Past Prologue: Where are our Children (A Serial Novel) Episode 4 of 9

by Gary Sapp

briefly…and scribbled his name next to the printed version at the bottom of the page.

  “I’m giving this paper…and you to right disclose this information if I am somehow incapacitated before I’m ready to take this public.” Thomas said.

  “I’m the Senior Editor here, Thomas.” Ernest Lott said with some heat. Thomas knew the man was upset about having to sign a contract. But Thomas needed the extra protection against Lotto running this story in the Times. He knew his old mentor wouldn’t like it, but he knew that he would sign the document just as he did. He also knew that he would get over it…in due time. “I can read. Now talk to me.”

  Thomas had gained an anonymous source. He (or she) had contacted him on his cell shortly before Thomas had his second interview with Special Agents Christopher Prince and Tabitha Blue at the field office just prior to Serena’s escape during Deliverance. The voice was disguised electronically. It said: The world wrongly believes that Adolphus Sweet was killed by a sniper’s bullet.

  Thomas remembered the man had been campaigning for a second term near in Houston when he went down from a sniper’s bullet as he left the Toyota Center. The president did not die that day…he was already dead before that bullet struck him. The assignation attempt only expedited the process of the guilty party going through what they had been planning to do all along.

  Ernest Lott sat back in his recliner again and let out a low whistle. “Ernestine asked you to find the questions to the three questions that every Man of Color…what most people in this country wants to know: Who killed President Adolphus Sweet, who is the Caretaker, and what is the Whirlwind?

  Thomas nodded but looked away.

  “So what did the ‘source’ tell you the real reason behind President Sweet’s death?”

  “He was poisoned…just like Ernestine Johnson was.” The poison sat inactive inside of his system for weeks. The responsible party only activated it after Sweet was shot.

  “Do you believe this source, Thomas?”

  Thomas shook his head…and then nodded. “I didn’t, not at first. But I went back and looked at the footage. You know that the conspiracy theorist were all over this anyway. The official report said the bullet punched in through the president’s side, but the conspiracy theories state that he was either hit in the thigh or not at all. Most men don’t die from bullet wounds to the hip…especially in the hours afterwards that it took the Vice President to make the public announcement that Sweet had indeed been killed.”

  “Alright, Thomas, let’s say that I’m going to side with you and your informant on that front. What about evidence about the presence of a foreign toxin in Sweet’s system?”

  “The whole world saw part of the evidence…and saw none of it when his funeral aired on national television days later—“

  “We saw none of it because his casket was closed.”

  Thomas nodded, happy that his friend had caught on to his logic so quickly. “That fact alone had fed the conspiracy theorist that horrible day. They were stating that Adolphus Sweet wasn’t even in the casket at all. I believe that he was, but he had suffered through and had been scarred by what I’d watched Mayor Johnson go through at her estate.”

  “What else?”

  “I called the Director of the Center for Disease Control here in Atlanta which you and I both know is the first line of defense for this country in any war against any disease.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He said,” Thomas paused for a very long time and a cold shiver had replaced the earlier warm one that he’d experienced for the man sitting across him. “He said no comment.”

  Ernest Lott shot out of his seat like a missile. The senior of the two men scratched the back of his shaven head and had to use his desk for support. The old newspaper man suspected what Thomas Pepper had suspected. “You can’t make a ‘no comment’ on something you don’t know about. By saying what he did, the man is admitting that President Adolphus Sweet was indeed poisoned by some foreign agent and that his office new about it.”

  “That means the Vice President knew about it as well. If I’ve read this correctly in my research then only a handful of people in the entire world would know about this: The Vice President and the Head of the Center for Disease Control in the United States are two, as well as the head of the CIA and the head of the FBI. So far, Deputy Director Rice’s people aren’t acknowledging my phone calls. It’s not about calling back…they aren’t acknowledging that I’m calling at all.”

  Lotto rubbed at his jaw as if he himself had been punched and not Thomas. He got up and closed the blinds of the windows in his office. “I’ll get back to Sweet in a moment. Did this source tell you anything else, Thomas? Did you learn who this Caretaker character is or was? What about this so called Whirlwind?”

  I will only disclose to you who the Caretaker is only if I feel the Whirlwind is imminent. The first answer leads directly to the latter.

  Lotto sat back down and asked,” I can only guess that this source is or was a Pandora Agent?”

  “That’s what he told me.”

  “Then why come to you—“

  “Because he feels betrayed somehow; I don’t know how and I don’t know by whom.” Thomas took a deep breath; the telling of this tale had taken a lot out of him.” Thomas cell phone was on mute but the light lit up with a brand new text message.

  “Anyone woman I know?” Lotto watched him reach into his pants pocket.

  I need to see you, Thomas. The message said but oddly had not provided a sender. Yet, somewhere in his marrow Thomas Pepper knew who had sent him the text. Serena Tennyson. He hoped his intuition was just a theory and told Lotto the same in a voice he had reserved for delivering tales of disbelief.

  Lotto laughed heartily enough to move a mountain. “Serena Tennyson texting you on your phone… don’t you Goddamn wish?”

  A second later Lotto’s office buzzer sounded off. He politely, but sternly reminded his receptionist that he’d asked not to be disturbed unless a race war had broken out in the streets of Atlanta. She apologized, but hung on the line. Her lone response to her boss was that he really wanted to take this call.

  Thomas asked, “Any woman I know?”

  Lotto frowned at his younger friend but did not comment. Thomas could see him working his brain cells for remembrance of any potential appointment that he could have missed. He cursed aloud in recollection, apologized to the receptionist for his language and then instructed her to put the call through.

  “It is some woman you know, actually.” He made sure the line was clear of his receptionist probing ears. “This is someone that you would know better than anyone who works in this building actually.” He said. “I have the best writer of prose that I have ever had the privilege of editing sitting before me. And yet a younger woman that I’m getting to know as well could possibly top your work, if only she would dedicate herself to it. I have little doubt that she could rival your success, Tommy Boy.”

  “Bernard Lott,” Thomas frowned in anticipation of knowing who the other man was speaking of. “Tell me you didn’t—“

  “Oh, yes, I did.” He said with a grin. “I anticipated you turning down my offer and prepared a preemptive strike to counter it. Sorry, Tommy Boy, remember what I said when I told you that I’m all about business and winning.” The phone in front of him beeped and Lott picked up and turned the line on its conference setting as it was positioned when Thomas Pepper first walked in this suite. “Hi Lucy,” Lotto said with his eyes burning through Thomas as his own comfort level went down a notch or two. “Say hello to Thomas.”

  “Hello, Ernest how are you,” Lucy said in her South African accident and Thomas could imagine her flashing her overbite as she smiled. “Thomas, I didn’t expect to talk to you today darling, what a pleasant surprise.”

  “Lucy,”

  She continued. “Alright, Bernard, enough with the messages already, you know that I’ve been busy. And you should already know that I want this assignment�
�under certain conditions, of course.”

  “Conditions,” Lotto’s bushy brow raised his master plan somewhat in jeopardy. “What conditions are you speaking of?”

  “Calm yourself, Bernard, my conditions for taking this assignment are pretty simple and straight forward enough.” Lucy replied. The background noise made it sound as if she were driving on the expressway. Thomas hoped she was using her hands free device. “I want total control of the subject matter, darling. We are already in agreement about the material, but I want to drive home some other concepts you may not have considered. What you have pitched is a wonderful idea under normal circumstances, but considering what our story is up against in Thomas’ announcement about his findings causes us to have to dig deeper if we are even to compete for page two.”

  Lotto looked hopeful again. “I’ll take all of that to say that you’ve uncovered something worthwhile?”

  Thomas felt the buzz of his cell before Lucy answered Lotto’s question.

  “Wrap up your conversation with Lott and me at the Children’s Healthcare Center of Atlanta. It was a twenty minute walk from the Times, ten minutes if he hurried. And he felt cold again as a second more ominous thought fought past the urgency of the first. She’s knows where you are. Pandora is having you followed…or worse you have some type of tracking device on your person or your car. Let’s test that theory by walking down