“So why come to me? Why not go to one of the girls? If anyone can help Ellery it would be one of them.”
“I would if I could. But I don’t know where they are either, and I have no way of contacting them. I’ve only dealt directly with Ellery, on his insistence.”
“Does Piranha know where they are?”
“I’m sure he wishes he did. It’s doubtful he even knows what they look like. They are very clever and have been slyly providing him with so much disinformation and false pictures over the years that he probably no longer takes any such information too seriously. You can bet that Mongoose will get as much on them from your sister as he can.”
“Doreen wouldn’t tell him anything.”
“She’ll tell him things she won’t think are relevant or betraying, and not even know she’s doing it. And that’s all the Organization will need to nail them.”
“He’s that good?”
Hennes nodded. “It’s part of his training.”
“What are we going to do? We’re no match for these people. Damn…I wish Max were here. He’d know what to do.”
“Max?”
“Yeah, Max Stormer.”
Phantoms of the Operatives
Hennes didn’t recognize the name and shook his head.
“Aidos?” I said.
He shook his head again. “Who are they? Could they help us?”
“Maybe, if I knew how to find them. But they’re even more elusive than Ellery and the girls. You don’t know of them?”
“Well, if they are that secretive, then I guess I wouldn’t. They work for Ellery? A lot of remarkable people do.”
“Sometimes, but—” I laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” I said, grinning at how silly it would sound to Hennes, or anyone for that matter, if I tried to describe the two oddballs.
Hennes smiled with me. “I could use a laugh.”
“It’s not funny. It’s just that, well, they don’t fit into any category, really. They work for Ellery on occasion, but mostly they work…on themselves.” I chuckled again at how dumb it sounded.
Hennes didn’t laugh. “But you think they could help us? If we could find them, I mean.”
“I think so, but we’d have better luck finding where a breeze begins, a snowflake in the sea, the coordinates of the next rainbow… Get it?”
“No. What’s their specialty?”
“Specialty? They’re not like the greenhouse girls, if that’s what you mean. Oh sure, they can do a lot of stuff, but they’re…I don’t know…unique.”
“How so?”
“It doesn’t matter, Hennes. We’ll never find them.”
“Max Stormer, you say? The name rings a chime—”
“Bell,” I corrected. “Rings a bell.”
“Huh? … Oh. Why does it sound so familiar? … Wait, not that high school kid of a few years back?”
“You heard about him all the way over in Sweden?”
“CNN. He and the girl—what’s her name again?”
“Aidos.”
“Right, they were like pop idols for a time. And those ridiculous pinebombs. They still go off now and again, I read. But he’s dead, I thought.”
“Dual suicide, that’s right.”
“So they’re alive?”
“In all senses of the word.”
“Huh?”
“Forget them, Hennes. Let’s concentrate on Fielding and Doreen. What do I do when she gets back? What do I tell her?”
“You know…” He did the smiling this time. “There’s been a story circulating in certain channels about two phantom operatives that carry out missions that seem to have no relationship with each other, completely random. It’s rumored that they work for some billionaire recluse or maybe a top-secret branch of some intelligence agency.”
“Well that ain’t them, I guarantee it.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
“But they are young, right? So are these two.”
“It’s silly, Hennes. If you met them you’d think they were closer to ascetic monks than spies.”
“It’s also rumored that they possess certain…gifts.”
“Gifts?”
“Did you notice anything out of the normal about them?”
“Only that they were probably the two most normal people I’ve ever met.”
Hennes cocked his head, confused by the irony, and asked, “If they don’t work for Ellery, what’s their connection to him then?”
“Ellery helped save Max’s life. Max feels he owes him a favor or two. Really, Hennes, those two pose no threat to anyone.”
“Not yet, anyway.”
“Huh?”
“Think about it,” he said. “Let’s say for a moment that they do possess certain gifts. There would be a number of persons, groups, or nations that would love to learn their secrets, to have them on their side. And there would be others who would want to see to it that such gifts don’t fall into the wrong hands.”
“Yeah…I guess. But what you don’t understand is that even if they were gifted, as you say, they would never use their gifts to do anything evil. They have too much integrity.”
“Integrity is just an ideology, an educated emotion. It can be snapped in half like a matchstick. There are those whose scientific specialty is the reformatting of a person’s integrity.”
“I believe you, but not Aidos and Max. Take away their integrity and you’ll take away their powers.”
“It sounds like you got to know them pretty well in the short time you spent with them.”
“Not nearly as well as I’d have liked,” I said.
“I imagine Doreen feels the same as you.”
“She had a thing for Max.”
“A thing?”
“She fell for him in a big way.”
“He’s got, what do you say…charisma, does he?”
“I suppose,” I answered. “It’s hard not to like the guy. Aidos is the same.”
“Which one is the leader?”
“There’s no leader and no follower,” I said impatiently. I was worried about Doreen and this conversation wasn’t going to do her or me any good.
“I’m sorry,” Hennes said. “Pardon an old man’s youthful fancies. You see, such things have interested me ever since I was a boy. The possibility that these two young ones might possess anything remotely psychic is intriguing. Much in the same way that I’ll still read any new story on the Loch Ness monster, Big Foot, or a new UFO sighting, even though I know they are pure fiction. I’m sorry, Guy. I was being insensitive.”
“Forget it.”
“All right, then. Let’s deal with the problem at hand. You understand that my presence here must be kept a secret for now. So it’s up to you to find out what Doreen was given and what she’s told Mongoose. Don’t let on that you know anything about him. Obviously, she’d wonder where you got your information.”
“I understand. But what if she hasn’t got anything? No key, no nothing? What do we do then?”
“Oh, I’m sure she has it.”
“But if she doesn’t?” I said.
“One always needs a backup plan.”
“Do I dare ask what that might be?”
Hennes chuckled. “One worry at a time, Guy.” He slapped his thighs and stood up. “I had better go. I don’t want to be here when your sister returns.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a pad and pen. He scribbled a number and handed it to me. “Call me as soon as you know anything. And here…” He dipped his hand into a pocket of his jacket and then handed me a cell phone. “Use this. It’s secure. Your phone may be tapped.”
“Oh, great. I’m sure my dad will appreciate that.”
“And keep it with you at all times, in case I need to reach you, okay?” I nodded and walked him to the door. He turned to me. “Everything’s going to be okay, Guy. You can do it.”
“Sure it will,” I said, dubious.
He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me and patted me on the back. Then he held me at arms length, his hands on my shoulders. “I’m sure your father would be proud of you if he knew what you’ve been through and done.”
“Yeah? Which father?”
“Right,” he said, popping himself on the forehead, embarrassed. “Sorry.” He rubbed the top of my head and patted me once more on the shoulders. “Suspend in there. Soon it will all be over.”
“Hang,” I said. “Hang in there.”
“Right…thanks.”
Hennes turned and I watched him walk to his car, popping his forehead and mumbling, “Hang. Hang in there…”
I chuckled and went back into the kitchen and sat down. I examined the cell phone. I had never seen one like it. It was small, slim, and very cool. Who could I call on it? I wondered. Sadly, I realized there wasn’t a single person I could call. I didn’t know anyone. Even those I thought I knew—my entire family!—I didn’t know. I wished that Hennes hadn’t told me the truth. Would I ever be able to look at my family the same way again?
Well, Guy, I thought to myself, it looks like you’re back in the club, and in a big way. Hell, man, you were born into it! And this time around, get the secret handshake.
Everything Excellent
I decided that I had better things to do than mope around the house waiting for Doreen to come home. I finished digging the garden and then I mowed the front lawn. As I worked I replayed my conversation with Hennes in my mind, wondering, often in loud curses and groans, at how crazy my life had become. Finally, I decided I needed to get away.
I rode my bike to Piestewa Peak Mountain Park, and with curses and groans yet to burn, decided to hike up the rocky mountainside for the second time that day. I arrived at the top just in time to catch the sunset. The thermometer still measured over a hundred degrees so the usual throng of hikers wasn’t there, just the half-dozen foolish regulars who didn’t have sense enough to stay out of the heat.
Back in January, when I was doing my Superguy thing, I usually took a position on a rock a comfortable distance away and acknowledged my fellow lunatics with a shy wave. But I felt more gregarious now, more cavalier in my social interactions. Maybe run-ins with trained killers and spies, and getting chased and shot at in Thai jungles emboldens one a little. Now, like at Chai’s House in Bangkok, I wondered what brought these people up here.
I walked over to a woman leaning against a big rock taking in the sunset. She had purple-streaked hair and a nose ring, and wore black elastic biking shorts and a black sleeveless T-shirt.
“What brings you here?” I asked genially.
She looked up at me and scowled. “Duh,” she said. She shook her head and returned to her meditations.
“Right,” I said. “Carry on.”
I walked next to a man sitting cross-legged on the ground, also taking in the sunset. He was around thirty, with wire-rimmed glasses, a bushy blonde mustache, and wore skimpy white tennis shorts and a red tennis shirt.
“What brings you here?” I asked.
He looked me up and down, and turning back to his sun gazing said, “My boyfriend left me last night for another man. Do you want to hear about it?”
“No, not really.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“Very well, then. Carry on.”
I was on my way over to my next interview when someone said, “Hey, aren’t you going to ask me?”
It was the old guy with the tree. He sat on the same rock as before, bare-chested, and wearing only khaki shorts and his sweat-stained Apple Computer ‘Think Different’ cap. He had added a second little tree, just as he said he would back in January. I saw him on the hiking trail on my way up lugging his canteens of water for his trees. The ground around the trees was wet. I walked over to him.
“Okay,” I said, smiling. “What brings you here?”
He gestured to his trees. “Thought the little fellas might be thirsty. It’s a hot one today.”
“I see. Well, carry on.” I turned to leave.
“Hey,” he said.
“Yeah?”
He resituated his cap on his bushy, white-haired head. “You’ve been coming up here a lot lately. It’s always good to see a familiar face.”
“I guess it is, thanks.”
“But you stopped coming for a while. How come?”
“I don’t really live here. I go to school in Tucson, so…”
“I see.” He gestured towards his precious pine trees. “’Cuz I’m here every day, I can’t really tell if my tree has grown much. Can you?”
I tossed the tree a measuring eye. “You know, I think it has.”
“Really?” Pride swelled his white, curly-haired chest, and a beaming smile rocketed from his face.
“Yeah,” I said. “A good six or eight inches, I’d say. Congratulations.”
“I’m thinking of planting a third tree, right there.” He pointed to a spot ten yards away from the first. “What do you think?”
“Well, that would mean lugging up a lot more water. Kind of heavy don’t you think?”
“Any project worth starting will always require double the anticipated effort,” he stated. “So it goes.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “And why is that, do you think?”
He yanked at his cap again and scratched his chest. “Dunno, but everything excellent is as difficult as it is rare.”
“Spinoza,” I said.
The old man smiled in surprise. “You know Spinoza?”
“A little, yeah.”
“Hallelujah!” He laughed and slapped his knees. “How old are you, young man?”
“Twenty.”
“Well, well, there’s hope for the world yet.”
I chuckled. “Because I know who Spinoza is?”
“Sure. Whoever picks up Spinoza will put him down a better man than he was before. Sometimes that’s all it takes to keep the wheels of goodness and enlightenment greased.”
Funny old man, I thought.
“Very well, then,” he said, shooing me away with a flick of his wrist. “Carry on.” He winked at me and turned his attention back to the setting sun.
I took one step and then my phone rang. It rang four times before I got it out of my fanny pack and figured out how to answer it. “Hello?”
“Guy, where are you? Doreen’s back.”
“I went for a bike ride.”
“Well, maybe you ought to hurry home. Who knows if she’s going out again, and time really is important here.”
“Okay, I’m on my way.”
I hung up and noticed that everyone on the mountain was eying me with disdain, as if I had taken the call during a church service.
“Sorry, okay? Jeez…”
The old man said, “That’s one fancy-shmancy phone you’ve got there. Can I have a look-see?”
“I’m really in a hurry.”
“Just a quick look.”
I handed him the phone. He weighed it in his hand and nodded approvingly. He opened the back and examined it’s innards, and nodded again in appreciation of its technology. The old man snapped shut the back panel, stood, and chucked my phone down the mountain and out of sight. The others applauded and whistled their approval.
I looked at him, aghast. “What the hell did you do that for?” I cried.
He smiled, very pleased with himself, and sat back down.
“You crazy old goat, that wasn’t even my phone! Shit! You have no idea what you’ve done!” I turned to the others, expecting at least one of the fruitcakes to share my dismay. I saw nose-ring lady snickering. “You think it’s funny?” I said.
“Now I do,” she said. “Last month the old geezer did the same thing with my iPod.”
I threw my hands up in frustration and ran over to the edge of the mountain. I saw nothing but rock, desert brush, cactus, and the gathering darkness. There was no way I’d find it now.
I ran back to the old coot to give him a piece of my
mind, or maybe to just rip his damn twigs out of the ground and toss them over the side to see how he liked it. Instead, I just stomped the ground in frustration, squawked a long string of expletives, and started back down the mountain.
“Very well, then,” he called out after me. “Carry on!” A chorus of laughter followed me down.
“Very funny. Very funny!” I was sure that Hennes was not going to find it so amusing.
Traitor
I raced home and found Doreen in the kitchen hovering over a sink full of suds and scouring two days worth of pots and pans. We had an automatic dishwasher, but Doreen preferred to wash by hand, one of the many leftover habits she had acquired from her Zeeva days.
“I was going to do those,” I greeted.
“I know, but I don’t mind. I like washing dishes. I find it meditative.”
“I’ll remind you of that when we’re bunkies back in Tucson. You’re home early.”
“Is that your way of saying you didn’t expect me home at all?” She smiled. She wasn’t mad. She just wanted me to know that I had been wrong about her and Jim Fielding. Just how wrong she’d never have guessed.
I grabbed a towel and started drying the washed dishes, putting them away as I went. “Sorry about any mean stuff I might have said. You know me…”
Doreen scooped up some suds with her finger and dabbed my nose with them.
“So,” I said, “can I ask how it went with Jim? How is the little mongoose?”
“Good. We talked. We ate. We talked some more. It was fun.”
“Yeah? What did you talk about? Or am I being too nosy?”
“Come on, Guy. You know I tell you everything—as long as you don’t go all dickhead on me.”
“Message received. So…?”
“Well, we talked about lots of stuff.”
“Let me help you,” I said. “Did you talk about his Augustinian transformation from creep to saint?”
“You’re pushing it, fella.”
“Creep was your word, may I humbly remind you.”
“Okay, okay. A little. It’s really a very sad story and when I tell you you’ll be as surprised as I was. You know Craig Wilkinson, right?”
“Sure…”
“He’s dead. He hung himself in his kitchen about three months ago.”
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