Angels Mark (The Serena Wilcox Mysteries Dystopian Thriller Trilogy)

by Natalie Buske Thomas

  Clyde cleared the plates and loaded the dishwasher. He let the information settle, knowing that Paul would accept the situation and would move on if given enough time to digest it, process it. He was Clyde, the big protective brother. He only did what needed to be done. If Paul didn’t see that now, he would come around to it eventually, of that Clyde was certain.

  “Mrs. Mason?” Paul croaked. He tried to don his poker face, but he couldn’t con a con, especially the better of the two of them.

  “Don’t look so shocked, Paul. The old bat had it coming. She did it to herself. No one messes with my brother.”

  “Is she the only one?” Please, please let her be the only one, thought Paul.

  Clyde smiled gently, placating a child. “If that’s what you need to hear, we’ll leave it at that. Let’s move on. We have a serious situation on our hands.”

  Paul’s self-preservation instincts kicked in and this time he was successful at putting on his best poker face. Never show your true feelings to a sociopath, especially if he is also your brother. As Paul’s life was crashing down on him, he still felt that Clyde was his best, and only, option. “What do we do?”

  “Well, we don’t kill her.”

  “We don’t?” Paul was careful not to let relief creep into his voice.

  “No, we let him do it.”

  “Him?”

  “John Williams. We’ll bring the girl to the President himself.”

  “What? Why would we do this? Wouldn’t he have us all killed? And how would we even get close enough to him? I only got close because he nabbed me. And before that, they must have let me get close, because they knew who I was, and they were following me. They won’t let me near them if they don’t want me there.”

  “We go through his nephew. We get the nephew, then he’ll want to see us. He gets the nephew and the girl. Lets us go. That’s the deal. We won’t kill her, that’s what they want us to do.”

  “Yes, I know that’s what they want. I don’t get what you are saying. Even if we manage to get both of them, and get them to the President, and go as far as making the deal, wouldn’t they kill us after they got what they wanted?”

  “Paul, they want to frame you for the murder. They get rid of both of you that way. They’ll kill you, you know. But if you refuse to kill her, and they have to go another way, you have leverage.”

  “They’ll just kill me anyway, remember? If not on the spot, they’ll get me for the blackmail attempt and kill me in prison.”

  “No, they won’t. You will have too much information on them, with the proof uploaded to our computer lab. Our kid hackers are very good, Paul. They can get them at their own game. They’ll have everything recorded in the cloud, so to speak, including the e-mail they sent you – you still have it right? Why did they get sloppy about that, did they think we wouldn’t forward it, save it, copy it?”

  “I don’t know, maybe they made a mistake. The nephew is cocky. He might be going off the rule book.”

  “They won’t be able to get their fingers on all the recordings, they’ll be digitally floating everywhere and anywhere, all timed to be released should something happen to you.”

  “Recordings? All I have is the e-mail.”

  “I’m talking about what we will have, what the kids will get for us. They’ll love this project. I’ll tell them they’ll get college credit for it.”

  “So they get the girl, we get left alone. Why should we give them the girl at all? I don’t like getting a woman killed, a mother with three kids.”

  “It’s the fastest way out of this. They want you because of her. Sever that connection.”

  “Then we leave the country?”

  “They can find us anywhere, even in the remotest of African villages. But it’s unnecessary to hide. What will keep us safe is our insurance policy. We blackmail them, we stay safe.”

  “Blackmail didn’t work out so well for me, remember?”

  “That’s because you didn’t have me running the show. Don’t worry, little brother, I’ve got your back. This will work. I’ll talk to my pimply faced hackers and get them on it. They’ll have you all suited up to record everything.”

  “What if they check for bugs?”

  Clyde winked. “You haven’t met Nicholas, my best – he’s the new kid. That boy is a magician. He’ll put a bug in play that not even you will know is there.”

  “They’ll scan.”

  “Not an issue. He has a remote controlled bug; that looks like an actual bug. He can fly it remotely, very remotely. He programs the thing and it can transmit from wherever it is, from long range too. We can bring it with us; release it before meeting their people. It’s so small it’s nearly invisible to the naked eye, and it’s fast.”

  “I don’t know, it’s the President’s security detail, they probably have ways.”

  “The bug is fast, it’ll zip right by them. You’ll see, it will work.” Clyde rubbed his hands together gleefully. At heart, he was a computer nerd too, but he was born too late to take to computers as naturally as the younger generation. He lived vicariously through his dream team of young geniuses.

  Paul shook his head in amazement. “Where did you get these kids anyway? How do you get them to do what you want? They aren’t on payroll.”

  “Funny how building a state of the art lab can reel them in. Free lab time is enough, and I do pay them a little something out of my pocket. If I bring in pizza, they’re happy to stay all night long.”

  “I never knew how you got them there. I never knew a lot of things,” said Paul.

  “You aren’t still hung up on old Mrs. Mason, are you? I only do what’s necessary. You trust me, don’t you Paulie?”

  “Yes, I trust you Clyde.”

  “Then we’ll get the kids to set us up with everything we need, and find the nephew and the girl for us. I’ll get the nephew. You get Serena-whatsherface. I’m sure you can talk her into coming to our place. She knows you.”

  11

  Serena belted herself into the passenger’s seat. “Where are we going?”

  “I was hoping you’d tell me,” said Tom.

  “We can’t go home if Bryce, or Otto – let’s call him Bryce – knows where we live.”

  “He seems able to find us anywhere. Let’s go home. We can secure the house.”

  “What do you mean by ‘secure the house’?”

  “What do you think I use to shoot at coyotes and raccoons?”

  “You wouldn’t really shoot Bryce, would you?”

  “Sure I would, if it’s him or you.”

  “You’re going to walk around all the time holding a gun?”

  “I can booby-trap the house.”

  “How?”

  “I can do it.”

  “Home does sound good. Our own bed, our coffee, our food.”

  “I want to go home,” chimed in all three kids from the back. Ipod and tablet earbuds were temporarily removed. Unplugging happened when their parents said something they wanted to hear.

  Home was agreed upon and they drove the six hours back from Deer River, making a stop at the McDonald’s in Cannon Falls. After a trip to the restrooms, the Meadows family wandered back to the parking lot, carrying drinks and bags of food. They stopped short when approached by a familiar figure.

  “Hey, Meadows-es!” Paul rang out cheerfully. “Long time no see. Haven’t seen you around seminar lately.” He didn’t wait for a reply, but clapped his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “How’s the place in Goodhue working out?”

  “It was great, until people found us,” said Tom.

  Paul didn’t need to feign surprise, because he was surprised to hear that they were already aware of discovery. Who was after them? Was Paul their second choice? Or had Bryce laid down the foundation for Paul to close the deal on? It was infuriating to be out of the loop. However, he bounced back quickly, and feeling a grin not unlike the Grinch’s spreading over his face, he came up with a plan. It was too, too easy. “Wow, we can’t have yo
u in a dangerous situation. Follow me back to my place. We can talk there and figure out a plan to relocate you.” Whatever possessed him to strike up a spontaneous conversation in a “chance meeting” location had produced brilliant results. This was most unexpected, especially since he hadn’t really thought this through ahead of time. He hadn’t worked up how to get Serena. He’d simply gotten lucky.

  “Oh, that would be perfect,” said Serena. “Thank you.”

  As Paul headed back to his own vehicle he reflected on his good fortune and dug into his pocket for his phone. He had only one number programmed, Clyde’s. He dialed it now. Clyde picked up after the first bar of the “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” ringtone he’d assigned to Paul’s number.

  “You rang?”

  “I got them. The Meadows family will be at our place in about fifteen minutes.”

  “The whole clan, not just the girl?”

  “Serena.”

  “Doesn’t matter, I’ll deal with the collateral damage.”

  “Collateral damage? What?”

  “Put them in the kitchen, give them some coffee, milk for the kids. There’s a bag of chips in the pantry. Keep them happy and talking. Stall. I’m thirty miles out.”

  “Did you get your job done?”

  “Where do you think I’ve been?”

  “So you’ve got Bryce with you?”

  “He’s in the trunk.”

  “In the trunk!”

  “He’s not dead, you moron! I shoved him in there to put the fear of God in him.”

  “I don’t think you know anything about God.”

  “And you do?”

  “You threw me with the trunk thing. Sorry.”

  “He’s cramped in there, not much air to breathe. He’ll be humble by the time I get him home. Humble and ready to chat.”

  “I should have known that you knew what you were doing, sorry I doubted you,” Paul said, his voice dripping with contrition. Hold on, Paul, don’t let him know you’re unnerved, he scolded himself.

  “Apology accepted. See you in a few minutes. Show time!” Clyde tossed his phone onto the empty passenger’s seat beside him, forgetting to disconnect the call.

  Paul began to disconnect from his end, but hesitated when he heard noise. He forgot to end the call. Paul could hear clicking sounds and then dialogue:

  An unknown female voice: “Why didn't you write me? Why? It wasn't over for me, I waited for you for seven years. But now it's too late.”

  An unknown male voice, with Clyde’s voice saying the same words along with him: “I wrote you 365 letters. I wrote you every day for a year.”

  The same female voice again: “You wrote me?”

  Male, again with Clyde: “Yes... it wasn't over, it still isn't over.”

  What IS this? I recognize this. Paul scratched his brain trying to come up with it. I’ve got it! This is from “The Notebook”. My deranged brother is playing audio tracks from “The Notebook” and is quoting it from memory as it plays. Paul disconnected the call before he could hear any more.

  The Meadows following behind Paul noticed that he was on the phone. “I wonder who he’s talking to, maybe he’s setting something new up for us already,” said Serena.

  “Maybe. Good thing we ran into him, huh?”

  “That was strange though, don’t you think? We’ve never run into him randomly before. What are the odds of a chance meeting, really?”

  “Providence?”

  “Or?”

  “Not? You think he was following us? Why would he do that? Are you sure you aren’t paranoid?”

  “I don’t know, seems like a big coincidence to me. We know for sure that Bryce was following us, and then Paul just happens to show up where we are. What if they are working together?”

  “It would explain why our safe house isn’t safe.”

  “I think we should assume we can’t trust anybody at this point.”

  “Better safe than sorry?”

  “So what do we do?”

  Tom slowed down, letting a car slip between him and Paul. “I don’t know.”

  “There’s not much traffic on these roads, it’s not like you can get lost in the crowd. You won’t even have another traffic light between here and there.”

  “I have a gun with me.”

  “You what?”

  “I was in the Army, I’m not Barney Fife.”

  “So it’s loaded then?”

  “That’s how it works.”

  “What if the kids had gotten it out?”

  “Our kids wouldn’t touch a gun.”

  “We wouldn’t,” came from the backseat.

  “Don’t ever, ever touch a gun,” said Serena, turning around in her seat to address the kids. “Maybe we should have them stay in the car.”

  “Good idea. You guys stay in the car.”

  “One problem, how are you going to bring that in there? It’s a hunting rifle, not like you can hide it.”

  “Not the rifle. I bought a handgun.” He lifted up his shirt to expose the handle.

  Serena’s jaw dropped and she gasped in a dramatic how-dare-you exclamation. “A handgun!”

  “We’re here. Kids, stay in the car. Serena, stay in the car.” Tom stopped the vehicle and quickly stepped out.

  “No, I’m going in too. Kids, stay in the car. Don’t open the door for anybody but us.” Serena got out of the car and followed her husband onto the front walk where Paul was standing, waiting.

  “The kids are welcome to come in, too,” said Paul, smiling like a good host.

  “They’re doing their own thing, they’ll be fine while we talk,” Serena said, while walking toward the front door. Both she and Tom looked expectantly at Paul to open the door.

  Paul looked back at their vehicle and could see the kids’ heads bent over books and handheld gadgets. Satisfied that there was no reason to bring the kids into this, and hoping that Clyde would see it the same way, he let Serena and Tom into the house. He ushered the pair into the kitchen and offered them coffee.

  “No thank you,” said Serena. Even though coffee did sound good, she didn’t want anything from this man.

  “I’ll take a cup,” said Tom.

  Serena glared at him. Tom met that glare and raised one eyebrow that said, “Why not?”

  Paul studied the coffee maker, not sure how to proceed. Clyde always made the coffee. This wasn’t rocket science, he told himself. He found the filter basket, put a fresh filter in, and took a guess on how much coffee to put in. He filled the back with water and turned the switch. That was easy, why did I wait for Clyde all those times I wanted coffee?

  As the coffee machine gargled and spit its brew Paul gathered up the sugar bowl and two mugs. He set them on the table, glancing briefly at his captives. He considered himself to be pretty good at reading people, and these two were completely clueless. He would have no problem keeping them here until Clyde returned.

  Serena studied Paul as he bustled about the kitchen. She considered herself to be pretty good at reading people, and she could tell that he was definitely involved. What his involvement was, she didn’t know, but he was not to be trusted. She made eye contact with Tom, using their been-married-for-a-long-time silent language to say, “You might need that gun.” Then she made the most of Paul having his back turned to them by examining everything around her.

  She noticed a roster of Off Grid Ghost members. If Paul left the room she planned to snoop through it. Maybe Bryce, or Otto, was in the roster. Of course, someone going by two different names could easily invent a third name. The roster was probably useless. She looked around the room for another clue. Something, anything, to give her an idea of what Paul was up to.

  She wondered whose taste was reflected in the kitchen. A collection of country roosters including a rooster salt and pepper shaker, a rooster cookie jar, and a rooster planter? Really? Whose kitchen was this? Did Paul have a significant other? She didn’t think so. Her eyes rested on the framed photos on the wall.
Ah-ha! Pictures of three little boys, all in plaid suits too large for them. Family picture taken later, with two of the boys, now older, one whose face was clearly Paul’s. So this was his parents’ house. Finding nothing else of interest in the kitchen, Serena asked where the bathroom was.

  Paul, suspecting her motives not at all, directed her down the hall and to the right. Serena went promptly down the hall and to the left, where the door to the office was open. A netbook was on a small table with the lid open. Serena looked over her shoulder – she couldn’t see the kitchen from where she was. She ventured in. What she saw on the screen caused her to temporarily stop breathing:

  >>My Karyn,

  I write you heavy heart. You must know for it is my hope you can go safe.

  Iran make fools of everyone. For years they lie about nuclear missiles. Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty is nothing, they spit upon it as easily as they spit on you, dear Karyn.

  They threaten who wants make peace with Israel. Pro-West Arab Saudi Arabia and Egypt see Iran success nuclear, but have no fight. Iran pressure Lebanon, Syria, the Palestinians, and the Iraqis. Many thousands, hundred thousands, join radical Islamist. "Death to America!" on Iranian street for too many year. No one stop Iran. Now they make nuclear weapons in short period. They make stockpiles uranium for nuclear device in few months—make nuclear weapons in short period. They make centrifuges to pipe work. They learn technology when they talk to UN, many lies. Now they can do bomb. They will do this. It will be soon. I hear it from husband. You trust me to know truth. I tell you day and time. I tell you where missiles strike. You go safe.

  Your Farideh>>

  12

  President Ann Kinji didn’t feel presidential at the moment. She hadn’t felt presidential since she’d seen the picture of her best friend and husband with a little girl who was most certainly his daughter. She had been wrestling with indecision about how to respond for three sleepless days and nights. Between the anxiety and the sleep deprivation, her briefings with staff, ambassadors, governors, military heads, and the UN were impossible: her mind was drifting away, consumed with thoughts of a child she didn’t know about, a child she wished was her own, but nonetheless was living proof that her marriage was over, and apparently had been for years.