Final Scream

by Brookover, David

  Seconds later, Nick’s alter ego appeared, lifted Reese off the ground, and vanished with her.

  Noah glanced gratefully at Gabriella. “You cut that close. I thought I was a goner there for a second.”

  “You were never in any real danger. I waited until Reese was the most vulnerable before I showed up. I didn’t want to get here too early and start a magic battle with her.”

  “Thanks, and I mean it from the heart. So what’s cousin Nick doing with her?”

  “He’s going to drop her off in an isolated and uninhabited dimension.”

  “Part of me feels sorry for her. I mean, she seemed pretty nice when we were stuck together on Terror Island. I realize she conjured a lot of the hazards, like the invisible barrier she made vanish a split second before we crashed into it. And then there was the lousy sniper who missed us with every shot.”

  Gabriella hugged him. “Sympathy is a natural reaction, Noah, but eventually those feelings will fade. I’d like to hear about your Terror Island adventures sometime. Maybe you could write a book about them,” she suggested.

  “Sure. Later.” He looked up and saw a tree-mounted camera staring down at them. “Did the whole world see what happened to Reese?”

  Gabriella laughed. “No way. As soon as Reese moved her arm back, Geronimo disconnected the network feed and replaced the video with a screen announcing, Please stand by. We’re experiencing technical difficulties.”

  Noah was thankful for Geronimo’s quick thinking. “So what happens now? Is this nightmare finally over?”

  “I guess Nick and Neo will round up the rest of the bad guys once we return to the states, starting with the NSA’s rogue Jonathon Foster.”

  “What about the Shabaccoes? Will they let us leave here?” he asked, pointing up at the rim of the volcano.

  Gabriella puckered her brow. “Those are excellent questions, without excellent answers.”

  Epilogue

  Nick, Neo, Crow, and Gabriella gathered around the cherry conference table inside the Spartan Honolulu FBI field office on Enterprise Street in Kapolei. They were beaten, battered and just plain exhausted. The investigation had drained them physically and mentally. Near-death experiences did that to people, and these four were no exception. Geronimo’s handiwork appeared on the roll down screen at the front of the room and displayed his diligent search in slow motion, even though the various search locations whizzed past at a dizzying pace.

  “Haven’t located him yet,” Crow announced with a hint of frustration. They had been at this for nearly four hours, but they were far from throwing in the towel. Geronimo employed the most cutting-edge FRP (Facial Recognition Program) software available on the planet. The supercomputer utilized every surveillance camera and satellite on and above the planet, even those of our sworn enemies, to scan the world for Jonathan Foster’s facial features. Once identified, NNC would know the traitorous NSA bioterrorism division director’s whereabouts in real time.

  The red phone buzzed beside Hawaii’s Special Agent in Charge, Ken Kalani, and he plucked the old fashioned receiver from its cradle. After muttering a few ambiguous “Uh huhs,” he offered the phone to Nick.

  The caller was Rance Osborne.

  “What in tarnation are you clowns doing frittering away taxpayer money on a Hawaiian vacation?” Rance blustered, but he didn’t sound angry. That was his backward way of saying he was proud of their success on the Final Scream case.

  “Right, vacationing. At the moment we’re watching Geronimo hunt for Jonathon Foster.” Nick summarized the supercomputer’s worldwide high-tech search.

  “You could have overseen that operation from Old Mother Hubbard’s.”

  Nick grinned. The cranky old bastard was near and dear to his heart. “We figured we’d save on travel expenses when we go after Foster. He couldn’t have gotten far from Riai Island and Hawaii. And besides, we can hit the beaches occasionally and brown out.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Neo grunted.

  “Except for Neo,” he told Rance. “He came pre-tanned.”

  Neo laughed and threw a wadded piece of paper at Nick. It struck his upper arm and fell to the floor.

  Nick actually told Rance a little white lie. After Geronimo pinpointed Foster’s location, Nick intended to teleport there and dispatch him. He normally didn’t play judge, jury, and executioner, but there was no way he was going to watch this scumbag skate through the justice system on trumped-up legal technicalities and get off with a mere slap on the hand.

  “I’m glad to hear you’re being mindful of my budget.” Rance coughed into his hand and changed subjects. “I hear that loser Jamison got what he deserved on Riai Island. I’m glad. And speaking of Pentagon traitors, we arrested four more of Jamison’s turncoats. Unfortunately or fortunately, depending how you look at it, someone infiltrated our security at the Federal holding facility and killed them all.”

  That was news to Nick. “I wonder who was still around to kill them.”

  “Good point. Do you think it could’ve been Foster?”

  “Might be. How did your prisoners die?”

  “They were burnt to a crisp,” Rance replied.

  “And when did that happen?”

  “Uh, two nights ago. Why’s that important?”

  “No special reason. I’ll let you know when Geronimo locates Foster.” Nick disconnected the call and shook his head. The only suspect who could have pulled off that dragon mirage burning trick was the Superior. She was home in Marlborough, Connecticut then and could have easily cast her spell on her captured associates to keep them quiet. No witnesses, no incrimination. Of course, she didn’t know at the time she’d be spending eternity alone in an isolated dimension.

  “Anything new from Rance?” Gabriella asked.

  Nick relayed his message and turned to Crow. “Anything on Foster?”

  “No, Oh Impatient One! It’s a big world out there,” Crow replied facetiously. “But I have some Chrysalis updates for you guys while we’re waiting. Care to hear them?”

  Neo straightened in his chair. “Lay ‘em on us before I fall asleep.”

  “I admit the search is boring, but Geronimo’s moving as quickly as he can.”

  Gabriella shot Neo a cool-it look. “Go ahead, tell us about Chrysalis.”

  “Okay. The stock values for both Chrysalis and Cryzo Ventures, LTD, bottomed out at zero today once the news of Ulrich Strasser’s death reached Wall Street. The company is basically kaput, and his investors took a bath.” Crow paused. “That was the official reason given for the companies’ collapse. According to the rumors circulating beyond Wall Street, Strasser’s death and his companies’ failures to procure advanced weaponry caused the investors to dump their stocks. On a side note, Chrysalis sold off the Oracle network while it was worth something to help pay its debts.”

  “Sounds like the inside traders got burned,” Neo said in earnest.

  “Serves them right,” agreed Gabriella.

  Ken Kalani excused himself to attend to some routine matters, and Crow immediately spun his chair toward Nick.

  “Something’s been puzzling me since Noah first disappeared on Terror Island,” the computer genius stated.

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?” Nick responded.

  “Why would that assassin take a shot at Natalie inside your aunt’s house? Natalie was an integral part of the operation.”

  Nick drummed his fingertips on the polished table. “Maybe to lure me into another trap where she could kill me. When she vanished without a trace, I kept digging into the Final Scream case so I could find her and Noah. In hindsight, I figure Reese Morgan was too busy using Noah to set me up for the fall to keep tabs on Natalie. I’m certain she would’ve disapproved because they were working at cross purposes. Each wanted their revenge, but Morgan needed me alive to find Noah,” he explained.

  Gabriella looked bewildered. “So why kidnap me?”

  “Since Donna Lake didn’t murder you, Reese Morgan had that sorcerer clow
n kidnap you. I think Morgan thought she stood a better chance of killing me if you and your magic weren’t around.”

  “Makes sense,” she murmured.

  “But if the Superior, Morgan, needed Noah alive as bait, why did she allow her associates and those monsters to try and kill him at the cove?” Neo asked.

  “I think that was when Morgan gave up on me showing up on Terror Island, so she abandoned Noah and worked on a new plan to attract me there.”

  “That didn’t work out, either. The volcano knocked the hell out of Terror Island before you got there,” Gabriella added. “I wonder what triggered that volcano.”

  “The Shabaccoes admitted they planted a sophisticated device on the mountaintop that bore its way through the Plates tectonic to the Earth’s core, allowing lava to shoot up through the rupture.”

  Crow looked away from the screen. “Why would Natalie turn herself into a Wicker person, of all things?”

  “We’ll never know,” Nick responded.

  She puckered her lips. “And another thing. Why did she claim to be the Superior?”

  Nick was growing frustrated by their questions. “Maybe she did it to cast suspicion away from Morgan. It’s kind of like when Maggie Wentworth injected herself when Gabriella and I got close to the discovering the alien conspiracy.”

  Neo nodded. “One thing’s for sure—Natalie was in it for the revenge, not the money.”

  Gabriella rubbed her weary eyes. Her eyelids felt like lead shutters. “We’ll never know some of the reasons why people did things, and really, who cares? Noah is safe and back to work with his mom at Scripps. That’s what matters most. Right, Nick?”

  Nick managed a half-smile. “You bet.”

  Neo stretched his long arms and cracked his knuckles. “So did anyone check the television ratings for our mock Final Scream show?”

  Crow bent over his computer keyboard and typed furiously until the television rating for that popped up on the front screen. “Wow! We got a 9 rating, which is fantastic for a preemptive show beginning after two o’clock Eastern Daylight Savings Time in the morning! The newspapers reported the Twitter and Facebook traffic afterwards was so congested that both sites nearly crashed. I guess we’re famous!”

  “Good to know if we ever decide to change occupations,” Neo quipped, smiling.

  “Cute,” Crow groaned.

  “What was Terror Island’s real name again?” Neo asked.

  “Kepolo Island. It’s Polynesian for Devil Island,” Nick answered.

  “That sure as hell fits!”

  “Who put the spell on the soldiers in the prison cavern?” Neo asked Gabriella.

  “Reese Morgan. She didn’t want them shooting her along with the other prisoners.”

  Neo stood and stretched. “Well, she ended up saving all our lives in the cavern.” He picked up his water glass and held it high. “Here’s to Reese Morgan’s one good deed.”

  The computer beeped loudly, attracting their attention. “Would anyone enjoy a somewhat humorous footnote to the Final Scream investigation?” Geronimo spoke up.

  Crow was annoyed at the supercomputer’s audacity. “This isn’t a comedy club!”

  “I don’t know about you guys, but I could use a laugh,” Gabriella said.

  “Count me in,” Neo added.

  Nick shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He was a man of action, not a desk jockey. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  “Nick, remember the two La Jolla police detectives you magically transported to Alaska?” the computer asked. “Kip Sanger and Matthew Loughton.”

  “Yeah, I vaguely remember those idiots. What about them?” Nick grumbled. No one knew about that little incident but Nick—until now.

  “They filed a lawsuit against you last week for deserting them up there.”

  Neo slapped his knee and howled. “No kidding? Nice work, Nick.”

  Geronimo continued. “But—get this—a California judge dismissed their lawsuit for being frivolous and a waste of the court’s time. The newspapers had a field day with their preposterous story, and the two are being investigated for drug use.”

  “Nick the bully! A cop’s worst nightmare!” Crow broke into tearful laughter and slapped his knee.

  Nick was pleased … and relieved. “Thank God. The last thing NNC needs is negative publicity.”

  “Any kind of publicity!” Neo cried, wiping tears from his cheeks. “We run under the radar, remember?”

  Nick appeared irritated, but inside he laughed with them.

  “So what happened with the Shabaccoes, Nick?” Gabriella asked, shifting topics.

  “Well, their leader approved my demands, so we’re good. As I told you before, we had to swear never to divulge the Shabaccoes’ existence, the location of their subterranean city, or attempt to duplicate their advanced weaponry—ever—in exchange for our lives. I bargained for periodical visitation rights to Riai Island, but that only applies to the four of us.

  Crow nodded his understanding. “That must have taken some fast talking!”

  “It did, but the leader owed me one. I saved his and the Shabacco women and children’s lives.”

  “I wonder what happened to poor E.V.A.N.?” Neo muttered.

  Gabriella fielded that question. “E.V.A.N. will be just fine. The Shabaccoes agreed to let him roam free on the island and feed off the other animals. Nick said they were reluctant at first…”

  “But good ole Nick sweet talked them into seeing things his way,” Neo added with a generous wink.

  “Halleluiah, I spotted Foster!” Geronimo exclaimed.

  Nick jumped out of his chair at the news. “Where is he?”

  “Our fugitive is currently loitering on the Port of Shanghai docks.”

  “Shanghai? You’re joking, right?”

  “I am not joking, Nick Bellamy.”

  “I need his exact coordinates,” Nick informed him.

  Geronimo provided the coordinates and then added, “He is standing approximately one hundred feet from the docked container ship E.K. Fitzgerald. Look. I have focused in on him via satellite surveillance.”

  Neo moved closer to the screen for a better look at the traitor. “That tanned and moustached guy doesn’t really look like him. Are you positive he’s Foster?”

  “Not a very clever disguise, if you ask me,” Crow bristled. “The Facial Recognition Program examines his bone structure, eye shape, head profile, and a lot of other minor, yet definitive features. The software ignores eye color, facial hair, and other superficial elements, which of course can be easily and quickly altered. The other, more permanent characteristics can’t.”

  Neo slouched down in his chair like a schoolboy reprimanded by his teacher.

  Gabriella grabbed Nick’s hands and kissed him. “Be careful, dear. Foster’s dangerous, and we don’t know if he has any of his rogue agents with him. They could be hiding anywhere close to him.”

  Nick squeezed her hands and released them. “I’ll be careful. When I get back, I promise we’ll have a quiet romantic Hawaiian dinner at a five star restaurant.”

  “A promise means no excuses. No emergencies.”

  “I won’t back out.” He vanished while her next sentence was half-formed on her lips.

  The massive docks at the Port of Shanghai were teeming with activity. Crowds of dock workers, innumerable forklifts, and a multitude of movable cranes dominated the landscape at the world’s busiest container port. The docks faced the East China Sea to the east, the Hangzhou Bay to the south, and included the confluences of the Yangtze River, Huangpu River, and the Qiantang River.

  But the giant port’s unusual geography didn’t interest Nick at the moment. His thoughts were wholly engaged on the task at hand: locating the E.K. Fitzgerald. After fifteen minutes, Nick spotted the massive container vessel. The enormous ocean freighter’s jumbo white lettering on its black and rust hull was a dead giveaway.

  Now came the tougher task of finding Foster in that sea of humanity.


  Although the docks were jam packed with hustling boorish workers, Nick dodged person after person like a deft tailback slicing through the opposing team’s defenders. He briefly considered the pros and cons of transforming to his alter ego and scattering the crowd, but he was sure there were reporters milling about in search of a blockbuster news story.

  So no magic.

  Just his silenced handgun.

  When Nick arrived in the area Geronimo pointed out to him, Foster was gone.

  Damn!

  Suddenly, a gun barrel was pressed into Nick’s lumbar area.

  “You’re a long way from home, Bellamy,” Johnathon Foster growled. “Looking for anyone in particular?”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact. You.”

  Foster poked him with the gun again. “Turn around and head back toward the E.K. Fitzgerald. See that green forklift stacking those small containers?”

  “I see it.”

  “We’re going to stop on the other side of those containers.”

  The pair wove through the masses until they reached their destination, where they couldn’t be seen.

  “I don’t believe in longwinded speeches, Bellamy. Let’s just leave it at goodbye.”

  Foster pulled the trigger and emptied the clip in Nick’s back, but Nick faded using his Mortal Eclipse maneuver, and Foster’s bullets passed right through him and into the containers. Several Chinese workers on the other side of the stack heard the gunfire and warily walked around toward the sounds.

  When Foster’s gun clicked empty, Nick materialized and shot Foster in the forehead four times. The bleeding criminal’s eyes rolled white as he fell back into the stacks. Nick holstered the gun and vanished just as the workers rounded the corner.

  They glanced at Foster’s bullet riddled forehead and the empty gun in his hand and figured Foster was another suicide victim. They were experienced enough to know not to report violent crimes to the local police. The paperwork alone would take them hours to complete, much less the interrogations. The E.K. Fitzgerald was scheduled to leave port in less than three hours, so they quickly swore a pact to never mention the suicide victim again. Two of them rolled Foster into the filthy port waters, where the authorities would discover Foster’s partially eaten corpse days from now. By then, the workers would be loading cargo on a different ship, and no one would be the wiser.