Angels Mark (The Serena Wilcox Mysteries Dystopian Thriller Trilogy) (16 page)

“I was on board with everything. I have a vigilante spirit. I actually believed that a split America would do as you said: break us to heal us. But it didn’t work. And hearing you talk right now – you’re crazy.”

“John, you were walking right alongside me in those days. May I jog your memory – how we alone conspired to stall the debt ceiling negotiations? Deliberately letting the nation default, sabotaging nation and world markets, crippling our own government? You have amnesia?”

“The idea came after coming close to default in 2011, I wasn’t the only one involved. It wasn’t you and I like you allude to. We had support from both sides of the aisle.”

“But John, it was the two of us who kept a cool head and had the balls to go through with the plan. The others would have caved, would have signed off at the last hour. The two of us made the play to switch sides, stalling the bill, running the clock. We had no tea-partiers in our way this time around, and after cleaning house of most of those zealots, we were home free for the big crash and burn – phase one of the plan for America to go its separate ways – a covert civil war, if you will.”

“I lay awake at night wondering if we needed to take it a step further – wasn’t financial ruin enough to split the union? Did we really need to let the bombs fly? We knew that the Iranians had moved their weapons within range – we could have taken them out.”

“Regrets, John? I don’t believe you. You and I are cut from the same cloth. I appeal to common sense and you appeal to the rest.”

“You’ve got some serious hate going on for Christians.”

“No, those poor people are only sheep to the slaughter.”

“So your hatred is only toward Republicans then?”

“I wouldn’t say that I don’t have contempt for the Christians, of course they’re a thorn in my side. They cloud simple issues with their morality, blocking my path. Not a one of them can think for himself, yet they manage to bring the machine to a grinding halt, over and over again. No, I hold no love for Christians. But I have no more contempt for them than
you
do: you manipulate them for your own political gain, pretending to be one of them, catering to their religious zeal. You don’t know the first thing about their God, do you, John?”

“I see myself through your eyes and I have a strong feeling I’m going to hell,” said John.

The two men looked at each other and then broke into laughter. “I missed you, John.”

“No you didn’t.”

“You got that right.”

Their banter was disrupted when they heard gun shots outside the house.

21

Serena admired the photos of herself with President Ann Kinji – standing in her very own kitchen!
She copied the entire 120 pictures of her family with the President onto her laptop. Then she synced it with her iPad. She made desktop pictures for each. How she wished she could post them to Facebook, but she was officially still in hiding. She wondered if her connection to the President could help her get her family’s identity back without penalty – it would be so liberating to shed the Meadows persona. Then she could freely share her prized pictures of herself with the first female president!

The photos had taken only a few minutes to take, her rapid-fire digital camera beep, beep, beeping, taking dozens of pictures of nearly identical poses. Samuel raced for his own camera, and the session began anew. Ten minutes later, the cameras were off. Serena didn’t want President Kinji to regret accepting her invitation to come to her home. Enough already, it was time to serve the president coffee and a snack; and, she anticipated, talk like old girlfriends! Oh, how she’d love to pick the president’s brain. This would be the best coffee chat ever!

Unfortunately, that was when Ann received a call on her special line. She made her goodbyes quickly, after having spent less than fifteen minutes on the Meadow’s property, and was out the door before the coffee could even finish brewing. The Meadows, clinging to their fifteen minutes of fame, stood on their lawn; watching the convoy, and waving until the president’s entourage was completely out of view. Then they all trudged back into the house.

“At least I got pictures,” said Serena. When she got back inside that was the first thing she did: download the pictures, and she couldn’t resist sending a few to
Karyn and Dan via e-mail. When she was finished gawking at and preserving her photos, she joined Tom at the kitchen table, where he was not letting the fresh coffee go to waste.

“I keep thinking about poor Clyde,” she said.

“Yeah, me too,” said Tom.

“I wonder how Paul is doing,” said Serena.

“The secret service is probably still watching him, he’s probably fine,” said Tom, without conviction.

“No, they left. President Kinji said that all of her team was heading back,” said Serena.

“If it would make you feel better, we can check on him,” said Tom.

“I think we should do that, yes,” said Serena. “I feel kind of responsible for him since we went along with his plan without double-checking to see if President Kinji really did authorize it.”

“It wasn’t our fault.”

“I had a nagging feeling that they were lying, but I ignored my gut feeling,” said Serena.

“You didn’t kill Clyde. But we’ll find Paul.”

Serena suggested that they leave the kids at home, not wanting a repeat of the disastrous occasions of the past few days. Then they were out the door to find a person who, as recently as just a couple days ago, they had been trying to avoid. They first tried the house Paul had shared with his brother Clyde, but finding no one at home, they went to the computer lab. Serena had a hunch that he might go there to feel close to Clyde.

At the lab, they found only a young boy, around fourteen years old. They knocked on the glass window of the entrance door. He stared at them for a few seconds, dismissed them as non-threatening, and opened the door for them. He didn’t say a word, but looked at them expectantly, a non-verbal invitation to speak.

“I’m Serena
Wil—mmm, Meadows,” she said. “This is my husband Tom. I used to be a private detective, but I’ve lost my knack for finding people. I’m looking for Clyde’s brother, a man named Paul.”

Nicholas’ face lit up. “He was just here!”

“Do you know where he was going?” asked Tom.

“Yes! He freaked me out.”

They waited for him to continue, and when he didn’t, Serena said, “Where did he say he was going?”

“He gave me a lot of money, more money than I’ve ever had in my whole life! Look at this pile of money! He threw it down on the table and told me to keep it. I tried to say no, I really did. He told me to keep all of it,” Nicholas’ energy was that of a puppy fetching a ball.

“Why would he do that?” asked Serena. Getting information from this kid was tedious, but she had a feeling that a little patience would be well worth the effort, and boy was it effort.

Nicholas stammered and spoke at an octave that was barely audible. Serena and Tom strained their ears to hear him. “He asked me to find somebody, somebody really famous. I mean,
really
famous.”

“Who?”
Serena struggled against the urge to hurry the boy along, as she suspected it would only make communication even more tedious.

He lowered his voice to barely above a whisper, “The former president, before the Big War.”

“And did you find him?” asked Serena.

“Yes, it was easy. I did a search and found the blog, where a fan page was and she had written about a list of the homes of all the places where he, the former president, before the Big War, had ever lived before, all of the places, and she had the one he lives in now, his current residence, and I told Paul that it was too easy and not to give me money, that I couldn’t take his money, but he insisted and I still have the money. Do you think I can keep the money?” Nicholas asked shyly, hopefully.

“It’s yours now, keep it.”

Nicholas tried gallantly, and unsuccessfully, to suppress the big grin that took over his face.

“Did you give Paul the address?” asked Serena.

“Yes. I have it. I got it in the window behind this one, see?” Nicholas was using one of the touch screen monitors. He used his fingertip to select the hidden window. The former president’s address came up, complete with a map marking the exact location.

Tom plugged the address into his handheld GPS. “Got it, thanks.”

“I better call President Kinji,” said Serena.

“Wow! You’re friends with the President?” said Nicholas.

Serena beamed. “Well, I’m not sure I can go that far, but yes, I know President Ann Kinji.”

She pressed the speed dial pre-set for Ann’s special line, avoiding typing in a long series of numbers. What she got was a recording. “That’s odd. It says that ‘this number is closed to all incoming calls’.”

“Try it again?” said Tom.

She did. “Nope, same thing, ‘this number is closed to all incoming calls’.”

“What do you want to do? I’m willing to go, it’s up by Burnsville.”

“Burnsville? I didn’t know he was in the Minneapolis area,” said Serena.

“Yeah, he was at the ribbon cutting ceremony at the new wing, where the stock exchange is, the financial center, where they buy and sell stocks, it was on the podcast, I s
aw it,” said Nicholas.

“Why do you think Paul wants to see the former President? Should we call the police? Or the FBI?” asked Serena.

“That’s what I was thinking!” said Nicholas.

“Then again, this isn’t really our case anymore, not that it ever really was. We have only a loose connection to this,” said Serena.

“Right, it’s not like you’re hired. It’s up to you. I’m willing to go if you want to,” said Tom.

“I think we should do it.
Patriotic duty, right? Whatever Paul is up to, it can’t be a good thing that he’s gone to see the former president.”

“Up to you,” Tom repeated.

“They never gave you your gun back. What if Paul is uncooperative, or what if he has a gun?”

“We’ll call the police.”

“Good point. I’ll keep trying President Kinji’s phone, but… I don’t feel right doing nothing at all while we wait. We might as well go up there and if we see anything alarming we can call the police.”

Nicholas looked from Tom to Serena and back again. “Can I come?”

“No, but we can give you a ride home if you want,” said Tom.

Nicholas shrugged. “I rode my bike. You guys better hurry, Paul is probably almost there by now.” He stared wistfully beyond them through the lab door window at their car for a long second.
Then he raced back to his computer station. “I’m going to watch the podcasts. I’ll probably see you on the news!”

22

“Hey, man, you don’t have to do this,” said Special Agent
Whikehart. He heard Paul coming around the back of the former president’s house long before Paul could see them. Paul had parked near the back entrance, oblivious to the numerous government vehicles parked at the front entrance.

It was only after he entered the backyard that Paul saw the team of agents gathered to meet him. It was then that he broke into a cold sweat, suddenly chilled and shivering. He didn’t stop moving though- he walked doggedly forward, putting one shaky foot in front of the other.

“Looks like suicide by police,” said Special Agent Zech.

“We should call someone in on this,” said
Whikehart.

“We don’t have time, this guy could pop off at any time,” said
Gasiorowski. He stared at the unsteady figure a few yards away. Nothing about this guy seemed right.

“Call it in,” said Zech.

“Meanwhile, we deal with it,” said Special Agent Wooding. Wooding signaled for four team members to move in.

Special Agents
Gasiorowski, Bledsoe, Whikehart and Jorissen slowly circled around Paul while Special Agent Delk called it in.

“The FBI is sending a team, but we have to keep him talking until they get here,” said
Delk.

Zech
initiated dialog with Paul. “Easy now, tell us what you want, we can help you.”

Paul stood with his arms passively by his sides, his face emotionless. He said nothing.

Zech tried again, “Why are you at the house of the former president?”

The circling agents came a few steps closer.

Paul reached into his pocket.

Agents
Gasiorowski, Bledsoe, Jorissen and Wooding all fired at once. None of the shots were aimed to kill, or even to maim. They were merely noisemakers. The desired effect was easily accomplished: Paul froze, dropping what he had in his hand. No further shots were necessary.

The gun fire got the attention of the two men inside the house, and the attention of the couple who was pulling up behind the line of government vehicles parked in front of the former president’s residence.

“Oh no!” cried Serena. “It’s too late! We should have called the police.”

“That’s a lot of rounds,” said Tom. “Look around; there are government vehicles all over this place. They already know.”

“What do we do, stay in the car?” asked Serena. “We should at least tell them what we know. Poor Paul, he’s probably dead.” She couldn’t see much from her perspective, but she did notice an agent walking purposefully toward their car. She shook Tom’s arm to get his fast attention.

Neither was startled when Special Agent
Whikehart rapped on their window. “Identify yourself, please.”

Serena leaned across Tom’s lap to speak out his window, “We were helping President Kinji, and Paul is part of that. We were looking for Paul to check on him. It looks like we were too late. We tried to call President Kinji on her special line, but we couldn’t get through.”

Whikehart handed Tom a slim gadget through the open window. “Press 3.”

Tom pressed 3 and heard a click.

“Yes?” said President Kinji.

Tom handed the tiny phone to Serena. She held it to her ear the best she could.

“Yes?” President Kinji repeated, louder.

Serena held the phone up to her mouth, as if holding a microphone. “President Kinji, it’s me, Serena. I’m at the former president’s house. I’m guessing you already know what’s going on here?”

“Yes, my team is working on the situation. Why are you there?”

“We were checking up on Paul, and learned that he was coming here. I tried to reach you on your special line but couldn’t get through.”

“Don’t worry; we got everything we needed before he showed up. No harm done. Give the phone back to Special Agent Whikehart please.”

Serena passed the phone to Tom, who handed it back to
Whikehart.

Whikehart
listened to President Kinji’s orders via his wireless earpiece. He nodded to no one in particular, then disconnected the call.

“She’s cleared you. She says if we can’t get Paul out of here quickly and quietly, then we are to let you have a try at him.” His voice was toneless, but he conveyed with his facial expression and body language that he didn’t agree with the president’s decision, and he didn’t lack confidence that he and his team could take care of the problem.

Whikehart returned to the chaos in the former president’s backyard, not hearing, or possibly ignoring, Serena’s plea to “Wait!”

Serena said to Tom, “Are we supposed to follow him?”

“They’ll come get us if they need us,” said Tom.

Serena got out of the car. “He said President Kinji cleared us. I think we should go.”

    Tom followed suit and the two of them were quickly through the front gate, around the side of the brick McMansion, and into the immaculate, professionally landscaped, backyard. There were no gnomes or plastic flamingos, no swing sets or trampolines, no BBQ grill, no pool. There was nothing to indicate that anyone actually used this yard. Today’s circus was probably the most activity the property had ever had.

“Now what!
Who are they?” barked President John Williams.

Serena tried to squelch her surprise, and disgust, at the sight of Williams standing on the lawn. She answered, with impressive confidence, “I’m Serena and this is my husband Tom. We know Paul and might be able to help talk him into leaving without any problems.”

Williams grunted and waved his hand dismissively. “Clean up this mess,” he said to everyone in general. He zeroed in on Special Agent Wooding in particular when he said, “Give me ten minutes; get the boys ready to roll. I want to be back at the White House before daybreak.”

Even though it meant another convoy, another flight, and a final convoy, the agents were relieved to hear that they’d be going home soon. They’d had enough of Minnesota. The temperatures were dropping much lower than they were used to during this time of year.

Serena waited until Williams was back inside before she walked over to where Paul was standing without moving, his arms still hanging limply at his sides, his eyes fixated on the small object he had dropped on the ground. “Paul, what are you doing here?” she said in a soft, gentle voice.

Paul snapped out of his trance then, and looked at her with clear sharp eyes. “I’m here to deliver this,” he said. He reached down to scoop up the object he had dropped.

A half dozen agents’ weapons made mechanical noises all at once.

Paul waved his arms over his head. “I’m not armed! I’m not armed! It’s not a weapon. It’s a bug. It’s a bug!”

Whikehart walked past Serena to pick up the object. “What’s this? It looks like a fly.” He pulled the high tech insect out of its case.

“Be careful with that! It was my brother’s. Clyde had it made. I was going to set it to fly around during my little chat with the former
Prez,” said Paul. “Hey! Stop messing with it! It’s very sensitive. It can record audio from yards away. It’s very valuable. I want that back!” He watched woefully as the agents passed the bug around. “At least put it back in the case!”

“They can put it back in the case, right, Agents?” Serena negotiated.

Agent Wooding brought the bug to Special Agent “The Beav” Black, whose love for spy gadgets made him an expert on unusual tech situations in the field. Agent Black’s turn examining the bug ended with putting it reverently back in the case. The agents were losing interest in Paul now that they knew he was unarmed. They relaxed their stance.

“Paul, I’ll ask that they return the bug to you when they are done inspecting it. Why don’t we talk in the car? We are parked at the front entrance, just around there.” Serena pointed to the side yard. She took a few steps in that direction.

Tom and Paul followed her. The agents gave them a look of dismissal. Whikehart had confirmed that Paul was her charge. The agents returned their attention to the two men in the house. They were hopeful that the visit was winding down and soon they’d be on their way home. Several had dates that evening that they hoped to make it home in time for.

Paul settled into the backseat of the Meadow’s car. He shut the door and waited for Tom and Serena to invite him to speak. “Well, what’s going on?” asked Serena.

That was all the opening he needed. “I planned to confront the former president with everything we know, record it, and give it to the White House.”

“President Kinji said that they already got everything they needed, so they must have been thinking the same thing you were,” said Serena. “It sounds like you can probably go home now. I don’t think anyone is going to bother you.”

“I see FBI was turned away,” Tom agreed. “They aren’t going to bring you in. You better not come around anymore though.”

“I’m not done yet,” said Paul. His eyes glowed with intensity, and insanity.

Serena ignored his words and ramped up her persuasion, using Paul’s grief to grab his attention. “Without you and Clyde, Bryce wouldn’t have gotten those files. The Angels Mark’s role in this will go down in history. Clyde will go down in history as a hero. That’s gotta feel good, right Paul? I know he would have liked that.”

Paul said nothing. His expression did not change.

“Paul? Clyde’s memory will be honored, it will. I’m afraid if you won’t let us talk you into going home, we’ll need to let those agents take care of you. You can’t stay here,” said Serena.

She tried to gain the attention of one of the agents, but none of them were looking at her. Most of the team was focused on the house, listening intently to the conversation within the presidential walls. The only two agents who seemed to be assigned to them were watching the area surrounding the vehicle, protecting them from the dangers outside the car, not anticipating the dangers from within.

“You have no idea what Clyde was capable of. He got his team to invent incredible things, Clyde’s own ideas brought to life by child geniuses,” said Paul.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to go to prison, Paul. President Kinji seems ready to let your missteps slide, because of all you and Clyde did to get at the truth. I know you think you are doing this for him, but…” said Serena.

“I
am
doing this for him. You have no idea what he’s done for me. He has killed for me, he has died for me,” said Paul ominously.

“But President Kinji has all the evidence we need. Justice will be served,” said Serena.

“She’s right, Paul. There’s nothing more you can do. You need to let it go,” said Tom.

“I will never let it go!” screamed Paul. His face turned crimson while the veins in his forehead throbbed.

Tom looked around to see if Paul had been loud enough to attract attention. Apparently not. At that instant, out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. He flinched; then he laughed at his fear. “One of your bugs got out.”

A tiny mechanical flying object zipped around the interior of the car, bouncing off of surfaces and dropping down, then taking off again, repeatedly. Tom and Serena watched it, first amused and then annoyed. “How do I catch it?” asked Serena.

“Oh I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” said Paul mysteriously. He was now sitting with his hands neatly folded; his body strangely still and calm.

“What do you mean? Will it zap us if we touch it?” asked Serena.

“Oh, far worse than that,” Paul said slowly. He grinned as mysteriously as the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.

The mechanical insect whirred madly around and around, bumping and falling, bumping and falling. It knocked into the passenger’s side window, nearly hitting Serena. It bumbled along over the interior of the car door until it bounced far enough from the vinyl that it was able to take flight again.

“I’m going to get out, and that thing will get loose!” said Serena.

“I don’t mind,” said Paul, a tight-lipped grin plastered across his flushed face.

Serena was a people-reader, and she took note of what she saw on Paul’s face, not only his odd coloring, but the look he got every time the bug bumped into something: he flinched.
Why? Is he afraid the flying gadget will break? Is it fragile?

No, no, that isn’t it.
He was bracing himself as if he thought the mechanical insect might explode when it bumped the dashboard. Her heart filled with terror as her mind clicked, clicked, clicked along until it finally understood.

It felt like the seconds were suspended, as if time stood still when Serena turned to Tom and said, “It’s a bomb.” She and Tom fled from the car, unintentionally letting the mechanical fly out.

Paul cackled, a high-pitched witch-like cackle. He took something out of his pocket.

“Hey! Whoa! No! Don’t do it!” Tom leaped out of the car and threw open Paul’s door. He tried to grab Paul’s arm, but it was too late. Paul had pressed the button on the gadget a
nd had even managed, with lightning reflexes, to set a very small joystick lever to send the mechanical insect directly into the former president’s house.