The Secret Page

by Al Turner

  As Carson closed the hatch behind them, she pointed out a round, steel emblem in the concrete she had walked across many times. The parking lot for nearby residents was directly behind them, while the sidewalk that ran across the wooden bridge, leading to their parents’ home, was in the other direction.

  They all ducked as a flashlight appeared from the square, across the street from them. It moved away from them and traveled along the walls of the buildings that formed the back of Viridian Square. Whoever held it cast its beam upon Carson’s and Tripp’s apartment windows.

  “They’re looking for us. We need to get going,” said Daniel. He led the way. They kept their distance from each other as they traveled a wide path around their building.

  Carson looked puzzled when Daniel led her to her own vehicle. “What are you doing?” she whispered angrily.

  “We need some wheels,” said Daniel. “I don’t have a car parked nearby and Tripp left his in Destin, remember?”

  “Well, I don’t have my keys. I wasn’t exactly expecting to drive my own car tonight.”

  Daniel produced a key fob from the bag around his waist. He clicked a button and the lights on the Jeep Cherokee flashed, announcing it was unlocked. “Good thing I brought a spare.”

  “Where the hell did you get that?” Carson asked. “Only my parents have the spare.”

  “I keep a copy of both your’s and Tripp’s car keys,” Daniel replied.

  “For emergencies,” Tripp added. “We need to go.”

  “Anything else I need to know?” Carson asked as she snatched the fob and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  Daniel waited until after she had closed the Jeep’s door. “Should I tell her about having a key to her place?”

  “No,” Tripp said, moving to the other side of the Jeep. He climbed into the front passenger side, ignoring Daniel’s call to ride shotgun.

  Carson started the 4x4, manually turned off the automatic headlights, and slowly backed out. She made her way through the parking lot and headed toward the main road, where she turned the vehicle’s lights back on.

  “Carson, why are we sneaking around?” Tripp asked. “We’re adults. It’s not like Pops can make us go with them.”

  “Don’t underestimate my Poppy,” Carson said.

  “Guys, you do realize your dad can track us by your watches,” Daniel said.

  Carson hit the brakes. She stared in her rearview mirror, as if waiting for something. Behind them was a group of motorcyclists who had been standing around talking in the parking lot. One of them put on his helmet, preparing to leave.

  “Give me your watch, Tripp,” Carson said hastily as she removed her own.

  “Why?” Tripp asked, not thrilled with the thought of parting with his oversized custom chronometer. He slowly unfastened it anyway and handed it to her.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said with a grin and exited the vehicle.

  A MOMENT TOO LATE

  Pops entered the narrow room, followed by his armed men. He glanced around and noted that the opened panels in the glass walls had begun to seal back up. His grandkids had likely vacated, but he knew he had to be thorough—that is, if he could remember how everything worked.

  It had been a few years since Pops had been in the underground hideaway. Jack had shown him how he had renovated the once-illicit underground gambling establishment his grandfather, Roy Page, had made a small fortune on.

  It looked nothing like the place Pops had known as a young man. Back then, the area had been sectioned off into two parts: one for cards and the other for slots. He still remembered the times the so-called waterproof place had flooded, until his dad finally found a way to seal it up. It was tricky enough to have any dwelling below the ground in Florida, but that was compounded by being so close to the sea.

  In Roy Page’s logic, the law would never think to look for his little gambling establishment there. As it turned out, he was right. Few living souls knew it was there, and fewer still remembered its existence. Those who did were probably too old and senile to remember its whereabouts. Pops really hadn’t expected to ever walk into it again.

  He examined the changes to the place; his son had made improvements. The electronics were certainly more advanced compared to the old slot machines that existed once upon a time. Pops was well aware of Tripp and Daniel’s resourcefulness, as well as Carson’s love of exploration. She was the one who worried him the most. His granddaughter, likely the leader, loved a good adventure.

  Pops studied the room to get reacquainted with his surroundings. He knew the doors were labeled something, but his memory wasn’t what it used to be. Hell, he thought, the damn artificial wench should understand what a door was. “Love, open all doors,” he said, hoping it was the correct command.

  “Voice recognition indicates you are Pops Page. Due to security lockdown, please enter biometric authentication on the panel in front of you.”

  He gave himself credit for remembering the name of what his son called the unholy machine. “Stupid name,” Pops said as he placed his right hand on the designated area of the large desk display. Panels in opposite walls opened, and he motioned for his men to check both directions. They split up to do a sweep of the area.

  “Love, show me what recently occurred in this room.”

  “What time frames would you like to see, Pops?”

  “The last fifteen minutes should do,” he said.

  The big screen in front of him began playing back video of his grandkids and Daniel. He watched and listened to what had occurred. He allowed himself a chuckle as his granddaughter stumbled upon Love. He found equal amusement in his grandson’s quest to be the voice of reason. Then there was the tinkerer, Daniel, who found every barrier an opportunity to breach it.

  Pops’s men returned from their search, but each signaled that the place was empty of anyone but them. With a sigh, he watched his grandkids’ retreat as he had approached the room. “What are you lil’ shits up to?” he said. The men behind him snickered as they watched Carson ask the AI if they had been reported and then quickly disappear. The recording stopped as it reached the present.

  “Shall we follow them?” asked the darker one.

  “No, Wes. I’m sure that intrepid bunch is long gone. We have other concerns right now. Wait for me outside.” The two men exited the room. He turned his attention to the main screen. “Love, show me the map the others were viewing earlier.”

  Pops studied the map and noted all the locations. He had been to each of them. He was curious about the one near Denton, Texas, since he had some personal history there, but he couldn’t think why Jack had marked it. He knew what the flagged location near San Antonio meant. That damn cavern, he thought. His grandkids might have figured it out as well had his arrival not cut short their efforts.

  “Love, what security rights were on the recently accessed information?”

  “All information is secured with authenticated user rights or higher.”

  Pops thought for a moment. He was no computer expert, but he had learned a thing or two in his time about securing assets. How strange that his son, one of the most careful people he knew, would allow such a lapse. For some reason, the machine knew who Carson was.

  “Who all has those rights?”

  “Current authenticated users are: Jack Page, Pops Page, and Kate Page.”

  “What are the rights of Carson Page and Tripp Page?”

  “Limited users,” Love replied.

  Limited, Pops thought. Give those kids a brick and they’ll build a wall. He pondered what his next move should be. Whatever damage was done was done, but he wasn’t going to take any more chances of something more sensitive getting out. Rubbing his coarse chin hairs, he thought some more. “Remove all access to content for all users but myself,” he said, rolling the dice that he could actually do this.

  “Access denied,” was the response.

  “Damn,” he said softly. He wasn’t about to leave without doing something,
even if that meant burning the place to the ground. “Love, can you delete all information stored here?”

  He waited for the artificial brains of the place to think about his request. After a moment, Love came back and said, “All localized data was purged by security protocol.”

  “By whose authority?” Pops asked.

  “Jack Page.”

  “Understood,” Pops said and then remembered he was talking to a mindless computer.

  He wandered over to a glass wall to review an image of his two sons from years past. He felt a little sentimental as he studied it. When the image cycled to another one, he glanced away and felt lost for a bit. The two of them were so different. The picture brought back memories of a time before all the madness had almost destroyed his entire family. No father wanted to outlive his children. He often wished he had been the one to leave such a wretched world instead of his lost son. He wasn’t given the choice. That in itself angered him. At the same time, he knew he shared some of the blame.

  “Love, locate Jack Page.”

  “Jack Page has shared his location with you. Please review the map displayed.”

  A map appeared on the big screen. A slow-moving red dot represented his son’s location, somewhere on the water. By the look of things, Jack would probably be late for their meeting. He started to exit the room, then stopped. Knowing his son had tracked the twins earlier, he wondered if they still wore their watches.

  “Love, locate Carson Page and Tripp Page.”

  “Locating . . .”

  Pops saw another dot, a green one, appear on the map. It was headed north, just departing Viridian Square.

  “Damn, just missed ’em,” he said. Then he remembered something else he could do—that is, if the camera still worked in that location. After fidgeting a moment, he noticed a camera feed of the street just north of Viridian Cove appear. He waited for his granddaughter’s Jeep to pass by.

  The only thing that passed was a motorcycle with a single rider. Pops double-checked the map that was tracking the watches and shook his head as he realized what had happened. “Little shits got rid of their watches.”

  Pops locked the facility as he left and sent his men to assist with Kate’s evacuation. He had given them strict instructions not to let her know her children had slipped away. It was something he would deal with later. One thing at a time, he thought.

  He glanced around at the square, its buildings well lit even though most were closed. The fountain in the center produced a sparkling display as floodlights shone blue and green brightly through it. The design of the square was his father’s idea. The old gambler had left the remaining buildings that he owned to Pops, who in turn signed them over to Jack.

  The night air was just the way Pops liked it, thick and warm. If it hadn’t been for humidity, he doubted he could breathe at all. He started to make his way to Jack and Rick’s bar and saw his son’s red pickup parked nearby. He continued, thinking of the stiff drink he needed.

  THE JITTERS

  Carson’s white Jeep traveled west on US 98, passing through Pensacola. She was still waiting for an answer about where they were headed from Daniel, who was in the backseat creating a travel itinerary. He was using the pictures he had snapped of the map before they hastily left, then entering locations into the GPS map on his phone.

  “I’m really not thrilled about taping our Smartwatches to that motorcycle,” Tripp told Carson.

  “That big, ugly thing? I did you a favor, bro.”

  “Hey, that was a high-tech piece that allowed me to find you guys,” Daniel said in protest.

  “It was also crafted to look like a retro chronometer,” Tripp added.

  “Relax, steampunk nerds,” said Carson. “I know the dude who owns that bike. He sells weed on the beach in Gulf Breeze.”

  “That’s not comforting in the least.” Tripp said. “Goodbye, watch. It’s probably already in a pawn shop somewhere.”

  “You can wear mine until I make you another,” Daniel said.

  “No thank you. I seem to remember your last watch combusted.”

  “A minor glitch,” Daniel said with assurance. “Besides, I wasn’t wearing it when it burst into flames.”

  “Well, if Daniel doesn’t come through for ya, maybe you can go kiss up to our rich grandfather in Texas,” Carson said dryly. “He tends to buy you nice stuff.”

  Tripp didn’t look amused. He had never understood Carson’s perpetual animosity for the man. “Why are you so hard on him? I don’t see the same acrimony directed at Pops.”

  “That’s because Poppy is cool. The guy from Mother’s side is a smug prick.” Before Tripp could give a rebuttal, Carson said, “Daniel, do you have an address or not?”

  “Sheesh, Carson, you should stop somewhere to get a bite to eat,” Daniel said. “You get cranky when you’re hungry.”

  “And when she’s sleep deprived or going through long periods of abstinence,” Tripp added.

  Daniel laughed loudly from the backseat. Even Carson had to fight off a grin as she flipped Tripp off. Her brother wasn’t typically combative, but he had been known to become irritable after being around her for a while.

  “I am getting hungry,” Carson admitted. It had been quite a while since anyone had eaten anything. Still, she had a one-track mind. “We can stop in a bit. For now, make your best guess about location.”

  “It’s not exact,” said Daniel.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think Daniel’s saying that we were viewing a static map with points signifying approximate locations,” Tripp said.

  “Well, what good does that do?” Carson asked with a scowl.

  “I don’t believe the map was intended for anyone but its creator, meaning our dad,” Tripp said. “Had he left it for our personal use, he would have been clearer.”

  “I think I’ve got it,” Carson said, annoyed at Tripp’s condescending tone. “Daniel should’ve hacked us a better map.”

  “How is this my fault?” Daniel asked defensively.

  While Carson was capable of being reasonable when she wanted to be, she was in no mood to be now.

  “I suppose I’ll have to resign myself to the fact that we’ll be making the drive to Perdido Key. We’ll manage with the breadcrumbs we have and hope luck is in our favor,” said Tripp.

  “I believe in destiny, not luck,” Carson said. “Where are we going, Daniel?”

  “Uh, here.” Daniel scribbled an address on a piece of paper, handed it to Tripp, and winked. Tripp returned a wary look before he punched it into the navigation console.

  Following the new route, Carson guided them to Perdido Key, a barrier island. She was forced to endure her brother’s and Daniel’s insatiable need to discuss trivia involving their destination. Tripp had a penchant for being a walking encyclopedia of useless information. Geeks, she thought, learning that perdido in Spanish meant “lost,” and that the key used to be a peninsula and later became an island during construction of the Intracoastal Waterway, and so on.

  The sight of sandy white beaches and sun-bleached resorts couldn’t come soon enough. But the address Tripp typed in brought them straight to a local burger joint right off Highway 292. Carson realized she had been duped as she pulled into the parking lot. “Jerks,” she muttered, too weak from hunger to protest further.

  It was an older building that needed some exterior touch-up work but seemed clean on the inside. They purchased their food and were about to settle into seats near the large front window of the little restaurant when Carson noticed something outside.

  An ugly brown pickup pulled into the gas station next door. Carson knew that truck. She walked closer to the window and confirmed what she suspected. She returned to the table, grabbed her food from the tray, and fumbled in her jean shorts pocket to find the key fob.

  Daniel ignored her and took a big bite out of his burger. Tripp, on the other hand, stared in curiosity at her. Madly hunting for her fob, she almost dropped her food. Carson
caught Daniel’s attention as she cursed, but his mouth was full so he kept silent.

  “What are you doing, sis?” Tripp finally asked as she gained control of the fob.

  “Come on, we’re leaving.”

  “We just arrived.”

  Daniel, after taking another bite, grabbed his food and followed her without a word. Tripp, looking unsure about why they were leaving, gathered his own meal and chased after them. Carson went straight to her Jeep and closed her eyes, as if this would make her less visible to the man at the pump.

  Tripp paused long enough to identify the man putting gas into his old Chevy pickup. “Is that Sanchez?”

  Carson turned around and pushed Tripp from behind toward the back driver’s-side door. Daniel had already grabbed the shotgun position up front.

  “Yes, now let’s go,” she whispered.

  Tripp turned his head and watched out the back window. “I wonder what he’s doing here.”

  “I don’t know,” Carson replied as she climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “He’s driving his personal truck, so it can’t be official police business. Let’s find out.”

  They waited as Sanchez finished getting gas. He pulled out and returned to the highway, and Carson tailed him from a short distance. No one said much, as they were too busy inhaling their dinner.

  They traveled across the island. After a while, Carson wondered if they were going to cross the Alabama–Florida state line. However, Sanchez finally did turn off the highway, toward the bayside. She slowed down as he pulled into a community of colorful condos; she cautiously turned in, hoping he didn’t notice he was being tailed.

  Carson parked her Jeep near the entrance to the community and turned the lights off but left the vehicle running. They all watched as Sanchez exited his truck, glanced around, then headed to one of the condos. It was pink, although the yellow streetlamp gave it more of a salmon look. He knocked on the front door and waited.