Without Wrath (Harbinger of Change Book 3)

by Timothy Jon Reynolds

  “Yeah,” Matt typed back, “Then we can start our quest for real and stop just jawing about it.” Matt added one last bombshell for them. “Guys, you might talk about this stuff here because you’re kind of concerned and then you move on to different stuff in your day. Not me. For me it’s different and I can’t really explain why. Trust me though. I do a lot of homework and this stuff is very close to my heart.

  “If you want proof of my treason claims, Google up the ‘hidden history of corporations.’ It’s a real eye opener. These guys are traitors of the highest order, but we’re just too dumbed down and thinned out to fight back. Thomas Hobbes, the 17th Century Philosopher, wrote, ‘Corporations are chips off the old block of the sovereignty.’ It’s insanity to argue it’s not treason. It’s like being covered in soot and trying to convince people you are not.”

  Matt left them with news about his big day coming today, “I have to go meet the new boss and find out my new work schedule.”

  Of course, everyone here knew him as Tom Holsinger, so everyone wished Tom good luck and before he logged off, Philly threw in a “Getting on it, Boss,” out there. He was a card, but truthfully, he was right a lot of the crazy ass time.

  Matt looked at the clock, it was nearly six o’clock and the ferry ran at 6:30 am off his little island. Chase would be waiting for him at his safe house. He often thought about what had brought him here and he’d decided that it was fate, the way Matt believed all things worked for humans—through serendipity.

  He had brought Jan up to the Seattle area to look around and see where they might like to live. They ate lunch in Mukilteo and took the ferry over to Whidbey Island. Matt was thinking island when they went over, which was translating to “small” in his head. But the drive across the island took almost an hour. It rained the whole way through thick evergreens on both sides. Every now and then a shotgun shack would pop out in a clearing, but that was about it. Then they came to one of the most beautiful places he’d ever seen in Deception Pass. They were lucky enough to get a break in the rain and were able to get out on the bridge of one of the most awesome views anywhere in the world. Matt remembered calling it the “Ninth Wonder.”

  They shot out to Anacortes and drove the quick trip back to I-5 and headed north towards Canada. They went through Bellingham and took a left at the sign that said Lummi Island. He discovered it was some miles out, but he just followed the signs.

  Everyone has at least one inherent survival attribute and Matt’s was sense of direction. He was never lost and once he’d found his way somewhere, he’d always remembered how to get back, even if the separation was years. He could see on the map that it was a short bridge from the mainland to the island and he liked the idea of living on an island somehow. He was an island in himself for over two years and somehow the thought of living on one just fit.

  They made their way through an Indian reservation with the obligatory casino and fireworks stands. It was about twenty minutes since the last turn off when Matt spotted Tsunami Evacuation signs showing which way to drive to safely in case of emergency. That was something he’d forgotten about; they had earthquakes here, too. That was disappointing because he’d literally grown up his whole life living on the San Andreas Earthquake Fault and he felt it would have been nice to get out from that constant threat.

  He pulled around a great sweeping curve thatched with evergreens on both sides until the populous and distant mountainous scenery returned to the horizon. He had been seeing only trees and the aforementioned signs for the last ten minutes or so. Soon he pulled up to a dock, but there was no bridge. It seems that they just dotted the ferry lines on the map; lesson learned. The ferry wasn’t the large Washington State variety that carried hundreds of cars and people, like the one they had ridden earlier. This was a little ferry and he chuckled about the scene in the movie Splash when the guy went for the “little boat” and left Tom Hanks alone in a dingy.

  Jan was just like him—they were forever quoting movies. It was one of their common bonds and she could totally keep up with him. So he said “I’m going for the little boat” and she said as a hyperbole, “the little boat!” Of course, it was delivered right on cue. This was surely the little ferry along those lines. The thing actually jostled when he drove onto it.

  As it turned out, he was the front car. The operator kept telling him to move forward and he thought he was quite close enough. Jan was getting scared, he could tell by the nails biting into his hand, but the guy kept telling him to move forward and move forward until the bloody SUV was a foot from the edge of the boat. The stanchion for the chains looked like his hood ornament. The ride over was beautiful, though. As they headed to the island, the entire backdrop was an amazing view of the Cascade Mountain Range. The view was of the kind that always made him feel that only a very amazing God could have created such beauty.

  The island was everything they had always wanted out of life. Quiet, quaint, and the houses that dotted the shoreline were breathtaking. He turned the car right and headed west off the ferry. They came across a charming restaurant and both being hungry they decided to check it out. The place was so homey, the centerpiece a wood fire oven that kept it toasty. The menu was pizza and burgers and Matt settled on the best-pulled chicken sandwich he’d ever eaten, the bun toasted to perfection.

  They drove further up the island and found a charming school that they both fantasized Jon Jon going to. After a while they’d decided to go up another mile and turn around, they’d seen enough to know they loved it. It was time to find the real estate office and feel the pain. That’s when they saw the “for sale” sign and pulled over in front of a house sitting high on the hill overlooking the Sound. It was a “for sale by owner” and the owner just happened to be walking out his front door, so they swung into the horseshoe driveway and pulled around to face him.

  They’d learned his name was Chuck and he was a widower. He explained that it was formerly a bed and breakfast that he and his late wife had run. Chuck went on, “The lower apartment is nearly a thousand square feet and recently remodeled.” Jan fell in love first, as it was the view from the Bay Windows that grabbed her. Also, the fireplace was set in a spot you could sit beside it and look out those same windows. The top house was a ranch style with three bedrooms and a very solid wood framing. Per the style of the area, the living room and master bedroom were elevated over the apartment below by stilts; sturdy looking, but stilts all the same. The bottom apartment was amazing though; it was done in a very modern style and two of those stilts were smartly placed to blend with the dark wood decor.

  The apartment was heated by two hardwood floor heaters that did a nice job heating the place up when Chuck turned them on, but were cool to the touch. The bedroom had a wonderful elevated queen bed that looked out its own sliding glass window. Not quite the view as upstairs, but still an awesome view of the immediate lawn area that sloped toward the shore as well as the Sound.

  The coup de grâce was the sauna room that was separate from the house. It had a wood burner and it looked like a cabin it was so big. The place was amazing, so they dared to ask.

  Chuck could see they were in love with the place. They had already mentioned that Jon Jon was back in Seattle enjoying a visit to downtown with his Grandparents so he knew they were a family. But coming from the San Francisco Bay Area, Matt and Jan expected to just laugh after the next sentence and walk away, as surely this place was over a million. When Chuck told them five hundred and twenty thousand they both almost fell over. Matt looked at the little dock and pictured his future boat there.

  Right now they had a little over seven hundred thousand in the bank and TJAC was paying him a salary he still couldn’t wrap his mind around. He looked at Jan and didn’t need to ask, “Chuck, we’ll take it.”

  He noticed that Jan wasn’t the only one wiping her eyes on the walk back up to the main house. Life sucked when he really thought about it. Someone usually died first, which left the other one alone like old Chuck, who
was obviously selling this place because the daily memory was too much for him to take. Well, they’d try to fill it with as much love as they could and honor the obvious great memories Chuck had here.

  After coming in and having some coffee and getting to know each other, a handshake deal was made and it was done. The wheels would turn and the people in the suits and ties would issue the checks. Matt sensed that in Chuck’s perfect world this transaction culminated with a handshake from one family man to another.

  They sat and talked with Chuck and discovered that he had three kids and he was needed in Southern California, specifically Orange County, for grandpa duty. As they were leaving, Jan hugged him and said goodbye a thousand times. She cried for a long time afterward and Matt knew why. Matt pulled out left onto the two-lane road in front and headed back to the ferry. He felt good, but would be lying if he said old Chuck didn’t screw up his positive nature temporarily—the part that no man could shake was how long until that was Jan or him? He couldn’t remember where he had read it, maybe Shakespeare in high school, but he remembered the words, “All great love ends in tragedy.”

  Why was he, such a young man, being so morose? Matt could only attribute it to all he’d been through, given all he’d seen, mortality was much higher on his list of thoughts than it should have been. He watched as Jan dabbed her eyes with a tissue and realized he was not the only one. He eased the vehicle onto the ferry deck, its nose coupled under the steel plate unsteadily.

  He looked at Jan, and suddenly felt the need to have his hand in hers. At that moment he realized that if one concentrated on the end of everything, one would forget to live in the here and now, and it was in the here and now where all the great things happened.

  Fortunately, on the trip back they were nestled in the middle of the ferry and had time to settle and enjoy the ride a little, although Matt longed to be in the front. They both loved this place. They decided to research the island to the max once they got back to the hotel in Seattle and if everything panned out with Chuck as planned, they’d just found their new home!

  Shaking off the daydream of how he began his life on Lummi Island, the ferry pulled up on the mainland and Matt drove off, heading down his usual route through the Tsunami Sign Highway (his pet name). An earthquake was his only real fear, as he’d spent way too much time listening to informative TV this last year. He knew about the thrust fault that was out there and they’d practiced Lummi Island’s own “run for the top” test numerous times. He shuddered to think.

  Pretty soon he’d made it back to I-5 and headed for the safe house, although it wasn’t so much a safe house as it was Matt’s office. Tucked away in the woods, up near Whatcom Lake, it was a beautiful cabin style house that was to serve as Matt’s headquarters until things changed in the future. It was nestled on a half-acre, not too ostentatious, but perfect for the privacy demanded in their work.

  Relying on the old standby that good fences make good neighbors, he had a six-foot fence built around the place. It would keep out kids and if someone else wanted in they would find a way regardless. Among its amenities was a soundproof basement and science lab.

  Matt had been absorbing a tremendous amount of knowledge from his multifaceted mentor. Every day of the week was a different lesson. Monday was computer training, Tuesday was global education and politics, Wednesday was self-defense/offense, Thursday was science lab, and Friday was a session with Frederick Tedesco, head-shrinker.

  It was astounding the amount of patience and money TJAC (Thomas Jefferson Action Committee) was spending on him. As President Caulfield pointed out though, every single billionaire on the company’s (non-existent) Board of Directors would have been decimated had it not been for him. Enough time had past, and bad sleep or not, his sense of fair play being what it was, he’d finally insisted Chase give him an assignment. Although his sleep had been shoddy, he had started to learn to just deal with living on only five hours.

  Chase wouldn’t allude to anything about the job on the phone, as was their protocol, but he was minutes from finding out as he merged for the turn off heading to the lake.

  * * *

  Lauren Betton was looking through her field glasses. It was another hot day in Ibarra, Ecuador and she was sitting about a quarter mile away from a store she’d discovered Matt Hurst used to frequent. It took heat, dirt, and showing his picture a million times, but she’d finally gotten a hit. Using all available assets, she found a man who could confirm that Hurst had been there. She didn’t just bite on some stranger’s information, however; she had to make sure it was credible. The source was a Veterinarian where Hurst had brought in a dog with a leg infection. She met the man by happenstance, as usually was what happened to a diligent reporter.

  She was nearing the end of another seemingly pointless day looking for the man who had just disappeared. She corrected herself; she knew it had a point, many, as a matter of fact, as she had more than one horse in this race. She was showing Hurst’s picture to a man on the street, asking, “Have you seen this man.” It turned out the last guy she asked was an American who was visiting his aunt and uncle. He recognized Hurst.

  “Why would you be looking for a dead man?“

  She explained that she was one of the few people who didn’t believe Matt Hurst was really dead. He gave her a sympathetic look and went on his way, shaking his head. She was resigned to going back to her hotel and having a cold shower when a man sitting at an outside restaurant asked why she wanted to know where Hurst was?

  He was a very good-looking man, early forties, dressed nicely, but way too buttoned up for the weather; yet he wasn’t sweating a bit. He was tanned, but not dark-complected, and he had soft features. He wasn’t a laborer, Lauren could tell that right away. She loved his lips; he had the kind of lips people pay for. And he wore no facial hair; she liked that, too. She walked over to him. “Do you know him?”

  “Well, my dear, by looking at you and listening to you, I know you’re American. Why don’t you sit down and tell me your story and then I will tell you what I know. I hate to eat alone and although you try to hide it, if you joined me, I would be dining with a very beautiful woman.”

  Lauren blushed slightly and agreed to join him. He introduced himself as Humberto Quezada. She introduced herself and sat down. He immediately ordered wine and they were off. She felt at ease with him, his nature was soft and she could tell he was no stranger to women. One could tell by his mannerisms and the ease with which he carried himself that he was a man of great self-confidence. She told her story . . . well, the part of it she wanted him to hear anyway.

  She was born and raised in California and moved to New York when she was thirteen. She had always wanted to be a journalist and had been the editor for her college paper at Columbia. The summer she graduated was the summer that the story at Conceptual Labs broke. This is when her mission started. Her stepfather, Jerome Betton, was a man of means as he was a commodities broker, and they lived in upper Manhattan. She knew she could find a job and tow the company line, no problem, but she didn’t want that. If she could talk Jerome into being the financier of the world’s best investigative reporter, then she could be untethered to pursue her recently self-appointed goal.

  She had taken his name even though she came into his life late. At first she hated Jerome because he broke up her mom and J.P., a music producer that her mom had met in LA.

  Her mom had been in an abusive relationship with her real father, a struggling musician with a drinking problem. After another of many horrible incidents, she showed up at the studio looking for him—the man who didn’t pay the rent and had left her to answer to the landlord. That’s when she found J.P.

  For J.P. it was love at first sight, a damsel in distress . . . no hell, two damsels in distress . . . and he swept them off their feet and showed them what normal felt like. Ironically, he had just shed himself of a similar relationship—the hard way. His wife overdosed and died in the bed right next to him. He had a son a few years ol
der than her, she was 5 at the time, and they made a great family.

  But it was never enough for Elizabeth Green. She could never be happy with a guy like J.P. because he was happy enough having what he had. Her mom’s biggest fault was there was never enough when it came to money.

  So when she met Jerome, that was that, and Lauren not only had to leave her stepdad and brother, but she had to go live in New York. At first she hated Jerome, he was staunch and really no fun at all. Then she noticed little things. Even though he had a very demanding job, he never forgot anything, especially sentimental things. J.P. had been in her life a long time and loved her, but he never did the little things with her that he did with his own son. She knew he loved her, but there was always this sliver of doubt that he never loved her unconditionally.

  Not so with Jerome. Jerome lived by the motto that you loved what you spend time with and it didn’t take long for her to figure out why her mom married him. He was much more than a full wallet.

  He loved her mom and as a result of that, he loved her—unconditionally. She remembered how shocked she was seeing him in the audience of her school play during a weekday. He went to every showing of Pride and Prejudice, three of them to be exact, and it must have been rather painful for a man like him, but he never showed impatience. He even volunteered for chaperone duty at dances and all kinds of things men with jobs like his didn’t do.

  And the one endearing thing about him above all others was he loved to read as much as she did. He had books everywhere—one in the car, the bathroom, the office, and even the kitchen. That really bonded them. And he did the one thing she always wanted a dad to do above all else—he read her to sleep. He had the most wonderful voice and his narration put her to sleep in such a way that she never had nightmares again after meeting Jerome. He made her insecurities disappear with his absolute confidence.

  Their first book was Shogun and to this day, it was still her favorite book. Within a year, she deeply loved her stepfather (she was not allowed to use that term) and asked him as shyly as possible if it would be okay to take his name like her mom had. She had never seen a man cry so hard as that day. He truly loved her and her words touched him and created a permanent bond, regardless of any future outcome of his currently wonderful marriage.