IQ06. Alcatraz

by Roland Smith

  “Listen to me,” he said. “I know this just . . . well, it’s horrible. But you did good work here. You figured it out. Now we know. We find Speed and we can stop this. I’m sorry, Q. I’m sorry Speed was—is—such a lousy excuse for a father. You’re a great kid. You deserve better. Try to concentrate on the fact that you got a world-class mom. Right now you’d probably rather go off somewhere by yourself and just be alone. But you can’t. I’m sorry. I need you to stick close. If he somehow finds out you’re not with us, he might get suspicious and take off.”

  I looked up at Boone. “Are you saying my own dad had me kidnapped?” I was still thinking over what Boone said about me being taken to Miss Ruby’s ranch in Texas.

  “I am. I couldn’t quite figure out why they would take you out of the blast zone in San Antonio. Just you and not Angela. Now I know.”

  I too had wondered why they separated us in San Antonio. Because he wanted to toy with us, showing us that he was some kind of criminal genius? He’d never displayed an ounce of interest in me in my entire life, unless there was a camera around. He wanted to save me in San Antonio, but was willing to let me die in a chemical attack in Chicago? My head was spinning. It was just too much. I mean, did his twisted mind think that this demonstrated he cared about me in some weird way? Did he think blowing up my mom, my friends and family, and a city full of innocent people, but not me, was “good parenting”? It all made me want to barf. I’d never understood his behavior. Now it made me even more confused. What kind of father does this?

  “So now what do we do?” I asked.

  “We find him,” Boone said quietly.

  “How? He’s been miles ahead of us the whole way,” I said.

  Boone lowered his voice so only Angela and I could hear him. “I think I know how.”

  “Then tell me,” I asked again. My head hurt. I couldn’t imagine any way that Boone could find him.

  “Because I think I might have an idea of what it is he’s looking for,” Boone said.

  Getting Closer

  Boone watched the dejection crawl across Q’s face as the boy studied the feather in his hand. His heart broke for the kid. He knew in an instant what this was all about. What it had always been about.

  Me. He thought. It’s about me. It’s about the power. The blink.

  He’d had many names in the more than nine hundred years he’d been alive. Tyrone Boone was just the latest. He’d used it for a while now. With any luck, he’d never have to change his name or identity again.

  He’d spent hundreds of years asking himself the same set of questions.

  Why me?

  Why was I chosen?

  How have I lived so long?

  How can I finish this?

  Now it seemed he was closer to the answers than he had ever been.

  He would have spared Q and Angela all of this had he been able to. What amazing kids they were. He would have given anything to spare Q the heartbreak he was feeling. Or to give Angela back all those years with her mother that she had lost.

  I’m going to have to tell them the truth. Soon.

  It was something he’d never told anyone. Not once in nearly a millennia. But he could not finish this without their help. And for that they deserved the truth.

  A part of him wondered if he could stop it. Speed was younger. Boone was old. He was slowing down. It was taking him days to regenerate when, many years ago, it had taken a few hours at most.

  Q and Angela stood there looking at him. Waiting for him to say something. To issue an order or a command that would set them on the path of putting an end to this.

  “Okay, let’s get back on the coach,” Boone said to everyone. “But for now, the fact that we know Speed is Number One stays between us. We’re not even going to tell the rest of the group yet. We want Buddy to think he still has an ace in the hole. Besides, if he finds out we know, he might try harder to give us the slip. Vanessa and X-Ray, you leave in the intellimobile and hook up with Malak and Eben and the rest. Find that box. Q and Angela, I’ll be out in a minute. Croc and I are going to take one last look around, make sure there isn’t anything else here we can use.”

  Q handed the feather back to Boone and they all filed out.

  When they were gone he spun the feather in his fingers as he studied it. Croc huffed at him.

  “I know. It’s been so long, old friend. But it looks like we’ve finally found him. We can end this.” Croc huffed and scratched at Boone’s leg, then sat back on his haunches. He looked at Boone and cocked his head.

  “No, I haven’t forgotten,” Boone said. “You’re right. I’m not fully recovered. But he’s been blinking all over the place, just like we have. He’s got to be as run-down as we are. Right now his name is ‘Slow Paulsen.’ Don’t worry. When he makes his move, we’ll be ready.”

  Croc huffed again.

  “Stop being so negative,” Boone said to him. “We’ve never been this close. He has it. I’m positive it’s what he has Buddy looking for. I’ll bet you an order of kung pao chicken. We can get it back. Then it will all be over.”

  Croc stood up from sitting on his haunches as if he’d made his point and had nothing else to say. He strolled past Boone and headed toward the door and the waiting coach.

  “Everybody’s a critic,” Boone muttered as he sauntered along behind him. “Then why don’t you come up with a better plan?” he said, but Croc ignored him. As Boone and Croc exited the building, Boone looked up at the sun and took a long, deep breath of fresh air. He smiled.

  Life, even one as long as mine, is all about being grateful for the little things.

  The Little Things

  Vanessa and X-Ray had returned to the intellimobile and driven off as Boone instructed. Angela sat at the dining table looking at something on her laptop.

  “Where’s Q?” Boone asked.

  “He said he didn’t feel well. He’s lying down in the bedroom,” she said.

  Boone looked back at the bedroom door. Croc hopped up in the shotgun seat and curled up in a ball.

  “What is the plan now?” Angela asked.

  “We’re not going to lose, Angela—don’t worry,” Boone said. “In fact it’s time to turn up the heat on Buddy T.”

  Boone punched a button on his phone.

  “Felix, put Buddy on,” he said. He put the phone on speaker.

  “What is it, Boone?” Buddy said, sounding annoyed.

  “You’re holding out on me, Buddy.” Angela looked up from her computer and leaned in closer to the phone.

  “What? What are you talking about? I told you where—”

  “You told me nothing,” Boone interrupted. “There’s nothing here, Buddy. You lied. I don’t cotton to being lied to. Where’s the box?”

  “I don’t know, Boone. I told you there wouldn’t be anything there. You don’t understand this guy. He’s freaky. It’s not my fault you didn’t find any leads. I swear. I can’t remember where this thing is and—” Buddy was pleading, when Boone interrupted.

  “Okay, Buddy. Play it your way. I think you’re stalling and stringing us along. You’re hoping Number One finds out we got our hooks in you and he just disappears. It’s how you ghost cell types do it, right? You just fade away. I think your whole story is a lie. Once you’re convinced Number One is gone, you’ve got some elaborate scheme in place to ditch us. So I’m sorry to inform you, Buddy T., but your little charade is over. I’m going to cut you loose.”

  “You what? No! You can’t do that! If he knows . . . we had an agreement . . . he’ll kill me. You don’t know who you’re dealing with. This guy . . . there’s something different about him. It’s like he’s everywhere at once . . . he knows things . . . things he couldn’t know unless he’d seen them himself, but he couldn’t have seen them because he was never there. I know how crazy it sounds, Boone! Please, you can’t do this!”

  Boone tried not to smile. Buddy’s description was what he’d been waiting for. Now he was more convinced than ever that he wa
s right about Speed.

  Boone was silent for several moments, letting Buddy sweat a little.

  “Okay, Buddy. Then I suggest you think real hard about finding that box. Where is it?”

  “I don’t . . . look . . . he told me how big it was. There’s about three banks left where I rented big boxes. It must . . . maybe it’s in one of them. But, Boone, he’s given me so much stuff. Old stuff. I don’t mean just antiques, I mean really old stuff that would be hard to get. It has to be in one of those. I’ll try to find it and—”

  “You better find it. Or you can take your chances with Number One,” Boone said. “Put Felix back on the line.”

  “Yeah, Boone,” Felix said.

  “Where are you?”

  “We just checked State Federal downtown. Nothing.”

  “Okay, Buddy says he’s got some locations with extra-large boxes. Head there next. I’m sending X-Ray and Vanessa to you. They’ll take Buddy, Malak, and Eben in the intellimobile. You, Uly, and Pat take the Rover. Then wait for my call. I want to make sure Q and Angela are someplace safe until we find what Number One is looking for. I’ll call you with the location, and then I want you guys to run countersurveillance on us.”

  “Copy that,” Felix said and disconnected the call.

  “What is going on, Boone?” Angela asked.

  “I don’t know for sure. But I think we’re close. But we’ve got to find that box. Come on, I need to talk to Q.”

  Angela stood up and followed Boone as he headed for the back of the coach.

  Handling the Truth

  I heard the knock on the bedroom door. My hands had worked through my deck of cards what felt like a thousand times since I lay down on the bed. Now I was practicing with my magic coin. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. More knocking.

  “Q?” Boone said through the door. “Is it okay if Angela and I come in?”

  I didn’t answer. Having a dad like Speed Paulsen is bad enough all by itself. There’s the lies, the forgotten birthdays, the fights between him and my mom. Now it turns out he’s also the world’s biggest and baddest terrorist. I just couldn’t imagine how my life could get any worse.

  “Q? Can we please come in?” Boone asked again.

  “Fine,” I said.

  They opened the door and strode in. I didn’t get up off the bed.

  “I’m changing things up. Buddy is feeling even more pressure now. And since we know that Speed is Number One, I want to get you and Angela someplace a little off the grid. Not the hotel. Someplace he wouldn’t think to look. Do you have any ideas?”

  I was quiet for a moment, rolling my magic coin back and forth through my fingers. The truth of it was, I was just tired. Finding out about Speed made it feel like the whole world was just pressing down on me. Boone seemed to sense how I was feeling. Angela just stood there biting her lower lip.

  “Q, I know this—”

  “Please, Boone. Stop. I just don’t want to think about it right now.”

  “I understand. But I’ve got to move you someplace safe and—”

  I held up my hand to stop him, pulled out my recently cloned phone, and called Mom.

  “Q?” she said. I could tell by her voice she was still a little angry with me.

  “Hi, Mom. How you doing?” I said.

  “I’m okay. What’s up?”

  “First, I wanted to say I’m sorry about what happened at the airport. I don’t know what got into me. I guess . . . I don’t know. Anyway, I just had a question. I know we sold the sailboat to the Hackworths before we left on the tour. But Boone is here with Angela and me now, and I was just telling them about how cool it was when we lived on it. I know they’re out of town a lot. Do you think you could call them and ask if I could show Boone and Angela the boat? Just for a while. I’d like to see it again before . . . you know. Boarding school.”

  A little extra guilt couldn’t hurt.

  Mom was quiet a moment. I could tell she was trying to determine if I was up to something. But eventually she gave in. “You know what? I think that’s a great idea. I’ll get in touch with Mrs. Hackworth and ask if it’s okay if you come by. Let me call you right back.” She disconnected.

  I didn’t move from the phone, still maneuvering the coin through my fingers.

  Boone and Angela didn’t say anything. They just shifted their weight from foot to foot and looked uncomfortable. I didn’t like that they were upset and worried about me. It wasn’t their fault.

  “You guys want to see a cool card trick?” I said.

  “Uh. Sure,” Angela said. But my phone rang before I could retrieve one of my decks.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hi, kiddo. I have good news. I just talked to Mrs. Hackworth and they are out of town this week. She said you could spend as much time on the boat as you want. There is a spare set of keys at the marina office. Is everything else okay? Where are you?”

  “Everything is fine, Mom. We’re in the coach with Boone, getting some of our clothes and stuff before we check into the hotel. See you at the concert, all right?”

  “You bet, sweetie. Have fun.”

  “We will. Thanks, Mom. I love you,” I said.

  “Love you too, babe. Bye.” She disconnected.

  I looked at Boone. “We can go to the boat. It’s probably the last place Speed would think to look.”

  “Okay, that’s perfect,” Boone said. “We’ll get—”

  “On one condition,” I interrupted.

  Boone stopped and stared at me, a wary look in his eye.

  “Once we get there, you tell us everything. And I mean everything.”

  Boone considered this for a moment.

  “Deal,” he said.

  Good Knight

  The three of us hopped a cab to the marina. We left the coach parked where it was. It wouldn’t do any good to have the huge Match coach in the marina parking lot. Not when we were trying to stay off the radar. The keys to the sailboat were waiting in the marina office, as promised. Uly, Felix, and Pat had cleared the marina and reported back to Boone that it was safe. No one was watching the boat. Pat, Felix, and Uly were now running countersurveillance on the moorage. The Range Rover was out of sight.

  The sun was bright and Angela, Boone, and I sat on the deck of the sailboat. I was surprised by how much I’d missed it. Ever since Mom and Roger started the tour, it felt like I’d been riding a whirlwind. Being in a peaceful, familiar setting had a calming effect on all of us. If it’s even possible to be calm after determining your father is secretly the world’s most wanted terrorist.

  There was a small quarterdeck at the stern, holding a table surrounded by cushioned benches. Angela opened her backpack and removed her laptop and file folder full of papers. She laid the file on the table in front of Boone. Inside it were copies of all the pictures P.K. had sent us, plus more info we’d dug up on our own.

  Boone took a few moments to look through the file. When he was finished, he handed it back to Angela.

  “I assume this is mostly your work?” Boone said to her.

  “Mostly. Q helped, and we got some of it from P.K.,” she said.

  Boone sighed. “P.K. I should have known. I’ll bet he went to the National Archives, didn’t he?” He held up the folder. “Angela, you’re going to make one heck of an agent someday,” he said.

  “Who are you, Boone?” she asked.

  “What are you, Boone?” I asked.

  “I’m just a man. An exhausted old man,” he said.

  “I think you’re more than that,” Angela said.

  “I suppose that’s true,” Boone said.

  “Boone, I don’t want to be a hard case,” I said. “But this is the first chance we’ve had to be alone for an extended period of time since Kitty Hawk. You’ve been intentionally dodging us ever since then. We know what you can do. I think we’ve earned an explanation.”

  “It’s complicated,” Boone said.

  “Most things are,” Angela shot back.

  B
oone sighed deeply and leaned back on the bench.

  “No, Angela,” Boone said. “Truthfully, they’re not. Most things are pretty simple. Right versus wrong. Good versus evil. Morality versus immorality. You can argue the details, but the big things? They’re not so hard to figure out. It’s people who screw them up.”

  Angela and I didn’t say anything. We were content to wait until Boone was ready to tell us.

  “My real name is Sir Tonye Borneo. The photo you found of the statue? It comes from my family estate. I was born in the year 1080. When I was twenty, I was knighted and in 1104 I was sent with eight other knights to Jerusalem. We had offered our swords and shields to the pope. He sent us there with the assigned duty of protecting Christian pilgrims on the roads to and from the holy city. Jerusalem was then under the stewardship of King Baldwin II. Grateful for our service, he gave us horses and weaponry and allowed us to establish our barracks in Solomon’s Temple.”

  “The Knights Templar,” Angela said quietly. “Oh, my God. You were a Templar knight? I can’t . . . seriously?” All of a sudden she sat up in her seat and her eyes were wide. The palms of her hands were pressed down on the table, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  I just sat there. I had no idea what they were talking about. Something about some knights who lived in a temple. Apparently this was a big deal.

  Boone nodded. “Yes. Officially we were known as the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and King Solomon’s Temple, but that’s a mouthful. Eventually, we were simply referred to as the Knights Templar, or Templars.”

  “Wow,” Angela said. “I—I just . . . wow!”

  “So you were, like, knights in armor, running around fighting and stuff?” I asked.

  Boone chuckled. He seemed more relaxed than at any time since I’d stumbled across him in the desert. Maybe unburdening himself was giving his spirits a lift.

  “No, not armor like you see in the movies where knights are jousting on horseback. That wasn’t invented until much later. We had iron helmets and shin guards, but we mostly wore chain mail. Astride a horse, small iron lances were our weapons of choice, but we also fought with sword and shield. We trained to fight nonstop. You have to understand, back then, a single well-mounted, well-armed knight could strike fear in a half-dozen bandits or raiders who might be harassing innocents.”