Stealth insurgence, p.24
Stealth Insurgence, page 24
“Yes. I want to love you, Aiden.”
“You shall, sweet Izzie.”
She heard a noise and blinked as a narrow shaft of light pierced the dark of the room. Aiden’s hands stroked her skin, distracting her, but a figure passed through the crack of light . . . into the room. Then the soft glow of a lamp shone dimly on the dresser.
Izzie pushed Aiden away and struggled to sit up. “Aiden! You didn’t lock the door!”
“We don’t believe in locking doors, Izzie.”
“B-but someone’s in here—here in your room!”
Aiden leaned away from her to look. “Oh. It’s only Stan.”
“Stan? Stan? Tell him to leave, Aiden!”
Aiden’s voice dropped into a lazy drawl. “Why would I do that, sweet Izzie? Stan and I are partners. We share everything. We both want to love you, Izzie . . . while we love each other.”
That voice within her shouted, Run.
Aiden’s hands reached for her again, but Izzie, struck with revulsion, rolled away, rolled so frantically that she fell off the edge of the bed onto the floor. The ungraceful landing shook her from her alcoholic stupor. She jumped up and felt around, searching for her top, while declaring, “No! No, I don’t want this!”
The figure near the dresser flipped the wall light switch, bathing the room in stark light. Izzie grabbed her top and held it against her . . . to hide her nakedness.
Aiden smiled at Stan. “You came in a little too early, darling. We weren’t quite ready for you. What would you like me to do?”
Izzie couldn’t believe her ears. “You? And him?” She felt ill. Weak.
Aiden stretched. “The heart wants what the heart wants, sweet Izzie. And you said you loved me—do you? If you love me, won’t you do what pleases me? Stan and I—we’re kind of a package deal.”
As he reached for her, something ignited in Izzie’s heart. Its heat surged through her chest, flowed into her shaking arms and legs, spread to her fingertips. Holy. Right. Good. Strong. A presence both angry and serene at the same time.
“Oh, Jesus!” she whispered. “I am such a fool. But please! Please get me out of here. Don’t let me disgrace you further!”
She dragged her top up and over her head. Tugged it down. She didn’t care if she found her bra, because getting away as quickly as possible was all that mattered. She grabbed up her shoes but not her socks—she didn’t know where they were either and would not waste time looking for them.
“I’m leaving. Don’t try to stop me.”
Aiden looked toward the door. “Stan?”
“Oh, I think we let her go. We have more than what we need.”
Izzie pounded down the stairs and ran from that house as if pursued by the Furies. The night air was cold and damp, but she did not stop until she reached the safety of her car.
No one tried to stop her. No even one took notice of her as she fled.
As she reached for the driver’s door, she halted, frozen in shock, recalling that her keys were still in the room where she had slept—along with her purse, cell phone, and overnight bag. She squatted on the street and pulled on her shoes.
I don’t care. I’ll walk until I find somewhere safe.
Thank you for saving me from my foolish sin, Jesus!
OUR PARTY HADN’T BROKEN up until around three in the morning. After Zander and I cleaned up, we fell into bed, into exhausted slumber. I was still sleeping hard, in that deep, perfect place of dream sleep as dawn nears . . . when I heard them. I climbed slowly into consciousness, pulled there by the annoying buzz of the nanomites in my ears.
Zander and Jayda Cruz. Izzie Cruz is calling.
Zander and Jayda Cruz. Izzie Cruz is calling.
Zander and Jayda Cruz. Izzie Cruz is calling.
I fumbled for my phone.
Nothing.
Izzie Cruz is calling on Zander Cruz’s phone, Jayda Cruz.
“Zander.” I nudged him. “Zander, wake up. Pick up your phone.”
He lifted his bleary eyes. “You know we silence our phones at night for a reason, right?”
Zander Cruz, Izzie Cruz is calling.
He reached for his phone, looked at the number on the screen. “This isn’t Izzie’s number, Nano.”
It is not her number, Zander Cruz, but it is Izzie Cruz calling.
I sat up next to Zander as he picked up the call. “Hello?”
Izzie’s voice, loud and agitated, flowed over the line. “Zander, thank God you finally picked up! Please come and get me!”
I started pulling on clothes.
“Iz, where are you?” He looked for the time on his phone: 7:06 a.m.
“On the west side, at the Walgreens near the intersection of Ellison and Coors, past Cottonwood Mall.”
“What are you doing there? Where’s your car? Whose phone is this?”
“I borrowed a phone. Please come get me?”
I whispered in his ear, “Ask questions later. She’s in trouble, Zander.”
He blew out a breath. “Yeah. Okay. Hold tight, Iz. We’re on our way.”
IZZIE WAS SQUATTING against the wall outside the store when we pulled into the parking lot. The nanomites flew to her at my request, then quickly returned.
She is physically well, Jayda Cruz, although quite cold and tired.
I figured she had to be cold—she was outside in December without a coat, after all.
She saw us when we parked. Stood up when we got out. Ran to her brother.
“You’re freezing, Izzie!”
“I-I know. B-been outside f-for hours.”
“Let’s put her in the passenger seat and turn the heat up high,” I suggested. “When we get her home, we can put her into a warm shower.”
We drove her to our house, and I turned a warm shower on her until she stopped shivering. Much later, dressed in a pair of my sweatpants topped with a thick sweater, and with a mug of hot soup in her hands, Izzie slowly confessed . . . to everything.
Although she suffered mortification through the details, Izzie told us what she’d done. In fits and starts she laid it out—all of it, right up to the moment Aiden Easterly told her, “The heart wants what the heart wants, sweet Izzie. And you said you loved me—do you? If you love me, won’t you do what pleases me? Stan and I—we’re kind of a package deal.”
Then we knew. We knew how far Easterly was from the Bible-believing Christian he pretended to be. The man was worse than a fraud: he was a ravening wolf, a two-legged predator sent by the enemy of our souls to tear and scatter the flock.
Izzie, however, didn’t cringe from her own culpability: She faced it straight on. As Zander encouraged her to pray and confess her sins to the Lord, she did so, willingly.
“Lord! I knew in my heart that something wasn’t right with Aiden, but I didn’t care. I wanted to love him. I wanted him to love me. I put what I wanted above you! Please forgive me!”
As Izzie prayed, we watched chains of bondage fall from her. I was reminded of the conversation Zander and I had shared many months ago concerning repentance.
“Repentance isn’t the ugly, hard, mean thing the world has said it is. Repentance is a gift from God, the first step in his setting us free. Repentance pulls down the strongholds in our lives. When repentance has its full sway, Jesus is able to free us from fear and condemnation.”
Izzie repented and was left weeping before the Lord.
When her tears slowed, Zander asked, “Iz, you called us from a phone inside Walgreens. Where’s your phone, Sis? And for that matter, where’s your car?”
Izzie answered, “I had to leave without them, and Walgreens didn’t open until seven this morning. I felt safer waiting by the door until they opened and I could go inside and ask to use their phone.”
“You left your phone and your car at Easterly’s place?”
“Yeah, I did. The only thing I cared about in those final minutes was getting out of that awful situation as fast as I could. The Holy Spirit kept telling me to run, to flee, and I, I . . . I was terrified that they would try to stop me, that Aiden and Stan were going to, to . . .”
“Force themselves on you?” Zander murmured.
“Yes! So, I ran. I ran downstairs and outside to where I’d parked my car—but I didn’t have my keys! I had left them and my phone in my purse, and I left my purse in the bedroom I was sharing with Jill and Mari. I ran away so fast that I even left . . . a few articles of clothing in Aiden’s room . . .”
Zander nodded slowly, but his attention was focused inward.
“Zander,” Izzie whispered. “I don’t think Aiden is who he tries to make us think he is.”
I snorted to myself, Ya think?
Zander, though, asked, “What do you mean?”
“I-I don’t think he is in charge.”
“Keep going,” Zander urged her.
“When . . . Stan opened the door to Aiden’s room and came in . . . Aiden asked him, ‘What would you like me to do?’ And when I said I was leaving, Aiden again asked Stan for-for-for direction? Instructions?”
I was taken aback, as was Zander. We looked at each other as the import of Izzie’s words sank in: Aiden Easterly was not the brains behind all the distress and confusion among DCC’s young adults? Easterly’s homosexual partner was?
“Then Stan told Aiden, ‘I think we let her go. We have more than what we need.’ Oh, Zander! What did he mean by ‘we have more than what we need’? Do you think . . . could they have had cameras hidden in Aiden’s room? Were they recording us when-when-when Aiden and I . . .” She broke, sobbing into her hands.
Several things suddenly made sense to me. I could tell by watching Zander’s face turn to stone that he was experiencing a similar revelation.
Easterly had cultivated Izzie. He had purposefully flattered and seduced her. He had weaponized his control over her . . . as a means of getting at Zander.
Saddened for his sister, Zander hugged Izzie to his chest again. “Don’t worry, Iz. I’ll handle this situation.”
“But-but-but how?”
“You don’t need to know; trust me, okay? Is there anything about Easterly’s house you can tell me that I ought to know?”
Izzie pulled back, more than a little nervous. “You aren’t going over there, are you, Zander?”
“I need to retrieve your things, Iz. Your purse, ID, credit cards, phone? We can’t leave them there. I’ll go get them—and don’t worry about me. I’m sure they will give them to me.”
“Oh.”
“Why don’t you tell me about this house?”
She thought for a moment or two. “Big living room, kitchen, and dining room on the main floor. Four bedrooms upstairs. I had the run of the place . . . except for the two rooms on opposite sides of the living room. The doors to those rooms were always locked, like they were hiding something in them.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll go retrieve your purse and your car.”
“I should go with you!” I hissed.
He turned to me. “Jayda, someone should stay with Izzie, right? And also . . . take care of Baby Cruz.”
A kick from Baby Cruz reminded me that I was not alone. Reluctantly, I nodded.
Zander wrapped his arms around me. Around us, me and Baby Cruz. Hugged us both. “Thank you for loving and caring for my sister, Sweetheart, and for protecting our child.”
I exhaled. “Of course.”
“Two more things? What I will need most while I’m gone is prayer support.”
“Can do.”
“Yes,” Izzie added softly.
“Thank you both. Jay, why don’t you have Emilio come over to visit with his Tía. The second thing I need is for you to drive me across town and drop me off near Easterly’s house, then come straight back. When I’m done, I will drive Izzie’s car home.”
Chapter 23
Hands on his hips, Zander stood in the shadow of a tall euonymus bush and surveyed the house across the street. It was as Izzie had described it. He took in the sprawling, two-story adobe Santa-Fe-style structure and wondered how Easterly paid the lease on his salary.
I couldn’t afford something like this when I was the young adult associate pastor. Maybe Easterly collects rents from his housemates.
Another thought occurred to him. Or, maybe someone else, someone with even greater sinister intent, is backing him.
He snorted. Yeah, and maybe I’m entertaining wacky conspiracy theories.
“Nano, as soon as we’re inside, please provide me with the layout of the place—including who’s presently in the house and where they are.”
Yes, Zander Cruz. We will.
“Nano, cover me, please.”
As the nanocloud deployed their mirrors, Zander, as invisible as a breeze, cut kitty-corner across the street and headed toward Izzie’s car. It was right where she said she’d parked it. He peered through one of the windows.
Zander Cruz, Izzie’s car has not been tampered with.
“Good to know. Thanks.”
He checked the time before he started toward the front door: 9:45 a.m. He strode up the walk and steep porch steps and stood before the impressive front door. Nanomites flew from him and penetrated the door’s thick wood, streams of them going this way or that way, sending scouts into every corner of the house. A thread of them attacked the alarm box located inside the foyer. Within seconds, the door opened on nano-greased hinges.
We have defeated the house’s security system, Zander Cruz.
“Well, hey—you hacked the White House, Nano. After that, the rest is Tinkertoys, right?”
Indeed.
Zander smiled to himself. The nanomites’ one-word response had been dry. Mildly amused and complacently superior.
Soon a 3D schematic of the house appeared before Zander. He closed his eyes and stepped into the model. Immediately, he was immersed in the house’s virtual layout. Before going any farther, he studied what the nanomites had tagged.
No one other than himself appeared to be on the ground floor, even this close to 10 a.m.
Well, it is New Year’s morning, and according to Izzie, the household partied hard last night.
When he scanned upstairs, he counted eight individuals in four bedrooms—all of them sleeping. Two individuals occupied each bedroom, and the nanomites had placed nametags on each bed. Sure enough, the largest bedroom housed Easterly and Stan Missing.
“I’ll try to be quiet, Nano, but let me know if anyone wakes up.”
We will, Zander Cruz.
He left the entryway and moved soundlessly through the living room—a virtual living room in the warehouse that mirrored his movements in the actual living room. Whatever he focused on in the warehouse, the nanomites brought closer, providing salient details for him.
Zander was particularly interested in the two locked rooms Izzie had mentioned.
“I had the run of the place except for two rooms on either side of the big family room. The doors to those rooms were always locked. It was like they were hiding something from me.”
Zander walked toward the room on the right of the living room. The locked door had a separate security alarm keypad.
He frowned. A security system inside a security system? Oh, yeah. I really want to see what’s in here!
The nanomites swarmed over the keypad, defeating the alarm, then unlocked and opened the door ahead of him. Inside, toward the front window, Zander saw an ostentatious desk and desk chair surrounded by bookshelves.
Easterly’s study?
On the opposite side of the room, however, he found what he’d suspected he’d encounter eventually: a rack of blade servers and a bank of computer monitors displaying camera feeds from every room in the house.
More like Easterly’s command center.
Zander watched the feeds cycle through, then had the nanomites run them back by three minutes. His entrance to the house and walk through the living room did not appear on camera. He then studied the live second-floor feeds as they came up, appalled that each bedroom housed two individuals and only one bed.
Lord, scour my mind—and add some bleach, please.
“Nano. Search the servers. Locate every video Izzie is in.”
He waited.
And waited.
Seven minutes later they replied.
Zander Cruz, we apologize. The servers contain many gigabytes of video. However, we have finished reviewing the recordings and have found seventeen video files in which Izzie Cruz appears.
“Wipe those files, Nano. Search the backups and wipe them, too. Leave absolutely zero trace of Izzie on these servers. Nothing that can be recovered or reconstituted. Leave no evidence that she was ever in this place.”
Zander Cruz, zero trace of Izzie Cruz also involves scrubbing all files and folders of her name.
“Are you saying she’s mentioned in other documents?”
In answer, they popped up a stored text message in front of him . . . and there it was, the smoking gun.
We will pull his teeth by
compromising his sister
Isabelle Cruz
Izzie
It was patently obvious that the “his” in that text was him. Then Zander read the reply.
As unappealing as
this deed may be,
I will do as you say
When?
“Who’s texting whom here, Nano?”
We deduce that the recipient must be Aiden Easterly since he did attempt to compromise Izzie Cruz. If Izzie’s assertion that Stan Missing gives Aiden Easterly orders is factual, then the sender of these texts would be Missing. However, neither phone belongs to Easterly or Missing. Both phones used are cheap, pre-paid units. If they are in the house, we will attempt to locate them.
Zander shut his eyes to think. Aiden Easterly doesn’t find women appealing, but he was willing to seduce Izzie as long as it ruined me—never mind her! To him, she was inconsequential “collateral damage.”
He shuddered, his mind vainly trying to throw off the nasty images the texts had evoked. Then, Zander read the last part of the text exchange.
Dot it while McFee is away
but before he returns
and we get rid of him
The implications of those three lines hit him hard, and he whispered his thoughts aloud.
