She pressed send.
Great! One more loose end she hadn’t even known about now tied up. That definitely called for a drink; maybe even a double. She reached up and flipped the call button.
As Flip lay on the bed in Lionel’s spare bedroom, he felt the torrent of mixed feelings course through his body; excitement and astonishment at having an erection after so much time, mingled with embarrassment that Alp was present during the miracle; no doubt was actually the cause of it. He also felt her own astonishment and embarrassment which only made matters that much worse. He was about to apologize when matters grew suddenly worse still.
You know you could be arrested in at least thirteen states for what you and your daughter were just engaged in?
Who the hell was that? Flip wondered. Even as he poised the question, he felt a shift in his awareness. Through the haze and fog that surrounded him, he saw the outline of a man sitting crossed-legged. As the image became clearer, he made out the gaunt figure, and wispy hair of an elderly man who slowly floated towards him. That lotus position must not be easy at his age, Flip thought.
It is if you’ve been doing it every day for the last fifty or sixty years, came the blunt reply.
Are you going to call me? The voice asked.
Call you? Flip replied. I don’t know who the hell you are.
Call me. You have my number, the voice said as the figure began to dissolve. At the last moment, the old man looked up and smiled a Cheshire Cat-like grin; it was the last part to evaporate into thin air.
Well, that was interesting, Alp chimed in after a few seconds. The intrusion had broken their shared embarrassment over the erection which was also evaporating into thin air.
You do know who that was, don’t you? Alp asked her father.
I haven’t the foggiest… Flip started to reply, but then stopped. That was Alfred Bessler, wasn’t it?
That would be my guess.
Well, yes, I’ll give him a call today, Flip answered, then remembering what had happened before the interruption, continued, I’m sorry about the…you know…the…
Not to worry, Alp interrupted. That was my bad. The nerve pathways are all tangled up from your injury. I must have crossed a couple wires.
Well, I hope they stay crossed, Flip thought, then felt another wave of embarrassment as he realized he’d shared the thought with Alp.
Yu-Lung's
Pat Vogt put her glass of plum wine down and gazed around at the bright colors and subdued lighting of Yu-Lung's Chinese Pagoda, her eyes eventually returning to her dinner guest across the table.
“I hope this place is satisfactory, James. It’s one of the few I know in the area where I can vouch for the food and that would be quiet enough for us to catch up.”
James poured himself another cup of saké and nodded. “This is fine. I love good Asian food. Besides, the company and the conversation is what’s most important to me.”
“That’s a kind thing to say,” Pat replied, blushing slightly. It had been several years since she’d been on a date…not that this was one; well, at least not exactly. Just two old friends catching up, right? So, how come she was so nervous, and had spent the afternoon primping in front of the mirror, and trying on a half dozen different outfits? Did you do all that sort of stuff just for an old friend?
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something for sometime now,” James said as he took a sip of saké. “Whatever was the outcome of that first assignment we were on; you know the one where my friend, Jerry, was killed? I ask because, right after that incident where his ‘copter was caught in that explosion, I was reassigned. I tried asking around about it, but was pretty well stonewalled.”
Pat felt her pulse climb by the mention of that first mission almost twenty years ago when she’d been working for the secret federal agency -B.I.U.F.O. (the Bureau of Investigation of Unidentified Flying Objects). James had been a sub-contractor and, as far as she knew, never realized fully who he was working for. Unfortunately, she’d been sworn to silence about anything even remotely related to her work there, especially that first assignment that had brought James and her together.
“I thought I read something about some experimental plane going down around the Waynesboro area. That wasn’t far from where we were, was it?”
“Yeah, Waynesboro is probably the closest little town. Not many towns of any size in those North Carolina mountains, except maybe Asheville, but you know that. Aren’t you from that area?” She could feel her palms grow sweaty. She took another sip of wine in an effort to cover her discomfort. She should have known better than to accept James’ invitation to catch up on old times. Those old times were better left buried in the past.
“Yeah, that’s right,” James replied as he continued to stare at her with a slight smile on his face. “I figured that was one of the reasons I got the assignment. What about that story of some kind of experimental plane?”
“Well, that’s what I read too,” Pat answered. Of course, that was the cover story B.I.U.F.O. put out to all the media in the area.
James nodded as though accepting the story. Pat started to take a breath, but stopped as James reached out and grasped her hand that rested next to her wine glass. He leaned forward and spoke the next words softly. “You and I both know that was no experimental plane we saw. And the explosion wasn’t from it crashing. Whatever it was had already crash landed. That explosion was from someone destroying evidence, wasn’t it? Did my friend die from a government coverup?”
How do I answer that? Pat wondered as she began to pull her hand away but found it firmly caught in James’ much larger mitt. She was pretty sure it hadn’t been the Feds that had blown up the mysterious aircraft, but she couldn’t know that for certain. After all, she’d also been reassigned…well, actually forced to resign from her post with B.I.U.F.O.
She placed her other hand over the top of James’. “I’m sorry, I can’t answer that question, or any other questions about that particular assignment. I wish I could James, but I can’t. I swore I’d never talk about that mission with anyone…not even a close friend like you.” What a raw deal, Pat thought. All he’s looking for is some closure about his flying buddy. Surely, I can give him something.
“Here’s what I can tell you, James. Jerry’s death was an accident. No one could have foreseen what happened on that mountain. I can’t tell you for certain who caused the explosion that his helicopter was caught up in, but I don’t think it was the government…least not our government.” Man, was she making a mess of this. This was supposed to be a pleasant evening with an old friend. Instead, it was dredging up old memories of one of the worst times of her life. She decided to try a different direction.
“Remember several years ago hearing about a private-funded genetics lab called Biogentrix?”
“Yeah, I think so,” James answered with a confused look on his face.
Pat pulled her hand gently out of his grasp and picked up her glass of wine. “Well, in a weird sort of way, that story was connected to what happened on that mountain.”
“Really? How?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
Pat saw a flash of anger cross James’ face.
“But I can tell you this,” Pat rushed on. “It’s my firm belief that the man behind Biogentrix was the same one who caused that explosion that took Jerry’s life, and that your friend’s death has been avenged.”
James poured himself another cup of saké and downed the whole thing in one gulp. “Really? How do you know…and don’t you dare tell me you can’t answer that question?”
“I investigated that company quite extensively for…for a client,” Pat said. Probably better that James didn’t know that the client was herself trying to get some closure on the mountain explosion incident.
“But didn’t that turn out to be some kind of hoax. Who was the guy that founded the company? Hamlin, or something like that?”
“Homlin,” Pat corrected him. “His name was Fredric Homlin.
” Just saying the name sent a chill running through her body. “And yes, all the papers reported that the whole deal was a massive scam, but that’s not the point. The point is that Homlin didn’t get away with killing your friend.”
“How do you know that?”
Because I personally took care of the matter, Pat wanted to say, but instead answered, “I’m afraid I can’t answer that, but please believe me. It’s settled.”
James tapped his fingers on the table for several seconds as he contemplated what she’d said. Finally, he went to pour himself another cup of saké only to find the carafe empty. “Dead soldier,” he said as he turned the carafe upside down. “In more ways than one,” he added, then smiled. “Another glass of wine?”
“Yes, please,” Pat answered, taking a long, deep breath, her neck muscles slowly relaxing as well.
James signaled to the waitress for another round before leaning back in his chair.
“What’s it with you and cases involving genetic engineering labs? Has that become your specialty?” James asked.
“No, not really,” Pat answered. Funny, she hadn’t made the connection until just that moment. She wondered. Was there some connection to the two cases that she was missing?
Flip walked into Lionel’s living room from collecting the special delivery package that had just been dropped off. He glanced down at Damba’s lone suitcase setting on the overstuffed couch where Damba had been sleeping.
“You’re packing light for our overseas trip,” Flip said as he finished opening the flat package in his hand.
Damba shrugged. “It’s easy to pack light when this is all you own,” he replied with a smile.
Flip nodded. He pulled a small book out of the package in his hands and dropped it on Damba’s open suitcase. “Well, be sure you keep this with you at all times.”
“What’s that?” Damba asked as he picked up the thin book.
“It’s your passport…illegal I might add, though given where it came from, I don’t think we’ll have any trouble using it.”
“Where did it come from?” Damba opened it and stared at the picture of himself. “So that’s why you needed my picture.”
“Yes,” Flip replied. “And it came from Alp’s new BFF, Chunk Robinson. He had to pull several strings to get it, but Alp appears to still have quite a bit of influence on what he’s willing to do for us.”
“I would think so,” Damba replied as he closed the passport and dropped it back on his suitcase. “He was extraordinarily thankful to her for saving his youngest daughter’s life.”
“I can well imagine.” Flip glanced down at the suitcase again. “We’ll get you some more clothes later today. I need my business intern to look the part.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay you back,” Damba answered, noticeably embarrassed.
“Don’t worry about it. I can tell you’re a good kid, Damba, and that you care deeply for Alp. You’ll be paying me back by helping me keep her safe and getting my other children home safely.”
Damba nodded. “I’d do that anyway. Alp’s and my destinies are intertwined.”
That’s an interesting way to think of it, Flip thought. I guess all our destinies are intertwined, at least for the foreseeable future.
“Oh, I have one more thing for you,” Flip said as he reached into his pant’s pockets and pulled out a brand new iPhone and handed it to Damba.
“It’ll be important that we stay in communication while we’re over there. I suspect we’ll be together most of the time, but just in case.”
“Wow!” Damba exclaimed as he turned the phone around in his hand. “I’ve seen my friend Zunga use one of these, but I never imagined having my own. Thanks.”
“No problem. Let me show you how to make phone calls and send text messages now. Later, I’ll show you some of the other cool things it can do.”
Later that afternoon, Flip dropped Damba off at Lionel’s and watched as the young boy struggled to get his packages of new clothes through the front door. Flip started driving over to Denise’s where he was now staying, but then remembered he’d meant to remind Damba to remove all the tags from the clothes before packing them. He thought about texting the boy but didn’t know if Damba would know to check his phone when it beeped, so instead he drove around the block.
Returning to Lionel’s he noticed the front door still ajar. Damba must have left it opened as he worked his way indoors with the packages. Flip strolled into the living room and noticed where the stack of packages lay near Damba’s suitcase, but there was no sign of the boy. Flip started towards the kitchen, remembering how young boys Damba’s age were always hungry. He heard Damba’s voice talking to someone else. He knew Lionel was probably still at work but perhaps the girls were back from their own shopping spree.
As Flip pushed the kitchen door open he saw Damba with his back to him talking on his new phone. Had he gotten a solicitation call already, Flip wondered?
Before Flip could say anything, Damba twirled around, a shocked look on his face.
“I’ve got to go…I’ll call you later,” Damba said into the phone.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt you,” Flip said. “Just wanted to remind you to remove the tags from your clothes before packing them.”
Damba nodded, a look of surprise and embarrassment still on his face. “Sur..sure thing,” he stammered.
“Trying out your new phone?” Flip asked, suddenly concerned by how odd Damba was acting.
“Ah, yeah. That was my friend, Zunga. He’s the one that owns the supply ship I told you about. I just wanted him to know I had a new phone. That’s all.”
“Sure that makes sense,” Flip answered, but something about the look on Damba’s face suggested he wasn’t telling the whole truth. “Anything else?”
“No,” Damba replied, chuckling nervously. “I’ll remove all the tags tonight before I turn in. And thanks again, Mr. MacDougal, for your generosity.”
“Happy to do it…and I think it would be fine if you started calling me Flip. Everyone else does.”
“Sure, Flip. I can do that. Well, good night.”
Flip turned to leave, then stopped and looked back at the boy. “Everything okay? Anything you want to tell me.”
Damba hesitated, a troubled look passing across his face before he smiled and answered, “No, everything is fine. I’m looking forward to our trip.”
Flip opened Denise’s apartment with the spare key she had given him. He found a note from her on the kitchen table letting him know that she and Bridgette had gone shopping for a few additional items in preparation for his trip. He smiled as he read the message. It felt good to know that the two women were in his corner, helping him.
Their shopping also gave him some time to himself. He strolled into the kitchen with barely a limp. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d walked with so little effort. While the healing session had left him tired, it also left him pain free. He pulled a bottle of beer from the fridge before returning to the living room where he’d established his own space in the lounge chair Denise had insisted on buying him.
“Every man needs his own lounger,” she’d said, “and that includes my man.”
Flip sat down in the overstuffed, leather upholstered chair, twisted the top off the beer bottle, and took several long swallows before pulling out his phone. No time like the present to make that call to Albert Bessler that he promised to make. He pulled up the number and made the connection.
The phone rang several times without anyone picking it up or it going to voicemail. Flip was about to hang up when he heard the click at the other end. Several more seconds elapsed before he heard the guttural voice of an old man.
“About time you called,” Alfred Bessler said without bothering with any introduction.
“How’d you know it was me?” Flip asked as he took another sip of beer.
“Please, let’s not waste our time with such trivia,” came the reply
back. Social niceties were obviously not part of Albert’s skills.
“Okay,” Flip replied, a bit taken aback. “That little incident that you apparently observed between my daughter in me was a simple mistake on her part. A matter of some crossed nerves that confused her; that’s all.”
“Really?” Albert replied, sounding momentarily interested. “And that’s what you want to talk with me about; your perversions with your daughter?”
“Well, no.” Flip felt his face begin to flush with a mixture of embarrassment and growing anger. “I just wanted to explain…in case you had a misconceived notion…”
“I couldn’t care less,” Albert replied, the tone of disinterest returning. “I only gave Chunk permission to provide you with my number because of our long-term relationship and his insistence that you were an interesting case that would assist my research. So, please, to the point.”
“Okay,” Flip replied after taking a couple deep breaths. Chunk had warned him that Albert wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. “I need to know what I can do to strengthen my psychic connection with my children.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Albert said. “I understand from Chunk that your ability to make such connections is only with these kids; I believe he referred to them as the Kindred?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Flip replied.
“And that this psychic connection is not the only special skill that these kids have demonstrated?”
“Yes, that’s also correct.” Flip wondered just how much Chunk had shared with his old friend.
“But you haven’t demonstrated any other special powers yourself?”
Flip thought about that question for a moment before replying. “No, not really,” but then changed his mind and added, “Well, sometimes, when I connect, I feel like I actually travel to the location…at least that has happened between Alp and myself…the daughter who…”
“I know who Alp is,” Albert interrupted. “Tell me about this ’traveling sensation.’”
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