The shutdown list, p.4
The Shutdown List, page 4
“Basically, we’d be able to wean ourselves off oil.”
Anita remembered hearing the government was cutting funding for green technology research, using the justification that government should not favor one type of private development over another. She’d been in a daze of grief and hadn’t paid much attention. Now, while Paul sat across the table from her explaining the loss in concrete terms, a flush of shame crept up her chest, realizing how much she’d ignored.
“So this knowledge goes to waste while you stand here cooking me eggs and home fries. I mean, it’s not like we have all the time in the world to devise new energy solutions.”
Paul shrugged and stood up. “It sucks alright.” The frying pan sizzled as he ran water into it and scrubbed.
Anita resumed eating. Paul shut off the water and picked up a dish towel.
“Do you have a computer here I can use?” she asked.
He frowned. “What do you want to use it for?”
“I just need to send some emails. I left my laptop at home.”
He hesitated and she tried to interpret the frown. Maybe she sounded suspicious. Maybe he was hiding something.
Finally, he spoke.
“I was in the middle of my accounting when I came up to make breakfast but give me about an hour and you can use it. I’ll create a guest account.”
*
Paul returned to the kitchen where Anita was still reading the newspaper. “I have the computer ready for you in my office.”
She followed him down the stairs into the basement. A small room was partitioned off where a computer and a printer sat on a desk against the outside concrete wall. The room was lined with shelves that contained cans of paint and brushes, various tools, jars of nuts and bolts, and pieces of sandpaper in a pile. Along the floor was a bicycle pump, a couple of folded beach chairs in bags, and a Shop-Vac with attachments. A swiveling office chair was under the desk.
“It’s all yours. The guest account login and password are on the Post-it note.”
After verifying she had access, Anita thanked him, and he left.
Since Anita’s company’s clients had largely been government agencies, she’d discovered how little privacy a citizen has when someone investigates you. If you needed to hide, you had to be smart about communication.
First, she set up a Proton Mail account, which was still considered one of the best in secure, untraceable email. Next, she wrote cryptic messages to each of the addresses on Julian’s email list, hoping whoever received them could decipher them.
“Hi old friend,” she typed. “It’s been a while since we talked. I’d like to connect and reminisce over old photos from our hike in the Alps. Our mutual friend Jay Eff has dropped out of the scene, and I need to help him become engaged again. Are you interested?”
Was Jay Eff recognizable as J. F., aka Julian Forester? She assumed all these people were connected to Julian and they would understand who she was referring to.
She made a note on her list and continued.
In the next one she wrote “Hey amigo!! I’m catching up with folks I haven’t talked with lately. Remember the time you, me and Jay Eff got ourselves lost in the woods? We should do it again if I can drag him away from whatever is keeping him occupied these days. How about it?”
Maybe these were too ambiguous. They might think she was emailing the wrong person and delete it.
One of the emails bounced back immediately, notifying her the address wasn’t found. Anita double-checked the spelling and was disappointed when she had to cross it off. The other nine didn’t receive error notifications.
Once she was done, she cleaned her search history data from the computer so Paul wouldn’t see what site she had visited and logged out.
Chapter Six
Mike
Anita pressed her palms to her forehead, trying to ease the growing headache. She’d slept a little during the afternoon but wasn’t refreshed. Now, back at Paul’s computer, she had only two email replies.
“I think I can help,” read one of them. “Can we meet in Boston to talk? Tomorrow around lunchtime?”
The other email asked for more information, but she didn’t dare provide anything without knowing who sent it. She replied, asking the sender for proof they were trustworthy.
She’d always prided herself on being decisive, which served her well in business, but her decision about her next steps might endanger her and Julian. Her head pounded with worry as she thought about trusting this stranger in Boston, but she had no one else. At least one of them had offered to help.
Julian had admired her risk tolerance, and wished he was more courageous. Now her cautious, level-headed husband had put them both in danger, and she wondered why. It had to be something those buddies of his at American University got him involved with. Maybe some of those emails went to them. But surely the guy with the bushy beard knew what was going on, and he wouldn’t tell her.
As she stared at the computer screen, Paul stepped into his office behind her.
“Bad news?”
She jumped at his voice and shut off the screen before turning around, wondering what he might have seen. “I’m worried about a friend of mine. I haven’t been able to call her since I lost my phone. And she’s not answering emails.”
“You can borrow my mobile if you want.”
“If she doesn’t answer, can I ask her to call me back on it?”
“Sure. I’m going to be around the house most of today, so it shouldn’t be a problem.” He handed her his phone as he turned to leave. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
She punched in the number expecting Stacey wouldn’t answer again, but she did. “I borrowed a phone so I can’t talk long.”
“Thank goodness. I’ve been so worried about you. And about . . .”
“Stop. Let’s just say “him.” No names.” She guessed Stacey’s number was also on Julian’s contact list, although he never called her.
“Of course. What’s going on?”
Anita hugged the phone to her ear. Talking to Stacey was both comforting and frightening, as she feared whoever had Julian might be tapping Stacey’s phone.
“I’m safe for now. Have you googled him? I’m afraid to.”
“I have. There’s nothing about him in connection with yesterday’s event. I drove by your house. It looks empty. Maybe he’s hiding out, too.”
For a moment, a flash of hope hit her, but it didn’t seem likely since that man had his phone. “I’m going to send you a new email address for me. Use it if you find anything at all. No names. Make it look casual.”
“I’m on it. Please be careful.”
“Thanks. I love you dearly. Don’t call me on this number though. It belongs to the owner of the place I’m staying. I’ll notify you when I have a new one.”
“I’ll be thinking of you.”
Speaking with Stacey lifted the heaviness from Anita’s chest. Just knowing she cared gave her the boost she needed to keep going.
*
Anita found Paul sitting on the leather couch in the living room, watching football. She mouthed the words thank you when he glanced over and put his phone on the glass coffee table next to his soda. His attention to the giant screen resumed, but Anita didn’t move.
After a couple of more glances her way, he hit the mute button. “What can I do for you?”
“Can I pay you to drive me to Boston tomorrow around lunchtime? I need to meet someone, and I forgot my car charger. That’s the downside of these all-electric vehicles.”
Smiling, she hoped she looked casual and honest. In reality, her charger was in the trunk, but she didn’t want her license plate to show up on a police camera.
“In fact, I’m going to bring my suitcase too. If all goes well, I’ll be staying in Boston for a day or two. I’ll pay you before I go just in case. But I’ll be back for my car.”
Paul’s eyes narrowed as he studied her face. “You’re very forgetful, aren’t you?”
Anxiety stabbed her in the chest. He was getting suspicious. “It’s been a difficult time for me. Family problems.” Perhaps her reply would garner sympathy and prevent him from prying further. Besides, it was the truth.
“I can spare a few hours to help you out. Just fill up my gas tank.”
“That’s very kind of you, Paul.” The tightness in her chest relaxed.
*
With its high-end shops and restaurants lining both sides of the road, Newberry Street in Boston was the ideal place for Anita to meet her email contact. Lots of witnesses would be around if he tried anything.
Be cautious. Julian’s words kept running through her head. The headache was returning, despite finally sleeping last night.
Paul left his car in the parking garage with her suitcase in the trunk. He would wander around some bookstores and a few shops until he heard from her. They’d stopped at a Walmart on the way there, where she’d picked up a prepaid phone and stored Paul’s number, along with that of her contact.
Corey’s Bar and Grille was a popular spot for people-watching due to its huge L-shaped bar along the street. The sliding glass windows were open today because of the good weather. While it was too warm for November, having sunshine following the lengthy storm was invigorating. Anita took a seat next to an empty barstool where she placed her jacket, then ordered herself a chardonnay and an IPA for the empty chair. She texted her contact:
At the bar by the street. Got you a barstool and a beer.
A man wearing a Red Sox hoodie and jeans approached her, pulled out the barstool next to her, and took a seat. With wavy dark hair and hazel eyes, he was much younger than she was, but not as young as her son would have been. Thirty-something probably. He scanned her like he was evaluating her attractiveness, making her uneasy. Some men were like that, always focused on a woman’s body as if their intelligence were irrelevant. Right away, she disliked that about him.
“Hi. I’m Janice.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Mike. Thanks for the beer.” He raised it toward her like a toast. “How’d you know my brand?” His laugh sounded like he was flirting, and a knot formed in her stomach.
Had he misunderstood what she was hinting at in her email? Maybe he thought this was a hookup. Or perhaps he was pretending to flirt as a cover for his real reason to be here. He spoke with an odd accent, almost English, but not quite. She couldn’t place it.
“Tell me about Jay Eff,” he said.
Anita wanted to trust him. She had no one else to help her find Julian yet. One of these other emails might produce results, but she couldn’t count on it.
“I haven’t heard from him since Friday. After being arrested at a protest at the Capitol in Washington, D.C., the police said he was given a summons and released. Meanwhile, someone called me on his phone asking prying questions, refusing to answer any of mine. JF continues to be missing. He’d given me your email address before this happened, claiming you might be able to help.”
She didn’t mention the nine other emails on the list.
He leaned his elbow on the bar. “Have you tried calling the police?”
“I told you, they said he was released.” She wondered if he was as dumb as he sounded. Or maybe he was testing her.
“Yeah. Cops aren’t very helpful in this type of situation.”
“What type of situation is this?” Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him, wondering what he was inferring. He glanced outside for a beat before turning back to her.
“I’m just guessing right now, but if I’m right, I’m the guy you’re looking for. But I need more details about him and you.” An arrogant smile stretched thinly across his lips. It made her cringe, but she kept a straight face, hiding her dislike of him.
Anita wrapped her fingers around the wine glass, tempted to drink by a need to calm herself. After a gulp, she followed it with a sip of water. She needed to relax, but not here. Not now.
Mike leaned over closer and spoke into her ear. “I think we need to leave here and go to a private place where you’re willing to talk about Jay. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything.”
That made sense, but she didn’t want to be alone with this guy. Being in public felt safer. “Based on my email, what do you think I’m asking you to do?”
He pushed back his barstool and examined her, tilting his head to the side. After a moment, he leaned in close again. “I’m guessing you want me to free Jay after we figure out who is holding him. He’s your husband? Boyfriend? Do you know where he is?”
That was exactly what she needed, and it sounded like he was offering to help. Apparently, he believed someone was holding him. As she weighed her reply, she looked at the bartender, who was rattling a cocktail shaker in front of three empty martini glasses lined up. Telling Mike her story was a risk she had to take.
“He disappeared near D.C., so I’m assuming he’s there. I was warned to hide. I can pay you, but I need to lay low. I don’t want to go back to D.C. right now.”
A hint of a smile showed on Mike’s face, like he’d tricked her into admitting something she shouldn’t have. Her stomach muscles clenched together. This was wrong. Her gut told her. Reaching into her pocketbook, she pulled out a pair of twenty-dollar bills and placed them on the bar.
“Never mind.” She pushed back her barstool and snatched her jacket.
Before she could leave, Mike grabbed her wrist and she winced. It hurt enough that she worried he would break it and she stifled a cry. He pulled her toward him as he rose, gripping her arm with both his hands as he spoke into her ear.
“You aren’t about to cause a scene or yell for the cops,” he muttered. “You and I need to go to my place. We have things to discuss.”
Anita clung to her jacket as he roughly escorted her out the door. He was right. She couldn’t draw any attention or alert the police. She’d basically told him as much herself.
Stupid me.
Her legs shook as they stumbled onto the sidewalk. When she spotted Paul walking in their direction on the other side of the road, she considered screaming for him, but feared what Mike would do if he didn’t respond. Paul looked her way so she hung back, hoping he would recognize she was in trouble. Mike needed to yank her arm to move her. Paul turned abruptly into the parking garage where he had left his car.
Please don’t leave, Anita thought desperately, her heart pounding.
“Don’t make it worse for yourself.” Mike twisted her wrist enough to make her yelp. “I will drag you down the street if I have to, bitch.”
She shuffled beside him until Paul’s car appeared leaving the garage, turning onto the one-way street, and passing them. At the sound of his brakes behind her, she twisted her head and watched him fly out of the car with a tire iron, leaving the driver’s side door open. He whacked the back of Mike’s legs, causing him to stumble forward. As he fell, Anita slipped from his grasp and raced behind Paul to the car. Glancing back, she saw Mike catch himself on one knee. Paul was already in the driver’s seat as Anita jumped in, accelerating before she shut her door. She spun around in time to witness Mike holding up his phone like he was taking a photo of their car. Paul tore down Newbury Street, but Anita feared it was already too late—if Mike took a photo, he would have Paul’s license plate and be able to find them.
Chapter Seven
Questions
“You want to tell me what’s going on here?” Paul shouted as they merged onto the interstate. “I just assaulted a guy in the middle of Newbury Street. Who the hell are you and what just happened?”
Anita’s heart was pounding, and she shivered, the shock hitting her. She pulled her jacket up around her shoulders. If Paul hadn’t come along . . . Images flashed through her head from assault to murder, to being handed over to the same people who held Julian.
“Well?” Paul’s face flushed as his voice boomed.
“I’m sorry. Sorry I got you into this. This guy I was meeting was a stranger. I thought he was going to help me.”
“Help you with what? Who are you running from? It’s obvious you left home in one damn hurry.” He alternated between checking his rearview mirror and glancing over at her.
“Can I trust you?”
“Whoa. Can you trust me? You have some explaining to do, and I want the truth. Otherwise, get out of this car right now!”
“Okay, okay.” She had to take her chances with Paul—he was clearly a better choice than Mike at this point. If she could convince him to help her . . . After all, his work had been in green technology. Surely they shared similar values. She explained as briefly as possible about Julian’s protest, arrest, disappearance and her fleeing.
When she was done, Paul nodded. “That’s scary. What a gutsy guy.”
Something loosened in Anita at this. “I guess so. I think he wanted to rally people in this country who care about the planet’s future. We can’t keep pretending . . .” Her voice cracked as she spoke, wondering if this had motivated Julian, why he’d risked everything without telling her. She turned toward the window so Paul wouldn’t see her tears. Leaning her head against the glass, she jumped when Paul’s hand touched her shoulder.
“Sorry.” He pulled away. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just want you to know I completely agree with him.”
Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath, grateful he understood.
“So why were you meeting this guy? How was he going to help you?”
She winced a little before answering. “My husband gave me a list of email addresses before the protest and told me to use them if anything happened to him. That guy, Mike, responded to one. I thought maybe he could find Julian. Rescue him.” She studied him as he stayed focused on the road. “Why did you help me?”
He gave her a sideways glance. “My sister had an abusive boyfriend, and I—I wasn’t there to help her. I’ve always regretted it.”
“Thank you.” Knowing Paul was a man with a conscience reinforced her sense of safety.
“You’re welcome. Where was he taking you?”
“His place, he claimed. Said we needed to talk. Called me a bitch and threatened to drag me down the street.” She took a moment to think, then blurted, “Why would he be on this list?”
