The Secret Page

by Al Turner

  “Sir, we dead in da watah,” Jitters called back.

  FAST FORWARD

  2016

  Summer nights in Florida were sultry, particularly when you factor in a jacket and a polyester fedora. Still, it was difficult to hide three pistols and a dagger without the cover. The steady, warm breeze that swept the patio helped, but the extreme humidity along the Emerald Coast was anything but exaggerated.

  At least Shelby could take refuge in his cold drink. The combination of ice and booze was always an antidote to the warm, humid air. He lit a cigar, a Cuban, and watched the two men from a few tables away. They went about their conversation unaware that, among the crowd of late-night Friday patrons, they had an audience.

  Both were somewhere in their thirties. The one was going on about everything from his exaggerated exploits in the military to how simple it was to land his recent bartender’s position. Plenty of bars dotted the coast, but Shelby had picked out this particular one for a reason.

  He felt the men were nearing the point in their conversation where he might actually learn something useful. At least he hoped so, since their banter was about as interesting as watching paint dry.

  His phone’s vibration indicated an incoming call, but he ignored it. About half a minute later, it notified him of the voice mail that awaited his attention. He retrieved the phone from his jacket and glanced at the name.

  Wynona Troy, he thought. He would definitely want to listen to it later; now was hardly the time. He turned the phone on its face so he could focus on the task at hand.

  He adjusted the small antenna dish, innocuous since it was shaped like a flower, to ensure he had the best reception of the conversation, which he listened to via a low-profile earbud. Another device in his pocket also recorded their words, in case his memory left out any details. It was tough getting older.

  The one known as Matt, the braggart of the two, was quite proud of himself. Not only had he charmed some striking older woman, but he was also certain this easy mark would show up over the next few days. There was apparently a wager between him and the one he called Mark; Matt had a couple of more days to reel in his quarry in or lose a Ben Franklin.

  Had Shelby not known who they referred to, the chatter might have just seemed like guy talk. However, he had been trailing Matt for the past several days. The woman he had set his sights on was an interesting choice, to say the least. She was quite a beauty, but her looks weren’t the reason for the man’s interest.

  Mark, the more reserved one, shook Matt’s hand and reminded him that time was of the essence, and that he had to be absolutely certain when his part of the mission went down since it involved some coordinated effort. The hundred-dollar bet would be the least of Matt’s worries should he let his partner down. Clearly, a hefty payday was at stake.

  Neither of their names, of course, were the ones they were born with. Such was the business that Shelby found himself in. Within his world were goals and the lies that supported them. The men he shadowed were hardly the professionals he had dealt with in the past. They were just pups by his standard. Still, even pups had teeth.

  They parted ways, with Mark leaving the little bar while Matt headed back to his new, and temporary, bartending job. Neither had even looked his way.

  Amateurs, Shelby thought. He finished his drink and left a nice tip for Matt. The bartender would earn his pay soon enough, albeit not in the way he probably envisioned. As Shelby placed the barely smoked Cuban in his glass, he turned the phone over and accessed the voice mail.

  The message was hardly short but not overly long either. Wynona’s frantic voice came alive in his ear. One of the best inventions, he thought, is the Bluetooth earpiece.

  “Shelby, this is Wynona. We’re at the location and have run into a problem. Can you believe these assholes are doing another experiment at Echo? They’ve spotted us, so I don’t know how much time we have until that submarine overtakes us. Before you wonder, yes, there were some fireworks, but not the same as before. Still, you should know that these bastards are apparently still playing with fire. If you don’t hear from us again, you know what happened. Make sure our kids are taken care of.”

  Damn, Shelby thought. The frantic update was something he had been waiting on for years. He played the voice mail again to ensure he had heard the part about the submarine correctly. He hated being right but knew something was on the horizon. Frankly, it surprised him it had taken this long to happen.

  He gathered the fake flower that housed his listening device, glanced around one more time as he rose, and headed out. There would be several interested parties, but with the latest development, he knew where he needed to go first. He just had no idea what type of reception he would get.

  CHURCH MEETING

  Viridian Cove, a former fishing village-turned-unincorporated town in the mid-twentieth century, lay in close proximity to Pensacola, Florida. Home to roughly a couple of thousand people, a volunteer fire department, and a tiny police department, it was the tiniest of spots on the map. The town’s plaza was named Viridian Cove Square, though the locals referred to it simply as Viridian Square.

  Located to the east of Viridian Square, the small church wasn’t much to look at on the outside and only slightly more pleasant on the inside. With its faded red carpet and worn, cushioned pews, it was the archetype of low-budget churches. Since it was Saturday, the normal congregation of around eighty-five members was mostly missing. The doors were open for those who wanted to come pray, practice choir, or speak with the pastor.

  The pastor, however, was out of town visiting a dying friend. His associate pastor, Jack Page, a man barely into middle age, held down the fort. His mood seemed to sour as he spoke on his cell phone. Dressed casually in blue jeans and a tangerine button-front shirt, the dark-haired man with a sparse beard stood at around six foot. He ran his hand across his rugged salt-and-pepper chin as he contemplated his wife’s sudden decision to cancel their lunch plans.

  Jack had stepped away from a teens’ discussion group to speak privately. His wife seemed to bounce around the reason she had to cancel their plans, but she did promise to make it up to him. He expressed his love, ended the call, and headed back to his young audience.

  The five kids ranged in age from twelve to sixteen—three boys and two girls. The three were all brothers, the Miller boys, who regularly attended church with their parents. They didn’t always show up on a Saturday, as that would be odd for teens who lived so closed to sugary beaches. However, the eldest, Steven, was smitten with the associate pastor’s daughter. Although she was several years older than he was, the lad seemed to crave the opportunity to flirt with the lovely young woman and hoped she would make an appearance.

  Jack turned to the group sitting in the front pew when he noticed a figure entering the double glass doors that were the main entrance to the small building. The man didn’t look up as he walked in, and his dark blue fedora obscured his round face. He wore a thin navy-blue jacket, which was a bit odd. Midsummer in Florida was hardly the jacket-wearing season and locale. The man grabbed a hymn book from the back of the pew in front of him and thumbed through it. As Jack watched, he replaced the book and pulled a newspaper from his jacket and studied it. Who really read newspapers anymore?

  He had totally missed Steven’s question. It soon became clear to the boy that he would need to repeat it.

  “Are you sure Carson won’t be here today, Mr. Page?” Steven asked again.

  This time, Jack heard. He slowly drew his attention back to the teens but positioned himself so he could monitor the guest in the back of the church. “I don’t think so, Steven,” Jack replied. “I believe she and her brother are going on a boating excursion this morning.”

  One of the girls, a twelve-year-old named Sonja, giggled about something. Steven’s youngest brother Ben elbowed her. Jack gave them both a suspicious eye, then glanced back at the man who continued to read his newspaper. He licked his finger each time before he turned a page. The
action seemed for show.

  After a moment, Jack tried to give the children his attention again. “Sorry for the interruption. What were we discussing?”

  “Sex before marriage!” Ben blurted out. He was hushed by the others.

  “No, I don’t think we were having that particular discussion, Ben,” Jack said, knowing the boy loved to be funny.

  “Pastor Page,” Sonja said as she held up her hand, “we were talking about forgiveness and how it helps the forgiver as much as the one forgiven.”

  “Oh, right,” Jack said. “Very good, Sonja. Does anyone have an example of a time when you or someone you know chose to forgive?”

  Ben jumped to his feet. “My dad forgave my mom for telling her friend that you were really hot,” the boy said with a big grin. The girls giggled while both of Ben’s older brothers took turns punching him in the shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain.

  Jack held up a hand to the teens as he fought to hold back a laugh. It was true that several women in the church found him to be attractive, if not charming. Even though some of his features were hidden by facial hair, he seemed younger than his actual age. But he was the first to admit it was he who had married up. You only had to glimpse his beautiful wife to know there was truly a fountain of youth somewhere in Florida.

  Jack tried to think of a way to move past the remark. “I’m glad to hear your dad is a forgiving man, Ben. Anyone else?”

  At that very moment he noticed a movement in the back of the church. The man in the fedora stood up and started for the exit but took his time about opening one of the glass doors. He paused as if considering something, glanced back, and then departed.

  Jack only caught a glimpse, but it was enough to confirm his suspicion. Shelby wanted his attention. He took a deep breath as he debated whether to follow him or not. Finally, he decided to excuse himself.

  But Jack realized he had missed another question. “Sorry, what is it, Steven?” he asked hastily. He was already heading to the end of the pew to start his pursuit.

  “Are you sure Carson isn’t coming today?” Steven asked with a mischievous grin.

  Jack fought off the irritation. “Steven, why do you keep asking me the same question?”

  “Because she’s standing right behind you,” Steven said as he pointed.

  Those in the front pew erupted in laughter as Jack realized his daughter, observed by the others, had quietly positioned herself right behind him. She must have been there for some time, hence the inside joke among the group of kids.

  With her sandy-blonde hair, blue crystals for eyes, and a physique toned by life on the beach, Carson was every father’s worst nightmare. His beautiful daughter was the fox every hormone-filled hound wanted to chase. Her Daisy Duke shorts and white cami only amplified the effect.

  “Hi, Dad,” she said with a snicker. “Does Mother know about your popularity with the ladies?”

  For a moment, Jack forgot about the man in the fedora. “Oh, that,” Jack said as he tried in vain to hide his embarrassment. “You know kids—they’ll say anything.”

  “Especially the truth,” Carson said and gave a quick wave to Steven. The boy’s countenance brightened like the sun.

  Jack hugged his daughter. “I thought you were with Tripp today.”

  “He’ll be here shortly,” she said. “You know how tardy my brother can be.” Before he could ask how she had gotten there, she added, “I caught a Uber over here. I wanted to see you before we headed to Destin to meet a dude.”

  “A dude?”

  “His name is Derrick.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Oh yeah, things are fine,” Carson said unconvincingly.

  Jack eyed her, knowing it typically took her a moment to warm up to discussing things. She was quick to blurt out her opinion but less inclined to discuss her feelings.

  “Well, I’m glad you stopped by,” Jack said as he glanced back at the door, resigned to Shelby being long gone. “I’d invite you and Tripp to join me for lunch, but I’m sure you guys want to get started on your fun day.”

  “I was under the impression you and Mother were having lunch,” Carson said suspiciously. “At least that’s what she told me earlier.”

  Mother, Jack thought. She and her mom must be at odds again. “Your lovely mom had to cancel. Her friend needs to chat with her about something.”

  Carson’s hands went to her hips as her face turned to a scowl. “You mean Lynn? The friend who’s out of town this weekend?”

  Jack noticed the teens all grew silent as they listened. The last thing he needed was a rumor floating around the church. “I’m not sure which friend,” he lied, then decided to change the subject. “Where’s this new fella taking you?”

  Carson must have realized he was avoiding the subject, so she, in turn, ignored his question. “Maybe you should just join us today. You’d have fun, Dad. Not to mention you’d feel better knowing the dumbass I’ve charmed behaves himself.”

  Jack couldn’t fight off the smile as the teens snickered behind him. His daughter was anything but filtered. “Thank you, sweetie, but I’m confident your brother will make a fine chaperone.”

  “Tripp?” Carson laughed at the thought of her twin brother actually intimidating someone. “I’m taking him simply to expand his horizons—sort of a late birthday present. He really needs to get out of Viridian Square more often—particularly that dingy room he and Daniel call an office.” She was referring to his best friend, who was Asian. Tripp had formed a private investigation business, while Daniel was a computer consultant.

  “Agreed, but don’t you mean an early birthday present?”

  “Oh, I still owe him for last year.”

  “I see.”

  “I’ll go with you, Carson,” Steven said with enthusiasm.

  Carson turned and tried to pretend she was flattered. “That’s very sweet, Steven, but they only allow people of drinking age on the boat.”

  The boy’s expression reminded Jack of a tire deflating, if not a blowout.

  “Daniel didn’t want to go too?” he asked.

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “I see. At least having your brother tag along will send a subtle message to this guy that you’re more interested in his boat.” It was wishful thinking on his part.

  Carson pointed a finger and winked at him. “He’ll figure it out.”

  “You know you could’ve used the family boat, sweetie,” Jack said. The Yamaha 242 jet drive was moored on the lift at his house.

  “I know, but this guy Derrick says he has a large yacht.”

  “Of course he does. Just remember that young men tend to exaggerate,” Jack said and patted his daughter on the shoulder. “Coffee is in the back if you need some.”

  “Let me worry about Derrick, Dad. I’m a big girl.”

  “Geez, I know. You’re almost twenty-four years old. How time flies. Just be safe.”

  “I will,” Carson promised. “Is Julia here?”

  As if on cue, Julia, the church’s secretary, walked from the back area with a cup of coffee. She was a kind woman but had questionable taste, as demonstrated by the matching pea-green blouse and slacks she wore.

  “Hi, Julia!” she said, waving.

  “Hi, darling,” Julia said with a smile. She hugged Carson as she passed by on her way to the coffeepot.

  “I’ll give you a hug too before I leave,” Carson called back to him and then headed to the church’s tiny kitchen.

  Jack waved at his daughter, then excused himself from the group of kids. He walked to the back of the church where the fedora-clad man had last been seen. As he reached the pew, he glanced around and saw the newspaper, neatly folded and purposely left behind. He spotted Julia watching him, wondering what he was up to. She was an excellent source of church gossip.

  He ignored her and instead focused on the newspaper. Cautiously, he picked it up. The first thing he noticed was its yellowish-brown color, an indication it was old. It wasn’t
a local paper but one from Dallas. Then there was the date. A knot formed in his stomach as he read it.

  October 17, 1991.

  He could feel his skin crawl as he opened the paper to find the article. As if for convenience, it was circled in red. Although he knew the article by heart, he read the bold print again.

  Local Man Dies in Fiery Crash

  Jack winced as he thought back. It had been over two and a half decades, but it still haunted him. It had changed everything.

  The article being left was a message in itself. The intended meaning, however, was unknown. Jack rolled up the newspaper and placed it in the back pocket of his jeans. He hid it from obvious view under his shirt. As he made his way back over to the group of teens, he pondered what Shelby’s gesture meant. He started to make a phone call, then stopped.

  Carson came from the back room with a Styrofoam cup full of steaming black coffee. She rarely cared for cream or sugar. She had just hung up her own phone as she approached him. “Tripp is outside,” she said as she reached up for a hug and to kiss his cheek.

  “Okay, be safe.”

  “Tripp wouldn’t have it any other way.” She started to leave but turned back to him. “Have you heard from Pops lately? He keeps promising to come visit, but then he’s a no-show.”

  “You know your grandfather, sweetie. He’s always busy doing something. He last mentioned heading to Key West.”

  “That’s a place I wouldn’t mind going back to,” Carson said and held up the cup as she was leaving. “You know, paper would be better for the environment.”

  “I know. Julia bought so many that we just haven’t run out yet. We’ll do paper next time.” Jack watched as his little girl opened the front door to leave. He called out before she stepped through, “Tell your brother it wouldn’t hurt him to come in and visit sometime.”

  With a quick thumbs-up, Carson was gone.

  Jack turned to the group. “I have some errands to run, kids. We’ll chat next weekend.”