Tick tock, p.9
Tick Tock, page 9
“And you didn’t tell me?” Myra’s voice was getting even louder.
Charles took her hand. “All of this happened this morning. I was suspicious, so I asked Harry to reach out to Abner. This was while Dr. Falcon was at the house. You can see why I didn’t think it was the most opportune time to tell you I had suspicions. I didn’t want to worry you further until I had more information.”
Myra’s shoulders began to relax a bit. “And what is the information?”
“The leak came through Jack’s system.”
“Jack’s?” Myra was incredulous. “But how? Why?”
“That’s what we have to find out. Libby is going to do some deep dives and see what she can find.”
“Charles, this is horrible.” Then something occurred to her. She grasped at her pearls. “Oh, my Lord. Do you think it has anything to do with the explosion?”
“That’s entirely possible. I don’t believe it’s a coincidence that these two things happened simultaneously.”
“But why?” Myra was dumbfounded. “Why Jack? Or was someone trying deliberately to get to us?”
“Again, I do not know the answer to that, but we are going to have to find out.”
Myra thought for a minute. “I would bet one has something to do with the other. This was no coincidence.” Cooper moved over to Myra and put his head on her lap. “See? He agrees with me.”
“Myra, I want you to know it pained me all day to have kept this from you, but I was doing it for your own good.”
Myra touched his face. “I know, Charles. You always have my back, even if it means going behind it.” She gave him a wry smile.
Charles gave her a peck. “Come, let’s get this situation sorted.”
Myra grabbed her purse and Cooper’s leash. He wore a vest indicating he was “official.” The three got into the elevator with a few other people. One uptight woman gave a sneer. As they exited the elevator, Cooper farted in front of her. Myra and Charles doubled over in laughter, as did the other passengers. Yes, Cooper was an extraordinary dog.
They waved at the concierge on their way out. Charles arranged for a nice bottle of cognac, fresh strawberries, and chocolates to be delivered to their room later. Charles thought they might need it to unwind after whatever kind of day it turned out to be.
As they walked the several blocks to the hospital, several people commented on how handsome Cooper was. After the third comment, Charles grunted.
“Jealous, dear?” Myra elbowed him.
“Of a dog?” Charles feigned indignance.
Cooper gave him the dog version of the stink eye.
“You apologize.” Myra stopped on the sidewalk.
Charles leaned over and took Cooper by the head and looked him in the face. “You know I am kidding, right, ole boy?” Cooper gave a woof of approval. “I must say, your air biscuit leaving the elevator was brilliant!” Charles did a double take. He could have sworn Cooper smiled.
They continued walking arm in arm. As they got closer, they could hear the sounds of police and ambulances. Myra took in a deep breath.
“They are going to be landing on the helipad at Jackson and then transfer her to the neuroscience building,” Charles said. Myra tightened her squeeze on Charles. He nodded to the front of the building. “Here we are.”
Myra noted the sign that said WORLD CARE. “I like that.”
They entered the building and were greeted by a cheerful middle-aged woman. “Good afternoon. Welcome to Jackson University Hospital for Neuroscience. How can I be of assistance?”
Charles took the lead. “Good afternoon. We’re Nikki Quinn Emery’s parents. She is being medevacked from Virginia.”
“Please follow me.” The woman walked them to an elevator marked PRIVATE. “As soon as you exit the elevator, someone will meet you and give you your visitors’ passes.”
“What floor?” Charles asked.
“This is a private elevator, sir. There is only one way on and one way off.” She smiled. When the car arrived, she motioned for them to get in. “Have a good evening. She will be in the best hands.”
The doors closed, and all three of them looked at each other. Then they looked at the elevator panel to see if it indicated a floor. Nothing except a button indicating UP or DOWN, and an emergency call switch. If Cooper could shrug, he would have.
After the car arrived on the mysterious floor, a well-dressed security guard greeted them. “Good evening. I’m Edmond. You are Myra Rutledge and Charles Martin.” He didn’t ask. It was a statement. “And Cooper.” The dog stood at attention. “Please step over here.” Edmond directed them to a kiosk. “Because this is a high security and privacy floor, we will have custom identification badges made for you. You will then have access to this floor, provided the patient is cleared for twenty-four-hour visitation. Ms. Quinn will be evaluated upon admission, so it will be several hours before you can see her.”
Myra looked dismayed. “What about her husband, Jack Emery?”
“He is already in the suite. Shall I escort you?”
“Yes, thank you,” Charles answered.
Myra followed with, “Yes, please.”
Edmond led them into a large open area with a circular nurses’ station in the middle. Corridors led off in four different directions. He stopped to introduce them to the woman at the desk. “Connie, this is Myra Rutledge and Charles Martin. They are Nikki Quinn Emery’s parents.” Cooper gave a soft moan. “And this is Cooper.” The guard bent down. “Sorry, pal.” Cooper thumped his tail against Charles’s leg. The guard turned to them. “This is Connie Hatch. She is the head nurse.”
Connie extended her hand. “Nice to meet you. I know these are very troubling times, but I can assure you, your daughter will get the best care available.”
“Thank you.” Myra was trying not to get choked up.
“Edmond will show you to the suite Countess de Silva arranged. If you need anything, please let me know. I will introduce you to the rest of the staff as soon as you get settled.”
“Right-o. Thanks,” Charles said, and then he, Myra, and Cooper followed Edmond down one of the halls. Myra noticed that it didn’t have the usual glaring, blinding light. It was softer. More calming.
Neuroscience. They ought to know what works best for the brain, she thought.
At the end of the hall was a suite of rooms. Once inside the entry, to the right was a living room with a sofa, matching club chairs, coffee table, end tables, and floor lamps.
On the far right wall was a Murphy-style kitchen complete with a sink, a sizable toaster oven, and coffee maker. A counter-height refrigerator sat underneath. A small café table and two chairs rested between the kitchen wall and the living room. A beautiful arrangement of sunflowers sat on the table. The left opposite wall was actually two large sliding wooden-paneled doors that opened up to a sleeping area with a queen-size bed. The large glass windows spanned the rooms and looked out on the park in the distance. It could have been a hotel suite. A very fine hotel suite.
To the left of the entry was a short hall that led to a full-size guest bathroom on one side and a walk-in closet on the other. At the end was the patient’s room. Aside from the mechanical bed, the machines, and monitors, the room also looked like part of a high-end hotel, complete with a daybed-style sofa along the window area.
Edmond walked them through, pointing out the amenities.
“This is very impressive,” Myra noted. She prayed the medical care was equal in quality.
“Often family members take turns staying here. It depends on the situation. The prognosis of the patient.”
“I see. That’s a wonderful option you offer.”
“This is the finest hospital I have ever worked in.” Edmond nodded.
Footsteps could be heard coming down the hall. Myra turned and saw it was Jack. They both ran toward each other. “Oh, Jack! What on earth happened?” Myra was close to hyperventilating.
Jack gave her a huge bear hug. “We’re not sure.” He let her go and gave Charles an equally large squeeze. “Come. Let’s sit.” They walked back into the room and positioned themselves in the living area. He looked up at Edmond. “Thanks, Edmond.”
“My pleasure. If you need anything, just pick up that phone.” He pointed to a desktop. “Red button is for me; blue button is for the nurse.”
“Thanks, mate.” Charles shook his hand.
“My thoughts and prayers that everyone goes home safe and well.” He grinned.
“Amen to that,” Myra muttered.
Jack, Myra, Charles, and Cooper settled into the modern furniture. Jack poured each of them a glass of water from a carafe that was sitting on the coffee table.
Jack sighed. “First, let me say I am hopeful. The latest CT scan shows some bleeding in the brain, but they think they will be able to manage it. Obviously, they will keep a close eye on her.”
Charles leaned in and rested his forearms on his legs. “So what can you tell us about what happened?”
“Not a whole lot. Forensics will take over a week. They have to separate what they believe are the pieces of the explosive device from the wreckage of the car.”
“Do they have any idea? Anything at all?” Myra asked.
“They think it was an IED. Improvised explosive device. Not much different than any other random homemade bomb. It ignited the gas tank. Or so they believe.”
“But why your car?” Myra asked.
“I haven’t the vaguest idea.” Jack shook his head. “The one good thing is that we weren’t inside the car when it happened. If not, we would both be dead.”
Myra’s hand flew to her face. She had a wave of dizziness. “I don’t understand. Who would want to harm you or Nikki?”
Jack looked at Charles and then back at Myra. “You’re serious, right?”
“Dead serious.” Myra gave him a stoneface.
“Think about all the misfits and miscreants we’ve encountered over the years. Individually and collectively. It could fill a stadium.”
“He has a good point.” Charles pursed his lips.
“So where do we begin looking?” Myra asked in earnest.
“As I mentioned, we are going to have to wait for the lab results to see if there is some kind of signature from the bomber. They all have one. They keep making the same bomb over and over because of the materials and resources they have. That being said, sometimes they never find the bomber, because he either stopped voluntarily or someone nailed him. Remember the kid who was in Central Park? He was a tourist. He jumped off a rock and landed on an IED. It blew off the kid’s leg. It’s been over five years, and they still don’t have a lead. So unless this person has done it before or plans on doing it again, we may never find out.”
“And you said it will take over a week to get forensic results?” Myra’s wheels were turning.
Jack knew exactly where this was going. He lowered his voice. “If we leave it to the authorities.”
Charles cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I have more troubling news.”
Jack sat up straight. “What is it, Charles?”
“It appears our VPN has been breached. We don’t know how deep the breach is yet. All we know is that someone, shall we say, visited our portal.”
Jack looked confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Last night, when I opened my laptop, there was a very brief flicker. A nanosecond, but it caught my eye.”
“You’re saying someone tried to hack us? Are you sure it just wasn’t some kind of glitch?”
“I’m afraid not. Abner is on a job. This is a bit more complicated than Izzie can handle on her own, so Abner recommended a former classmate. Her name is Libby Gannon. Her job is to hack into high-security systems so they can be proactive in maintaining their firewalls. And with all the breaches, it requires deep divers to stay on top of things.”
Jack nodded. “Oh, believe me, I get it. I’m stunned that someone would try to hit us.”
“That’s the issue. It’s not necessarily us. It could be you. It came from your computer.”
“What?” Jack sprung up out of his chair. “How is that possible? All of us have the same up-to-the minute security software.” He began pacing. Then it hit him. “Do you suppose this has anything to do with the car?”
“I would think it’s quite likely,” Charles continued. Myra was nodding in agreement. “I asked Harry to send a text to the Sisters telling them to stay off the VPN. That’s how we’ve been communicating. By text. No FaceTime, no Zoom, Meetup, WhatsApp. Once Fergus gets here, we will contact Libby again and see if she has discovered anything else.”
Jack took a seat. He was shaking his head. “Someone really wants me dead.”
Chapter Eighteen
Las Vegas
After going through his self-imposed gambling allotment, Bennie strolled over to the dumpy-looking raised platform that served as a cocktail lounge. It was far enough away from the constant dinging and cacophonous sounds of the slot machines. He laughed to himself, remembering the rules the state set for wearing masks and smoking in casinos: PLEASE REMOVE MASKS WHILE SMOKING. Have we come to that? Are people that stupid they need to be told not to put a lit cigarette next to a facial mask? He shrugged. Maybe the world had come to this. He’d only been away for five years. Anything was possible. He blamed the Internet. After all, that was one of the reasons he got locked up. He used it to his advantage until it was no longer a good idea. In prison, he had limited access, but his skills were sharp.
He and Eric were partners in the technological end of their plan. Eric had a lot of know-how, wheeling and dealing online, but Bennie knew how to go deeper into the dark web. He used his coaching skills to teach Eric how to get there and back.
He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. It was Eric, sending a text:
Tomorrow. 5:00. Best Western Desert Oasis.
They agreed that any use of the Internet should be done in a different state. And each time they got together to work, it was in a different town. They always tried to pick a spot that was an equally distant drive for both of them, usually somewhere on the Arizona side of their state line.
Bennie threw back a shot of whiskey, paid his tab, and walked the five blocks to his motel. He felt a sense of relief. Something was starting to happen. He was getting antsy. He shoved a change of clothes and the basic toiletries—deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste—in a backpack. His beard had grown in nicely. Once this caper was over, he would shave it off. And his head. A whole life makeover. He was going for the Bruce Willis look.
He flipped on the small TV. Five channels. Basic, basic cable. He zeroed in on the very young, very pretty, bubbly local newscaster. That described most of them. It was Las Vegas. It was Sodom and Gomorrah. Such a paradox. From strip clubs to water parks. A place the whole family can enjoy.
* * *
In California, Eric was in a similar mode, carefully packing the most innocuous clothing he owned. He purchased a cheap pair of moccasins and purposely scuffed them up. They said you can tell a lot about a man by looking at his shoes. He was going for bland. Worn. He let his beard grow out for a couple of days. Also bland. Worn. Scruffy. He colored his hair dark brown and began letting it grow a few months before his release. Once he was out of the country, he planned to cut it short and strip the color.
Before he had the fake IDs made, they decided everyone should change their appearance. They had instructions to do the opposite of however they normally appeared.
He thought about Darius and his bright red curly hair. And his fair skin and freckles. Dying his hair darker would have looked bizarre, so Darius had opted for straightening it and coloring it gray. It was just a tad more believable.
Then there was Leroy. He had a black pompadour, all of which was fake. That meant Leroy had to go back to his normal shade of medium brown and leave the hair products on the shelf. A good cleanup would change his look entirely. He wondered if Leroy was going to revisit his idea about walking with a limp. He hadn’t yet had the opportunity to play out his fantasy, but he was under strict orders not to try it on his trip to the Cayman Islands. If anything, it would draw more attention to him.
What a crew.
Eric packed two new laptops in a separate duffel bag. He didn’t want to use the normal carrying case for them. Too easy to spot: Yeah, I saw two guys carrying something like computer bags.
Their last meetup had been a few days ago, when they found the whereabouts of the guy Darius was looking for. It was their first successful crack. They were able to hack into the guy’s personal computer and get his address. After that judge’s son was shot, the laws were pretty tight on revealing personal information about judges and prosecutors. Eric didn’t want to know the reason why Darius needed the information. He could only guess, and it wasn’t pretty. Yes, Darius was the one he feared the most, but he was part of the deal.
Eric thought hard for a moment. Why had they included Darius in their group? Bennie was there because he covered Eric’s back. Leroy, because Eric knew he could trust him to follow instructions. Leroy wasn’t very good at thinking on his own, but give him a list, and he’d obey. That’s what Eric needed. A lapdog. Eric’s goal was to retrieve his money and get the hell out of the country, and he would pay what he promised the other men. His modus operandi of deception worked on a lot of people, but he was not going to try to pull anything on his pack of ex-cons.
He pursed his lips. But why Darius?
He recalled the first time he’d met Darius. It was in the prison cafeteria. Eric and Bennie were sitting together, finishing up dinner. Darius nodded at them and sat down. “How y’all doin?”
“Fine,” Eric responded.
“Okay,” grunted Bennie.
“Name’s Darius.”
Eric and Bennie looked at each other. Bennie had been incarcerated only a few weeks before Eric, but he already knew what to expect. Especially with his conviction. He knew there were those who thought what he did was an atrocity, and then there were others who were curious. Bennie discovered that the longer the inmates were there, the more perverted they became.
