The Secret Page

by Al Turner

  With Carson gone, the boys had lost interest anyway. Jack informed Julia he had things to do and also left the building. He scanned the parking lot before using the key fob to remotely start his red Dodge 2500 4x4 pickup. The air conditioning would kick in and cool things enough to enter the sunbaked cab.

  Jack carefully observed his surroundings as he walked to his truck. Before he drove off, he had to shake off the uneasy feeling that overshadowed an otherwise pleasant day.

  A KEY ENCOUNTER

  On the southern tip of the Sunshine State peninsula, the coral archipelago known as the Florida Keys stretched south-southwest, forming a natural barrier between the Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico. With its shallow waters, green shorelines, and twisting canals, Key Largo had a character all its own among the keys.

  Bradley “Pops” Page had previously been in Key West conducting business when the call came in from his longtime friend to meet in the more northern key, Key Largo. It was probably a blessing, as he tended to drink too much once he hit the bars along Duval Street.

  A boat ride later, Pops arrived at the requested location. After a few passes along the perimeter of the Atlantic side, he throttled back to a slow cruise and watched a couple of fishing boats move around a nearby islet. One boat caught his attention. It didn’t seem to have a destination but was circling around as if looking for something—or someone. He decided to set an intercept course.

  The skipper of the other boat, a custom twenty-two-foot center console, noted the other closing in and adjusted course. Matching speed, the two vessels met somewhere in between and seemed poised to circle one another. Then the other boat straightened its course and headed back toward the eastern side of Key Largo.

  Pops steered his vessel, a thirty-two-foot catamaran cruiser, in pursuit. As they throttled down their engines to accommodate the no-wake zone, they navigated toward the mouth of the channel. Twisting and winding through the narrow mangrove-lined waterway, both paused to allow space for a larger boat coming around the bend to pass.

  The series of channels, sounds, and bays were all part of the Florida Keys National Marine Sanctuary. As Pops continued to follow the lead boat, he wondered where he would end up. He hoped not too far, as he had a schedule to keep. The boat guided him to a secluded branch of the channel that dead-ended off the main route. There, both vessels set anchor and were tied off to one another.

  Pops cut the power to the twin outboard engines and tried to focus on the captain of the smaller boat. He thought the thin Asian, wearing aviator sunglasses and dressed in white pants and a polo shirt, belonged more on the golf course than the water. The man gave him a brief wave and hopped onto the multihull cruiser. Pops was impressed by the effortless leap across boats. As his guest drew closer, however, he realized he had made a mistake. The so-called man was a woman. He convinced himself her short hair and attire had tricked his aged vision—the closest he would come to admitting he needed to wear his glasses.

  “Come aboard, Captain?” she asked and stepped over the front seats onto the bow.

  “Aye, come aboard,” Pops said. He waited for her to reach the back of the boat where he was standing. She walked through the opening of the dual console and made her way to the stern. The woman wiped sweat from her brow before offering a small but firm hand. Pops shook it and figured she wasn’t acclimated to the Florida humidity. She also hadn’t offered the normal greeting he was accustomed to. Pops was used to being escorted straight to the destination, not taking a detour. It was odd.

  “I’ve been instructed to take you to the meeting place,” she said as she looked him over. “Please follow me to the rendezvous point.”

  “Why did we stop here first?” asked Pops, frustrated by the delay. He noted her subtle accent was probably Korean, not the expected Chinese. He had spent enough time in the Orient to know one accent from another.

  “I was told to ensure you came alone.”

  “Fumi knew I would. Do you see anyone else?” He gestured to the rest of the boat. “I’m Pops.”

  She studied him carefully. Pops was confident she’d see him as the fit old fart he was, a leathery tanned man of the outdoors.

  “Of course you are,” said the woman with a quick nod.

  “And you are?”

  “Suki.”

  He wondered what role she served for his friend. With Fumi, the possibilities could stretch the imagination. There was also something about her that bothered him. “Well, unless you want to frisk me too, I suggest we get going. I hope it’s not far.”

  “It’s not,” Suki said and glanced around one more time.

  She hopped back to her boat with cat-like ease and prepped it for departure. She was already maneuvering back around Pops’s multihull as he fired up his outboards and pulled anchor. He followed her out to the main channel, around another curve, and soon veered off at another dead end. This time, however, they were not alone.

  As they rounded the corner, Pops was unsure what the larger vessel was at first. He finally determined it was a custom trimaran, but it looked more like a spaceship. He gauged it at close to one hundred and forty feet in length and about sixty or so in beam, including the smaller outrigger hulls. Its silver curves were accented with black trim and a single red stripe that broke only to display the name of the big yacht, also in red letters. Both craft passed the length of the yacht and moored on the aft lower section.

  “Astute Gemini II.” Pops read the name of the vessel aloud.

  Suki had already disembarked from her boat and offered him assistance onto the yacht while a deckhand tied off the lines. Pops followed her into the aft entrance. The deck was teak, the railing solid stainless steel, and the hull a solid composite material. He half expected a robot butler to greet him as he reached the red-carpeted area. It was hardly far-fetched, considering Fumi’s many investments included robotics research.

  “Permission to come aboard?” Pops yelled.

  “Permission granted,” came the well-spoken voice with a distinctively Chinese accent. He followed the source of the voice into the saloon. There on a large settee, dressed in a purple satin robe and sipping a glass of red wine, was a familiar face. Fumi Yoshida set his drink down and stood up to greet him. “You don’t look a day older, you old sea dog.”

  Pops appreciated the lie. “You’re looking pretty relaxed yourself,” he said. He surveyed the saloon. “She’s nice.” The vessel was a mixture of modern and classic design. The LED lighting from the ceiling cast a soothing glow upon what was best described as a Zen approach to decor.

  “Would you like a tour?”

  “Another time, perhaps. You called me here for a reason, Fumi.”

  “She’s a lovely craft,” said Fumi, as if not hearing Pops. “A state-of-the-art multihull. I find the ride quite pleasant in most sea conditions.”

  “I’ve also learned that two hulls can be better than one. What’s going on?”

  “A beverage, perhaps?”

  “No thanks.”

  Fumi smiled and sat back down on the simple yet comfortable sofa. His name and taste for the finer things were inherited from the Japanese businessman who was his father. His determination and cleverness, however, were products of his Chinese mother. He offered a seat with a gesture of his hand. “Patience was never your virtue, Bradley,” he said. While most called Pops by his nickname, Fumi preferred using his birth name.

  Suki ushered the remaining servant out of the room, closed the entries on both sides, and exited. While it wasn’t unusual for Fumi to want privacy, Pops knew the impromptu meeting was hardly related to one of his business opportunities. He wondered what his old friend had on his mind as he watched him retrieve his glass of wine.

  Fumi took a drink and cleared his throat. “An old acquaintance has been busy. The shepherd is doing more than watching his flock these days.”

  “What the hell is that crazy bastard up to now?”

  “Same thing he’s been up to for years, except things aren’t a
s quiet as they used to be.” Fumi paused long enough for Pops to take in what he was saying.

  “Go on.”

  “Cornelius Shelby believes someone’s trying to speak to the dead.”

  Pops snorted a laugh. “What conspiracy theory has he cooked up this time? Better question . . . how did he gain your interest?”

  “He’s always had my ear. The man does have a gift for uncovering things others want left hidden.”

  Pops shifted his weight from one leg to another. “What did he learn?”

  “First things first. I need you to understand something. Both you and I have existed on the outskirts of this system for some time. That recently changed for me, as much to my surprise I was appointed into a rotating role on the chamber.”

  The hoods over Pops’s eyes lifted. “I’m surprised you’d want to wear such a shackle. As you know, the chamber trusts neither of us. The feeling is mutual.”

  “Yet things have changed, Bradley. The chamber no longer trusts itself. We have a new threat—one that requires new approaches.”

  “Which government is trying to get its foot in the door this time?”

  “I’m afraid it’s not a sovereign power this time—rather, a shadow of ourselves.”

  “You speak in riddles, my friend.”

  “If only that were true. We suspected a few years ago that another consortium had sprung up from seemingly nowhere. They have similar ties, influences, and are well funded, much like ourselves.”

  Pops wished he had taken Fumi up on that drink. “Someone’s already infiltrated the Guild of Libra?”

  “Not infiltrated,” Fumi said. “I believe this new entity has roots that sprouted from within the guild itself.”

  Pops showed little surprise. “So the creature has begun to devour itself. Who?”

  “A fine question. Resources were scrambled but were met with resistance.”

  “What type of resistance?”

  “The type that causes the chamber to reach out to me, and in turn I reach out to you.”

  Pops walked over next to Fumi and sat down. “You must be desperate,” he said as he pulled out a cell phone, dialed a number, and waited. “Ed, cancel the rest of my weekend plans.” He hung up before the man could protest and then tossed the phone aside. It landed on the cushion next to him.

  Suki appeared a moment later and moved the phone to the little table in front of Pops, then disappeared again. He watched as she left.

  “She’s not a fan of clutter,” Fumi said with amusement.

  “It seems she’s not a fan of a private conversation either,” Pops said dryly. “Where did you get her?”

  “On loan from the guild’s chamber.”

  “The type of loan you couldn’t turn down, I’m sure. Mind if I shoot straight?”

  “Of course not,” Fumi said with a polite nod.

  “So the chamber sent my old friend to investigate whether I’m friend or foe. An unorthodox approach, especially since I know how this is supposed to work—lest you forget.”

  “I could hardly forget,” Fumi said with a hint of incredulity.

  “Then let’s stop playing games, shall we?” Pops snapped.

  “No games, Bradley. You simply don’t understand the magnitude of the guild’s woes.”

  “You’re about to enlighten me.”

  “Correct. As you very well know, Capricorn is our internal affairs. Gayla, your old protégée, would have been the ideal investigator. She did learn from the best.” Fumi took a sip of wine and thought of his next words. “Before I get started, you should have that drink now.”

  “Sure,” Pops replied uneasily. As if he had rubbed a magic lamp, Suki appeared behind him with a short crystal glass containing a single sphere of ice and amber liquid. Her appearance had changed; she had replaced her clothes, or possibly covered them, with a brown yukata. Pops was familiar with the oriental-style robe. As he took the drink, he wondered, Did she change so quickly, or are there twins? He nodded to her, impressed at her soft walk. “Not many can sneak up on the ol’ man like that,” he said. He detected a hint of a smile before she disappeared again.

  “I hope twelve-year-old Scotch will suffice?” said Fumi.

  While Pops knew he didn’t look like a distinguished man, he was picky about his booze. “It’ll do. So where’s Capricorn in all of this?”

  “Capricorn is gone.”

  Pops had just taken a drink and coughed some of it out. “Gone?”

  “Gayla and many of her team were killed, one by one, while attempting to carry out their investigations,” Fumi said. “Gayla was found recently. Both her eyes were gouged out.”

  The thought sickened Pops. Gayla was a friend and, at one time, a very attractive woman. “What the hell type of message does that send?”

  “The message isn’t clear. In ancient cultures gouging out the eyes was a form of punishment, while serial killers have been known to have a fascination with or fear of eyes.”

  Pops shifted to his detective mode. “I doubt it was merely a psycho or someone invoking Sharia law. It could have been torture—or a very personal message. Was Gayla the only one found with her eyes removed?”

  “Yes.”

  “The others from her group?”

  “Professionally assassinated, one way or another.”

  Pops thought about this. “Maybe the message was meant only for Gayla.”

  “Or someone close to her.”

  Pops’s mind traveled down a road of possibility. “Yes, maybe business took a personal turn.”

  “You may be on to something.” Fumi reached inside his robe, pulled out a manila envelope, and tossed it onto the small table in front of Pops.

  Pops opened it and found several pictures of his family. He looked at each carefully and observed they were taken at various times and places. One showed his son standing in front of his church, another his granddaughter playing sand volleyball, two showed his grandson and friend walking in Viridian Square, and so on. After going through them all, he placed the pictures back in the envelope and set it down.

  “Where did you get these?”

  “They were found hidden in a hotel room in Hong Kong—the one Gayla was staying in at the time of her death.”

  Pops tried to make sense of it. “So after wiping out most of her people, someone takes Gayla out and she’s found with pictures of my family.”

  “Correct.”

  “Are you going to tell me why she had an interest in my family?”

  “We don’t believe Gayla was watching your family, but rather, on the trail of whoever was.”

  “It sounds like she caught up to them.”

  “An unfortunate event. They tore her hotel room apart, took her camera, phone, and laptop. But they missed the pictures. She hid them well.”

  “Good girl,” Pops said softly. “Anything else?”

  “Perhaps the most interesting piece. There was an SD chip found on her body. Her killer didn’t think to look where she hid it. You’ll find a picture pulled from that chip that’s interesting.” Fumi produced the photo from his robe pocket and handed it over.

  Pops felt the blood drain from his face as he examined it. “Stella,” he said softly.

  “Yes, it appears your ex-wife was also in Hong Kong.”

  “That old crone lives like a hermit in Southeast Oklahoma now.”

  “She apparently had business abroad. Lest we forget, Bradley, she still has powerful connections to the guild.”

  “Tell me what you’re thinking, Fumi.”

  “No. You should be the one to weave this tale.”

  Pops pondered it but was unable to come up with anything but far-fetched theories, none of which fit all the pieces. “She’s crazy and dangerous, but not clever enough to pull off the type of things you mentioned. If the guild suspected her involvement, why haven’t they brought her in?”

  “We believe she serves as but a piece of the puzzle.”

  “You think she’s the smaller fish th
at will lead you to the bigger catch.”

  “Your metaphor sums it up, Bradley.”

  The wheels had begun to turn in Pops’s head. “There’s only one obsession that crazy woman has had on her mind for the past twenty-five years. You know what I speak of.”

  “It was a tragic time for both of you. Her bitterness obviously drove her mad.”

  Pops sat for a moment silently, but then a realization struck him. “You test me, old friend. You don’t need my help. What were you hoping to obtain by this visit?”

  Fumi released a sigh as he placed his empty wine glass on the table. Suki showed up seconds later to refill it and disappeared again. “You’ve grown paranoid over the years, old friend. There’s no secret agenda here. I do need your help.”

  “With?”

  “We believe Stella is connected somehow, but there are still many missing pieces to the puzzle. The big picture is scattered, perhaps across the globe.”

  “You want me to find a piece or two in my own backyard, don’t you?”

  “No one has more resources in this hemisphere than you, Bradley.”

  “While that may be an exaggeration, I suppose I can poke around a bit. That said, I’m doing it for you, not the guild.”

  “Thus the reason I’m here.”

  Pops chuckled. “I guess I really should treat my friends differently than my enemies.”

  “I would encourage it. While we’re on the subject, Fitzpatrick sends his regards.” Fumi smiled mischievously.

  Briefly, Pops turned his back to his friend. “Which part of my anatomy shall I stick Fitzpatrick’s regards in?”

  Fumi’s head fell back as he laughed aloud. When he regained composure, he reached over and patted Pops’s hand. “You are too funny, Bradley.”

  They enjoyed the humorous moment and then sat briefly in thought. After Pops downed his drink and absorbed what he had heard, he was ready to discuss the next topic. “So back to Shelby. What’s his part in all of this?”

  “Ah yes, Cornelius has an interesting theory. I dispatched him to the Gulf Coast to follow up.”

  “You dispatched him? What theory was so interesting?”