downstairs still wearing her robe, and this time her hair looks like she’s had a fierce battle with the wind. She’s a mess, but we probably are too.

  She eyes us groggily as she makes her way into the kitchen.

  She isn’t happy.

  “Evan, did you get a chance to make my breakfast?” It isn’t so much a question as it is a passive aggressive attack. She’s probably holding back because there are guests.

  “Not yet.” He springs up from the couch and heads into the kitchen. The brother I knew is almost entirely gone. The old Evan didn’t take anything from anyone. Only remnants remain of his former self. This has to be a love I will never understand.

  I know he’s got to break the news to her soon, but I’m nervous that he won’t be able to go through with it. Let’s see if he can man up.

  I look to the side and notice Aly has nodded off, snoring through her nose. It’s actually kind of cute.

  “Honey,” Evan starts. Here it goes. “I need to go to Washington, DC, today for work. I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

  She laughs. Thinks he’s joking.

  “Good one. Maybe you forgot we have Timmy?”

  Evan takes a long and deep breath. “My mom will watch Timmy. He’ll be fine.”

  She’s glaring at him, and I can feel the tension from all the way in the living room.

  “I don’t work hard all day for nothing. I do it so that you can stay home with him,” she says.

  “I actually work too, if you don’t remember.”

  She scoffs.

  Oh boy.

  “For what? Thirty grand a year? Come on, we know who pays the bills around here.”

  She takes a piece of toast from his hands and shoves it into her mouth.

  “I may only make thirty grand, but I also do all the cooking and cleaning. Why don’t you give that a try?”

  She’s fuming, but so is he. For the first time in a long time, I’m proud of him.

  “You know what? Whatever. Give Timmy to your mom. I’ll see you when you get back.”

  She storms out of the kitchen, then Evan turns back to me.

  I look down, pretending I didn’t just hear that entire catastrophe.

  “All right. Let’s go,” Evan says to me from across the room.

  We book the next flights out of Orange County and eat as quickly as we can. I’m guessing I’m not on any sort of no-fly list yet, but I’ll find out shortly.

  Evan leaves a message for the OC Times letting them know about the nature of the article he wants to publish but leaves out the details.

  I leave a message for Connelly, letting him know I want to meet in person. That if he wants to keep information from getting out, he will take the meeting.

  Evan lends me a spare suit and Aly some of Christie’s old clothes. I’m guessing Christie doesn’t know about the generosity, but who cares.

  Soon after, a chime e
choes through the house.

  “Probably Mom,” Evan says.

  He makes his way down the hall, then disappears.

  A moment later he walks in with our mom.

  “David,” she exclaims. She lifts her arms and speeds toward me.

  I stand up and embrace her.

  “How are you?” she asks, full of life.

  “I’ve been better. You okay, Mom?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been taking yoga at the beach and spending some time at the senior center doing some volunteer work. Lexi was the one who got me into that yoga, you know. But she was like a pretzel. I’m more like a scone. Stiff.” She bursts into laughter at her own joke.

  I smile, more out of pity than anything else, but I’m happy to see her happy.

  “I miss Lexi,” she continues. And now the smile is gone. A tear streams down her cheek.

  “Me too, Mom. Me too.”

  Seeing my mother brings back all those memories of childhood: dropping me off at basketball games, tutoring me at math, taking us to the movies, buying us skateboards and scooters just because. I’m reminded of her dinner dates with Lexi and me. Of her cheering us on at our wedding. And thinking of all of these memories reminds me that she is yet another person I don’t want to lose. I can’t tell her about the danger both her sons are in. I can’t tell her that I don’t know if I will be coming back. Instead, I just have to smile and embrace the moment for what it is.

  “Grandma!” Timmy screams as he runs down the hall from upstairs. His tousled hair flies in the wind. Then he notices me. “Uncle David!” He leaps up into my mom’s arms and wraps his own arms around her waist.

  Then he runs to me and wraps his arms around my legs. I bend down and pat him on the back. Cute kid.

  Lexi and I certainly didn’t want any kids ourselves, but seeing Timmy like this makes me wish I’d been a better uncle.

  “We better head out. We’ve got a flight to catch,” Evan says aloud.

  Aly steps forward toward my mom and smiles politely. “Nice to meet you, I’m Aly. I’m a friend of David’s. Just here to help with the article.”

  She shakes my mom’s hand, leaving her with a suspicious look on her face.

  I’m not going to clarify it any further, she can think whatever she wants.

  “Nice to meet you, Aly,” she finally responds.

  “Good to see you, Mom.” I wrap my arms around her one more time, and for a second I feel like it might be my last. I push the feeling away and let go.

  “Evan, wait.” I turn around to see Christie standing at the end of the hall. She’s wearing a purple dress and heels, and her hair is pinned back into a professional bun, looking much nicer than earlier.

  She marches forward, heels clanking with each step, then leans in and plants a kiss on Evan. He grabs her back then bends her over and they kiss more passionately.

  When they come back up, they’re both smiling.

  “Be safe,” she says. She gives him a wink. He nods then winks back.

  And then we set off to the airport.

  . . .

  Evan volunteered to pay for our flights, which cost top dollar, being only a few hours before takeoff.

  We clear the security checkpoint, which hopefully means none of us are on a no-fly list.

  It seems we are safe, at least until we get to Washington.

  We’re standing in line to board the plane when I hear a chirping in my pocket. It’s my BlackBerry.

  I answer.

  “This is David.”

  “David, this is Connelly.”

  My eyes fix on Aly and I stop moving in line. There are still at least twenty people in front of us.

  “I got your message,” he continues in that strong Texas accent. “I think we should definitely meet. Put an end to all this. When can you get to DC?”

  “I’ll call you with the place. The meeting will be tomorrow morning. It’s got to be in public. You and Jones both. My brother will be with me taking notes, he’s a journalist. If you try to pull anything at all, we leak the files.”

  There’s a silence on the other end. Connelly is probably calculating how to take me down, but I’ve finally got the upper hand.

  “I don’t take well to blackmail, as you are aware. But we will discuss that in person. Call this number when you’ve picked a place.”

  I hang up and then look up to Aly and Evan.

  “We’re in. They will meet. Sounds like he was pretty anxious too. He knows we’ve got him.”

  They both smile in return. We can all feel the power at our fingertips. How close we are to bringing it all tumbling down.

  . . .

  The seats aren’t the first-class recliners I’ve grown accustomed to courtesy of American True Care, but they will do. In fact, American True Care doesn’t even know where I am. If I return from this trip, I’m going to quit the second I get back. It will be one of the most satisfying moments of my life. Then I’ll file my official case with the court.

  I’m sitting in the middle seat, Aly on one side, Evan on the other.

  It’s been a full day since I’ve slept, and finally the excitement has taken a back seat, letting exhaustion take the wheel. I can feel my body giving in and know that sleep will win soon.

  Evan is snoring on my left, his head contorted into an awkward knot under his armpit on the armrest.

  Aly is on my right, and she too has drifted into sleep.

  Her head falls to the left and lands on my shoulder.

  I shrug to try to force her to the other side, but instead, she inches closer to me.

  I consider trying to wake her, but something tells me to just let her be.

  I look down at the jet-black hair, and a scent reminiscent of magnolia or citrus fills my nostrils. There’s something surreal in the moment, like déjà vu. Immediately I’m drawn back to the first time I met Lexi, the pretentious-looking woman in her pea coat, asleep at my side.

  I remember her head colliding with mine, missing my exit, and Lexi missing her exit. I remember pulling her through the gate and the moment she asked me to get coffee. I remember the moment I told her it was a date, and she told me it wasn’t a date—it was just coffee.

  Then, I’m brought back to now. Sitting inside an airplane with Aly on my shoulder.

  The physical touch surprises me and makes me feel something. Something I’ve longed for in a part of me that has been buried since Lexi’s death. No, since before that—since the cancer.

  But the woman whose head is on my shoulder isn’t Lexi.

  In fact, I barely know her at all. Sure, she’s attractive, with those almond-shaped eyes and rosy cheeks. She’s also a nice girl, if somewhat quiet and reserved. She’s gone through a lot with her parents’ death, her own thoughts of suicide, and the despicable doctor she works for. And maybe given time we could make each other happy. Learn each other’s quirks. Discover what makes the other person tick. Grow to love each other.

  But she isn’t Lexi.

  And no one can replace my wife.

  I try to shrug her off again, but she’s out. I guess over forty hours of no sleep will do that to a person.

  A moment later, my eyelids feel as though they are being weighed down by bricks, and any excitement or thoughts I have can’t remain in focus for more than a millisecond. It’s the first time since Lexi’s death that I’ve felt this way without the assistance of sleeping pills and alcohol.

  And finally, sleep wins.

  . . .

  I see DC in a whole new light, and it ain’t pretty.

  The entire city is built on corruption. Deals that better the interests of politicians and their families. At the end of the day, what’s most important to them? Themselves and their wives, or people they don’t know personally?

  When we’re offered money to make our families more secure, or when better schooling for our kids becomes available, or a vacation we’ve always dreamed of is free, or the sex we’ve been lusting for miraculously appears, human nature kicks in
. Selfishness. Because we have needs.

  We can all think that if we were in their shoes we wouldn’t stoop to taking such deals. But we aren’t in their shoes. And if I were to guess, I’d guess a lot of these politicians once believed they wouldn’t take the deals either.

  Trust me, I’m not defending them. I want them buried. But I realize that maybe I’m not so different.

  See, my needs are revenge and justice. And revenge has presented itself, but in return, a lot of people will get hurt. Careers will be ruined. Families torn apart. But in my head, justice for what I believe is right trumps the turmoil they will go through.

  We check in at a three-star hotel on L Street.

  It’s the only hotel room we could find last minute, and it certainly isn’t like anything American True Care has put me up in. Nor is it anywhere near what Evan gets to live in every day.

  Five hours on a plane and a three-hour time difference has taken away most of the day. I’m guessing Connelly is anxiously awaiting my call. There is even a chance he’s having us watched. If he had Dominique killed, Brit deported, Alex turned, and God knows what done to Rob, I’d say the chances are high.

  We drop our bags off in the hotel room, then head out.

  We need to find a public place with plenty of foot traffic. Somewhere that if anything is to happen to us, many witnesses would be involved. We also need somewhere that we can capture the whole thing on film.

  The plan is that Evan and I will meet with Jones and Connelly. Evan will be conducting an official interview on behalf of the OC Times. Aly will be conducting surveillance (filming the whole thing) from somewhere that isn’t readily obvious. If anything happens to us, the site goes live and the articles release tomorrow afternoon. If we are still alive, we take down the site.

  Foolproof?

  Probably not. But there are only three of us, and it’s the best plan we can think of on such short notice. I just hope we aren’t overlooking something obvious.

  We make our way on foot through downtown, scoping out possibilities.

 

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