The Never Paradox (Chronicles Of Jonathan Tibbs Book 2)

by T. Ellery Hodges

  The footage ended, and Mr. Clean’s face returned. “Take comfort, Jonathan,” he said. “Mankind’s fate will not be decided by the size of armies alone.”

  A moment passed and Jonathan wavered. He had a question on his mind, a question for Mr. Clean, specifically, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. Finally, he knew that if he didn’t ask, he might later convince himself that the computer’s answer may have been different. He needed to hear what cold, hard logic had to say.

  “Mr. Clean, in regards to Rylee, what would a computer do?” Jonathan asked. “If risking the life of one person might save the lives of countless others?”

  “It is not a difficult question,” Mr. Clean said. “A computer would do whatever protected the greatest number of lives.”

  “Yeah,” Jonathan said. “That’s what I figured.”

  After a moment of silence, Mr. Clean asked if he had decided where he wanted to be dropped, and Jonathan drew himself out of his pondering, seeing that the time to dwell had passed.

  “Closest electronics store to my house,” he said. “I need to buy a new cell phone.”

  “Not a problem,” Mr. Clean said. “Brace yourself, this will—”

  “Wait,” Jonathan said, looking at the computer. “I had an idea while I was watching the footage in the Arena. Before I go, I was wondering if you might do me a favor?”

  “Got him!” yelled an analyst.

  The room let out a breath of relief. Since joining The Cell at their base of operations, Leah had struggled to keep her fear for Jonathan at bay, assuring herself over and over that the team had merely lost him.

  “Where?” Olivia asked as she approached the analyst’s station.

  “He used his debit card at an electronics store a few minutes ago,” the analyst said. “He’s a few miles from his home.”

  “Get a tail to the address, and get me a visual confirmation as soon as they have eyes on him,” Olivia said. Before she turned away, she asked, “What did he buy?”

  “A cell phone,” Leah said.

  The analyst looked to Leah, nodding to confirm her hunch had been correct.

  “This cannot happen again, people,” Olivia said, addressing the entire room. “If he leaves that house, we move Heaven and Earth to keep eyes on him.”

  The room nodded their agreement—no one in the building wanted to be a part of the team who had lost their best lead in the entire investigation.

  “Leah,” Olivia said. “A word, in my office.”

  Somewhat surprised, Leah followed, stepping into the small room while Olivia held the door. Whatever she wanted to discuss, it had to be quick. They would both want her back on site as soon as possible.

  “You disobeyed an order,” Olivia said. “Explain yourself.”

  “What isn’t clear exactly?” Leah asked.

  “We saw you receive the message to come in immediately. You stopped to have a conversation with Ms. Silva. I’d like to know what was so important you would ignore my orders.”

  “Considering Jonathan’s disappearance, I recalled the time stamps we had witnessed yesterday,” Leah explained. “It occurred to me that Rylee might show signs of distress if Jonathan were in any danger. I needed as much confirmation as possible that we were dealing with a location issue and not an abduction.”

  Olivia studied her. “What led you to conclude he had managed to slip his tail in the first place?”

  “I didn’t conclude, it was a theory,” she said. “Rylee displayed no observable signs of concern, and Jonathan appears to have only gone missing. At this point, it is only a possible correlation.”

  Again, Olivia studied the woman, her fingers tapping against her desk. “Are there any other theories I’ve not been made aware of? Do you have any speculations as to where Mr. Tibbs may have been for the last two and a half hours?”

  Leah let out a long breath, feeling some of the tension that had gathered when Olivia first called her into the office release. It was possible that this was Olivia’s way of asking for her expertise. “They would only be theories,” she said.

  “If you have permission to share them,” Olivia said, “I would appreciate you humoring me.”

  Leah tilted her head a moment. Olivia had never asked for conjecture, and Leah felt distrustful of the change in their relationship. They were not, by her estimation, friends. “Jonathan has no training that would allow him to circumvent highly experienced agents,” Leah said. “His disappearance was described by your men as a vanishing act. My assumption is that he made contact. The Mark is far more capable of pulling him out of our surveillance.”

  “The Mark has made contact in the past,” Olivia said. “He has never gone so far out of the way to hide this from us.”

  “Like I said, it was an assumption,” Leah said. “But, if correct, then today was different—The Mark did not want The Cell to know where he was being taken and did not want their discussion observed.”

  Olivia nodded. “Care to elaborate on what you think this means?”

  “Frankly, your guess is as good as mine, but it’s where he went that worries me. Given we’ve not seen The Mark take this action before, what changed that made him willing to take the risk?”

  Olivia raised an eyebrow, a moment passing between them as she considered Leah’s concern. “Rylee Silva,” she said. “Something about the girl’s presence made him move more aggressively than usual.”

  “Seems most likely,” Leah said. “The Mark hasn’t been spotted since last interacting with Jonathan. The day after Rylee shows up, he reappears.”

  Olivia continued to tap her finger against the desk as she thought it through. “Perhaps now is the time to forgo the secondary protocol. To bring Jonathan and Rylee in for questioning?”

  Leah blinked—Olivia’s use of the word “questioning,” was far less innocent than it seemed. Olivia was seeing how she reacted to the idea of Jonathan being tortured for information. If Leah wanted to keep it from happening, she needed to have a reason. She couldn’t simply say that the thought of seeing him harmed made her sick to her stomach.

  “It is really not my area,” she said carefully. “But, knowing what has taken place in the past, I would be concerned that such action would result in The Mark taking Rylee or Jonathan out of the equation. Given the circumstances, we may learn a great deal more observing Jonathan and Rylee’s immediate interactions now that this incident has taken place. Interrogating them, if we managed it without intervention by The Mark, might tell us nothing, and may lose us an eventual opportunity to capture the real target. We are hunting the bear after all, not the cubs.”

  Olivia nodded slowly, but the way she seemed to be dissecting Leah’s words was less than comforting.

  “With your permission,” Leah said, “I should be getting back.”

  Olivia held up one hand to forestall her from getting up. “Before you go, I wanted to share an observation with you,” she said. “I find it troubling.”

  Olivia turned the screen of her laptop to face Leah, a video window already opened on the display. She then came around her desk to sit beside the screen before she pressed play. The sound was muted, but the film showed various moments throughout the evening she had spent with Jonathan before his sudden departure the night before.

  “You see,” Olivia said. “Something was bothering me. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first. I had to watch over and over again to realize what I was missing. Then it occurred to me that my focus had been on Mr. Tibbs.”

  Leah watched with a certain amount of apprehension as the various segments played.

  “So, I turned my attention over to you,” Olivia said. “It only took a while but, finally, I saw what was off.”

  Leah lifted an eyebrow and feigned impatience.

  “You pour yourself a glass of wine,” Olivia said. “But you never drink it. You pour the glass out when you return to the kitchen. Then you refill a new glass.”

  Leah smiled politely. “I need to keep my wi
ts about me. I have no trouble giving off the impression of lowered inhibitions.”

  Olivia smiled. “Of course, quite professional,” she said. “Except, I reviewed the tapes of your previous moment of, as you say, ‘lowered inhibitions,’ and no such effort to protect your sobriety was evident.” She paused, seeming to wait for Leah to speak.

  She found herself uncertain if Olivia was baiting her or genuinely looking for a simple explanation. “Previously there was no feasible way to avoid the drinking,” Leah said.

  Olivia pinched her lips together and sighed. “Leah, is there something of which I should be aware? To be blunt, this is your opportunity to bring it to my attention of your own accord.”

  She didn’t pause, didn’t allow a moment of hesitation. “No, ma’am.”

  Olivia’s fingers continued to tap, and she stared at Leah as though continuing to do so would eventually change her answer. Finally, Olivia smiled politely. “When was your last physical, Leah?” she asked pointedly.

  “The week before my assignment,” Leah replied.

  “Would you have any objections to undergoing a follow up?” Olivia asked. “Just to make sure all is well, of course. My concern is for your health.”

  Leah raised an eyebrow, surprised by Olivia’s boldness. Olivia could demand such things of her team, but Leah was under no authority to agree. Yet the game was obvious—denying a simple request would push Olivia’s suspicions. What Olivia had miscalculated was that Leah had no need to play such games.

  She allowed a moment of silence before smiling politely. “I am sure you will understand, Olivia, that I have concerns regarding the utilization of a physician associated with your team. However, when our commanding officer returns for his next scheduled report, I’ll make sure to notify him of your request.”

  Olivia let the silence stand, steepling her hands, index fingers tapping one another as she reconsidered Leah on the other side of the desk. “Very well,” she said. “But, I have one last item of discussion before you go.”

  Leah nodded.

  “Earlier this evening, one of the cameras inside Jonathan’s bedroom revealed an article of interest in our investigation. Given the increasing population within the household, you will most likely be the first of the team who will have the opportunity to obtain it.”

  The trip had taken longer than he had expected. Too many sharp turns up the hill to his stop. The thing about Seattle’s bus lines was that they were all run partially on electricity. Long metal rods reached up out of the roof of the bus to connect the lines. Hayden had once pointed out that it reminded him of the connection Marty McFly had to use to channel electricity into the flux capacitor at the climax of Back to the Future.

  All the buses had wires that ran along their routes to supply power. The problem was, they tended to get disconnected whenever the bus driver took a sharp turn. Then passengers were forced to wait impatiently while the driver got out and reconnected the line, and traffic sometimes made this a lengthy process. The lines had disconnected twice on this trip home. Being honest with himself, Jonathan was thankful for any delay he didn’t have to rationalize to himself.

  Jonathan stepped off the bus and onto the curb a few blocks from home. The sun had gone down hours ago and only the street lights kept him from walking in the dark. He knew he could not delay any longer, but with so much bad news having been dumped on him so quickly, he was having trouble coming to terms with it. Though, he didn’t know how much time would really make a difference.

  He needed to be home—even if he didn’t know what he was going to do once he got there. He felt like he had lost track of the conversations he needed to have, but he knew he didn’t look forward to any of them. He didn’t want to lie to Leah, tell her that he’d lied about knowing Rylee all along. He didn’t want to have to tell Rylee that she would have to leave. What was he supposed to do if Rylee wouldn’t answer his questions? He seriously doubted that she was intimidated by him, and if he tried to scare her into telling him what she knew, she would probably laugh in his face. That was the best scenario—after seeing her move, he had no doubt that it would end comically bad for him if she actually did feel threatened by him.

  Even if she told him everything, and he believed her, he wasn’t sure he could tell her to leave. When he’d thrown those pills in the trash and told her to follow him home, he’d made a promise to her whether he had spoken the words or not.

  If you come with me, I won’t abandon you.

  As he approached his driveway, thoughts had distracted him to the extent that he almost failed to notice the plastic bag hanging from their mail box. He stopped, walking over to examine it, but he suspected he knew what was inside before he turned the bag over and emptied its contents in his hand.

  The cell phone he had tossed down the drain plopped into his palm.

  There was a rubber band tied around it, holding a small piece of paper to its side. He removed it, stepping away from the driveway where a street light allowed him to read a short line of typed text, a single sentence.

  A smart man stays in sight of those who would protect him.

  He wasn’t sure what to think, and yet swallowed down a bitter taste. The Cell had already let him know that he was being watched, but their methods of going about it had been cryptic. At the time, he couldn’t tell if this had been done on purpose or mistake. He had later assumed that they were being ambiguous on purpose—that it was a test of sorts. If he sought them out for help, it would mean his loyalty was to them and not the alien they hunted. To Jonathan, the note read like an ultimatum cloaked in good intentions.

  He crushed the paper in his hand and crumpled it into his back pocket. He didn’t need more to think about—not tonight. When did I become a person who considers messages from clandestine government agencies as the lowest of priorities? Jonathan wondered.

  The thought brought an image of Grant into his mind. How the man had tried to talk him into confessing to a crime, how he seemed to frame his message as though Jonathan was an accomplice to some terrorist threat. It had only been a few months ago, in this very driveway, that the man had tried to manipulate him into losing control of himself and saying something stupid.

  He wondered, not for the first time, what had become of him. He had told Grant never to come back, but if he was being honest, it was surprising that it had been the last they’d seen of him. It didn’t seem like Grant—not with the hostility Jonathan had seen in the man.

  He looked to his house with the light on in the living room, then back to his phone. He flipped it open, and found he had messages. It seemed the last procrastination left to him, so he started reading.

  Paige: Tibbs, what did you do?

  Hayden: Hey Bro, when are you off work?

  Collin: Please dad, can’t we keep her, please?

  Paige: Call me back already! I need you to tell me you aren’t a jackass.

  Hayden: I don’t think Paige and Rylee like each other much. Might want to get home.

  Collin: Late night at work? Hurry up already.

  Hayden: Bad time to be MIA, did you lose your phone?

  Collin: Tibbs, don’t go in the house, call me first.

  Well, Jonathan thought. None of that looks good.

  He’d never gotten quite this many messages from them before. With everything the alien had told him tonight, he had trouble imagining anything happening at home that he’d have time to take very seriously. Then it occurred to him that he’d yet to ask Rylee for a means to get in contact with her. That, if she left, he wouldn’t know where to find her. That, if The Cell had been watching her, they might think her an easy ally to sway to their side.

  He considered how he had left things with Leah on their date. Then he thought of Leah and Rylee meeting without him there to explain, and how he had purposely omitted mention of Leah to Rylee—how, the moment before they had closed the gates, Rylee had placed her lips on his, held onto him so desperately. She didn’t remember having done any of that though,
would assume Jonathan was completely unaware of any feelings she had toward him. After all, she’d thought he wouldn’t remember at the time.

  When everything he had truly neglected started stacking up, his paranoia kicked in. He found that his walk down toward the door had accelerated into a brisk jog, but when he gripped the doorknob—he froze as every hair on his body stood up.

  The piece of Mr. Clean was cold, liquid, and fast on his skin. The transparent material slithered off his hand to the knob before darting through the space between the door and the frame. His mind had gone momentarily blank while he fought the urge to flail around as though he’d just had a nest of snakes crawl over him. Finally, he tilted his head, closed his eyes, and managed to only let out a long, shivering breath.

  After a moment, the creepy sensation left. Jonathan nodded to himself and opened the door. As he stood before everyone sitting at the kitchen table waiting for him, a sadly overdue alarm went off in his head: Collin had said to call before going inside.

  “Well,” said Evelyn Tibbs. “Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  SUNDAY| OCTOBER 9, 2005 | 9:30 PM | SEATTLE

  THE WAY THEY all looked at him made Jonathan feel as though he’d walked into an intervention. Evelyn sat at the table, Rylee and Leah on either side of her, each with a mug in front of them. Paige was halfway out of the kitchen, carrying a fresh pot of coffee. Collin and Hayden both leaned against the back of the couch.

  A lot happened in Jonathan’s head at that moment, not the least of which was the urge to shut the door, turn around, and walk away from all of them. His mother eyed him, seemed to read his mind, because her face said: Nope, not avoiding this.

  His eyes flicked to Collin and Hayden. Both their faces said, we tried to warn you. To her credit, Paige didn’t look smug—she looked more like she pitied him. Leah had turned away, so that he only saw the back of her head now. Rylee, if anything, was the one person who actually just looked happy to see him.