by Al Turner
“I’ll get on that,” Pops said. “What else is there?”
Jack looked torn, as if fighting some internal battle. The tears welled in his eyes. He looked away and walked to the nearest door before he stopped. There was an eeriness to his silence.
“Son?”
Jack turned and stared blankly for a second; then his mouth formed just one word. “Regret,” he whispered. He retreated through the open doorway to the back.
Shelby and Pops exchanged confused glances.
“Son, what’s in that cave?” Pops called after him.
“Did he mean we would regret what they’d find, or are they going to regret it?” Shelby asked.
Pops merely shook his head and grumbled to himself.
Shelby retrieved his hat. He used the reflective walls as a mirror to ensure it was on straight. “I think we need a new plan, Pops. Jack seems to be checking out.” Shelby didn’t wait for a response as he too disappeared through the open panel.
Pops stood for a while in silence. With Sanchez murdered, the game had changed. He cursed softly and pondered his next move when a thought struck him: Not only was he asking the wrong questions, but he was also asking the wrong people.
“You have any C4 in there?” Pops yelled into the next room. Within seconds, a case full of what appeared to be taffy came sliding out. As Pops examined it, he confirmed it was only meant to look like candy. “C4—oh yeah, this will do.”
“Don’t eat it, Pops,” Shelby called from the next room.
Pops made his way into Jack’s workout room. He saw nothing of interest so he proceeded to the walk-in closet where he found Shelby going through various outfits.
“Can you believe Jack has a dress in here?” Shelby said as he held it up.
“Unlike you, I doubt he actually wears it,” Pops said with a sneer.
“Don’t be so sure,” Shelby said with wink. He went back to going through the collection.
“Where’s Jack?”
Shelby’s head popped up long enough to say he didn’t know, and then he went back to checking out the Kevlar vests. As Pops left, he could hear the man mutter something about getting a hard-on.
Pops passed the bathroom but stopped and circled back. He walked inside the dimly lit room and found his son sitting on the bench built into the shower stall. Jack had his head down in his hands, but raised himself up as he heard him enter.
“Permission to sit?” Pops asked.
“Granted,” Jack said and let out a frustrated sigh. “This is all my fault.”
Pops grunted as his old rump found a resting spot on the seat. “I know.” Surprising himself, he put an arm around his son’s neck. “It’s your fault Sanchez loved you so much, he was willing to take part in something he knew might end like this. It’s your fault I’m here, sitting in a shower stall in Viridian Cove knowing that, at any time, someone might come looking for my ass. It’s also your fault your children turned out to be stubborn and reckless like their old man.” He paused and watched a teardrop travel down the bridge of Jack’s nose and drip onto the tiled floor.
“You have to take some of the blame for your grandkids, Pops,” Jack said and wiped his eyes with his shirt. “They have your DNA and loved the adventures you took them on.”
“Okay, we’ll share that one.” Pops smiled. “Let me tell you what isn’t your fault, though. You had no control over who your parents were nor the organization they were a part of. You certainly didn’t force your brother to make the decisions he made.”
“This helps how?”
Pops chuckled. “I was never good at this type of speech. Go join your wife, son. Let ol’ Shelby and me take care of this.”
“I need him to find the twins. These people are dangerous. Once all my family is safe, I’ll have the luxury of looking for answers.”
“Why does it all have to be your burden?”
Jack paused before answering, as if unsure how Pops would take what he was going to say. Then he just spit it out. “I haven’t been very forthcoming. The good doctor and I have been working in secret on a project at Source. I was late because I had to gather a piece that was needed.”
Pops patted him on the shoulder and then stood up. He had recognized Dr. Eriks’ voice. “We saw your documentary. To be honest, I knew the old man was up to something. I had both his offices bugged but figured I’d already missed the good stuff. As for the cavern, let’s leave that nightmare in the past where it belongs.”
“It may become our problem again,” Jack said. “Somebody’s been disturbing the skies around Echo.”
Pops thought it curious but brushed it off. “Anything else?”
Jack looked frustrated, as if he thought Pops had failed to understand the magnitude of what he was saying. “Someone with very intimate knowledge of this family is involved in this. I believe that person is my mother.”
Pops didn’t flinch. “Of course she’s involved.”
“Do you know to what extent?”
“We both do, but I’m not wearing blinders like you are. Look, years ago, around the time she was expelled from her last assignment, she resorted to trying to brainwash you and your brother.. Our separation from her was ugly, as you probably remember.”
“She did leave some scars,” Jack said. “Look, I know Mother has her demons and carries a grudge, but I find it hard to believe she’d put her family at risk.”
“She’s merely a shell of the woman she once was. Your mother was never the most stable person in the world, but the years haven’t been kind to her mind.”
“Do you think she knows?”
Pops understood that Jack referred to the fate of Conner. He considered it before he responded. “She has always suspected. In her world reality and fiction collide, so it probably doesn’t really matter what she thinks anymore. Who would listen to her?”
Jack seemed skeptical. “I should still dig further into it, Pops. There’s something I need from her anyway.”
“Perhaps when things settle down, you can travel down that road. For now, I fully expect to see you and Kate on the deck of the Abril when I return to her. Speaking of ships, I’ve recently acquired a vessel unlike anything in my collection. I’ll give you a tour when we rendezvous with her.”
Jack nodded. “Okay, Pops, but I need to synch with Kate about an item or two. I’ll also need to visit Maria. Rick’s loss will be devastating to her.”
“Of course,” Pops said, relieved. “I’ll let Captain Ed know to provide you with whatever you need.”
“I’ll be sure to take advantage of that.”
Pops’s bones crackled as he rose and stretched. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with an old acquaintance.”
SQUARE ROUTE
The sun was still high in the Shreveport, Louisiana, sky, sending rays through the window. As it started its slow descent, the light pierced the half glass of water sitting beside Carson and rippling light danced across her face.
Carson had awakened with the pounding head of a hangover, and nature’s strobe light wasn’t helping. She hadn’t planned on drinking so much the night before; nor had she wanted to sleep until mid-afternoon on a Sunday. She sat up suddenly, grabbed the water, and downed a couple of aspirins her brother had been gracious enough to fetch from the casino gift shop.
Tripp had just gone out to grab some late lunch. Before he left, he had recapped last night’s events. He had only allowed himself a couple of light beers and had made it his duty to ensure his inebriated sister got to her bed safely, as well as alone. He had to sternly warn one anxious and drunken fellow from following them up to the room.
As Carson was lying back down on the bed, a knock came at the door. She cautiously got up and peered through the peephole to discover Tripp standing there. She wondered why he didn’t let himself in. The reason became clear when she opened the door and saw his hands full of food and beverages.
“What did you get us?” she asked, her stomach growling as if on cue.
“Cheeseburgers and, for your hangover, an electrolyte-enriched sports drink,” he said as he handed her the simple meal.
A scowl formed on her face. “Cheeseburgers again?”
He had just walked by her and stopped to turn. “Well, if you hadn’t spent so much at the card tables last night, I might have sprung for a steak. I also had to pay for another night, since your recovery time exceeded the eleven o’clock checkout time.”
“That’s what ATMs are for, bro. Are we staying another night?”
“No, we’re not. As for ATM usage, that’s for people who don’t care to keep a low profile.”
Carson curled her lip at her brother’s patronizing tone but ultimately understood he was upset by her earlier behavior. Being a drunk, loud attention whore was her trademark. She hung her head low as she started into the burger. “What time are we heading to Denton?” she asked between bites.
“As soon as I’m reasonably certain you can hold down your food,” he answered, then took a bite from his own cheeseburger.
Carson looked around as if something were missing. “No fries?” The glare he shot back made her return to her burger. “Just asking. Did you hear from Uncle Joe or Daniel?”
“Yes, I received a text from Daniel. They were tired out after hitting Houston, so they stopped off at a place near Galveston Bay and got some rest. They were going to hit the road again after lunch.”
“If they’ve already started out, it’ll be a close race to see who gets to Denton first.”
Tripp hesitated and looked uneasy. “With recent developments, they may be delayed.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Pops called Daniel last night. It seems his uncle Fumi has died suddenly.”
“Suddenly?” Carson gasped and put down her sandwich. “As in he was killed in an accident? Or murdered?”
“The jury is still out, but from the way he spoke, foul play is a possibility.”
“Oh shit,” Carson said. “Is Daniel okay?”
“Physically, he’s fine.”
“I know he’s okay physically, dumbass. I was referring to his emotional state. Does he want to forget about this whole thing and go to a funeral or something?”
“I can only speculate, but he gave no indication of not seeing this through.”
“Good man,” said Carson proudly. “I’ll make swashbucklers out of you two yet. Well, you still need some work.”
“I look to your wisdom,” Tripp said sarcastically. “Daniel also mentioned he’s awaiting another update from Pops. I’m unclear about its nature, but we can call on the road to find out.”
“More bad news?” Carson asked.
“We shall see,” Tripp said softly, as if unsure. “Oh, Pops sent a number for any of us to call should we decide to give up on our adventure or find ourselves in a difficult situation.”
“I can tell you which one of those won’t happen,” Carson said as she entered the number into her cracked phone. “These don’t look like his normal digits.”
“They’re not. If I understood correctly, we’d reach some type of assistant of Pops’s who would engage whatever resources we need.”
“No shit,” Carson said. “You mean like our own lifeline? What if I need to ditch my Jeep and get . . . what does James Bond drive?”
“Aston Martin,” Tripp answered. “Don’t even think about abusing the hospitality.”
“Hospitality is what you do for strangers. We’re family.” As Tripp started to protest, she added, “We’ll be discreet, of course.”
“Of course,” Tripp repeated, looking unconvinced. “Finish your food and get dressed. It would be nice to be to our destination by nightfall.”
After finishing their “lupper,” a word Carson used to describe a meal that fell somewhere between lunch and supper, they hit the road again, Tripp driving this time. Heading west on I-20 took them most of the way to Dallas, where they turned north onto I-35.
Tripp had looked up the address of their destination, an apartment located in the old downtown area and known by the locals as Denton Square. It was already plotted into Carson’s navigation.
“I think I’ve passed through there on the way to one of my storm chases in Oklahoma,” Carson said.
They continued on their journey northward, passing through North Dallas, Coppell, Lewisville, and finally to Denton. Carson tried to call Daniel a couple of times along the way but received his voice mail. Tripp tried to entertain her with trivia about the places they would be passing, but she opted to take a nap.
In Denton, they navigated to a local motel Tripp had found while searching online. They checked in and stood briefly by the door of the small room. It wasn’t much, but it was close to their destination. Carson wanted to go straight over to the apartment and check it out, but Tripp nixed the idea. “It would be better to go during the day when we can blend in with the locals,” he said.
He looked surprised when she didn’t argue but instead embraced him. “I’m so proud of you,” she said.
He stood there awkwardly for a moment, as if wondering what he had done to deserve it, but then accepted the hug.
“No, really,” Carson said, unsure whether he understood. “You’ve embraced your adventurous spirit and taken on a leadership role.”
Tripp returned the hug. “I’m proud of you too, sis.”
“Me? Why?”
“Well, you haven’t gotten us killed yet,” Tripp said with a smile.
Carson scowled. He had ruined the moment. “Really?”
“Okay, you’re also learning to be a team player.”
“Aw,” she said and hugged him again. “Let’s go find a place to grab a drink.”
“Really? You’ve recovered from last night that fast?”
“That was hours ago.” She waved it off as if it were nothing. “Let’s go.”
They left together and Tripp drove. Carson fidgeted with the radio, and not satisfied with the song selections, switched it off. She gazed out the window. “I wonder how far out the others are?”
Tripp had stopped listening to her. Something had caught his attention. He had a reputation for not noticing things, but that was because he usually wasn’t looking. But she noticed he had been doing a lot of paying attention lately, putting some of that PI training to use.
She glanced back to see what was bothering her brother. She spotted a dark sedan just as its lights went out.
“Are we sure they’re following us?” she asked and immediately dreaded the answer.
“One way to find out,” Tripp said, pushing the gas to accelerate. The headlights reappeared as the sedan pursued them.
“Shit. Now what?”
“We lose them,” Tripp said.
“How did they find us? We were very careful.”
“I have a theory about that,” Tripp said as he made a sharp turn. “I should have thought of it before.”
“What?”
He shook his head. “I believe they’re tracking us, probably with a small GPS device somewhere on your Jeep,” he said, taking another corner faster than he should have. He barely missed the minivan coming from the other direction.
“Let’s ditch it and find another ride,” Carson said, holding on for dear life.
“Agreed. But we’ll need to lose these people first.”
He drove until they reached an intersection. Off to their right was a parking lot with two police cars beside one another, facing opposite ways. Tripp pulled up beside one of the cars. He watched as the dark sedan slowed down, then took off into the night.
“They’ll be back,” he said.
The officer in the squad car next to him rolled down his passenger side window. “Can I help you?”
“Uh, we’re just lost, Officer,” Tripp said. “Can you tell me where old Denton Square is?”
The officer gave them directions and went back to talking to the policeman in the other car. After thinking something over, Tripp drove off. “It won’t be easy for the driver of the
sedan to predict where we’re going or to catch up,” he said.
He started toward Denton Square but turned off on a street several blocks from it. He pulled into a back alley behind an old building, just past some railroad tracks. Jumping out, he checked the vehicle, found the device, and ran off around the corner. Carson got out and looked around nervously. After a couple of minutes, Tripp came trotting back.
“Where’d you go?” Carson asked.
“I pulled a Carson.” He tried to catch his breath while she stared blankly. He explained that he had found another vehicle to plant the GPS device onto, as she had done the night before with their watches. It was moving in the opposite direction they needed to go.
“Great. What are we waiting for?” She started toward her Jeep.
“By foot,” Tripp said as he grabbed her arm and reeled her back in.
“Why? You got rid of the GPS device.”
“Right, but they still know your vehicle. We need to leave it hidden here. We can take the slow route now and find another mode of transportation later.”
“Where are we going?”
“Oh, I changed my mind. It makes sense to do this Denton Square adventure tonight. We may not get a chance tomorrow.”
“Now you’re talking. Let me get some things.”
***
After Carson grabbed her gear, both kept off the main roads as they made their way toward Denton Square. When they arrived, people were still walking around, although not as many as Tripp would have liked. He could only hope the people following them were distracted long enough for them to finish what they needed to do—whatever that was.
They found the right apartment, a loft sitting above a music store, and walked up the two dozen or so steps that went straight to the door. Tripp examined the lock and was hardly surprised when the key his uncle had given him didn’t work. With his lock pick set in hand, he went to work on the deadbolt.
Carson kept glancing down the long staircase to ensure nobody was coming. A sidewalk was visible through the glass door at the bottom of the steps below. Occasionally, a pair of feet would pass by.
“This place is fairly active for a late Sunday,” she said. “Too bad it’s not Saturday. I bet we’d have a crowd to blend into.”