Don't Order Dog (49 page)

Jeri Halston and Joe’s Last Stand Saloon no longer existed. 

Jeri opened her eyes to darkness.

The rattling noise of an engine had pulled her from a deep sleep. She slowly realized she was in a moving vehicle. Disoriented, she sat up unsteadily – and immediately smashed her forehead against an unseen object. “What the hell?” she mumbled, reaching out cautiously at her pitch black surroundings. To her surprise a ceiling of cold steel hovered just inches in front of her. She ran her fingers along its smooth surface and quickly found corners and walls on both sides. She kicked her feet and found the same unyielding walls and ceiling. As she quickly felt around, Jeri realized with a growing sense of panic that she wasn’t just tucked into a tight corner of a moving vehicle –

she was locked inside a narrow metal cell.

She pushed the panic from her mind and focused on how she’d ended up here. The last thing she could recall was being in the saloon with Chip and…
Chilly
… her mysterious letter writer. Everything had happened so quickly. The injection Chilly had given her was obviously some form of sedative, but just how long had she been asleep? And where in the hell were they now taking her? As if in response to her question, the vehicle suddenly accelerated as it began ascending a hill.

Jeri felt around in the darkness for anything else that might be inside the container. The floor of her cell was covered by something soft and yielding like a thin mattress. She felt around on it and suddenly bumped against a small, heavy object. She cautiously wrapped her fingers around it before recognizing its familiar shape.
A flashlight!
Jeri clicked on the flashlight and winced as the blackness was abruptly replaced by a bright beam of light. She waved the light around and examined her surroundings. The container was nothing more than a rectangular steel box, just slightly longer than her body, with dents and scratches that suggested it was normally used to contain tools or heavy equipment. The padding beneath her was a thin sleeping pad, folded to fit within the small space. She aimed the flashlight at the opposite end of the container. Three small holes were cut in the metal near her feet, and Jeri could feel a cool rush of fresh air circulating in from each. She swept the flashlight slowly along the length of each wall before dropping it hopelessly next to her. The light had revealed nothing more than what Jeri already suspected – there was no chance for escape.

So why had they left it for her?

Jeri was considering this question when she realized her head was raised higher than the rest of her body. She reached beneath the sleeping pad and felt a thick object under her head. She pulled it out and held it in the light. The plain cover of the thick book was all too familiar.

“Predictions in the New Business Ecology”

Jeri could tell by its worn edges that it wasn’t just a copy of her father’s book – it was
her
copy. She opened it and slowly turned the thin crisp pages to the first chapter. There, a sheet of stationary from the Flagstaff Motel 6 was pressed inside. A brief note in a familiar, precise handwriting was written across it.

Something to pass the time,
and answer some questions. 
We’ll be arriving soon.

Jeri crumbled the note and tossed it angrily at her feet. A sudden rush of rage
filled her. She dropped the book and slapped her hands against the ceiling of her steel cell.

“Let me out of here!” she screamed, ignoring the loud echo of her voice in the cramped space.
”Goddamn it, Chip… let me out of here! I know you can hear me! Get me out of this fucking box right now!”

After pounding at the cold metal for what felt like an eternity, Jeri laid back breathless from exertion and listened. To her frustration, she could hear nothing more than the steady sound of the en
gine as the vehicle sped onward toward their destination. Gathering another burst of energy, she pressed her hands and knees against the ceiling of the container and pushed with what remained of her strength.

But it was no use.

Exhausted, Jeri fell back against the thin sleeping pad beneath her and started crying. She wanted to tear through the steel cell around her and rip the head off of Chip and the men who had taken her. She wanted to be free of this madness. She wanted to be on her flight to India. She wanted to be starting a new life. She wanted all of these things. But as she laid there in the light of the flashlight and slowly calmed down, Jeri quietly accepted an inescapable fact. None of these things were possible until she knew exactly what all of this was about.

She picked up her father’s book and held it in the bright beam of the flashlight. It felt heavy in her hands. She turned it over and looked at the young smiling face on the back cover. As she looked into the eyes of her father, Chip’s words echoed in her mind.

Your father considered his book to be the conclusion and greatest achievement of his ‘former’ life, so he decided to publish it under the name James Stone.

Jeri opened the book and flipped to the first chapter. Soon enough she would have the opportunity to confront Chip and her captors. First she needed some answers. First she needed to meet
James Stone
. She took a deep breath and started to read.
 

∞

Tom opened his eyes and glanced drowsily at his surroundings. He was lying on his back in a strange, unfamiliar room. A noticeable smell of rubbing alcohol and sterilized bandages hung in the air. He moved his arm and winced at a sudden, wakening sting. To his surprise, two IV tubes now ran from large needles in his wrist. He then noticed the heart monitor beeping quietly over his shoulder.

What the hell was going on?

Tom
had no memory of arriving at the hospital. And yet here he was, lying under the sterile white sheets of a bed, wrapped in the ridiculous light-blue gown of a patient. He started to sit up – and immediately cried out at the searing pain in his leg. Confused, he threw back the sheets to find his leg heavily wrapped above his knee. The bandage was stained with a small round patch of dark blood. Even without remembering what had occurred, Tom had seen enough wounds like his own in the line of duty to know what it meant.

He’d been shot.

He reached over and angrily pressed the large call button tethered to the bed. A moment later a nurse’s voice sounded over the speaker.

“Can I help you, Mr. Coleman?”

“I’d like to know what the fuck happened to me.”

“Ok
, sir,” the nurse replied tersely. “Someone will be there in a moment,”

Tom sat quietly, staring at his wounded leg. Why couldn’t he remember what had happened? The last thing he could recall was walking into
the saloon and speaking to Chip and another man, but his memory was hazy at best. He sat gloomily, gingerly feeling for any other wounds on his body when a tall figure suddenly appeared in the doorway. He looked up and shook his head.

“Alex?” Tom muttered, surprised at the sudden appearance of his brother-in-law. “What are you doing here?

Alex said nothing as he closed the door and moved stiffly over to the chair next to Tom’s bed. His left arm was bandaged and hung awkwardly in a sling. A large bandage covered most of his forehead.

“Jesus Christ,” Tom said as he watched his brother-in-law slowly lower himself into the chair. “What the hell happened to you?”

Alex eyed Tom for a long moment before speaking.
“Let me guess… you don’t remember anything.”

Tom gave his brother-in-law a grim look before shaking his head.
“No… nothing.”

Alex smiled back at him pensively. “Well, isn’t that extraordinarily convenient.”

“Convenient? Hey, fuck you!” Tom said angrily, pointing at his bandaged leg. “In case you didn’t notice, I’ve been shot.”

“Of course I know you were shot. I was the one who ordered it.”

Tom looked at Alex with a blank stare of shock. “What are you talking about?”

Alex leaned back and rubbed irritably at his eyes. “God, I am… I am fucking exhausted,” he said flatly, his mouth curling into a thin smile. “And this day is still a long way from being over.” He looked up at Tom, his smile vanishing behind a tired, somber stare. “You know, your sister Jane and I have barely said two words to each other in the last year or so,” he said in a slow, matter-of
-fact tone. “The funny thing is, I couldn’t even tell you why. Maybe it’s because I work all the time. Maybe it’s the stress of raising kids. Who the fuck knows. All I know is that whatever we used to have between us is now gone.” Alex paused and waved his good arm dismissively through the air. “Not that you give a shit. But the point I’m trying to make is this – no one outside of our perfect little home has the slightest clue that anything is wrong. You know why Tom?”

Tom shook his head.

“Because, as the old saying goes, we do a good job of
keeping up appearances
. You know what I’m talking about. Smiling and waving to the neighbors, holding hands at parties, taking the girls to soccer practice together on the weekends. All the little shit that other people tend to notice, or perhaps notice when suddenly you stop doing them.” Alex leaned forward, the grin returning to his face. “But that’s just the way it goes. You wake up one day and realize the things you believed in have all disappeared. Or maybe they never really existed in the first place. Love… trust…
truth
... they’re all just fleeting, fictitious characters. They don’t stay around long. And once they’re gone, they rarely if ever come back. The only thing you can do is pretend they’re still around. But whatever. At the end of the day, most of us don’t give a shit just how bad things are on the
inside
, do we Tom? It’s all about wearing that fucking mask of lies. It’s all about keeping up appearances.”  

Tom stared wide-eyed at Alex. What in the hell was his brother-in-law talking about? Was the stress of the case finally causing him to crack? The thought of Alex being anything less than infallible seemed almost unimaginable. And yet here he was, confessing all his sin
s. His marriage was in shambles, his career on the brink of ruin.
Captain fucking America was suddenly self-imploding
. The thought gave Tom an instant feeling of satisfaction. 

“What’s this all about?” he asked cautiously.

Alex stood up from the chair and limped slowly over to the bed.

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve regretted my decision to put Kaliningrad on my terrorist watch list?” he asked as he rested his wounded arm on top of the bed rail and looked wearily down at Tom. “Imagine if I’d just ignored your email, Tom. Kaliningrad would have been just another random incident. Amsterdam would have never happened. Dongying would have been an isolated diplomatic affair. And that clever old cunt at the State Department wouldn’t be crawling up my ass right now, demanding justice and her pound of flesh. If it weren’t for that one stupid act, I’d be free and clear of this whole fucking mess. But then hindsight is always twenty-twenty, isn’t it?”

“You need some clarity, Alex? How about this… I laid this whole investigation in your lap, and you fucked it up,” Tom replied angrily. “Don’t even try to say otherwise. Christ, I practically put that fucking terrorist in front of you and your men and you still couldn’t catch him.”

Alex leaned forward and stared at Tom coldly. “You want to hear a confession Tom? How about this… you’re
right
. In fact, you’ve been right all along.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s true,” Alex replied. “I was wrong. All this time I’ve been saying you were in over your head on this one. But I had it all backwards, didn’t I? The letters, the terrorists, the point of all this nonsense. I admit, Tom, I didn’t have a clue what the hell any of it meant. No one did. No one, that is, except you.”

“So,” Tom said, shaking his head. “Why are you saying this now?”

“I’m saying this because any chance of resolving this situation quietly died three hours ago in an explosion that nearly killed me and my men. I’m saying this because there’s a burning crater in downtown Flagstaff that your fire department is still trying to extinguish.” Alex noticed Tom’s blank stare and gave him a sarcastic frown. “What… didn’t anyone tell you? Oh wait… of course not, you’ve been in surgery getting that bullet out of your leg. Well, let me take a second and get you up to speed. Joe’s Last Stand Saloon has been removed from the map. I mean
gone
. Jeri Halston is dead. Your terrorists have miraculously vanished into the cold thin air. And to top it all off, nearly every shred of usable evidence is now a useless pile of ashes.”

Tom suddenly reached up and grabbed his brother-in-law’s injured arm. “Jeri’s dead?” he asked, squeezing Alex’s wrist.

Alex moaned in pain and slowly nodded his head.

“How did she die?” Tom demanded.

“Let go of my fucking arm!” Alex exclaimed, grabbing at Tom’s hand.

Tom ignored his brother-in-law’s request and tightened his grip. He watched Alex’s face turn white as the tendons and bones in his injured wrist shifted
sickeningly under the pressure. “Answer my question.”

Alex stifled another moan and glared at Tom with an expression of pure agony. “She was in the fucking saloon when it exploded!”