by Camryn King
If that isn’t enough incentive for you then consider the lives of these people.
Pictures of Karolyn and Karl, taken in familiar places, appeared and dissolved.
Life for them can become very difficult indeed. You don’t want that, do you? All for a group of pictures showing Bahamian islands and the ocean surrounding it. With the proceeds of the sale, you can take another trip to the Bahamas. You can take more pictures. Without the sale, another trip will be planned for you. A one-way trip to hell, with no return ticket. This transaction will be completed within twenty-four hours. Goodbye, Kennedy.
Kennedy sat back as though she’d been punched. Emotions of anger, sadness, helplessness, frustration, all fought for domination inside her soul. She worked to wrap her mind around what had just happened, so deep in thought that she didn’t hear her phone the first time it rang. A pause, and then it started up again. In that moment, she remembered.
Jeff!!
She reached for her phone and saw the familiar number for Chicago Sightings. “Hello?”
It was Monica. “Hey, KW. You okay?”
“Yes, and I’m so sorry to be late for my meeting with Jeff. I ran out to do an errand and it took longer than expected.” She pulled out the flash drive, signed out of the computer and grabbed the receipt. “I’m only five minutes away and on my way back now.”
“Are you sure? Jeff says he can reschedule if you don’t have time now.”
She had time but not the strength it would take to cover up her emotions and meet with her boss.
“Actually, Monica, I’d really appreciate that. In fact, I’d like to come back for my computer and take off for the day. There are some buildings I want to capture for next month’s issue.” That wasn’t the plan when she’d hastily left the building, but it would get her out of having to act like she was okay.
“No problem.”
“Is Jeff there? I’d like to apologize.”
Monica handed over the phone. Kennedy repeated the creative conversation she’d just had. She returned to the office, then to her car, and then she called Gwen. They’d both been so busy there’d been no time to meet. But today, more than ever, she needed a friend.
Panic must have coated Kennedy’s request to meet because in a rare move Gwen took time off and agreed to meet at her place. She was home when Kennedy got there, concern-filled eyes taking her in before a heartfelt hug embraced her.
Gwen stepped back and closed the door. “Ken, you’ve lost weight.”
“Not much appetite these days. Not much sleep either.”
“Come on, let’s sit in the living room.” Gwen took her hand and led her inside. “Are you hungry? Can I fix us something to eat?”
“No, but I could use a glass of wine.”
While Gwen went to the kitchen, Kennedy pulled out her tablet and placed it on the coffee table. She fired it up, then reached for the flash drive the enemy had sent. On her way over, she considered the fact that the drive might be bugged or have a virus to infect her computer. Considering nothing seemed to have happened to the one that she’d rented, Kennedy decided that for someone else to witness the threat that had been sent, she’d have to risk having to buy another computer. It was a chance she’d have to take.
Gwen returned with two glasses of red wine. “Here you go, sis.”
“Thanks.” Kennedy took a generous sip, cupped the goblet in her hand, and swallowed some more.
Gwen eyed her for a long second. “Let me heat something up. The way you’re drinking, we’re going to need food.”
Kennedy barely heard Gwen speak or leave the room. She was preoccupied with the drive she’d inserted in a port and clicked to open. Nothing happened. Frowning, she pulled out the drive and reinserted it. Her screen blinked. Kennedy held her breath, waiting for the crash. But instead the home screen reappeared.
What is going on?
By the time Gwen returned with a platter of spicy chicken fingers, chips and rolls, Kennedy was mumbling to herself, her face a mask of confusion, her hair sticking up in unflattering places where she’d run nervous fingers through it.
Gwen slowly set the platter on the coffee table, opposite of where Kennedy worked on the computer.
“Ken . . . are you okay?”
“There’s nothing here. There’s nothing here the drive is empty, even though that’s impossible because I saw the pictures and heard his voice not even an hour two hours ago what’s going on there’s got to be . . . where are pictures . . . how did they . . . what . . .”
Kennedy felt a hand clamp on to her arm. She looked up into Gwen’s tear-filled eyes. “Kennedy, what is the matter?”
Realizing she was mumbling aloud and how confused and crazy that must sound, Kennedy looked Gwen in the eye. “I know I sound crazy, Gwen, but what I came over here to show you is not here.”
Both women turned to look at the still black screen.
“So much has happened since we talked, things I didn’t share because I knew you were worried and that you thought I was crazy and needed therapy, and maybe I do, but not in the way you’re thinking.”
Kennedy paused, took a deep breath. “Sit down, Gwen.” Gwen sat. Kennedy began again slowly, calmly, in a voice she hoped Gwen would think sounded rational. “A package was delivered today, in my name, to the Chicago Sightings office. It’s the second package I’ve received. I left the office, went to my car and opened it.”
Kennedy paused, wondered if she should tell Gwen why she opened the envelope away from the office, afraid of what it contained. She decided against it.
“This was inside.” She pulled out the now non-working thumb drive. “Because I didn’t have my computer, I went to an office supply store to use one of their computers. I inserted this drive and there was a message for me. A man’s voice, pictures and threats.”
Gwen looked from Kennedy’s serious expression to the drive she held in her hand, and back. Kennedy could tell her friend wanted to believe her, but wasn’t quite there.
“What kind of threat?”
Kennedy sighed. Coming here was a bad idea. To tell Gwen anything, she’d have to tell her everything.
“I’ve got to go.”
Gwen moved to sit next to her. “Kennedy, don’t leave. Put the drive in again. Maybe it will work this time. If you just played it, whatever was on it has to still be there . . . right?”
Maybe I am going crazy. Maybe I imagined the whole thing. She put the drive in her purse and her tablet in its case. She finished the wine and stood. “I’m sorry for leaving abruptly but . . . I’ve got to go.”
She gave Gwen a quick hug and headed for the door.
“Ken!”
Kennedy quickened her footsteps. Her phone rang. She began to run and didn’t stop until she reached Harriet, got in, locked the door . . . and felt safe.
The phone rang again. Kennedy snatched it up, defying the angst of who might be calling. She didn’t even look at the ID.
“Hello!” She said in a tone that suggested no bullshit—demanding, defiant, cold.
“Kennedy?”
She looked at the ID, recognizing the New York area code, but not the number. “Yes, this is Kennedy.”
“This is Dodie Ravinsky, the publicist that Tamara recommended. Is now a good time to talk?”
The question was innocuous, a polite query so as not to infringe upon Kennedy’s evening. But something about the way it was asked sent Kennedy’s mind on a whirlwind rewind of what she’d been put through over a set of pictures she didn’t even know she’d taken, several snaps of the shutter that completely changed her life. Drugged. Robbed. Photographed naked. Hunted. Threatened. Privacy invaded. Friends and family affected. Life disrupted. No wonder Gwen was so worried about her. It was a wonder, sheer grace, that she hadn’t lost her mind.
The question provoked a moment of clarity. She’d been running scared because of the power she’d given her stalkers. The very real power that Van Dijk possessed, with a slew of high-powered resources
behind him. For all the consideration given, however, there was one thing she’d forgotten—the power she possessed. They’d pushed this sister into a corner. Now was the time to fight her way out of it. Now was the time to show her hand.
Kennedy closed her eyes and went with her gut. “Yes, Dodie, this is a very good time.”
23
Kennedy and Dodie talked for an hour. Afterwards, Dodie insisted on arranging for Kennedy to spend the night at the Peninsula and promised she would be there the next afternoon. Kennedy drove straight there from Gwen’s house, feeling the burden of secrecy had been lifted. As she drove through the streets of Chicago, she felt strength returning to her bones like warm blood upon a tourniquet’s release. Upon valeting her car another thought struck her. There was no fear. Once inside the room, Kennedy made good use of the hotel phone—a brief call informing Lydia she’d be out for the night, a short chat with Scott to apologize and say that drinks were on her, and a long talk with Karolyn. While not going into detail, she finally admitted that her mother was right, that a professional issue had become personal and that legal action may be necessary to settle the matter. Her mom immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario, as Kennedy knew that she would, only this time the very worst that Karolyn could think of didn’t come close to Kennedy’s dangerous truth. She assured Karolyn that she’d be careful, and that she was meeting with someone tomorrow to help her strategize her next move. After that Kennedy ordered room service and a bottle of wine. She looked over the agreement that Dodie had couriered over, discussed it with Tamara and signed it. She took a long, hot shower. The food arrived. The wine was smooth, the food delicious and that night, for the first time since she boarded the plane to the Bahamas in May, Kennedy slept like a baby.
The following afternoon, just past one, Dodie Ravinsky whirled into the suite like a Kansas tornado—a deceptively beautiful phenomenon that could form in an instant, with the ability to reach a momentum that could take out everything in her path. Kennedy was prepared, both for speaking with Dodie and for the undoubtedly tumultuous path that lay ahead. Until now, she’d focused on her weaknesses, her vulnerability to an entity much bigger and stronger than anything she possessed. A formidable opponent yes, made even more so because she’d given away her power. But no more. She felt like a phoenix coming out of the ashes. It was time to rise up!
Along with talking to Tamara, she’d researched Dodie online before signing the agreement. The well-known publicist had been in business for almost twenty years. Her client roster included high profile politicians, celebrities, and socialites. Dodie Ravinsky had the pedigree to work in this atmosphere of rarified air. Her father was a judge in New York State. Her mother, a socialite well-known for her philanthropic efforts for children’s causes. Dodie had grown up in privilege, but embraced just causes and was as comfortable in jeans and sneakers as she was in couture and Cartier. Ivy League educated, married and divorced, Dodie Ravinsky abhorred strong-armed injustice, and manipulative narcissists like Van Dijk, which made her the perfect person for the job. When Kennedy stood to greet her as she entered the suite, Dodie’s embrace was genuine, her smile, sincere.
“Your story’s amazing,” Dodie began, after they’d shared pleasantries and settled down in an area with a view of Lake Michigan. “And with everything you’ve dealt with these past few months, you are one tough cookie.”
“Funny you see that in these first few minutes,” Kennedy said with a chuckle. “I just figured that out.”
“I’m glad you did. It’s a fact that you’re going to have to hang on to, a strength that in the weeks and months to come you’re going to have to call upon every day. I want to make sure you fully understand what you’re getting into, exactly what is at stake. Because once these photos are released, there’s no do-overs, no going back.”
“The pictures are to be released anonymously, you do understand that, correct?”
“There is no such thing as anonymous anymore. The public may not know about you, at least not right away. But the guys who’ve been chasing you will know exactly where they came from, even if we use the argument that someone stole them from you. Be prepared for them to try and make your life a living hell.”
“They’ve done that already.”
“What I’m trying to say is no matter how we spin this story, your life will never be the same. Are you ready for that? Are you ready to leave the type of life you’ve lived until now behind you? Understand, what you’ve uncovered will ruin Van Dijk’s reputation, certainly impact the True Broadcast Corporation, and impact his bottom line. Even more, you’re exposing the Becker family and pulling the curtain back on the most secretive parts of secret society. They position themselves as a charitable, God-fearing organization, but trust me. There are some very ruthless players in that group.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of releasing the pictures?”
“No. I just want to make sure that the actions you take from here on out are with your eyes wide open.”
“No one wants their life upended. I would not have chosen this path for myself. But what’s happened has happened, and I believe I have a moral and ethical responsibility to expose Van Dijk for the fraud that he is, to let America know the full story behind who’s representing this country to the rest of the world. I don’t know much about the Beckers, but the MAK’s agenda to run the world, well, it needs to be exposed. I will prepare myself and those around me as best I can but yes, Dodie, based on what’s happened to me so far, I have some idea of what I’m getting into, and my eyes are open. Let’s do this.”
Dodie maintained her serious expression a beat or two more, then offered a smile. “That’s my girl.”
“Oh, that was a test to see if I really wanted to go through with it?”
“Absolutely. And I’m happy to see that you’re battle ready. Now that we’ve gotten your commitment to this process out of the way, and the agreement has been signed, it’s time for me to see what all this fuss is about. Do you have the pictures with you?”
“I don’t go anywhere without them.”
Kennedy went into the bedroom and came out with the flash drive attached to her tablet. She set the tablet on the table and set on the settee next to Dodie. She opened the folder with the pictures Toby had given her, and clicked.
The room went totally silent. Then after several seconds, Dodie said, “Wow.”
Another picture. “Unbelievable.”
A few more and then the final picture. “Holy shit.” Dodie looked at Kennedy. “You have no idea what you have here. I mean you do, but . . . wow. This is going to be the biggest scandal of our lifetimes. Anyone in the media would kill for these pictures, to break this exclusive. You are going to be a very wealthy woman.”
“How much do you think they will offer?” When deciding to sell the pictures, Kennedy hadn’t given much thought to the price.
“For these pictures? They’ll pull in eight figures easy.”
Kennedy’s jaw dropped. “Ten million dollars?”
“At least,” Dodie casually replied. “You say those pictures were shot accidentally?” Kennedy nodded. “Well, you’ve accidentally shot your way into becoming a multi-millionaire.”
Dodie was right. She put her experience, connections, and business savvy to work. All of media took the bait. If Dodie promised, she delivered. They knew that about her. An aggressive bidding war broke out between four major network and cable news stations and more than a dozen major newspapers and national magazines. When the dust settled, the pictures sold for a record-breaking thirty million dollars. Kennedy almost passed out when she heard the news.
24
Zeke spent the week packing up his apartment, closing out business in Brooklyn, and readying himself for life at the slower pace of the Midwest. He was glad the assignment with Wade was over. But he couldn’t help feeling that he’d somehow been punked. Van Dijk had told him the photos Wade possessed threatened national security. Yet all he’d seen on the flash drive wer
e a bunch of pictures of the beach, the island, and a rainbow. Where were the potentially damning photos of Van Dijk meeting Becker? He’d broken in to three different residences behind chasing what . . . pics of Gilligan’s Island? Obviously they knew something he didn’t know and at the end of the day, it was none of his business. He’d done exactly what Van Dijk had asked.
And what was the thanks he got? Settling a billionaire family into life in the country? Seriously? Zeke was a soldier. He’d seen combat. He thrived on the danger of covert operations, had trouble existing in mundane life. But it wasn’t his place to question the boss, or put his personal feelings ahead of what Van Dijk wanted. If he was unhappy, he could always quit working for the mogul, change his reserve status and go back in the service full-time.
Zeke took a couple days and went home to see his family. There were always mixed emotions around doing that. He loved his kin, would die for any one of them. But they didn’t always get along, he didn’t like them all of the time. The relationship with his dad was contentious, largely because of how Matthew treated his mom. Zeke knew his dad was basically a good guy, but Vietnam changed him. He’d gone into rehab when he returned home to get off an addiction to pills. He drank heavily and when he did, verbal and physical abuse often followed. But he’d had a blast with his grandpa Buck and grandma Martha. He’d seen a few friends who still lived in the area. A few days was all it took before he’d had enough and returned to New York to pack up his life there for the relocation to Springfield. The one bright spot was that on his way there he’d spend time at Fort Leonard Wood, looking for personnel to create a team. Not that Zeke thought he’d need one in the short term. He liked working alone.
By early afternoon Friday, Zeke had wrapped up his life in the big city. The boxes of his other personal belongings had already been packed and shipped in a pod to a place he’d rented from an online listing. Now, less than an hour away from leaving, Zeke pulled another duffel bag out of the closet and placed it on the bench by his bed. He reached into the closet, pulled out the segment of jeans and slacks, and after removing the hangers placed them inside the bag. He placed shirts on top of them and in a final bag, packed tees and underwear. Hands on hips, he looked around the room, making sure there wasn’t anything else he wanted with him in the Jeep.