Edgewood Series: Books 1 - 3

by Karen McQuestion

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Adams,” she said, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Sam Specter isn’t like the rest of us. He was born for greatness. He’s going to change the world.”

  “I kind of like the world the way it is.”

  “That’s because you lack vision,” she said, sniffing. “I’ve been lucky enough to hear Sam’s plans, and believe me, they are inspiring.”

  “I’ve heard them too,” Kevin said, clearly not impressed.

  “Sam says the reason most governments can’t get anything done is that there are too many people muddying the waters. Ruling by committee never works. The laws that finally do get passed are diluted, the rules get bent, and there are too many changes implemented to make any kind of difference. Ultimately no one benefits from all the wishy-washiness. Having one all-powerful leader would be ideal, except that citizens resent not having a say in things. But what if,” she said, and here her eyes gleamed with excitement, “you could have a government with the appearance of a democracy, but which has just a few people making all the decisions behind the scenes? Wouldn’t that be better for everyone concerned?”

  “I’ve heard all this,” Kevin said abruptly. “I know the plan and in theory it sounds great. I even used to agree with Sam. Seriously, I used to sit in his basement drinking beer and listening to all the crap you’re spouting now and I totally thought he was on to something. Yeah, I’ll admit it made sense to me. Why not seize control? Why not take power? The government’s pretty messed up and Sam’s a damn genius with a gazillion ideas for making things better. So a few people have to die.” He blew a raspberry. “Tough blow, but ultimately the entire world will come out ahead. Sam called those deaths collateral damage. People die. Too bad, so sad. Move on and prosper, just like he said.”

  “So what’s your problem, then?” She leaned back, crossing her arms.

  Kevin poked a finger on the table top. “My problem is that Sam never said the plan included joining up with the Associates. We both know those people are ruthless, power mongers lacking in human decency.”

  “And the Praetorian Guard are all angels? Please, Kevin.” Mrs. Whitehouse exhaled loudly. “The good guys and bad guys concept is completely outdated. Everyone is corrupt. At least the Associates get things done.”

  “Yeah, by murdering people.”

  She let out a cynical chuckle. “People die. That’s a fact of life. Most of the time there’s not even a good reason. At least this time there’s a benefit that comes out of it.”

  “But see here, that’s the problem,” Kevin said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I know these kids and I don’t see a benefit to them getting murdered. Russ, Mallory, and Jameson—they aren’t just nothing. They have names and families and futures. I like them. I don’t want to see them die.”

  She sighed. “You always were a soft touch. Why you even wanted to come on this trip, I don’t know.”

  “I don’t know either. I guess I just couldn’t stay at home and let things happen without me.”

  “You know the kids have to die, don’t you? Sam saw the vision clearly. They’re the only thing standing in our way. Once they’re gone, the path is clear, that’s the way he saw it.”

  Kevin shook his head slowly, and then reached over and pushed the button. “I’m gonna be needing another beer.” His voice was defiant.

  The same man’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “You have approval for a beer?”

  Mrs. Whitehouse said, “It’s okay. You can bring him his beer.” She tilted her head and gave him a withering look. “You’re not holding up very well, are you, Kevin?” He said nothing so she continued. “If it makes you feel any better, you won’t see them die.” She lifted up the shade to look at her reflection in the window, then tucked her hair behind her ears. “I’ll be there. Luckily I’m not as squeamish as you are.”

  “You can really watch three kids die?” Kevin said. “And what about Rosie and Anton? They don’t have a clue what’s going on and they could wind up getting killed too. You don’t feel bad about that? That’s pretty cold, even for you.”

  “Rosie and Anton? Those two always felt they were better than me.”

  “No they didn’t.”

  She slapped her hand on the table. “Believe me they did, and they still do. Pompous fools, that’s what they are.”

  “So you’re okay with having someone you’ve known since high school getting killed? You don’t feel even a little bit guilty about that?”

  “Oh, I’m sure I’ll feel guilty about it afterward, but I’ve made my decision and I can live with it. And I can’t reverse it even if I wanted to. The die has been cast. Before those kids even got on the plane they were goners.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The inspirational stones I gave them at the airport?” She grinned. “Not so inspirational, as it turns out. Peace, love, and hope? Kaboom!”

  Kevin’s face turned ashen. “Oh, no.”

  “Oh yes,” Mrs. Whitehouse said gleefully. “They’re actually powerful explosives timed to detonate during the Bash. Since the stones will be in their pockets, they’ll be killed instantly. That means no pain, if it makes you feel any better,” she said, with a wave of her hand. “Yep, Sam has it all planned. About a third of the Secret Service at the Bash are Associate plants, so they’re on our side. The smoke that’s created will supply the diversion needed to allow us to kill the president. Getting rid of the daughter is just a little extra Sam dreamed up since she’s so well liked. The country will be so preoccupied by these events that the vice president will easily slide into power and make half a dozen major changes before they even know what hit them.” She slapped the table. “It’s gonna be a revolution.”

  Kevin said, “But why do the kids have to die? No one said anything about that to me.”

  “We kept you in the dark on purpose.” She gave him a mean smile. “Because Sam saw that you’d turn traitor. You haven’t been part of the equation for a very long time.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Russ

  When they told me Nadia wouldn’t arrive in time for the Bash, I felt sick. There was some story about a weather delay and her flight being cancelled, which supposedly left her stranded. The whole thing sounded ridiculous to me. Couldn’t someone go and get her?

  But no. Mitch said that the voice mail she left only gave her new flight information. They didn’t know where she would be spending the night, and when they called back, she didn’t pick up.

  “Can’t you track her phone and find her location?” I asked.

  “Someone’s been watching too many crime shows,” Will quipped with a grin. “It’s not that easy, Russ. Believe me, we’ve thought of everything.” He told me that Nadia would be arriving sometime after the Bash started. A PG contact would pick her up from the airport and rush her to the event where someone would be waiting with her evening dress and accessories. “It will be close. Hopefully her plane won’t be delayed or she’ll miss the whole thing.”

  And then in a condescending tone (which I totally hate), Mitch said, “Don’t worry about a thing, Russ. You’ll be able to see Nadia as soon as she gets here.”

  From their flippant attitudes, I don’t think they understood how valuable Nadia could be to the mission. Her sense of who was telling the truth was the ultimate bad guy filter. Just because she couldn’t shoot electricity out of her palms or make someone think they were in love with me didn’t make her talents any less important. A superpower doesn’t have to be flashy to make a difference.

  Will turned serious. “Don’t let the fact that Nadia’s not here be a distraction,” he said. “You’ll need to focus completely and you won’t be able to do that if you’re watching the door waiting for her to show up.”

  “I know,” I said, a little insulted. We’d covered this many times. I wasn’t a hyperactive kid that was going to let my attention wander. I knew this was important and I was going to give it my all.

  Afte
r a short briefing where they reminded us yet again how important this mission was, we were sent to our rooms to get ready for the evening. Each of us had an assistant who would be helping us get dressed in our formal attire. We already knew the sequence of events: a meet and greet with the president, followed by dancing and drinks in the ballroom and ending with Layla’s birthday cake being wheeled out and the guests singing “Happy Birthday.” If the evening ended with no security issues and the presidential family safe and sound, it would be considered a success.

  I tried to get rid of my sister, but she wasn’t having any of it. “I think I can manage on my own,” I said as she followed me back to my room.

  “If I can’t come to the Bash, I can at least help you get ready,” Carly said, not getting the hint. She hoisted herself up on my bed, like it was her room instead of mine. Once she’d adjusted the pillows as a backrest, she settled back, hugging her purse to her front. “Did I tell you that I get to watch the Bash on a monitor right outside the ballroom? Dr. Anton, Rosie, and I get to hang out in the control room with the security guys and see the whole thing. They promised me that if there’s any trouble they’ll get you out of there right away.”

  I got the tuxes out of my closet and started to lay them side by side on the end of the bed. They all looked remarkably similar. Different sizes, maybe? Hopefully when the assistant guy got here he’d know what I was supposed to wear. “You sound like you’re not so worried anymore,” I said.

  “Oh I’m still worried,” she said. “I just know it won’t help to talk about it. We’re both too far into this to go back now.”

  She was right. We’d reached the point of no return and that was a scary thought. If I was being completely honest, the possibility that I might die tonight was on my mind. I didn’t want to die. Not now, not ever. No one does, at least not usually, but it would be especially bad for me at this point since I hadn’t even started to live yet. If I died now I would die without ever having had sex, without ever having my own car or house or having traveled to all the places I wanted to see. I’d never know what my kids would have looked like and what kind of man I would have turned out to be. I wouldn’t know what I could have accomplished given more time. My story would end abruptly. It’s like reading a book that’s just starting to get interesting, turning the page and bam, there’s no more there. An abrupt, unsatisfying ending.

  Like anyone else, I had big dreams. Dying as a junior in high school wasn’t one of them. But if I did die, there was one thing I didn’t want left unsaid. “Carly?”

  She’d been rifling through her purse, looking for gum no doubt, but the urgency of my voice made her look up. “Yeah Russ?”

  “I haven’t been completely honest with you. There’s something I wanted to tell you before, but I just couldn’t. It’s about David.”

  Carly’s eyes narrowed and her gaze cut right into me. “Tell me now.”

  There was no way to say it but to just say it. “We found him in Peru.”

  “Alive?” Her voice quavered. I’d known Carly as long as I’d known myself and rarely had I seen through the cracks of her tough girl façade, but here it was—Carly about to burst into tears from the joy of finding out the love of her life was still alive.

  “Yeah, he’s alive. He’s been working for the Praetorian Guard doing scientific research. They’re making some amazing world-changing discoveries, he said.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “No, it’s true.”

  “You actually saw him and talked to him?”

  “Yes.”

  “That asshole!” She spit the words out. “All this time he let me think he was dead and he’s just fine?”

  “He wanted to tell you, he really did—”

  “Don’t you defend him, Russ.” Her eyes narrowed. “There’s no excuse for this. For years I’ve been grieving for him while he’s been off tra-la-la doing research? That’s so lame. Really lame. My life has been on hold while David Hofstetter gets to go on and do whatever the hell he wants to do? How nice for him. I suppose he’s got a wife and six kids too.”

  “No wife,” I said. “Only one kid.”

  Carly swung her legs over the side of the bed and hopped off. Without saying another word, she disappeared into my bathroom where I heard her blowing her nose. When she came out, she had a wad of tissues in her hand and makeup smudged around her eyes. “I don’t even know what to say,” she said, sitting down in the chair next to the bed. Her head drooped and she rested her chin on her hands. She’d gone from euphoric to angry to defeated in about three minutes.

  I rested my hand on her back. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. He made me promise. He said I’d put you in danger if you knew.”

  “Oh Russ, don’t you know you can tell me anything?” Carly lifted her chin and sorrowfully shook her head. She exhaled loudly, exasperation coming through. “So you’ve known for two months then.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I came close to telling you a few times.”

  “I knew you were lying about something.” She lowered her nose into the lump of tissue and blew hard.

  “I did lie to you. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, I wish you had told me right away, but after sixteen years of not knowing I guess that little bit of time wouldn’t have made that much of a difference.”

  Whew. At least she wasn’t mad at me. “I wanted to tell you.”

  “So you said.” She wadded the tissue into a ball. “So how does he look? Did he ask about me?”

  I tried to think. “He doesn’t look too much different. Just older, I guess. And he did ask about you. You were pretty much the whole topic of conversation.”

  “Like what did he say?”

  I was starting to regret telling her. This whole thing felt familiar. My mom had this habit of wanting a play-by-play description of things. If I came back from dinner at someone’s house, my mom wanted to know what they had and who cooked it and how many siblings were home and what the parents did for a living. Was their house nice? Bigger than ours? I had to tell the whole thing in order and she wanted details. My dad called it “the interrogation.” I noticed that Carly did the same thing to Frank. The women in my family wanted to hear every bit of our experiences away from them like they were going to recreate it with puppets for YouTube or something. “I know you want the details,” I said. “But can I give them to you after the Bash? I’m supposed to be getting ready.”

  Carly started to say something, but her words were interrupted by a knock on my door. I went over and opened it to find a young woman, carrying what looked like a plastic tool box. She was dressed like my sister in T-shirt and jeans, but over the tee she wore a jacket with a scarf looped loosely around her neck. Her sleek black hair was held back by a plaid headband. “I’m Tasha, your assistant,” she said, pushing past me and coming into the room.

  “You’re my assistant?” I said, taken aback.

  She smiled. “In a word—yes.”

  Carly got up and gave a little wave. “I’m Carly. The sister.” Tasha gave her a nod before setting her case on the bed and flipping it open. Just like a tackle box it had multiple tiered compartments, but instead of fishing lures it held what looked like cosmetics.

  “I thought I’d get a guy helper,” I said. “Since I’m going to be getting dressed and everything.”

  Tasha blew a loud puff of air through vibrating lips. “No need to be shy, sir. I’ve seen it all. Now strip down to your skivvies, so we can get started.”

  “Not with her here,” I said, pointing to Carly.

  “You give me news like you just did and then want me to leave?” Carly said.

  “Please?” I asked gesturing for her to go. “I promise we’ll talk after I’m dressed.”

  “I’ll go in the other room,” Carly said. “But that’s all. I still want to hear more about that thing we were talking about.” She pulled her purse over her shoulder and loped out out, clearly not in any hurry at all.

  I was
wrong about the tuxes. They were all the same size—my size. The difference, Tasha said, was in the cut and the designer. She stood back and sized me up, her fist resting against her mouth. “You have the perfect body for a tux,” she said finally. “Tall, trim build, broad shoulders, narrow waist. Perfect.” She went back to the bed and pulled at a hanger. “I’m thinking we’ll go with the Armani. It’s a classic. Timeless. Try it on, with—” she grabbed a white shirt, “this shirt. We’ll worry about everything else after we see the fit.”

  Despite her assurance that it would be fine for me to strip down in front of her, I decided to change in the bathroom. When I came out, Tasha clapped her hands in delight. “Just as I thought,” she said. “So handsome. Come see.” She took hold of my sleeve and pulled me over to the mirror.

  Whoa. Seeing my reflection, I saw myself as others would, and I had to admit, I liked how I looked in a tux. “Do I get to keep this?” I asked, turning to see myself from all sides.

  “Do you get to keep a thousand dollar tux?” She laughed. “Short answer: no.”

  “Can I look?” Carly yelled from the next room. Without waiting for a response, suddenly she was there, reminding me of Frank, who had the knack of showing up at inopportune times. “You clean up nice, Russ,” she said, nodding approvingly.

  After that, Tasha and Carly tag teamed me, supervising the putting on of socks and shoes, artfully inserting the cuff links, slicking my hair down with some kind of product, and painfully tweezing half a dozen of the eyebrow hairs they called strays. When they were done fussing over me, both women stood back to assess their work. “Magnificent,” Tasha said.

  “Not too shabby,” Carly agreed.

  Tasha put her supplies back in her case and snapped the lid shut. “Just hang the rest of the formal wear in the closet,” she said. “Someone will come by to pick them up.”

  “Will I see you again?” I asked.

  “In a word,” she said. “No.” Hesitating halfway through the doorway, she glanced at her watch. “We made good time. You have five minutes until you’re supposed to meet everyone down in the lobby. Have fun at the Bash.” And then the door clicked shut and she was gone.