The Paladin's Redemption (The Keepers of White Book 3)

by Richard Crofton

  “I guess I’ll have to delete my Facebook account,” she assumed.

  “Already taken care of,” he admitted. She gave him a look suggesting a slight irritation brought on by his apparent overstepping of boundaries. “Sorry,” he said in response to her expression. “Moonie hacked in and removed all of your connections with social media the night you were abducted.” When her facial features showed little change, he added, “Had to be done, Megan. And you’ll need to refrain from using anything like Facebook again. From now on, you’ll have to learn to stay off the grid as much as humanly possible.”

  “So when do we leave?” she said abruptly, indicating that she understood and that there was nothing left to discuss regarding her social media activity.

  “Not for a couple weeks at least,” he said. “I hope that’s okay. There’s plenty of room here.”

  “And we’re safe here, right?”

  He grunted a very short laugh. “Moonie’s place might appear like an ordinary ranch home in the middle of the woods on the surface, but in reality, it’s the modern equivalent of a fortress.”

  “Really?” she said, intrigued.

  He nodded as he started scooping into a third glass. “Walls are reinforced to withstand some heavy firepower. Windows are bulletproof and can be tinted to appear as mirrors with the push of a button. They’re also equipped with steel shutters that can drop as quickly. Surveillance is placed all over the property. And then there’s all the traps.”

  “Traps?” she blurted out loudly.

  “Landmines everywhere surrounding the house, for starters. Don’t worry, they have to be activated before they work. The doors are set to emit a charge of high voltage against anyone who touches them. Trap doors with spikes at the bottom. There’s even a device on the roof that lets out an EMP to dismantle anyone else’s electronic equipment. I could go on, but you get the idea.”

  Megan didn’t reply immediately. Her stunned expression and gaping mouth revealed she was either thoroughly impressed, or in total disbelief. Michael, noting her speechlessness, commented, “As Moonie likes to say, this house makes the Temple of Doom look like a funhouse.”

  Megan still said nothing, but her expression of shock was now mixed with confusion. “Didn’t see that movie either?” Michael guessed.

  “Um… no.”

  He shook his head. “You’re hopeless.”

  “How do you operate all this?” she asked when she found her voice.

  Michael nodded over at the control panel on the wall. “Some panels like that one are set in different areas around the place, but the main control center is in the basement. That’s also where Moonie… does his work. He’s also got an armory down there, a panic room, and a secret underground tunnel as an escape route. It’s hidden by a steel wall that slides open and shut.”

  Once again, her jaw dropped.

  “So yeah,” he concluded, “it’s pretty safe here.”

  “Aren’t you worried that the kids might mess with these control panels?”

  He shook his head again. “They know better. Besides, other than the speaker system, these panels are useless to anyone who doesn’t have the access code.”

  “How can you afford all this?” she wondered.

  He smirked. “Like I said, we don’t have the kind of resources they do, but we have more than enough.”

  Megan, having no words with which to reply, continued helping with the floats. But within several seconds, another thought entered her mind. “I’m guessing we won’t have those same bells and whistles wherever we’re moving to, will we?”

  “You’ll have what you need,” he said. “The new identities themselves will make it nearly impossible for them to find you. We’ll take other precautionary measures as well.”

  “Like teaching me to meditate, while we’re here?” she guessed.

  He paused. “That’s one thing.”

  “And when do we start the… lessons?”

  “Well,” he said, “we can start tonight if you want. The kids and I meditate for an hour every night before their bedtime, and every morning before breakfast.”

  Before she could ask any more questions, Michael called to the kids, who had engaged in a game of tag throughout the house, letting them know that their dessert was ready. He also notified Jim and Moonie on the back porch regarding their coffee.

  “So,” she said more quietly before Alex and Emily entered. “Are we good?”

  Again the faux innocence appeared on his face as he turned to her while setting the glasses on the table. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t we be?”

  “It’s just,” she answered with an equally softer voice, “things seemed to get a little weird… you know… earlier.”

  He turned and resumed setting the glasses filled with root beer and ice cream, sticking a straw in each one. “Forget about it,” he said. “Everything’s good.”

  She said “Okay,” but she knew everything wasn’t good. Not between them.

  ****

  Everyone had gathered again for their refreshments, and again the carefree, upbeat chatter had resumed among them. After the table had been cleared quickly, the party remained in their seats and engaged in several rounds of the well-known card game, Uno. Jim and Megan had found themselves amazed by how sharp Emily appeared to be, having had won almost every round. Moonie, who had kept score, had nearly cursed aloud at what he had claimed for her to be blind luck, though his complaints had been all in good fun. Alex had also demonstrated a knack for the game, but he had clearly shown frustration by his sister’s uncatchable lead in score. Michael had suggested to the boy that the reason why he hadn’t won many rounds was due to his taking the game too seriously.

  “Your attitude can actually have a strong influence on your hand, Alex,” Michael had said in a rather relaxed tone, having hoped the boy wouldn’t take it to heart.

  “It’s cards, Dad,” Alex had argued with irritation. “It’s all the luck of the draw.”

  Michael had shrugged playfully. “It’s also just a game, buddy. Just have fun like the rest of us. You might see a difference if you do.”

  It hadn’t taken much longer, however, before Alex’s soreness had become irreversible and Emily had claimed the win for the night. Jim had also made an attempt to cheer him up at the end. “S’okay kid,” he said as he patted the Alex’s back as he crossed his arms pouting. “I was never good at Uno neither. Maybe tomorrow I’ll teach ya Texas Hold ‘em. Now that’s card game.”

  “Now we’re talkin’!” Moonie had joined in. “But I think what we need here for this young man is another root beer float as a consolation prize. Whaddaya say, Alex?”

  Soon the boy had found a cheerful disposition again, having been coaxed into congratulating his sister for her win by threats of being smooched to death by Miss Megan if he hadn’t, and extra dessert was always a good reason to shed one’s foul mood. Emily also had been rewarded with more, having demanded that if a consolation prize was being awarded, then it was only fair that a first-place prize was also handed out.

  Now that the kids were in pajamas and ready for bed, they would spend their last hour awake in mediation. Though nervous, Megan was looking forward to this time when she might at least gain a small portion of Michael’s world, and with it more understanding of it. But when Moonie explained to her that she would spend her hour of meditation with him, and that Michael would be partaking in a separate session with the two children in their own room, she lost the excitement for it. To spare his feelings, she smiled and pretended she was happy to meditate with him, but he must have sensed her disappointment regardless, explaining that the children were further advanced in their training and would be working at a different pace than she, to which she said that she understood.

  She also understood that Michael hadn’t seen his stepchildren in almost a month, and he wanted to spend some quality time alone with them. But she still felt a little hurt. He had only spent a mere day with her. Was he tired of her already? Or was he still
intentionally distancing himself from her after what she had said to him in the truck? Or was it, now knowing more of his past, that he kept himself from getting to close to her, as he possibly still grieved the loss of his wife. Earlier in the truck, he told her he didn’t… misbehave… in the shower out of respect. Did he truly mean out of respect for her? Or for Heather’s memory?

  Megan tried to dismiss these thoughts as she sat Indian-style across from Moonie on the floor of the spare bedroom that would be hers during her stay. She was sure he would guide her as well as any other of his kind, but she had begun this bizarre adventure with Michael, and she obviously felt more attached to him.

  “Focus on the here and now,” Moonie remarked as he closed his eyes. “Forget everything else. Breathe deeply and it’ll help clear your thoughts.” She nodded and did as he instructed as he turned off the light, leaving them both in complete darkness, free of any visual distractions.

  Moonie had spoken to her through the meditation, instructing her to imagine a tiny flame upon a candle, to picture it dancing and waving in the gentle circulation of air, and to notice its blue, white, and yellow layers. “Thoughts, ideas, or memories may randomly invade your mind,” he had said. “They’ll disrupt your focus. If that happens, force yourself to concentrate on the flame. Keep it in your head and start adding details to the picture, as if it’s really there.”

  The hour seemed to go by in a flash, though time almost stood still during the session itself. There didn’t seem to be anything extraordinary about it. It had mainly consisted of her constantly drawing in and exhaling deep breaths, and envisioning the lit candle.

  “That’s it?” she said with puzzlement when Moonie had told her to open her eyes and turned on the light.

  He smiled. “All you’re working on right now is learning to quiet your mind. Centering yourself. It may not seem like much, but if you do these exercises as often as you’re supposed to, you’ll start noticing a difference in time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Moonie gave her one of his goofy grins. “Well you won’t start levitating or anything like that. But you’ll one day find that you’re more in tune with your surroundings. More perceptive of things. You may also find your short-term memory will become much stronger. That’s a handy thing, especially when you can’t find your car keys.”

  She laughed with him at that. “Why do I feel so tired?” she said suddenly with a yawn. “Is this supposed to do that to me?”

  “In the beginning, that can happen,” he affirmed. “It’s like exercising, but instead of your muscles exerting energy, it’s your mind. But you’ll get used to it. Oh and don’t worry; the session we do in the morning will be a little different. When we’re through with that one, you’ll be charged up, ready to start your day.”

  She nodded with another yawn, and once she readied herself for bed and tucked herself in what she determined to be one of the most comfortable beds she had lain in, it hadn’t taken more than five minutes before she was fast asleep.

  Michael and the children had finished around the same time, but spent another thirty minutes reading to them a chapter from one of their favorite books, followed by quiet, pleasant conversation. When the little ones were ready for bed, they had obediently brushed their teeth and had given both Uncle Moonie and Mr. Panco a goodnight hug. Miss Megan had already gone to bed, so she would have to do without hugs for the night. They had then snuggled into their air mattresses, whereupon Michael had kissed them both on their foreheads, having wished them good dreams.

  Moonie had also decided to call it a night, having retired to the master bedroom. Michael now sat alone upon the back porch with a bottle of Miller Lite serving as a nightcap. He was lost in thought until the sound of the sliding glass door opening drew his attention.

  “Can’t sleep?” Jim Panco greeted as he stepped onto the porch with his own bottle.

  “Figured I’d grab a beer before they were all gone,” Michael replied with a smirk, indicating the multiple empty bottles filling halfway up the nearby recycle bin.

  Jim settled in the white, plastic chair next to him. “Well, there wasn’t much else to do while y’all were bein’ Buddhist monks.”

  “You’re more than welcome to join us, sir,” Michael said invitingly.

  “Not my thing. Old dog. New tricks. And call me Jim.”

  Michael gave him a nod as he took another sip of his beer.

  Jim produced a cigarette and lit it. Michael had guessed the man bummed it off of Moonie, as it was the same brand. “Truthfully,” Jim added, “whatever it is you’re a part of, I’m not sure I even wanna understand it.”

  “Can’t blame you for that,” Michael empathized.

  Jim inhaled the cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. “I gotta admit, I was a little uneasy about Megan bein’ a part of it at first, but after what she’s been through, I suppose it’ll do her good, if it can help her emotionally recover from all the shit that’s happened. Y’know, help her move on with her life.”

  “It will,” Michael assured him. “She’s very strong, sir.”

  Jim looked upward at the stars as if giving thanks to them. “That she is,” he replied. “She has a knack for bouncing back from things pretty quick.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” Michael agreed.

  “Yeah,” Jim said with a half-smile on his face. “I gather you’ve noticed quite a bit about my daughter.”

  Michael shifted in his chair, slightly. “I.. I’m very perceptive of things, sir.”

  “So am I,” Jim said, moving his eyes to meet Michael’s. “And I was pretty quick in perceivin’ the way she looks at you. And the way you look at her.”

  Michael did not want to hold his stare with the man. He looked down at his bottle of beer, then took another sip.

  “S’alright, son,” Jim remarked coolly. “She could do a helluva lot worse. And from what she told me today, she has done a lot worse.”

  Michael felt himself able to breathe again, but his thoughts suddenly focused on the “helluva lot worse” Jim was referring to. He realized that he was squeezing the neck of the bottle tightly, then quickly loosened his grip for fear that it might shatter in his hand.

  “There’s somethin’ else I’d like to talk to you about though,” Jim continued after a pause. “If you don’t mind.”

  Michael looked in his direction again. “Sure,” he said amiably.

  Jim took another drag from the cigarette in between his thumb and index finger. “I don’t mean to pry,” he began. “It was completely accidental when I interrupted you and your friend in the kitchen today. I heard a little of the tail end of your conversation, and I can’t pretend to understand diddly-squat about it, but there’s one thing I think I do know.”

  “Sir?”

  He took yet another drag. “These people. The ones who took Megan. Whatever it is they were a part of. It’s big. Ain’t it.” His last words were more like a statement than a question.

  Michael nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Pretty big.” He took a long gulp of beer.

  “And I’m guessin’ it’s far from over.”

  “Don’t worry, sir,” Michael said, predicting where the old man was going with this. “I’ll leave Megan out of it.”

  “I know you will,” Jim replied. “I ain’t worried about that. You’re too noble to do otherwise. I can see that about you now that you ain’t puttin’ on an act around me. But what I am worried about, and I know this is none of my business….” He hesitated.

  “It’s okay Mr. Panco,” Michael prompted. “What is it?”

  Jim clenched his fist as he pressed the butt of his cigarette into the nearby ashtray. “The thing is… I’ve been here for over a week now, and…” he turned and looked at Michael with hardened eyes. “You got good kids is what I’m sayin’. Really good kids. I’ve spent a good deal of time with ‘em while I’ve been here. You sure you wanna get mixed up in this… whatever this is?”

  Michael gave him a sad
dened look. He imagined Jim helping Moonie fill in for him, spending time playing games with Emily and Alex, talking with them during meals, reading to them, and tucking them in for the night. Things he wished he were there to do. But it was only natural that the man would grow attached to them during his stay. “I don’t see another choice, sir.”

  “Aw for Christ’s sake, would you call me Jim already?”

  “Right. Jim. Sorry.”

  “And there is another choice, boy. Wherever you’re sending me and Megan, come with us. You, Robert, and the kids. I’m not sayin’ we all live under the same roof. That’ll drive me nuts. But we can all live on the same street. Far away from here. From what I see, it would sure make Megan happy if you do. Somethin’ tells me you boys are in way over your heads. Forget all this chaos and come live a normal life so you can raise those kids right.”

  Michael eyed him in awe. This man, who had just praised him for his nobility, showed more decency than he could ever hope to match. And his offer was more than tempting to his weary heart.

  “Y’all can stay with us until you find a place of your own,” Jim added. “Robert too.”

  “You would be willing to do that?”

  “You brought my little girl back safe and sound. It’s the least I can do.” He looked at Michael as if studying him. “And I want what’s best for her. Somethin’ tells me you’d fit the bill. But only if you can leave all this behind. Leave it to the proper authorities.”

  Michael smiled, but it was filled with sadness. “Jim,” he said softly. “These people… they’re very powerful. The authorities can’t do anything to stop them because of how much control they have over everything.”

  “I still don’t see why that puts the responsibility on you and your sidekick,” Jim argued.