Mr. And Miss Anonymous

by Fern Michaels

  Pete digested the information. “How’d you get all that so fast?”

  “You know better than to ask a reporter to divulge her sources. I told you I was good. Be careful, Mr. Peter Aaron Kelly.”

  “I will, Miss Tessie Dancer.”

  Pete snapped the cell phone shut and turned to look at Lily, who was still tugging at a toy with Winston. He repeated his conversation with Tessie.

  “What if there’s a guard posted at the bottom of the driveway? How would we get past him? Do you have a plan to deal with those rent-a-cops, assuming your intent is to go into the building?”

  “Actually, Lily, I don’t have a plan. I’ve always been pretty good at winging it in a crisis. I think this pretty much qualifies as a crisis.”

  Pete’s tone was so upbeat, Lily cringed. The man was beyond fearless. She crossed her fingers that some of Pete’s fearlessness would rub off on her. By then she was one raw nerve ending.

  Lily’s entire body started to twitch when she walked with Pete and Winston out to the parking lot. Zolly’s firepower consisted of six men who could have qualified as linebackers for the Raiders. She knew they were all wearing shoulder holsters under their custom-made jackets just the way Zolly did. She had no doubt the heavy artillery was in the back of one of the SUVs. AK-47s, rocket launchers, etc. Like she would recognize any of them even if she tripped over them. Her knowledge of weaponry was strictly from TV.

  Winston growled, but with pleasure, his body trembling at what he was seeing, which translated to one word: “action.”

  “I hope to hell you know what you’re doing, boss,” Zolly mumbled under his breath as he shifted gears in the specially equipped SUV.

  “Well, we’ll know soon enough, won’t we?” Pete asked, his voice ringing with cheer as he settled back to watch the scenery.

  Fearless and stupid, Lily thought.

  Morgan stomped the hallways as he cursed up a storm. Where was the damn kid? He whirled around when he thought he heard a sound. “Come on, kid, show yourself. I’m going to find you, so make it easy on yourself.” His cell phone took that moment to ring. Just what he needed. He flipped it open.

  “What? Where the hell do you think I am? I’m here, and so is the damn kid, but he’s holed up somewhere. I don’t have much time, as you know. I have another hour at the most, then I have to get out of here. Stop thinking the FBI is stupid, okay? I pulled it off, but it’s temporary, and I’m not going to prison for you or your boss. You got that?”

  From his position in the air duct to the left of where the killer was standing, Josh listened to the cell phone conversation. Did that jerk really think he was going to show himself so he could pump him full of bullets? All he had to do was stay safe for another hour. The guy didn’t want to go to prison. Well, who did?

  “Okay, Josh, back up and find another vent. Screw with his head. You’ve got the edge. He said he doesn’t have much time. Let me do the talking. You just listen.”

  Josh slid backward until he was satisfied with his location. He looked through the vent to see the dean’s office below. The plant on his desk looked dead. Like that really mattered.

  “Okay, bellow like you used to do when I was crossing the finish line, then get the hell out of here and move to the next location.”

  Josh took a deep breath and yelled as loud as he could. “Come and get me, you son of a bitch!”

  “That was good, Josh. Cursing is ten demerits and two laps around the track. Now, move forward to where you were before. Make the bastard chase his tail. Can you make it to the infirmary? Be careful, don’t make any noise.”

  Josh slid backward again, his eyes straining to see in the darkness as he passed one vent after another. He looked down and saw the sterile whiteness of the infirmary. What should he taunt the jerk with this time? “Hey, jerk-off, I called the FBI office, and they’re sending a new team of agents. The local cops are on the way. And I have a gun, too. Say something, you piece of crap,” he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

  “Damn, that was good, Josh. Sheila is impressed. Quick, get to the main hall and don’t move or say anything until I tell you. Shhh, his phone is ringing. Can you hear what he’s saying?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I can hear.”

  “Yeah, Agent Warner, what’s the problem?” Morgan listened, the color draining from his face as his eyes sought the nearest EXIT sign. “My team is approaching the entrance to the academy? That’s impossible. I just spoke to them, and they’re thirty-five minutes away. What you have there, Agent Warner, is a situation. Take care of it. I’ll join you as soon as I finish what I’m doing here. You have a gun, so use it if you have to.”

  Morgan’s mind raced. What the hell was going on? “Five SUVs, you said?”

  “Yes, and those boys look meaner than snakes.”

  “One more thing, if Agent Robbins tries to contact you, do yourself a favor and don’t answer your cell unless you want to be assigned a shit detail like he has. Are you following me here, Agent Warner? Your only priority right now is those SUVs.”

  “Yes, sir. Agent Robbins is actually calling me right now. His name just popped up on the ID.”

  “And…?”

  “I’m not answering, sir.”

  “C’mon, Josh, give him one more blast.”

  Josh was directly overhead now and about to slide backward to where the vent in the industrial kitchen was located. He sucked in his breath, and shouted as loud as he could, “Hey, dickweed, I thought you were going to find me! You couldn’t find an elephant if it was standing on your dick. I told you I called the FBI and the local cops. You better run, dickweed, or you’re going to get caught. Run, run, run, you piece of shit.”

  Morgan looked upward as he realized where Josh was. So that was how the damn little snot had outwitted him.

  Josh couldn’t resist one last parting shot. “Give it up, you turd. It would take you hours to find me up here, and before you can sneeze, I’ll be safe and sound.” He saw the weapon being raised at the same moment he started to slide backward. In his life he had never moved so fast, not even when he was in top form and hurdling. His heart was pounding louder than the hail of bullets that were ripping into the ceiling.

  “Holy shit! Get out of here, Josh. You had to do that, didn’t you? You okay, you didn’t get shot, did you?”

  “I’m okay, I’m okay. Yeah, I did have to do that. He killed you and Sheila. I liked Mr. Dickey and Miss Carmody. The other kids, too. He’s on the run now. Oh, shit, no, he isn’t. That’s his team down by the guardhouse. Or is it? Just for a minute I thought it was the cavalry. What should I do, Tom?”

  “No, it isn’t his team. He acts alone, but he does have a boss who gives him orders. Get to the hidey-hole and stay put. No matter what you hear, don’t come out until I tell you it’s safe. Swear to me, Josh.”

  “I swear. That’s all I’ve been doing today. Good thing Mr. Dickey can’t hear me.”

  “Oh, he can hear you, all right, and he’s appalled. I’m joking, okay? Listen, Josh, are you sure that guy spraying the bullets is the same guy who killed us all?”

  “I am damn sure. He tried to disguise himself, but I just closed my eyes and tried to remember Jesse’s picture and stripped away the stuff he added to his face. It’s him, all right. And, he had that same watch or whatever it was on his wrist.”

  “I’ll see you later, Josh. I’ll be back when I figure out what’s going on. Remember, now, don’t make a sound. Take some cheese and crackers in case you get hungry. And a flashlight. I think there’s one in the kitchen drawer. You also need a weapon. Take that mallet the cook uses to pound meat. It’s better than nothing.”

  “Okay. You’re going to watch over me, right?”

  “You bet. I told you, I’ll always be right by your side. First, though, I want to check things out down the driveway. We have to figure out a way for you to get my book and who it’s safe to give it to. I’ll be working on that while you hide. It’s gonna be okay. I promise, Secret Agent 8446.�
��

  “I’ll be waiting for you, Agent 8211,” Josh responded, but this time he wasn’t laughing the way he usually laughed when Tom called him Agent 8446.

  Exhausted with all he’d been through, Josh scurried to the kitchen, where he grabbed a small wheel of cheese and the box of crackers he’d opened the evening before. At the last second he remembered the flashlight and stuck it in the pocket of his sweatpants. He longed to take a shower because he was filthy from crawling through the ductwork, but he knew that was out of the question.

  Safe in the makeshift wine cellar, Josh curled himself into a tight ball inside Mr. Dickey’s sleeping bag. He was so tired he ached all over, but he was afraid to go to sleep, and he needed to think. Was he losing his mind? Had he really been talking to Tom? Or was he in overdrive? It sure sounded like Tom, but how was that possible? Was he so desperate, so scared, he’d conjured up Tom out of thin air?

  Josh’s eyelids started to droop. He jerked upright. He wished he’d been smart enough to go to the electrical panel and pull the lever that put the school in lockdown mode. Why didn’t he do that? He remembered the time Tony Polaro pulled the lever and the panic that ensued. For days his ears rang with the high-pitched sounds. It took hours for the instructors to figure out how to unlock everything. Poor old Tony had to walk the grounds for a full month. Tony was dead now. Maybe he’d pull the lever in his memory before he left this place.

  Josh had to leave, he knew that now. He had to get Tom’s book and go to a newspaper. The hard reality he was forced to recognize was that he couldn’t trust the police or the FBI. He’d known all along the only person he could trust was himself. And now Tom.

  Josh’s last conscious thought before drifting into a sound sleep was to wonder if Jesse was safe and if he would ever see him again.

  Chapter 16

  Tessie Dancer glared at the small recorder she was listening to as she drummed her fingers on the desktop. When the tape ended, she pressed the OFF button. She rewound the tape and listened to it for the tenth time, knowing she could almost recite the words verbatim at this point. She had a tiger by the tail, and it wasn’t a baby tiger. Oh, no, this tiger was the grand-daddy of all tigers. The scoop of a lifetime. Possibly a third Pulitzer. Front-page stuff, big byline, above the fold. It didn’t get any better than that, and she knew it.

  The problem was, and it was a problem, how should she tackle the story? Should she go with bits and pieces? A tease, so to speak. Or should she wait, the way Kelly wanted her to, and do it all in one shot? Or…go to the source? Once she found the source.

  Tessie turned off the recorder and turned on her computer to check her e-mail. She’d sent out over fifty e-mails to her sources, friends and families of those sources, and anyone else she had thought of who might have information for her.

  As Tessie stared at her blank e-mail screen, her fingers continued to drum on the desktop. A nervous habit just like biting her nails was. She thought about Pete and Lily’s story. How sad that was. Two high-powered people who were wealthy beyond anyone’s dreams, and they were miserable because of something they had done in their youth, something they had no way of knowing would bring them to this place in time. They made their donations for the right reasons, not only because they needed the money but because they hoped they would be helping childless couples. And now, those actions had come back to haunt them.

  Who are the principals in the sperm bank and fertility clinic? Her cursory trace was so complicated, she’d given it up and turned it over to a computer wizard who owed her big-time for a favor she’d done him a few years back. Why bury ownership so deep if the principals weren’t trying to hide something? Why?

  Tessie thought about Lily’s description of the lab and minihospital. Why would a fertility clinic need something like that? Where did the money come from to outfit something like that? First rule: Follow the money.

  Then there was the California Academy of Higher Learning. Ownership of the academy was buried just as deep. Same owners? Probably. Who put the lid on the media? Someone high up in the food chain. What were they hiding at the school? Where did everyone disappear to? Who was the boy Josh Baer? Was he Pete Kelly’s son? Pete seemed to think he was, and Lily had agreed.

  Years of experience had taught her one thing. When people went to so much trouble to bury something, it meant it was either drug-related or the principals were politicians with deep, dark secrets. Tessie’s eyes narrowed. Her gut told her it was fifty-fifty.

  What kind of person would hire a contract killer to snuff out an entire class of seventeen-year-old kids, one of whom was mentally challenged? The same kind of person who was hiding ownership of the school, the fertility clinic, and the sperm bank. That had to mean all three were connected. Tessie scribbled notes to herself.

  Where were the other kids and their teachers? Where was the dean? Did all the records disappear before the shooting or did the FBI confiscate them? Tessie made more notes. How could a large group of students disappear with no one seeing them? Private charter flights to…somewhere. Maybe there were other schools like the California Academy of Higher Learning. Why? For what purpose?

  Who was the shooter? Where was the boy? Were the kids at the school geniuses?

  Every private school she’d researched had a Web site; not so for the academy. Well, she had one of her sources working on that, too.

  Tessie’s guts started to churn when she thought about the missing boy, who might possibly be Pete Kelly’s son. How long could he stay safe? Her blood started to churn at what could happen to him. She’d been a child advocate for the past fifteen years. In fact, her first Pulitzer was a heart-and gut-wrenching article on child advocacy. Her thoughts shifted to Pete Kelly and the academy. She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew that before the end of the day, he was going to be in jail. She was so deep into her thoughts she almost missed the e-mail that popped up on her screen. The moment she saw it, she jerked upright to read the terse message.

  Are you nuts, Tessie? What the hell did you get yourself mixed up in? I’m not putting stuff like this in an e-mail. Meet me where you always meet me, and we’ll talk, but first you better hire yourself a top-notch attorney.

  Tessie’s eyes almost popped out of her head. She sent back an e-mail asking for a time to meet. The response to her e-mail was: One hour.

  Little Slick, the e-mailer, was the best computer hacker known to man. He must have found something really important. Little Slick had his own computer lab and sixteen employees. Not many people knew Little Slick was on retainer to the FBI, the CIA, and the rest of Alphabet City, also known as the nation’s capital. Little Slick had appeared on her radar screen when one of his kids needed a neurosurgeon and someone gave him her name. She’d called in favors and promised far more than she should have in the hope the five-year-old could be saved. It had all turned out well, and Little Slick worked overtime to pay off what he considered his debt to her. She, in turn, sent small gifts from time to time to the little boy who called her Aunt Tessie.

  With Little Slick requesting a meeting, whatever he’d found had to be red-hot and top secret. Tessie felt giddy at the thought.

  Tessie looked around, suddenly aware of how quiet it was. A sigh escaped her lips as she looked out the window. Eight o’clock. She should be home fixing her parents’ dinner. The home health aide she’d hired to fill in for her was worth every hard-earned penny she paid her. Still, she felt bad that she wasn’t the one making the meat loaf that both her mother and father loved. She’d long ago given up the idea that she could be all things to all people. All she could do was her best, and if that wasn’t good enough, so be it.

  Tessie reached into her desk drawer for not one but three power bars. She scarfed them down, then swilled the rest of her cold coffee.

  Tessie reached for her cell phone, which had been strangely silent these past few hours. Most days it rang nonstop. Was the silence an omen of some kind? She wasn’t the least bit surprised when Pete Kelly didn’t answer
his cell phone. She wondered how he would like a few hours in jail. She sent off another e-mail to Little Slick advising him of the current situation with Pete:

  Lose the paperwork in the computer and don’t let him get booked if he’s brought in.

  Morgan cursed long and loud. How the hell was he going to get out of there? Five SUVs? Obviously they weren’t FBI reinforcements. Then who? No one in his right mind messed with the FBI except maybe someone like him. Outsiders. The guy from the library? What the hell difference did it make who they were? All that mattered was for him to get out of there in one goddamn piece.

  Morgan looked up at the ceiling. Did he get the little bastard? Too late now; saving his own skin was paramount. He’d just have to figure out another way to get the kid, or else he’d pack it in, give back the money, and move on. He didn’t like the flip side of that coin very much. People as powerful as the ones he was dealing with would find a way to get to him and kill him. Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

  Morgan ran from the building to the stolen Toyota, climbed in, and raced to the bottom of the hill, where Agent Warner was standing guard over the five SUVs. He thrust open the door the moment he brought the Land Cruiser to a stop, his automatic weapon drawn. He hit the ground running, the safety off. He motioned for Agent Warner to step out of the way. Within seconds all five SUVs had flat tires. Morgan was surprised that his gun wasn’t smoking. “Take care of this, Warner. My team hit a roadblock ten miles down the road. I have to take care of it. Run these people in and I don’t give a good rat’s ass if they claim to be friends of the president of the United States. I’m glad you had the good sense to keep them in their vehicles. Did Agent Robbins call back?”