Chapter 86
The glare of the lights was piercing, making James’ head ache and throb. He blinked fiercely against it until he could see clearly. He was in a tiled, square room, sitting across from a strangely chic white table and matching chair. Beyond those was a single grey door. He attempted to rise and try the handle, but found that he could not; his writs were zip-tied to the arms of a heavy steel chair which, by way of testing for weaknesses, James deduced was bolted to the floor. Craning his neck as far as he could to look behind him, he was able to quickly sum up the room as having no windows, no cameras, and only one door. Shaking his head as if trying to wake himself from a bad dream, it took him a minute to remember what had happened. He had been with Cyndi…driving—speeding. She was angry. The hotel…Dr. Kakoaba. Did they meet? Then, two large men smashed him between them. In another car with windows as black as pitch. Something over his head, something pushing against his mouth and nose. Darkness.
He ran through the scenario several times, each run-through dragging up more details and making his heart pound faster. When he had just about pieced it all together, the door in front of him swung open without a sound, and Cyndi stood before him with a tray in her hands. She smiled neatly as if she were simply stepping into his office to drop off a file.
“Good evening, James.”
James felt the acidic burn of bile rising up his throat as she entered.
“Where am I!”
“Out of sight,” she answered nonchalantly as she set the tray on the table. James could see a small silver domed cover and a white cloth next to what looked like a mini pitcher and basin. He curled his lip in disgust of her obvious pleasure in maintaining her charm under such evil circumstances. She glimpsed his disdain and replied to it. “You should be grateful to find yourself here. Most…visitors…that are invited to this place usually occupy the rooms down the hall. They are not as nice as this one…nor is the ‘staff’ that maintains them.”
“Is that some kind of threat? Are you going to have someone kill me, Cyndi…or do you want the pleasure of doing it yourself!”
“One step at a time, please,” she said coolly as she poured some water into the basin and dipped the cloth in it. When she raised the cloth to his head, James flinched but couldn’t dodge her quick hands completely. She scraped it forcefully along his left temple, then, pulled back. There was blood on it.
“What’s that from?” He didn’t remember being struck.
She shrugged. “Like I said, things can get a little rough down here.”
“Where is here?”
Cyndi made another pass with the cloth before setting it aside and removing the silver dish cover to reveal a shallow bowl filled with various cuts of fruit. Capriciously, she snatched up a grape and chewed it with a look of ecstasy. James turned away, hatred rising, fueling his mind in its fervent work of figuring out an escape. He had flattened his right hand and was slowing trying to pull it out of the confines of the zip tie when a loud buzzing sound penetrated the atmosphere.
“Oh, call for you.” Cyndi fished into her skirt pocket and pulled out James’ phone. “It’s the little wife.” James felt heated anger at Cyndi’s villainous, mocking tongue. The phone buzzed again before she swiped it to voicemail and opted for it to receive no more calls. “That’s better. We don’t really want any disturbances.”
“What do you want,” spat James. Any fear regarding these stupefying turn of events had been washed over with anger and spite. His hands began to sweat; he pulled against the plastic ties harder.
“Just a chat.” She offered him a piece of honey dew between her fingers. He jerked his head away and she daintily ate it herself. “I don’t know what’s happened to you, or why. But you see, you’re not the first to try and jump ship. It’s very inconvenient really, especially since you’ve already come so far with us, James. You have been a master architect for our cause, and now…” she shrugged her thin shoulders and reached for another fruit bit.
A wave of guilt washed over James as her words hit home. Though he hadn’t seen it, hadn’t intended it, he had, indeed, been lending his hands and his mind to this networking plot to ensnare the world and enslave and destroy its citizens. Maybe he did deserve this…
A short buzz from the table and the phone momentarily lit up. Cyndi glanced at the screen. “Hmm…eight missed calls and a voicemail. The missus must need something dreadful. I do hope she’s alright, all things considering.”
“What’s that supposed to mean.” James felt adrenaline rushing through him anew, triggered by the inner drive to protect his wife and child.
Cyndi simply held up a finger as she listened to the voicemail prompt before typing in his password as if it had been her own. James gritted his teeth in fury as he realized she probably had information about everything… his home, bank accounts, Tolu’s school, maybe, even her grades…Fear and anger volleyed him, smacking him back and forth between them while never letting him settle on the definite ground of either side. He glared at Cyndi as she held the phone to her ear. She winked and pursed her lips in a mocking gesture, her bright eyes gleaming as she reveled in her power over him. Then, in an instant, the smirk dropped from her face and her eyes fell from their lofty height to a haunting dark. Without a word she abruptly turned and hurried out of the door as fast as her trained cool demeanor would allow.
Chapter 87
“She knows. She knows about the stones. She was there! With the missing archeologists. She’s with them right now.” Cyndi’s pasty face was a stark contradiction to the confident one she had been wearing in the soundproof room down the hall.
Maximos reached for the phone Cyndi held out to him and listened to the message. He sat strangely still in his favorite high-backed leather chair staring into a crackling fireplace projected upon a wall of his strange house, a demeanor the exact opposite of the frantic voice coming through the small speaker. In the stoic silence, Cyndi could hear key phrases from the message jump out:
“Something happened at the museum. Need to talk to you. Emergency. Something important about work. Barely escaped with two friends. Archeologists, with me now. Leave GED. Call back immediately.”
“What should we do?” Cyndi asked when the message was through.
Maximos lowered the phone, his brow dipped to a slight frown; his annoyance at Cyndi’s growing incompetence was peaking. Her lost control over their Mr. Mode had forced him to take irreversible actions which not only transformed a crowning asset into an unsavory liability, also but cost GED a rare talent and ability which he had, admittedly, been able to find no equal to. Inwardly, he mourned the loss of this prized piece of his collection of talents so soon. Though the course of his plan would continue as before as provisions were always made for these kinds of hiccups, he would’ve preferred to be the one to decide when James’ time with GED was up, instead of having that time forced upon him.
Of course, he blamed Cyndi. Her mishandling of James, whom he had placed specifically under her care, had rendered her position forfeit by his account. But he had long ago learned that emotions must yield to strategy. For now, she would continue playing her part, fueled by the fear of him and hope that he would forgive her mistakes. He smiled to himself, as he imagined the look that would be on her face when she realized her hope had been in vain. It may perhaps mirror a similar look that Mrs. Mode was about to exhibit, for he had made up his mind. He had known that James’ wife worked at the British Museum as an artifact analyst and researcher; and when he began to suspect the Museum as harboring place of his stones, he admitted the possibility that she might have come in contact with them. He had had her watched, her home phone tapped, and her work email hacked into to see if there was a chance she could be of any use in retrieving the stones for him. When it was discovered that she was learning more about the stones than he had anticipated, Maximos knew that window was closed—she would never hand them over willingly.
But now that he had them, or Profeta did, was he willing
to let her and the archeologists’ knowledge of them go unchecked? He had already made that decision before Cyndi came out of the “interrogation room” down the hall: There would be no more loose ends.
“Have Ivan move in on the house. Bring Mrs. Mode, the daughter, and the Caldwells here and lock them in the south library for now. I’ll deal with this mess when I get back.” He rose from his chair as the thunderous whipping sounds of an approaching helicopter crescendoed through the night sky. Cyndi nodded and already had the phone to her ear, as Maximos left the room without another word and strode out of the house to board the craft.
Chapter 88
“Still no answer,” said Sarah, as bravely as she could, to her companions as she dropped her phone down from her ear for the twelfth time.
“What do you want to do?” Kate asked worriedly.
“I don’t want to stay here. Let’s go to the Sammys; I’ll try and call again from there. I’ll go wake Tolu, pack a few things, and be back in a few minutes.”
John and Kate nodded their agreement of the plan.
Up the stairs, Sarah switched on the hall light and moved toward Tolu’s room with determination; but that didn’t stop her from noticing a flash of red color along the bottom of the TV screen in the sitting room as the large words scrolled by:
THE PRESIDENT OF TURKEY HAS BEEN ASSASSINATED. THE KILLERS ARE BELIEVED TO BE MILITANT JIHADISTS.
The newsflash served to heighten her sense of fear. She had grabbed the remote to turn it off when everything suddenly went dark. Sarah froze, and her palms began to sweat. The trauma from events just hours ago raced through her mind, crippling her with terror. The nightmare was not over; it had followed her home. Suddenly, she heard the frightening shatter of glass from a room downstairs; her heart jumped into her throat, rising panic was threatening to overwhelm her. Several voices in her head screamed for a reaction—run for Tolu; call the police; warn Kate and John—but she didn’t respond to any of them. It wasn’t until familiar beams of red laser lights came darting around the stairwell corner that she finally forced herself into action. She rushed into her room and locked the door before pulling on a heavy sweater from a nearby chair. She abutted the chair against the doorknob and quickly looked at her phone. It was as she feared—no signal. Shoving the device back into her pocket, she quietly opened the bedroom window and stepped out onto a large limb of an oak which grew beside the house. Her legs were shaking violently as she precariously worked her way back across to another branch and another until she was outside Tolu’s window. Knocking as loud as she dared, she woke Tolu and, after placing her finger to her lips, motioned for her to come to the window. Tolu’s eyes accelerated from sleepy confusion to fearful surprise as she opened the window for her mother.
“Mommy! What are you doing?”
“Shhh. Tolu, listen. Run and lock your door. Now. Hurry!” Tolu obeyed immediately and quietly returned to the window.
“Good, honey. Now grab your jacket and sneakers and come out to me.”
Tolu’s foot was on the window sill when the door knob rattled. Sarah covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself from shrieking, then, reached out for her daughter. Tolu stepped onto the limb, then, suddenly pulled back.
“Wait!” she whispered before ducking back into the window. The knob rattled louder, followed by a banging on the door. Sarah’s whispered shouts were harsh against her throat, as she demanded Tolu to return. The child had gone to her bedside table and snatched up something Sarah couldn’t see. Tolu raced back, as the door began to crunch under a heavy assault; and Sarah grabbed her into the tree and slammed the window shut. The momentums of the hurried actions collided, causing Sarah to lose her balance and fall to the lower branches of the tree. Tolu, still wrapped in her arms, scrambled from her mother’s hold and helped her find her footing. With tears flowing down both their faces, mother and daughter made their way to the ground. Hunching below the window frames to stay out of view, they scooted around the corner to the back of the house and stopped to catch their breath.
“Mom, what’s—”
Sarah cut her short by throwing herself on top of her as another figure came racing around the house and dove toward them.
“Sarah, it’s me, John! Are you hurt?”
Sarah gasped in relief and sat up. “No, we’re all right. Where’s Kate?”
“She went around to the garage. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
An eruption of gunfire followed by the sound of shattering glass filled the air, and the three fell flat against the ground. Sarah used her hands to protect Tolu’s head from the falling shards. There was a pause and another wave of shots. John crawled closer and whispered hastily. “I think they’re trying to roust us out. They don’t know where we are. I think we can make it to the car, if we stay low.”
Sarah nodded and motioned for Tolu to get between her and John. On the count of three, they started their hurried crawl along the back length of the house and paused at the corner. John peeked around and saw a shadowed figure holding a beam of light, walking in their direction. John pulled back and motioned for Sarah and Tolu to get behind the air conditioning unit sticking out a few feet from the wall. Sarah and Tolu hunched behind it, and John lay as flat as he could behind them, pressing his face into the wet grass. Sarah saw the light beam and closed her eyes.
“God,” she breathed. “Please, don’t let them see us. Please, hide us from their eyes.”
“Please, Jesus,” Tolu added in a squeaky whisper.
The light swept across the backyard and landed on a garden shed, and the figure moved toward it with a quick pace. John tapped Sarah and motioned for them to get ready. As soon as the man was past them, they resumed their swift, quiet crawl around the corner and down the side of the house until they were across from the separate garage. Sarah could still see the beam of light bouncing around the backyard as they crossed the yard and dashed toward the bushes lining the back of the smaller building. Kate had been waiting for them and hugged Sarah fiercely in relief. They moved to the back door where Sarah quickly punched in the number code to unlock it. Once inside, John set to work, adjusting the garage door so it could be opened manually, while Sarah tucked herself and Tolu low in the back seat of the car. Kate opted to drive, stating she had experience in getaway situations. Upon John’s signal, Kate pushed the ignition and threw the car into gear, as her husband threw up the garage door and bolted to get in. Kate gunned it; and gravel flew in all directions, as she pealed down the driveway. There was a moment where they heard muffled shots from what seemed like the front of the house; but they were already too far gone to be sure that’s what it was.
Chapter 89
The GPS helped them find their destination, although Sarah had to call in the end to find the exact entrance, as all the rusted metal doors into the warehouse looked exactly the same. Kaz met them at the door. His face held a deep concern, as he took them through the dilapidated building to a main hub that was buzzing with activity. From the crowd of raggedy young people, Sammy appeared and ushered the small party to a back corner of the building with makeshift dividers, made from sheets of metal and rotting wood. Kate and John were overtly startled when they rounded the dividers and saw several long tables with rows of computer display monitors and what looked like super computer modems. Ropes of cords were running away from the machines onto the floor where they snaked farther into a dark part of the room they could not see. A lot of the computer stations were occupied, and a cacophony of clacking keys pervaded the space.
“Welcome to my Lair,” announced Sammy proudly. “These are my specialized forces: Joe, Cameo, Patrick, Sebastian, Mike, Louise, Kim, Cassidy and Tim.” The owners of the names looked up for a split second and waved or nodded in acknowledgment before diving back into their screens and continuing to tap out their codes which ran across the screens in what seemed like infinite lines of garbled letters and numbers.
“And this,” continued Sammy, as she moved toward a table wher
e three monitors were being supervised by a single person, “is Faaiza. She’s my secret weapon—our best hacker. We're all good at what we do, but she's gifted. She was in a terrorist group before managing to escape and throwing her lot in with us—a different kind of terrorist group,” Sammy added with a chuckle. A small, pretty face half-hid under a rose-colored hijab turned from the screens and smiled at the newcomers. “Welcome, Preacher Sarah,” she said lightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last. I just wish it had been under better circumstances.”
“I can’t believe GED goons actually broke into your house!” Sammy interjected. “I mean I’ve always believed they do stuff like that, but why you? Did you know something about the stones they took?”
“We know lots of things,” answered Kate. “We read a file filled with the unspeakable things that they are doing.”
“But they couldn’t have known we had that,” interrupted John. “None of this makes any sense.”
“Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom.” Tolu pulled on Sarah’s arm gently.
“Oh, right this way.” Sammy led Sarah and Tolu back toward the crowd in the open space before heading toward a closed-in room that looked like it had been the warehouse office. As they passed the people, Sarah noticed a couple more hijabs in the group and several shades of skin ranging in a spectrum from light to dark. Many of them seemed happy; they were playing games and laughing with each other. Some waved as they walked passed.
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