by Glenn Roug
are that important."
Josh had been working on a psychology degree for the past six years. He hadn't gotten it yet, and I was not sure what he did for a living in the meantime. But it was enough that he saw himself as an expert in human behavior. I wanted to say something nasty about that, but knew that it would not go down well with Jane and Aaron. "I'm not important. I just happened to be on a flight that someone wants to eliminate. This means all passengers and crew, Josh, not just me."
"Why?"
"I don't know why."
Jane shook her head vigorously. "You don't know because there is no such reason. If that was a real case the FBI would have picked us up long ago."
Doc Minus Two tried to explain, but Josh and Jane refused to look at it from the FBI's point of view. They did not believe I met with the FBI, either. Aaron, meanwhile, became increasingly nervous. He was biting his nails and rocking back and forth. I was aware that this was causing him much distress, which made it very hard on me. "Aaron, go in the other room," I said.
"He won't go anywhere," Jane yelled. "He'll stay here and see what kind of a moron he's got for a father."
"One of the victims' widow disappeared two days ago," Doc Minus Two said. "The danger is real."
Josh allowed himself to assume a snooty tone of voice now. "I'm sorry, I'm not going to get into a philosophical discussion about what is real to you as opposed to what is real to the rest of humanity. We are being held against our will and you must let us go."
If Doc Minus Two was offended, he did not show it. "It is of course your decision. Those two guys out there would not stop you if you tried to leave."
"Had I known that I'd have left long ago," Josh said.
"Just consider the danger you're putting your fiancée and her son in."
Josh was openly contemptuous. "I don't need to hide because of some cockamamie story, thank you very much. And if I feel that my fiancée is in danger I got a big family to turn to. We can live with them."
Doc Minus Two looked at me. "That's not an ideal solution. The perps would no doubt look for his family next if these three fail to come back to Jane's house. But it's better than nothing. At least it might buy us a few days."
"I want you to be safe," I told Jane. "You and the boy."
"We will be," she answered grumpily.
"Then at least promise me you'll get there straight away, to his family. Don't go back to the house. Trust me. For just a few days trust me. That's all I ask."
She nodded and Josh said, "Alright." He was staring down. I did not know if I could rely on him not to change his mind later, but did not have a choice. Then he said, "Can I call my brother in Boston to tell him we're coming?"
"Go ahead."
"I'll need your phone. Your hired goons took away ours."
Doc Minus Two handed him his phone and pulled me outside the cabin. "That fiancé of your ex is as mad as a mule chewing on bumblebees."
"I'd be mad too if someone kidnapped me like that," I said. "But now that they're here, I think it's far safer than letting them stay with one of Josh's relatives. They’ll never find them here in the wood."
Doc Minus Two lit another half a cigar and put it in his mouth. "We don't really have a choice. Can’t keep them here against their will indefinitely. You don't want to have them in chains, now do you? Plus it would be too costly. These guys don't come cheap." He pointed at the men with the van.
"That's another thing — how do you know they weren't followed here?"
"These two? If they didn't know how to give pursuers the slip they'd be in prison right now. There's a bounty on both. Besides, if they were followed here we'd have known by now."
I heaved a deep sigh and stared up at the tree tops. "Can I stay with my family?"
"I don't think they'd want you to. Or that they think of you as family. Don't take it hard, my family doesn't like me, either."
I shook my head. "My life's a tragedy. My family despises me, I'm unemployed and near broke, and a crack-team of hired killers is out to get me for reasons I may never know."
He gave me a hard look. "There was this a chef I knew who lived in the mountains. The man was a genius. Everything he made tasted like heaven. One time, a big publisher came to visit and had some of that cooking and offered him a cookbook deal on the spot. But the mountain chef used high-altitude cooking times, which were much longer than what the readers of his book — not living in the mountains — needed to use. So following the cooking times in the book, everything came out burned and overdone for them. Overnight he was ruined. Every critic wrote what a complete moron this man must have been, and no one recognized him for the genius that he truly was. He died broken hearted. That's a tragedy. A tragedy because this man was gifted. You are not gifted, and so your life is not a tragedy. Your life is a joke. There's a difference."
I didn't have a retort. He pointed at the Jeep. "We need to get a move on. Lots to do. They'll be relatively safe so long as we act quickly. Otherwise, you'd be dead long before anything happens to them. So either way don't worry too much."
"I hope Josh doesn't go to the cops."
"He might, but again, if we crack this it won't matter and if we don't, you'd be dead soon and won't have to worry about that, either."
"Thanks for setting my mind at ease."
We walked back into the cabin. Doc Minus Two collected his phone from Josh. I said a faint goodbye to Jane. Then I went over to Aaron and sat beside him again. I tried to put an arm around his shoulder but he pushed it away. He seemed more relaxed now that he knew they did not have to stay in the cabin, however. I tried to apologize and said it was for his own good, that his life could have been in danger. He did not answer at first, then said, "Maybe it's all because of the envelope."
"What envelope?" I asked.
"The one you took with you on the plane."
"What are you talking about?"
"The envelope I left in your car when you dropped me off on the way to the airport. The one I got by mistake."
"Oh, I remember now. No, it has nothing to do with that envelope. No one would kill people because of an envelope."
"Daddy I'm scared."
"Don't be," Josh replied before I had a chance to. "I'll protect you. Now let's have no more of that envelope silliness, alright? Everything will be okay."
"He's right," I said. "You'll be alright. No need to be scared." But he was still unsettled. "What about the dog?" he asked.
"I'll ask the neighbor to take care of him," Jane said.
We escorted them out of the house and into the van. Then I paid the two men fifty dollars to take them to a bus station. They grumbled a little about being demoted from kidnappers to taxi drivers, but accepted the task. Doc Minus Two thanked them again and then leaned against the Jeep and watched them disappear down the path. When they were out of sight he turned to me. "What was that about an envelope?"
"Nothing significant. I told you I dropped Aaron off on the way to the airport. Before he got out of the car he handed me a manila envelope with a pen drive in it. No, not manila, a little thicker, padded. He found it in his mail box."
"A thirteen year old boy has a mailbox?"
"It's my box. I had it for years and now I let him use it. He has this girlfriend from the old neighborhood and they send each other things he doesn't want his mother to know about. It's the only bonding we have, me and him, this mail box. But this envelope didn't come from his girlfriend and wasn't meant for him, either. Someone made a typo with the box number, and he got it by mistake."
"Any return address?"
"None."
"Who was the addressee?"
"It just said, To The Minotaur." I shuddered as these words came out of my mouth. "Oh God I didn't think of that. The Minotaur. It can't be a coincidence."
"It may mean nothing. Kids often use nicknames."
"Yes, they do. It didn't seem too unusual at the time, though now I think it very strange. Anyway, since it only had the wrong box number on it an
d no sender info there was no way to know who it was meant for, and no way to send it back. My son thought he'd take a look inside and found the pen drive."
"Why did he give it to you?"
"I don't know." Then I smiled meekly. "It's probably the Minotaur reference. Me being an archeologist and all. I told him the legend of the Minotaur once. He must have thought it would interest me."
"Where's the envelope now?"
"I put it in my hand luggage. It stayed in Dallas and came back home with me." Then something hit me and I said, "No wait: only the pen drive I brought home with me. The envelope was too bulky and I tossed it in the garbage."
Doc Minus Two stood in front of me now, not three feet away. For him this lack of personal space was unusual. He was also looking me in the eye and focusing on what I was saying. I found it disturbing, coming from him. "So the envelope never left the plane?" he asked.
"It may have. I think I chucked it in a garbage can in the airport. At any rate I didn't take it home with me."
"Anything odd about the envelope other than its being sent to the Minotaur at the wrong box number?"
"It was very thick and heavy for something that was supposed to contain a pen drive. Had a lot of tape on it, too."
"Was it rigid in some places, like there was something metal or plastic inside the padding?"
I scratched my head. "I think so. It was strange to the touch, not as soft as you'd expect."
"And the pen drive? Did you check what was on it?"
"No, I forgot all about it. It's in a drawer somewhere in my apartment."
"We better check it out, Al."
"So, Peterson