Tick tock, p.5
Tick Tock, page 5
Before he got arrested, Eric had already created a false identity for himself. He searched through public records for someone no one would look for and requested a copy of Gregory Masters’s birth certificate. That would be his new name when he got out of jail. At some point, he would need fake IDs made for himself. Now he needed them for three others.
He searched along the same vein as he had for himself in the past. It took several hours, but he came upon several wards of various states. Once Eric got the basic information, he would arrange for the fake passports and driver’s licenses.
Eric pulled out Julio’s mother’s address. He would meet up with her in about two hours. Once he got the package of new identities, he’d send it with the debit cards to Bennie, who would then forward it to Darius and Leroy.
Chapter Eleven
Pinewood
Charles waited until Myra was fast asleep. He crept toward the kitchen and then down the concrete steps that lead to their mission control center. The Sisters would joke about calling it that, but for all intents and purposes, it was their control center. It was packed with the most up-to-date, state-of-the-art technology: computers, scanners, high-definition monitors. And the computers were equipped with everything that was also available to the CIA and FBI. Well, almost. Sometimes Charles and Fergus would seek outside help from their former colleagues, who were usually more than willing to lend a hand.
Charles listened to make sure Myra hadn’t followed him. He pulled out one of the anonymous cell phones and dialed.
A groggy hello answered.
“Sorry to bother you, old chap, but I think something is afoot.” Charles spoke in a whisper.
“Eh? What’s the matter?” Fergus’s voice began to sound normal.
“I really can’t say,” Charles sputtered.
“Can’t or won’t?” Fergus was wide awake now.
“Can’t as in that I don’t know, but Myra is in one of her foreboding moods.”
Fergus tried to stifle a chuckle. “Surely that can’t be all of it. You wouldn’t be calling me at this hour babbling as if you lost the plot.”
“Precisely.” Charles let out a half-growl, half-moan. “It’s Cooper.”
“Cooper? The dog?” Fergus was surely confused at this point.
“Yes, as in canine.”
“So what of it?”
“Didn’t you think it odd that we asked to use the Gulfstream pronto?”
“Well, I suppose. But I didn’t have many details. Annie said Harry needed to pick something up in Atlanta. I surmised it had something to do with his job. You mean to tell me he is picking up Cooper?”
“Yes. As in now.” Charles realized he had been raising his voice. He stopped for a moment and listened, hoping he hadn’t awakened Myra. Fortunately, Lady and her pups were snuggled together, and none had even picked up their heads when Charles tiptoed past them. “Listen, mate. When Myra is clinging to her pearls, and a dog with remarkable and uncanny abilities starts pacing at the same time, eight hundred miles apart, well, I don’t need to tell you, as puzzling as it is, we need to stand by and pay attention.” Charles paused again to steady his voice. “To make matters worse, or perhaps it’s just a bizarre coincidence, my laptop is getting a bit wonky.”
“As in how?” Fergus pressed.
“There is a delay. It’s ever so slight, but you know how your systems work, and when they do something out of the ordinary, however slight, you cannot help but notice.”
Fergus remained silent.
“Are you still with me, old chap?” Charles asked.
Fergus hesitated. “Now that you mention it, I went online this morning to check the weather forecast, and I thought there was something . . . off. Can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“Fergus, we have the highest-rated security systems in place. But I wonder if we could have been hacked somehow.” Charles had deep concern in his voice.
“Well, it is possible. Highly unlikely, but possible.” Fergus paused. “Let me check Annie’s computer. She doesn’t use it very often, but hang on a sec.” Fergus went to get Annie’s laptop. It was in the same place, under the same scarf, since they had arrived a few days before. He powered it up. “The only thing on my end is I wouldn’t know the difference on hers, and I hesitate to bother her. She was planning on finishing reading a novel she started. I was too knackered to stay up.” He heard footsteps coming in his direction. “Here she comes now.”
Charles winced. He didn’t want to get Annie involved, not just yet. Because that would mean getting Myra involved, and she was already nervous.
“Who are you talking to, darlin’?” Annie entered the room. “And what are you doing with my laptop?” She came around to Fergus’s side of the bed.
“It’s Charles.” Fergus remained unruffled.
“At this hour?” Annie pulled the phone from Fergus’s grip. “Charles? Everything all right?” Annie asked sweetly.
“Annie. Dear. Yes, everything is fine.” Charles was very good at concocting stories instantaneously. It harkened back to his days working for MI6. “Myra was talking about some photos she couldn’t find. I was hoping you might have copies on your computer. I want to surprise her.” Brilliant.
“Probably. Photos from where?” Annie asked.
“She said they were from the last trip you went on together.” Charles’s brain was in overdrive trying to recall the last time the two women traveled together. Then he thought about Charlotte in London. “When you were in London.”
“That was several trips ago,” Annie replied.
“Yes, you’re correct. She said the last trip you took to see Charlotte.” Charles sounded convincing.
“Let me give a look.” She motioned for Fergus to hand her the laptop, and she handed the phone back to him.
“So’s that all you need?” Fergus asked plainly.
“Right.” Charles knew the conversation would have to come to an end to avoid any suspicion from Annie. “I’ll give you a shout tomorrow morning after Cooper arrives.”
“Right-o.” Fergus pushed the red button and disconnected the call.
“What was that all about?” Annie looked up over the computer screen.
“Charles wants to surprise Myra with some photos. I can’t really say what else.” And he really couldn’t. Just like Charles couldn’t. “Maybe they’re bored without us. Maybe Myra is putting a photo album together.” Fergus shrugged. He knew he had become part of a ruse. He just didn’t know how deep, how wide, and for how long.
* * *
Charles was trying to quell his frustration. He would have to wait another eight hours before he could discuss anything with Fergus. That is, if he actually had anything to discuss. He consoled himself knowing Cooper would arrive in the morning. That should give this riddle a clue. Or perhaps result in more riddles.
Charles looked around at all the electronic equipment that covered the walls, including huge screens where any map or photo could be projected. It rivaled the War Room at the Pentagon. But even the United States government got hacked. The State Department and, ironically, the Department of Homeland Security—the department that oversaw cybersecurity. He thought again. More than ironic, it was horrifying. He took some comfort knowing he had the best people on his team. It was the other teams that posed a threat. Threats that no one knew about. New versions of wars and disruptions that they rarely saw coming. Charles shook his head. The world had gone mad.
He powered up the system, each monitor coming to life, each with its own special functionality. This way, if one system went down, it wasn’t the entire system. Charles noticed one of them had a slight delay. It was the one connected to the server for their VPN, virtual private network, only accessible to the Sisters and their male counterparts. In theory, it was impervious to hacking. But nothing truly was.
Charles began a security scan, which would take up to a few hours. He decided to let the scan run, and he would return upstairs and pour himself two fingers’ worth of Highland Park eighteen-year-old scotch. He settled into one of the big, overstuffed chairs in the farmhouse living room, stepping over the piled-up pups. He, too, was beginning to think something quite devious was about to go into play. But what? He finished off the single malt and carried the glass into the kitchen. He thought he would go downstairs one more time to check the scan. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he was stunned to see the screen had gone dark. He pressed a few buttons on the large control panel. Nothing. He tried to reboot it. Still nothing.
He didn’t want to alarm anyone at that late hour, but he felt it necessary to tell them to avoid using the network and only send text messages through their burner phones. He debated whether or not to wake Myra. It would only cause her more worry. He began to type into the phone:
Please do not use the VPN for any reason. Text only but not until tomorrow AFTER 8:00 AM.
He checked his watch. It was slightly before midnight. They would all check the time it was sent.
He made his way back to the bedroom, where Myra was still asleep. He curled into bed and tucked himself behind her like a spoon.
Chapter Twelve
The Next Day
It was early in the morning. Darius sat in the passenger seat as Leroy drove to The Tides Inn. They circled back to the rear area near the employee entrance and parking lot. It was also where the valets parked guests’ cars. He looked at the scribbled, misspelled note, a la Leroy:
Silver Range Rover, Verginia Plate with United We Stand
One would think he would know how to spell his home state correctly. When Darius pointed it out to him, his excuse was he had been driving at the time. He didn’t want to stop in case anyone saw him. Darius could at least buy that logic.
Leroy pulled in front of the Range Rover to block anyone’s view of it. Darius hopped out of the truck and ducked behind the car. It had been less than three minutes when he jumped back into the cab, scaring the bejeezus out of Leroy. He managed to gulp back a squeal. Darius rolled his eyes. This was going to be the longest week of his life. “Let’s move,” he grumbled. With that, Leroy pulled out of the parking lot.
* * *
Nikki and Jack planned to have breakfast in their room and then take a drive along the shore. Nikki emerged from the bedroom wearing a pair of red capri pants, a white jersey T-shirt, white pull-on Top-Siders, and a wide-brimmed straw hat with a matching straw bag.
“You look absolutely stunning.” Jack beamed. “I seriously married up.”
Nikki flashed a smile. “And don’t you forget it, either.” She popped on a pair of white sunglasses.
Jack phoned ahead to the valet, asking if they could bring the car around, but he wasn’t available. When they reached the lobby, Jack asked the doorman if he could get the keys and they would fetch the car themselves. He turned to Nikki. “I want to check the Eagle Room for a sec. See what kind of vintage bourbon they have. I want to bring home a bottle for Charles.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you in the car.” Jack handed Nikki the keys, and she turned and exited through the lobby. She was within arm’s reach of the vehicle when she pushed the button for the trunk.
The explosion rocked the building. Pieces of metal flew through the air. Flames shot out of the wreckage, lapping at the fringe of what was once a straw hat. Nikki’s body lay crumpled on the ground.
Pandemonium broke out in front of the hotel. People were running to and from the scene. Jack was one of the first. He ran to Nikki’s side. He checked her pulse. It was barely there. He reached for his cell phone, then remembered it was locked in the safe in their room. “Somebody call 911!” he screamed in horror. Staff and guests huddled in the driveway, shouting questions at each other.
“What happened?’
“Did anyone see anything?”
“Did someone call the police?”
Jack gingerly took his wife’s hand. He didn’t want to cause any more harm. For one of the very few—if ever—times in his life, he felt utterly helpless.
* * *
Darius and Leroy were a block away when they heard the explosion. Leroy jumped out of his seat.
“What in the Sam Hill was that?”
Darius had an evil smile on his face. It gave Leroy the willies.
* * *
Jack rode in the ambulance with Nikki, trying to answer the questions being thrown at him. He stared down at his wife’s tattered clothes, burn marks on her arms, and an oxygen mask on her face. The paramedics were calmly hurrying to give her fluids, take her vitals, and stop the bleeding from the lacerations caused by flying metal. Jack took Nikki’s hand and leaned as close as he could without compromising her. “You are going to be okay. You have to be. You are my everything.” He could swear she squeezed his hand, but then he noticed both her hands were trembling.
“Her body is in shock,” one of the EMS technicians told Jack. He lifted one of her eyelids and shined a light. He then checked the other. “Her vitals are weak, but not dangerously so. Her respiratory system is stressed. The oxygen will help. They are going to run a CT scan on her as soon as we bring her in.”
Jack knew what that meant. Possible brain injury. “Do you think she suffered a concussion?” He also knew there was an obvious answer.
“Any type of concussive incident can create a number of issues on the human body.” That was cover-your-ass speak for I’m not making any kind of diagnosis here, pal.
As a former prosecutor, Jack was very familiar with dancing around a question. “Understood.”
Realizing he didn’t have his phone, he asked one of the medics if he could use theirs. He had to call Myra and Charles. He dreaded it.
Jack knew that Myra’s daughter Barbara and her unborn child had been killed, and the driver had gotten off on diplomatic immunity. Myra had fallen into a pit of darkness for months. Nikki told Jack stories about how both she and Charles tried everything to help pull her out of her depression. She was despondent. It wasn’t until Myra saw a newscast on television that her spell was broken. It was about a woman who had been raped, and the men went free because of some technicality. It breathed new life into Myra. If she had her way, those who were guilty would pay. Such was the beginning of the Sisterhood. Bringing women together to right a wrong. Jack feared that the news about Nikki would send Myra back to that dark place.
Jack decided to dial Charles first. Better to have someone there who could help steady Myra. Jack could taste bile coming up the back of his throat. He wondered if Charles would even answer a call from a number he didn’t recognize. “What’s the caller ID on this?” Jack asked the medic.
“Irvington EMS.”
Charles would definitely answer. The phone rang twice.
“To whom am I speaking?” Charles’s deep British accent was in full force.
“Charles. It’s Jack.” He took a gulp of air. “There’s been an accident. It’s Nikki.”
“How bad is it?” Charles stiffened.
“They don’t know yet. Her vitals are weak, but stable. It’s her head they’re worried about.”
“What in blazes happened?” Charles was still calm, but not for long. At this point, Myra was standing next to Charles. She was almost choking herself with her pearls.
“What is it?” There was panic in Myra’s voice. Charles put his arm around her. He continued to listen as Jack conveyed the few details he knew. Nikki went to the car two minutes ahead of him, and it exploded just before she got in. It threw her onto the ground. They were in the ambulance now. Her vitals were weak, but stable. They would run tests. Jack omitted the part where she was mentally unresponsive. He hoped there would be good news after the tests, so why burden Myra with more troubling news now?
Jack could hear the screeches coming from Myra as Charles was explaining the situation to her. It was chilling. “Charles, I’ll call you as soon as I have more news. We’re pulling into the hospital now.” Jack continued to hold Nikki’s hand as they removed her from the ambulance.
It was chaos outside the emergency room doors. The news of an explosion spread like wildfire. A crowd of reporters had already gathered, shooting off questions. Two police officers were on the scene, keeping the group away from the entrance. They kept repeating the same answer: The only thing they knew was that it wasn’t a typical auto accident. There was an explosion. The nature of the incident was not yet known.
As they wheeled Nikki into the hospital, people were firing questions at Jack. His first instinct was to tell everyone to bugger off. Instead, he held up his hands and announced, “People. Please give me a moment to speak with the doctor, and I will answer your questions to the best of my ability. Please excuse me.” One of the deputies cleared the path of onlookers and reporters and brought Jack to the area where they were prepping Nikki for tests.
One of the doctors approached Jack. “Mr. Emery?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Dr. Pecora. The explosion threw her backwards, and your wife suffered several head injuries. We are going to run a series of tests.”
“Is she conscious?” Jack held his breath.
“I’m afraid not. But that can be temporary. Let’s see what the results are, and then we can discuss her diagnosis and prognosis.” The doctor put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “She seems like a strong young woman. Stay positive.” He held out his hands and clasped Jack’s with both of his. “We are going to do our very best for Nikki, and if we can’t, we’ll find someone who can.”
Just hearing the doctor speak her name made Jack woozy. It was his Nikki being wheeled into the depths of the hospital to be zapped and scrutinized. It had been a while since he actually prayed.
* * *
In Pinewood, Myra was writhing on the floor, screaming. Charles kneeled down to comfort her, even if it meant her beating him with her fists. She shrieked and continued to pound him until she was spent.
