The Shut Mouth Society (The Best Thrillers Book 1)

by Unknown

  He had to get back to Oxnard as quickly as possible. If they framed him as the Rock Burglar, then that meant Douglass had given up his name under torture. He knew Douglass and believed him a true friend. If he couldn’t withhold his name, then he probably gave up everything he knew. Patricia was in danger.

  How powerful were these people? They had gained entry into a secured estate, penetrated his own police force, knew his movements, understood how law enforcement people think, and tortured and killed in a way that showed neither remorse nor scruples. Whoever these people were, he needed help, and help depended on breaking that damned code.

  Evarts’s heart jumped when he turned onto his street. Two strangers, dressed in what could only be described as “business casual,” stood sentry across the street from his house. They didn’t stand together; instead, they spaced themselves at the opposite edges of the school parking lot. If it hadn’t been summer vacation, he would have called the Oxnard police and filed a complaint about strange men suspiciously hanging around a schoolyard.

  He stopped the van in the middle of the street and used his cell phone to call Baldwin. As the phone rang, the sentries watched him with curiosity, not menace. She answered, crying. “Patricia, almost home. What’s wrong?”

  “Marston’s dead.”

  Evarts pulled the SIG from his holster and stuck it barrel first between the seat and the center console. “How?”

  “Out his office building window. They said it looked like suicide.”

  “I’m almost there. Any problems in the house?”

  “No, not here, but somebody ransacked my office. Greg, what’s happening?”

  Evarts kept checking the rearview mirrors. Nothing. Nor did these two guards make any threatening gestures … but they probably guessed he had called Baldwin, and they must know she was in his house. Damn. They wouldn’t interfere with him going home. They wanted him inside the house. They would just not let him leave. Could they breach his security? Evarts decided that if they could get around the Douglass system, then his would present few additional problems.

  “Greg?” Her voice sounded near panic.

  “Patricia, I’ll be there in less than two minutes.”

  He snapped his cell phone shut and punched his remote garage door opener. He waited until the door completely opened before he touched the throttle. He thought about revving the motor to warn the two watchdogs that he would ram them if they moved, but they stayed put as if they didn’t have a care in the world. As he screeched toward the garage, he punched the remote again and flew under the door before it closed. Leaping out of the car in a crouch, he went down on one knee and swung the SIG back and forth across the closing space beneath the door. No threat. He could see no legs running toward the house. As soon as the door closed, he slammed the steel deadbolt closed with a report loud enough for them to hear outside.

  Evarts found himself breathing hard by the time he ran up two flights of stairs. Baldwin must have heard him, because she came crashing into his arms as soon as he crossed the threshold. “They killed Marston!”

  Evarts pushed her to arm’s length. “Yes. Now I need your attention. We’re in trouble. Pack everything you’ve got. Hurry. Stay away from the windows. I’ll be right back.”

  “They’re outside? Now?”

  “Yes. Do you trust me?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  “Then you need to do what I say. Okay?”

  She took a step away from him, squared her shoulders, and took a deep breath. Then she returned to the computer desk and picked up the Glock. “Okay.”

  “Pack. I’m going up to the roof to check things out.”

  “You have a plan?”

  “I have a plan.”

  “Do you want me to pack some stuff for you?”

  Evarts ran out of the room and shouted over his shoulder, “I put some things in the van this morning! Hurry!”

  He ran up another flight to the rooftop patio. A three-foot wall surrounded the perimeter, but he stood erect and walked the circumference. The two men across the street hadn’t moved, and he found two more watchers at the back of the house, leaning against cars parked along the oceanfront street. He stared at one of the men on the other side of the empty lot, who casually stared back. Evarts raised his empty fist and made a make-believe gun with his hand. Sighting down his finger, he moved his thumb up and down like he was firing a pistol. The watcher just stared blankly back at him. Then he slowly raised his hand and gave Evarts the finger. Shit. Professionals.

  He found Baldwin in the hall outside the bedroom carrying her overnight bag and computer case. “Let’s go,” he said and led her downstairs. He hoped that if they moved fast, they could catch them by surprise.

  When they reached the garage, he put his index finger against his mouth to signal quiet. Then he carefully unlatched the van side door and slowly slid it open. When he had it fully open, he grabbed her bag and computer and shoved them toward the back of the van, under the rear seat. Then he signaled for her to follow him to the garage door and whispered for her to gently step on the handle to seat the door against the floor. When she had done this, he very slowly slid the deadbolt open. So far, so good. He then stood on the running board and reached up to release the automatic door opener mechanism because it was too slow for what he planned to do.

  Now he put his hands on her shoulder and whispered, “Are you okay to drive?”

  She looked nervous but simply said, “Yes.”

  “Okay, I’m going to fling the garage door open and when I do, you start the car and barrel out of here. Don’t worry about me. I’m going to jump in the open side door.” He pointed north. “Drive that way; turn right at the corner and then right again at the signal.” He continued to hold her shoulders, with his mouth close to her ear. “Can you do it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Get in the driver’s seat as quietly as you can. Put on your harness and have your hand on the key in the ignition, ready to start the car when you hear the door open.” He gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulders.

  Without further discussion, she got into the car with only a slight click as she pulled the door shut. Evarts went to the garage door and reached down for the handle. Taking a deep breath, he slung the door open. The car started immediately, and she squealed out of the garage with the front wheels smoking. Evarts barely leaped into the van as it accelerated out of the garage, and he rolled out of control against the opposite door as she careened into the street. Before he got his balance, she accelerated and made a wild turn at the corner. He never saw the men’s reaction because he was rolling around the back of the van. It took all his concentration to slam the side door closed and clamber into the passenger seat.

  He feared she would forget to turn at the signal, but she got it right, and they were heading south. “Did you see the men?”

  “One.”

  “Did he look surprised?”

  “No. He smiled at me.”

  “Damn it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means they wanted us to run. It makes me look guilty, and they can deal with us away from my house.” He turned in his seat and looked behind him. Soon a full-size sedan careened out of the Hollywood Beach enclave. Damn, these guys were quick.

  She saw them through the rearview mirror. “Greg! They’re chasing us.”

  “I expected that,” he lied. “Don’t worry. I have a plan.” He did have a plan, but he worried about whether it would work. These men were professionals. He hoped he had at least lost the second team behind the house, but in a few seconds, he saw another rental car about a half mile back barrel out onto the major surface street.

  “What now?” She sounded close to panic.

  “Keep driving. We’re going into the Point Mugu Naval Air Station.”

  She looked visibly relieved. “How far?”

  “A few miles. Don’t worry, for right now, they just want to follow.”

  They surprised
Evarts by coming right up on the Odyssey’s rear bumper. He crawled into the back and reached under the rear seat to extract his shotgun from a rear storage compartment. When he made himself visible above the back seat, showing the shotgun, the car receded, but the driver smiled at him. For now, they only wanted to make him nervous. They had succeeded.

  They still followed close enough that when they pulled up to the guarded military gate, he could see the worried look on the driver’s face. He scurried back in the passenger seat and showed the guard his retired army identification. Another guard lifted the gate and waved them through as a husband and wife going shopping. As soon as Baldwin saw the gate lowered behind them, she exhaled a great sigh of relief.

  “Turn left up here,” he said.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Out the back entrance.”

  “Can’t we stay inside?”

  “No. Retired officers only have PX privileges.”

  “They have two cars. One of them might cover the back entrance.” She sounded near panic again.

  “They probably don’t know about it, and if they do, it’s a long way around on the outside surface streets. We’ll be long gone before they can get over to it.”

  “Then what?”

  “San Diego.”

  “Greg? I’m scared. Why can’t we go back to your police headquarters?”

  He told her.

  “Oh, shit. I can’t believe this.”

  “Left here and out that gate.” After they passed through the checkpoint, he directed her down Highway 1 along the ocean toward Malibu. When they reached a secluded area along the coast, he had her pull over to switch drivers. Then he told her the rest of his plan, at least his plan for a diversion. He hadn’t thought beyond how to throw them off their trail.

  After a long silence, she said, “I know one place where we can go.”

  “Where?” He didn’t believe she knew how easy it was to track someone through financial records.

  “My family has a walk-up apartment that’s owned by my family trust.”

  “They can probably penetrate a trust.”

  “Not this one, and if they did, the place isn’t on the books as an apartment. It’s carried with a nonsignificant number instead of an address.”

  “Why?”

  “Taxes. Or I should say tax avoidance.” She smiled weakly. “The rich hide things from the IRS.”

  “Have you ever used it?”

  “No. When I guest-lectured at Harvard or BU, I stayed at a hotel. No one knows about it, except my parents.”

  “It’s in Boston?”

  “Yeah.”

  Evarts thought a minute. “Okay. We drive to Boston as soon as we finish our business in San Diego.”

  Chapter 14

  Evarts didn’t breathe easy until they headed east on Interstate 8 out of San Diego. On the trip down, he had explained that the government watched foreign currency transactions over two thousand dollars. When they reached San Diego, they made maximum withdrawals at ATMs using all their credit cards and then went into a bank and charged twenty-five-hundred dollars’ worth of Mexican pesos against the same cards. If asked, Evarts had told her to say she was going camping in Baja and wanted enough pesos to buy her way out of trouble if necessary.

  With a trail clearly leading to Mexico, they started their long drive to Boston. On the way down, Evarts had described how he had been implicated in the Rock Burglaries, what it meant about the reach of this secret society, and how strongly they wanted to collect all copies of the manuscript. She wanted to know why they didn’t cross the border into Mexico, and he explained that it would take too long and there would be a record of them going and returning. Better that they just dropped off the map with wallets bursting with Mexican pesos. He explained that they would convert the pesos back to dollars at one of those currency kiosks at the Denver airport.

  On the way out of San Diego, he occasionally changed lanes as if he were about to make a quick exit from the freeway, but the maneuver never exposed anyone following them. Baldwin had remained unusually quiet. They had decided to wait until nighttime to call her dean, when Baldwin was sure to get her answering machine. She would explain that she had a family emergency and needed to start her sabbatical a month early.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Evarts said, as he checked his speedometer to make sure he wouldn’t attract the attention of the Highway Patrol.

  “Thinking.”

  “What about?”

  “How safe is it to drive this van?”

  “Safer than other options,” he said. “Hopefully, they’ll think we found a way across the border, so once we leave California, we should be fine. The LAPD probably won’t put out an interstate bulletin for a property crime, and the Shut Mouth Society can’t cover every highway.”

  “Don’t we need to change license plates or something?”

  “Later. Right now, we need to get far away fast. Speed is the enemy of detection.” He considered what she had said. “We’ll switch plates in Phoenix at the airport long-term parking. Cops reflexively check the state first, so I’d rather not have California plates on the car. Besides, Arizona is better than California because they only require a back plate.” He hesitated again as he thought it through. “That’ll only last a couple days, so I need to figure out a way for us to get a different car.”

  “If we switch plates, why only a couple days?”

  “Because switching plates only works in the movies. As soon as the plates are reported stolen, the numbers are entered into police computer systems and alerts go out to law enforcement.”

  “Maybe the driver won’t notice they’re gone.”

  “Maybe not, but the parking attendant will when his camera shows no plate to verify against the parking stub.”

  She sat quiet a minute and then asked, “If we switch cars, how will you haul your stuff?”

  Evarts felt encouraged that she had made a weak attempt at humor. “Got no stuff to haul anymore.” He threw her a smile to disguise how disappointed he really felt. “Remember, we left the garage door wide open.”

  “You lost a friend, your career, and your surfboards. I’m sorry. I was thinking only about myself.”

  “Not your fault. I can handle most of it, but it bothers me that my friends and family will think I’m guilty because I ran. Just what those bastards wanted.” Evarts thought some more and then muttered, “I need to break that code.”

  “I found the family.”

  “What family?”

  “The powerful political family Douglass told us started the Shut Mouth Society.”

  “Really! Who?”

  “Us.”

  “What?”

  “You and me. We’re part of it.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “I’m not being funny. I found the family on the Internet. It wasn’t even hard. It’s all I’ve been thinking about since we left Oxnard. I’m confused and scared.”

  “Explain.”

  “It’s called the Baldwin, Hoar, and Sherman family. Descendants of Roger Sherman and his close relatives. Sherman was one of the Founding Fathers.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Most haven’t. Not today, but he was a major player in his day. Only founder to sign all our historical documents: the early resolves, the Declaration, Articles of Confederation, Peace Treaty, Constitution, and many others. He was on the committees that wrote many of these documents.”

  She reached into the back and pulled out her laptop case to extract a spiral notebook emblazoned with the UCLA logo. She flipped through the pages before continuing. “As best I can gather from a quick perusal, his progeny included twenty-three members of the Senate or House, eight cabinet officers, five governors, a Supreme Court justice, another nominated for the Supreme Court but not confirmed, five career diplomats, and a presidential chief of staff. And the names read like a Who’s Who of our political history.”

  “Wow. I’ve never heard of him or his fa
mily.” Evarts stole a look at her, but she was buried in her notes. “Are you saying you’re one of the Baldwins?”

  “Yes. I just didn’t know the extent of the family.” She looked up from her notes. “How did you meet Douglass?”

  “At a police benefit. He came over and introduced himself. We had a good conversation and discovered that we shared a passion for backgammon and Macallan’s.”

  “He probably hated both,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Had he lived in Santa Barbara long?”

  “No. Just moved there. What are you getting at?”

  “I think he moved there to get close to you. Just like he seemed to hover over my career.”

  “Douglass and I were friends.”

  “I’m sure, but I suspect he engineered the friendship.” She turned in her seat to face him. “The Evarts are one wing of this family.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “You were given this manuscript and then sent to me. That seems far too unlikely for a coincidence.”

  Now Evarts felt confused and a bit scared. “We’re related?”

  His face must have betrayed his feelings because she laughed with joy for the first time since he had returned to the house. “Don’t worry. As best I can figure we’re cousins, six or seven times removed.”

  “Thank god.” Now he felt embarrassed. She had given him no reason to be concerned about being related to her. “I, uh—”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Now he laughed in relief. After they traded smiles, she said, “Want to hear more?”

  He gave her a fresh look. “Just a sec: Are you a member of the Shut Mouth Society?”

  “No. Never heard of it before this. Are you?”