by John Locke
“Lou?”
“Yeah?”
“Darwin ordered Doc Howard to plant the chip in my brain.”
“That’s nearly true.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know you don’t trust me, and I don’t blame you. But I’m the most loyal friend you have.”
I take the phone away from my ear and look at it. Then put it back to my ear.
“Did you mean to say that?”
“I know,” he says. “Like my old friend Donovan Creed used to say, it sounds stupid when you say it out loud like that.”
I smile.
“Let me try to explain,” Lou says.
“Make it quick.”
“Got a hot date?”
“Something even better.”
“Okay. Remember Augustus?”
“Of course.”
“If somehow he had survived, and the whole issue with the kidnapped girl had been resolved, would he be able to trust you from that point on?”
“Yes. But what happened with us was different.”
“I’m trying to make up for it.”
“Then give me something to convince me. Because right now it sounds like you’re in Darwin’s pocket.”
“I decided to give you a present.”
“A present.”
“Right. Something so big you’ll know you can trust me with your life.”
“What could possibly be that big?”
“I just killed Doc Howard.”
“What? Why on earth—”
“Doc Howard was Darwin.”
As I’m about to faint from shock, I hear a young woman shout “Father!”
It’s Kimberly, heading down the escalator, toward baggage claim.
I tell Lou, “Thanks.”
“Is that all you’ve got to say?”
“No, but it’s the first thing.”
55.
AFTER HUGGING KIMBERLY, we sit and wait for her luggage. She’s beaming. I’ve never seen her look so happy.
“Let me guess,” I say. “You found a golden ticket in your Wonka Bar?”
“Even better.”
“You’re in love again?”
“Even better. I realized I don’t need to be in love to be happy.”
I feel her forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”
She smiles.
I say, “You’re still a female, right?”
“Don’t be a shit head!”
She looks beyond me a second.
“Oh, the poor man!” she says.
I follow her gaze and see a man with two enormous bandages, one on each side of his head.
Tony Spumoni. Carrying a briefcase.
He sees me looking at him and immediately spins around and ducks into the men’s room.
“Do you know him?” she asks.
“We’ve met.”
“He seems terrified of you.”
My mind begins racing. If there really was an arms dealer, and if George didn’t come home last night, is it possible the arms dealer might have started threatening other members of Ropic’s board? Could they have coerced Tony into helping them? Like planting a bomb at the airport? I don’t know. But one thing I do know is sometimes indecision is worse than a wrong decision. I can’t take a chance on the terrorists planting explosives all over the world and setting them off at the same time with the wrist device. Even if there’s collateral damage, I’m suddenly convinced fewer civilians will die if I detonate the two hundred and twelve devices right now.
I remove the ceramic device from my pocket, take a deep breath, and press the button four times.
My head is fine, I’m happy to report, but the airport men’s room explodes.
I don’t know if anyone else was in there, but I know most of Tony Spumoni is not. One of his ears, still casted, rolls to a stop a foot from Kimberly’s shoe.
She kicks it away, and the look of shock on my face makes her laugh out loud.
People are screaming. Rushing, running around.
Kimberly’s smiling at me. Smiling!
“You’re not upset?” I say.
“Of course not.”
“A bomb just went off in an airport!”
“So?”
The noise around us becomes so loud I have to shout to be heard. “What’s going on?” I yell.
“I’m not upset because you’re not,” Kimberly shouts. She leans into my ear so the whole world won’t hear her words. “I’m also not upset because I saw you detonate the bomb. And because…”
“Yes?”
“I’m OOU.”
I give her a puzzled look. “What’s that mean?”
She points to herself, then to me, and says, “I’m one of us.”
“Tell me,” I say.
And she does. People are running around us, yelling and screaming, but as far as I can see, there’s no damage beyond what happened in the men’s room. There’s a TV monitor twenty feet away, suspended from the ceiling, and I glance at it from time to time while Kimberly tells her story. I’m trying to see if there’s any breaking news of planes falling from the sky or buildings blowing up.
So far, so good.
But it’s early.
Kimberly’s story is compelling, as is the TV monitor. She’s telling me she lied about being in school and how she hasn’t attended classes for the past two semesters. I don’t know what to think about that, because Lou obtained a copy of her transcripts. Her biology teacher’s a dick, remember?
But I don’t interrupt her.
The whole scene around us is surreal. Security guards are shouting, trying to make their way into the men’s room. People are running here and there, some have left their bags, others are stealing bags off the moving luggage belt. Someone’s making crowd control announcements, trying to get us to evacuate the building. Everyone’s yelling at everyone else, but no one seems to notice the two of us.
“Keep an eye out for your suitcase,” I say.
“I am.”
The area around us grows less noisy, and Kimberly no longer has to shout. She tells me she’s had a certain type of female problem she really can’t discuss, but that a man befriended her almost a year ago, and became her confidante, and gave her confidence, and uplifted her.
“Who is this man?” I say.
“Not important,” she says, then tells me how the man helped her understand the cause of her depression. He convinced her that what she really craved above all else in the world was her father’s love. When she gets to that point, she bursts into tears and hugs me, and I forget all about the TV monitor.
But when Kimberly calms down and tells me how the man paid for her psychiatric visits and kickboxing and weapons training, and how he taught her the family business of killing people—I felt like I was in the middle of a Fellini movie.
Now we’re being rounded up with the others and ordered to go outside. Kimberly sees her suitcase. We grab it and head outside.
“What do you mean you killed people? You mean you killed them in your mind? Metaphorically?”
She laughs. “No, father. I killed them in real life.”
I look at her with grave concern. I wonder if she’s crazy.
“You haven’t actually killed a human being,” I say.
“Yes.”
“When? How?”
She smiles. “I have your interest now, don’t I?”
I frown. “You do.”
Something suddenly clicks.
“This man,” I say.
“What about him?”
“Did he disguise his voice?”
She pauses too long before answering, “How do you mean?”
She’s lying. But why?
I say, “What I’m asking, did he use a voice altering device?”
“Not that I know of.”
“You’d know.”
“Then I guess not.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes, of course. Why are you asking that?”
We st
art heading for my car. When we get there, I hold the passenger door open for her, and call Callie while putting Kimberly’s suitcase in the trunk. When Callie answers I say, “Are you with me or against me?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I want to know who I can count on. You’ve made some remarks lately that bothered me. I have trust issues. You know that.”
“Of course. And abandonment issues.”
“Right.”
“And emotional issues, and mental issues, and issues with women, and psychotic episodes, and schizophrenic issues and—”
“Enough! Can I count on you?”
“Of course. Why?”
“I’m declaring war.”
“On whom?”
“Darwin.”
“Oh, shit!”
“But he might be dead already.”
“You’re not making sense.”
“Me or him, Callie?”
“You, of course.”
“Will you help me?”
“I’ll pull the fucking trigger. Is that enough help?”
“Thanks.”
“Is that all you’ve got to say?”
“No. But it’s the first thing.”
56.
IN THE CAR now, still at the airport’s short-term parking, waiting for the line of cars to thin out so we can leave. The place is a total traffic jam, and it looks like we’re going to be here awhile.
Kimberly has grown silent, trying to gauge my reaction.
“I’m stunned by this revelation,” I say, “but I just blew up two hundred and twelve blasting caps all over the world. I need to listen to the radio a minute to make sure the airport bathroom isn’t the only thing I damaged.”
She nods.
“You’re okay with that?” I say.
“Of course, father. We’re working together now. I’m going to be on your team.”
“You are?”
“You do have a team, right?”
“I do. But this isn’t a game.”
“Of course not. It’s life and death.”
I look at her a moment, then turn my attention to the radio news. The reporter is saying they have reports of numerous explosions in the general Las Vegas area, including the airport. Furthermore, at the precise time the airport bomb went off, small explosions were reported all over the country. But so far no one has reported any significant damage. It’s all two people were killed here, one there, and so forth.
I’m beginning to think the decision to detonate was not only timely, but sound. In the days to come, I bet the vast majority of deaths will turn out to be members of Darwin’s terrorist watch list.
I think about Doc Howard being Darwin all this time. He’s never spoken to me without using voice altering equipment, the quality of which has improved dramatically over the years. Though I had no way of knowing who Darwin was, I never would have suspected Doc Howard. I don’t know if Darwin was my enemy or not, or if he was planning to ambush me in Chicago, had I kept the original appointment. I don’t know why he might have wanted me dead, or even if he did. Nor do I know for certain he’s dead. I mean, all I’ve got to go on is Lou’s word. Maybe Lou killed Doc Howard to throw me off the scent. Maybe Lou is Darwin! Or maybe Doc Howard really is Darwin, and he and Lou faked his death. If he’s alive, he might still want to kill me.
I’ll want proof Doc Howard was Darwin, and I’ll want proof of his death. If it turns out Darwin’s alive, I’ll find and kill him, because I don’t like the way he’s forced me to live. I’m wealthy. I don’t need to work for the government. With Darwin out of the picture I can concentrate on living a simpler life. There’s a chip in my head that’ll require extensive surgery to remove, thanks to him. If Doc was Darwin he personally planted the chip in my brain. Worse, he got me to pay him a hundred million dollars to disable it!
Genius.
That’s what Darwin is.
A genius.
Kimberly can deny it all she wants, but there’s no doubt in my mind that Darwin’s behind her transformation from school girl to killer, assuming she’s actually done what she claims.
“How many people have you killed?” I ask.
“Eight or nine, something like that.”
“In killing, eight or nine is a big difference.”
“You think?”
“For a twenty-year-old girl? Yes.”
“Fine. Let me count.”
She does. Out loud. When she gets to number three, Professor Jonah Toth, I know she’s telling the truth. Because he’s the guy who used to follow Kimberly until about a year ago. Lou and I knew him as Jimmy T.
“Where did you kill Toth?”
“Viceroy College, Charleston, South Carolina. Men’s room. Shall I keep counting?”
“By all means.”
She continues to count. Along the way I ask a few questions. She tells me how she handled the Mayor and his aides, and their hookers, and another woman, and I remember I’d read something about the incident, and how these people had been murdered in a beach house.
Kimberly stops at nine.
“The man who befriended you gave you these assignments?”
“Yes.”
“Do you still work for him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I came to the conclusion this morning that if I’m going to continue killing people—and I am—I’m going to work alongside my father.”
“Why’s that?”
“Face it, you’re not getting any younger. And I hardly ever get to see you.”
“Can you still contact this man?”
“No. I’m moving forward. I do plan to continue seeing my boyfriend, though.”
“The post-Rapture pet salesman?” I say.
“Yes.”
“It’s a scam, Kimberly.”
“My code name is Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe Taylor.”
I start to say something, but I’m sidetracked. “I like it,” I say. “That’s a great name!”
“Really?”
“Really. Where was I?”
“The boyfriend.”
“Right. Your boyfriend’s a con artist.”
“True. And I’m an assassin. Which of us is worse?”
“Him.”
We both laugh.
“So I can work with you?” she says.
“No.”
Her face falls.
“But you can work for me,” I say.
She breaks into a grin. “Really?”
“Really. But…”
“But what?”
“Let’s not tell Mom, okay?”
THE END
About the Author
The New York Times best-selling author John Locke is the 8th author in history to sell more than 1 million eBooks. He is the international best-selling author of seven Donovan Creed novels, all of which have made the Amazon/Kindle Top 20 Best Seller's List! Saving Rachel held the #1 spot for more than three weeks and remains one of the all-time best selling eBooks in history! Locke has had four books in the Top 10 at the same time, and six in the Top 20! His first Emmett Love western held the #1 spot until it was displaced by the sequel! John lives in Kentucky, where he is working on his third Emmett Love western, Emmett & Gentry.
John Locke has sold more than 1,200,000 eBooks by word of mouth!
John Locke
The New York Times Best Selling Author
#1 Best Selling Author on Amazon Kindle
Donovan Creed Series:
Lethal People
Lethal Experiment
Saving Rachel
Now & Then
Wish List
A Girl Like You
Vegas Moon
Emmett Love Series:
Follow the Stone
Don’t Poke the Bear
And:
How I Sold 1 Million eBooks in 5 Months!
The New York Times Best Selling Author
John Locke ha
s sold
more than 1,200,000 eBooks
…by word of mouth!
Thank you!
To learn more about John Locke,
visit his website:
http://www.DonovanCreed.com
If you’re a major Donovan Creed fan, and want to know what OOU means, go to this link and ask someone on the discussion thread: http://tinyurl.com/4mlbwzg