The Secret Page

by Al Turner

  The red brake lights caught his attention. Unable to maneuver defensively because of a low shoulder and an oncoming car in the other lane, Jack slammed on the brakes. With a jolt, his truck came to a stop—mostly from the brakes but also thanks to a mild collision with the van’s back bumper.

  “Just great.” Jack swore. He sat another moment and stared at the van’s windowless backside. There was no obvious reason for the driver’s sudden stop. He set the truck’s flashers, retrieved his insurance info, and exited the pickup.

  After a couple of steps, Jack’s phone rang. A picture of Daniel appeared on the Smartphone screen. “Hey Daniel,” he answered. “I was just thinking of you. I used your app to track Carson and Tripp.”

  “That’s cool, Mr. Page. Just wanted to tell you we’re all fine. We’ve got a story to share later. Bye.”

  “Wait. You’re with the twins?”

  The silence told him the conversation was over. At least he knew they were okay. Jack wondered what story they would tell as he continued toward the van he had run into.

  The driver’s hairless, muscled arm hung out the window. For some reason, the guy hadn’t even bothered to check his vehicle. Jack could see a light-colored cowboy hat in the driver’s-side mirror.

  He called out, “Sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting you to suddenly stop.”

  The man spoke with a thick Texas accent. “No worries, partner,” he said as Jack approached his window. “I’m sure you had other things on your mind.”

  Jack immediately recognized him and took a step backward. “Shelby, what the hell are you doing?”

  “Getting rear-ended by a preacher,” said Shelby with a chuckle, still using the fake accent. He even wore a red Western shirt for effect. “Get in, partner. We need to talk.”

  “You should stick with your natural Cajun. Your Texan sucks, and I need to get home.”

  “As you know, I lost the Cajun accent years ago. You looking for your kiddos?”

  Jack lost interest in departing just yet. “What do you know about my kids? Why did you leave the subtle message on my church pew?”

  “Get in and we’ll discuss some family issues,” Shelby said, minus the accent.

  Jack stood firm. “What about my family?”

  “I’m not gonna talk to you in the middle of the road.”

  “Well, why did you start the conversation by causing an accident, then?”

  Shelby’s signature snicker started quietly and grew to an asthmatic-sounding wheeze. “You got me there. I couldn’t resist when I saw you looking down at your radio.”

  “I was checking my map.”

  “You’ve lived here for how many years and you still need a map? You really have changed.”

  Jack didn’t try to hide his irritation. “I was trying to track my kids using GPS.”

  “Sounds high-tech. They’re out on the bay, preacher man. They might be in trouble. We should get going in that direction.”

  “I just spoke to their friend, who indicated they were fine.”

  “Fumi’s nephew? What’s his name again?”

  “I’ve little doubt you know Daniel’s name, as well as too many personal details about me.”

  “It’s my job. Look, preacher, they may be fine right now, but someone has an interest in ’em.”

  “I’m not clear what your stake in this is, but I’m going to go park my truck at home. After I check in with the wife, we can find a place to chat on Viridian Square.” Jack turned and headed to his truck. He inspected his custom chrome bumper and noted the thick metal hadn’t been damaged by the impact.

  “Let’s do it,” Shelby said as he giddily rubbed his hands together.

  Jack entered his truck, drove to Viridian Square, and parked close to the bar he and his best friend Rick Sanchez owned. He walked across the plaza and then around the brick building on the end, which he also owned, and proceeded to the area behind the square. He crossed the street and stopped by Shelby’s van, which was in the private parking lot he and his family used.

  Behind him were his kids’ apartments. Before him, just across the small wooden bridge, was a line of three houses on the little canal that led to the sound. His home was all the way down—the last one. Rick’s house was the first one, while the middle home was rented by a nice couple who knew Pops.

  “I need to check in with the wife.” Jack headed for the walkway bridge.

  “Better to leave her out of this.”

  “That’s a little hard to do when she’s already involved. Not to mention, she called me earlier, upset over some argument she and the daughter had gotten into.”

  “Right, the exchange in the bar.” He glanced over at Jack, whose interest was piqued.

  Jack stopped halfway across the little bridge and waited for Shelby to catch up. “And?”

  “Well, let’s just say your lady was having a little rendezvous with a certain bartender several years her junior. This bartender—we’ll call him Matt—had nefarious plans for Mrs. Page. Instead, your daughter showed up, got angry at Momma’s flirtation, and had some words with her. Then Daddy’s little girl left.”

  Jack was bothered that his wife wanted to meet with a younger man, but it was hardly a priority — and he didn’t want to discuss it with Shelby. “How does this story end?”

  “Let’s just say the bartender’s efforts went down in flames. He was allegedly hired to violate your lady and return her to you in some humiliating manner.”

  Jack tried to process what he had heard. “Why?”

  “To send a message, of course. I imagine that after receiving your battered wife back, you would’ve been contacted with instructions on how to get your kids back. You see how that works? They do terrible things to your wife so you know they’re serious.”

  Jack tried to shake off the images that formed in his mind. “Again, why?”

  Shelby gave him a concerned look. “You’ve been a saint too long. Okay, let’s just say they want something from you.”

  “Who are these people?”

  “The immediate employers are a security company out of Atlanta, but who hired them is a bit of a mystery. I can tell you only what I know. You remember Alan Lloyd?”

  “Sure, he and Pops used to do some business together until they had a falling-out.”

  “A ‘falling-out’ is a bit of an understatement. Alan cursed Pops for what he perceived as betrayal,” said Shelby. “Alan took that venom to his grave. His son, Victor, runs the company.”

  “Victor? I thought Alan’s boy was Christopher, or something like that.”

  “Nah, that’s the actor.”

  “Well, Victor wasn’t the man I remembered hearing about,” Jack said, his thoughts wandering back in time. “Charles was his name.”

  “Correct. Victor was Alan’s bastard child. I guess he figured ol’ Charlie wasn’t up to continuing his legacy. They say Victor’s a much bigger prick than his old man ever was.”

  “That says a lot. So what does Victor want with me?”

  “I’d be a rooster’s great-grandnephew if I could tell you that.”

  “I won’t even pretend to know what that means,” Jack said. “I’ve kept a low profile for over two decades. I find it hard to believe this Victor person would come gunning for me over an ancient feud between our fathers.”

  “Agreed,” Shelby said. “There’s something else going on here. I received recent word from one of my scouts that someone’s tickling the sky over Echo.”

  Jack knew he must’ve turned pale. “Who was it, and what were they doing?”

  “Well, I don’t know that. My contacts disappeared after leaving me a voice mail. Their last message was sent from their boat in the Gulf of Mexico. It’s too bad—they were a nice couple. “

  “So they spotted another boat doing experiments at the old Echo location?”

  “Right, except replace the word ‘boat’ with ‘submarine.’”

  “A sub? Wouldn’t that indicate a foreign power messing around
that area?”

  “Possibly, or someone who got their hands on a decommissioned sub. There are organizations out there with a lot of resources, including the people we’re up against.”

  “So Victor’s working with some large organization that wants something from me?”

  “In case you don’t know, preacher, we have our work cut out for us. Something big is on the horizon.”

  Jack felt irritated. He finished his walk across the small bridge but stopped abruptly after he stepped off onto the sidewalk. He looked past Rick’s place and focused on his neighbor’s home. Someone peeked through the blinds of one of the side windows.

  Shelby saw it too. “Your neighbors the nosy type?”

  “They’re in Kansas, visiting their son and grandchildren.”

  “They have someone watching their house, then?”

  Jack started to head cautiously toward their home. “That would be me.”

  They quietly walked around the back of the home where the boat dock and patio were. It was laid out similarly to Jack’s backyard, minus the iron fence that separated Jack’s patio from his private boat dock.

  He noted that his neighbor’s boat was secured on its lift. However, he didn’t recognize the two-man dinghy that was tied off. He walked over to investigate the small craft while Shelby poked around the back of the house.

  As Shelby moved from window to window, peeking in, the back door flew open and two men armed with silenced machine pistols appeared. One went straight for Shelby, while the other targeted Jack.

  Shelby dove behind the brick grill station as a spray of bullets followed him. The rounds shattered brick and ricocheted off the cast iron grill lid; the man seemed to be trying to shoot his way through the solid structure. His magazine emptied fast. It only took a moment to slap in another and pull back the slide to his weapon, but that was too much time.

  Shelby raised himself up, leveled his own silenced weapon, and fired several rounds into the man’s chest. He put one in his head for good measure. The thug instantly fell against the back of the house and slid down the wall.

  Jack disappeared into the water as his assailant approached and also opened fire. The man’s broad aim produced about thirty water splashes as he closed in on Jack, but he failed to hit him.

  The second mercenary stood on the wall at the water’s edge and slapped another banana clip in, ready to empty it into the canal. He happened to glance back and notice his partner’s lifeless body slumped against the house.

  As the thug turned to locate Shelby, Jack grabbed his ankles and pulled him in. The water churned with the struggle beneath its surface. Just when things calmed, bubbles rose and Jack surfaced with his assailant in a headlock. He dragged the unconscious man behind him as he climbed ashore.

  He checked for vital signs and then turned, only to be met by the barrel of a pistol. “He’s out,” he told Shelby, who lowered the gun.

  “So’s my guy.”

  “Mine is still alive.”

  Shelby glanced back at the dead man and the red stripe his body had painted on the house. “I don’t think my guy’s going to make it.”

  “I guess we’ll be questioning this one,” Jack said. He dragged the unconscious man onto the patio and secured his hands behind his back with his belt.

  “Sounds like a plan. Let’s wake ’em up, interrogate ’em, and make it look like both died when the house was caught in a blaze.”

  Jack paused to make sure he had heard correctly. “You’re not burning down my neighbor’s house.”

  “I prefer to think of it as cleansing the place with fire. You don’t really think your neighbors want to come home to two dead guys in their yard, do you?”

  “I bet the Smiths would hate it even more if they came back to a burned-out frame that used to be their home. Besides, Pops owns this place and I doubt he’d appreciate you torching it. Oh, and there’s only one dead person, Shelby –just one.”

  “I meant one,” Shelby said. “You do know the name ‘Smith’ sounds bogus, right?”

  “Well, they are friends of Pops.”

  Their prisoner stirred and began to cough. It took him a moment to get the rest of the water out of his lungs. He came to his senses and realized his hands were bound behind him.

  “You had that guy underwater for quite a while,” Shelby said.

  “When I was younger, I could hold my breath for almost two minutes.”

  “Who knew that would actually come in handy? Allow me to address our guest.” Shelby turned his attention to the thug, who had quietly sat up. “Hey, asshole, who hired ya?”

  The man’s thick neck pivoted his head slightly as he spat on the ground near Shelby’s left foot. The heel of Shelby’s boot sent his square head backward onto the patio. His feet in the air, the man took another moment to sit up again.

  “Look, I’ve already done this once today. Want to know how that one ended?”

  The man spat again as he straightened himself.

  “A man of few words,” Jack said.

  Shelby pulled a syringe out of his jacket pocket. “Time for a cocktail.”

  The man lunged at him but was caught by surprise when Jack grabbed him and thrust him down onto a patio chair. Jack held him down as Shelby injected him.

  “We make a good team, preacher.”

  “Let’s just get this over with.”

  “Soon we won’t be able to shut this guy up. Give it a few minutes to take effect. Cigarette while we wait?”

  “Don’t smoke,” said Jack but took one anyway. Shelby lit it for him and then his own. “Going to be one of those days, though,” he added and took a deep drag.

  They waited for the cocktail Shelby had administered to kick in. Jack paced briefly before his phone rang. It was a Skype call from Daniel.

  As he answered, a smooth forehead appeared before Carson moved the phone back to bring her entire face into focus. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m so glad to see you.”

  “We had a crazy day!” his daughter exclaimed.

  “That makes two of us. Are you guys okay?”

  “Thanks to Daniel. This guy tried to take us hostage and Derrick got killed!”

  “What? The guy you were with is dead?”

  “It’s been a surreal experience. Anyway, I’ll tell you about it when we get home. Love ya!”

  “Okay, see you soon. Love ya.”

  “Love ya too, Mr. Page,” Daniel said, laughing as his face replaced Carson’s. “They’re in good hands.”

  The video call ended before Jack could respond. He walked back over to where Shelby stood over their assailant. “Anything yet?”

  “He’s already babbling something about a mission gone wrong. They’ve been watching your wife and were trying to decide what to do next. I’ll finish up, kill the bastard, and we’ll move on.”

  “Just confirm who he works for while I give Pops a call.” Jack turned and sighed deeply. “Let’s not kill a helpless man, please.”

  “Sure thing, holy man.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Gotcha,” Shelby said with a nod and then grumbled, “Softie,” as Jack walked away. He looked down at the man whose gaze had gone from defiant to inebriated. “Preacher doesn’t want me to kill you.”

  The man bobbed his head and grinned.

  “Stop smiling, you dopey bastard. I might still do it.”

  FISH TALE

  Pops waited in his boat, still moored near the transom of Fumi’s large yacht, for Sammy to meet him. He had just placed his earpiece in when his phone rang.

  “Dad,” came Jack’s voice, “we need to talk.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing. You wouldn’t happen to be near the keys, would you?”

  “No, I’m close to home. There’s been a series of unexpected incidents. I believe my family is being targeted.”

  “Targeted? Is everyone okay?” Pops felt it was hardly a coincidence that Fumi had summoned him right before his son called, nee
ding assistance.

  “Yes, but I need to get Kate and the kids away from here until I figure out what’s going on.”

  “It sounds like you need more than advice. Where do you want to meet?”

  “How about my place tonight?”

  “Viridian Square?”

  “Right, my bar, to be exact. I’ll keep it open late for a private event, if you can join me there.”

  Pops scratched his chin hairs and thought of the quickest way there. “All right, son, I’ll be there,” he said and hung up.

  Sammy had silently waited for the call to end. The young man had to be close to thirty, but his mannerisms and smile—not to mention that freckled face—still reminded Pops of the young boy he once knew.

  Sammy walked up with a string of fish and heard the concern in Pops’s voice. “Is everything okay, sir?”

  “Hey there, Sammy. Aye, but I need to get going.”

  Sammy held up his string of fish. “Just a quick look, if you wouldn’t mind, sir.”

  Pops was no longer in the mood, but Sammy’s expression told him his fish tale was important. “That’s a nice catch.”

  “Thanks. Most of ’em are mangrove snappers that I caught near shore, but this one’s a yellowtail snapper that gave me a fight farther out near the reefs.”

  Pops admired the collection. “You always were quite the fisherman.”

  Sammy removed the yellowtail from his line. “You know it, Pops. I’d like you to have this one. Every fish has its story, and this one should interest you. Just be sure to remove the hook it swallowed.”

  Pops thought the gesture curious but placed the gift in his boat’s live well and thanked him. As soon as he did, Sammy retreated to a Jet Ski tied on the other side of the yacht and was soon gone on his next adventure.

  Suki approached and untied Pops’s catamaran. She had apparently been waiting nearby. She stood on the aft deck and watched as he too departed.

  Pops returned to the main channel and headed deeper into the twisting mangrove-lined waterway until he arrived in Largo Sound. He cut across the shallow sound and searched for another waterway that he knew led into Blackwater Bay. Once he spotted it, he navigated his twin-hulled boat through the narrow passage lined with canal homes. He moored in front of a two-story gray house that looked as if it hadn’t been occupied for some time.