Eddie went for the door, listened, heard nothing, and slowly opened it.
Outside, the hallway was deserted; bland and faceless. No indication of what building it was or where it was located. But at one end he could see a way out – a fire exit.
Eddie sprinted down the corridor, gaining speed in case he was challenged, and careened hard into the metal door. It burst open and he dove through it into the heavy rain outside. His uncontrolled pace carried him stumbling across the narrow sidewalk and past the edge of the curb onto the street, and directly into the path of a monstrous red vehicle.
He desperately leaped backward and fell on his ass on the pavement as the huge double-decker bus sounded its horn in fury and hurtled by on the wrong side of the road. He looked around in amazement at the mass of flashing neon lights surrounding him, illuminating the night, and the people packing the circular street, umbrellas raised, in a futile attempt to protect themselves from the downpour.
Where was he? What was this strange place? He stared again, and there, across the busy road was an opening where crowds flocked in and out. Above it glowed a round, lighted red and white sign reading UNDERGROUND, and right below, the words, PICCADILLY CIRCUS.
Cate’s room had the potential to be cute, if only she allotted herself the time to fix it up. Colorful throw pillows lay on the vintage chairs, but only their corners remained visible as they were concealed by the clothes she’d hurriedly dropped there and hadn’t yet hung up. Her new flatscreen TV stood in pride of place on the dresser, however she’d been unable to hide the wires for the power and the soundbar, so they protruded out and dangled down in front of the drawers like limp, overcooked spaghetti. But Cate was not worrying about any of that right now. She had finally finished one of her required-reading course books and was asleep and intended to stay that way until the alarm on her cell woke her up at eight a.m. Unfortunately, she had not passed on that message to the long-distance operator who had other plans for her.
A Coldplay song sounded and after a few seconds of sharing the adventure of a lifetime with Chris Martin, her eyes fluttered open and she struggled with her hand to quiet the annoying cell phone.
“Yes?” she groaned.
A bright, female English voice came on the line, “I have a reverse charge call from London. Will you accept?”
She flashed a glance at her clock. It defied her with the numbers 3:25. Still half-asleep she surprised herself by saying, “What? Yes, I suppose so.”
“Putting you through now. Go ahead.” The operator disappeared from the line as another voice replaced her. A boy’s voice with an American accent, “Hello?”
“Do you know what time it is?”
“No, I don’t have a watch. It’s sometime in the morning,” said Eddie.
“Yeah, sometime for sure. I’m going back to sleep.” Cate pulled the cell from her ear.
“Wait, wait, wait. Is Professor Turner there?”
“In his dreams. Who do you think I am? And how did you get my number?”
“Professor Turner called me from it and I wrote it down and put it in my pocket. That was yesterday, or maybe a few days ago. I don’t know for sure.”
“Are you drunk?” asked Cate.
“I wish. Professor Turner’s number is the only thing I’ve got. He was very cool.”
“I’ll tell him he has a fan. Good night.”
“Lady, please, you have to get him to help me. Some shit’s gone down and I think I’m in London.” Eddie’s tone was frantic.
“What do you mean, you think you’re in London? You don’t know?”
“It’s just I was in California and now I’m here. I don’t know how.”
“I’m glad you’re doing some traveling, but that’s no reason to wake me. Send a text or an email next time. I’m going to sleep.”
“Wait. Please. I’ve got to reach the professor; can you tell him Eddie York needs to talk to him?”
Cate sat bolt upright up in bed, knowing sleep was history for her now, “Eddie York? From San Jose?”
“Jesus, what’s the deal? I don’t hear shit from anyone for years and now everyone knows me?” It was Eddie’s turn to be confused.
“Why are you in London, Eddie?”
“I don’t know, honest I don’t. One minute I’m in Juvie with some dude saying he’s my long-lost uncle, the next I’m here with a mad scientist getting ready to operate on me and no money and no clothes. It sucks.”
Cate thought through what she had to do, “Hey, can I call you back?”
“I don’t think you can. I’m in an English phone booth. It doesn’t have a number.”
“Is there a building or a hotel around you can see? I could call you there.”
Eddie stared across Hyde Park to the sea of hotels lining Park Lane.
“There’s a bunch of hotels here.”
“Choose one,” instructed Cate.
“Okay. There’s a big one. The Dorchester.”
“Got it. The Dorchester. I’ll try to reach Professor Turner today, but in case I can’t, can you give me until tomorrow? Will you be able to hang on until then?”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. I lived on the streets in Oakland forever, another night is nothing. But you have to call. I have to get out of here.”
Cate didn’t understand what was happening but could hear the panic in his voice, “I will, I promise. Be in the lobby of the Dorchester at six p.m. your time, tomorrow. We’ll call and have you paged. Professor Turner will work things out and arrange to bring you home.”
“Thank you.”
The line went dead, and Cate stared at her phone, trying to understand the conversation she’d just had. She pulled up Alex’s number from her contacts but looked again at the time. She couldn’t call him this early. It would have to wait until the morning, even though she knew there would be no more sleep for her for the rest of the night.
The building situated on the banks of the Thames River was alive with activity, as a dozen men met in the main conference room on the third floor.
Colin Brown took the lead and addressed the group, “Thank you for allowing me to come here at such short notice. Simon, I especially appreciate you bringing in some of your key men and putting this together to run as a joint operation. Obviously, your experience in domestic threats will be invaluable. What do you have so far?”
Simon Foster stepped forward. His authority seemed a given, the way the room fell quiet as he spoke, “Based on the alert you brought me, I’ve made sure everyone from Scotland Yard through to this evening’s news, and the late editions of the papers, have the boy’s picture.”
“That’s good,” asserted Colin, “But let’s not wait for others. Have your men hit the streets. Whoever finds him will be well taken care of.”
The men smiled back at him. That is what they had been hoping to hear.
“You heard the man. Those are your orders. Head on out, work your contacts, see what you can find. This is a level three op,” ordered Simon.
The men wasted no time as they got to their feet and hurried out of the conference room.
Simon Foster remained with Colin Brown and stayed silent until the door hermetically sealed behind the exiting men. It was only then he spoke.
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around what you’ve told me about the boy. If you hadn’t shown me the paperwork, I would have thought you mad.”
“The paperwork was for your eyes only; it goes no further. What we are dealing with here is beyond NATSEN TOP SECRET,” stated Colin.
The look on Simon’s face questioned his words, “There is no higher category than NATSEN.”
“There is, and it pre-dates the Official Secrets Act by quite a few years. This falls under its designation. The only person you are permitted to discuss this with is me. There is to be no written communication, paper or electronic, on this situation, and the only calls between us on this matter are to be on the number I have given you for my secure cell. Prior to today, this was an
overseas operation, but as of now the risk has returned to the British Isles so I have brought you in.”
“I understand, and I’ll make our resources available to you,” assured Simon.
“Good. Remember, the cover story for your teams and for your entire department is we are tracking a simple but deadly domestic threat. No one is to know the real extent of the danger that exists.”
“I’ll have a team standing by, ready to move on this at any time.” Simon drew in a long breath as he considered what was facing them, “I can’t even conceive how bad the repercussions will be if this turns into the worst-case scenario you’re presenting.”
“That’s what you and I have to make sure doesn’t happen.” Colin Brown turned to leave, “I’m going back to my office. Keep me posted on what your men find. And for Christ’s sake, let’s bring this to an end quickly.”
Alex labored with his typewriter as the outside red light flashed on, and almost immediately, the inner door flew open and Cate charged inside. She was surprised Alex spoke before she could apologize for disturbing him, and that his tone was so welcoming.
“Cate, it’s so good to see you.” He paused, and a touch of sadness drifted into his voice, “I was going to call you today about the boy we had been looking for. The one I saw in San Jose, Eddie York. I received some bad news about him.”
“You did too?” Cate was startled he knew already, “That’s why I came. I couldn’t sleep after I heard.”
“I know, it’s terrible. But there’s something very wrong with the story. Eddie doesn’t have an uncle. He would have shown up during our search. We know he was all alone in the world.”
Cate nodded in agreement, “That’s why he called for you.”
Her comment puzzled Alex, “No, I called him, from the airport. Remember, about my wallet? The one he stole?”
It was Cate’s turn to be confused, “Eddie still has your wallet? He told me he didn’t have any money.”
“What? He doesn’t have anything. Eddie’s dead.”
Cate took a step back, “My God. When did that happen?”
“Two days ago. He died at the detention facility. I found out yesterday when one of the guards contacted me to let me know.”
“Wait. That can’t be.” She looked at Alex who appeared to be as lost as she was, “Eddie didn’t die two days ago. I spoke to him this morning, really early. He called and woke me up.”
“Eddie called you? How is that possible? He doesn’t know you. You didn’t meet him.”
“I know, but you called him from my cell. He wrote the number down and called it back and got me.”
“Cate, however he got your number, he couldn’t have called you this morning. He’s dead.”
“We are going around in circles here. Look,” she reached into her purse and pulled out her cell and hit recents, “That number. The one that starts 44. That’s where he called from. He was very alive a few hours ago and in London.”
“Eddie called you from London? Are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be. It was a collect call, put through by a British operator. I had to pay for it, he had no money.”
“All right. Let’s find out what is happening. Sit down.” He pulled out the chair next to him for Cate, “I’m calling Mr. Brown. Maybe he knows what’s going on.”
Alex dialed the phone and waited. He looked at Cate, “It’s just ringing.”
“Put it on speaker.”
“I’m not sure how.”
Cate leaned forward and pushed the speaker icon. The ring tone sounded throughout the room. “You can put the phone down. It’ll keep ringing until it’s answered or we press this again,” she pointed to the red button.
Alex cautiously replaced the handset. The unanswered rings mocked them.
“Did you get the number wrong?” offered Cate.
“No.” Alex was certain, “I don’t forget names, numbers, letters, ever.”
The phone continued to ring.
Cate flipped open her ever-present laptop, “I’ll see if they have another number.”
She typed the company’s name into the search bar and sat back in shock.
Alex saw the stunned expression on her face, “What is it?”
“I’m getting an error 404 message.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Alex admitted.
“It means site not found. It’s saying there is no Global Pharmaceuticals listed. Let me check if it’s the server.” She typed frantically, her face becoming more and more concerned as the seconds ticked by, “I’m not sure what’s happening here. Google, Yahoo and MSN have no info on them. It’s like they never existed.”
“Is it a problem with your computer?” asked Alex.
“No. I’m in my laptop’s search history and it shows I was on their website several times over the past week, but when I click on the links, no content comes up. That doesn’t make sense. It’s as if they’ve been erased from the internet.”
Behind them, the phone kept ringing.
“Was the money real?” asked Cate.
“Yes. My cashier’s check cleared and the twenty million dollars for the University went directly into their holding account, and you saw the twenty-five thousand in cash they handed me.”
“Then who were they? And why pay so much just to find a kid?”
Alex shook his head,
“I’m going to call Susan. Have her go by and see what the problem is,” said Cate.
“How will she get in? It’s a security building.”
Cate drew her breath in and looked guilty, “I gave her my laminate. It’s meant to be valid for seven days. I thought she might want to apply for a job there. It’ll get her in.”
“Good,” Alex’s response was unexpected and without recrimination. “Have her see what the problem is in person.” He pointed to the phone, “This button?”
“Yes,” answered Cate.
Alex pushed it, and the unanswered ringing finally stopped.
CHAPTER SEVEN
999
Rush hour was in full force throughout London. Black cabs competed with Uber drivers for the two million workers fleeing their office jobs to escape to their homes in the suburbs. As the buildings emptied out onto the streets, everything reached an overflow point; the sidewalks, the tube stations, and the ubiquitous double-decker buses, all becoming jammed to capacity.
Eddie bolted from the pavement and jumped on the open back step of the number 390 bus to Victoria. He had no idea where that was, but if it was away from the crowded heart of the city, perhaps he could find an empty doorway in which to shelter and possibly even sleep tonight.
He scanned the overloaded bus. Every seat was taken and thirty people stood crammed in the aisle, balancing precariously as they clung to the provided leather straps hanging from the overhead rail running the entire length of the inside of the double-decker.
While the younger passengers studied their phones, Eddie noticed printed newspapers were still alive and well in Britain, and virtually every person over the age of thirty was buried in tonight’s news. In horror, he saw they all carried the same banner headline, ARMED JUVENILE DRUG SMUGGLER LOOSE IN LONDON - REWARD. There, on the front page of the Evening Standard, The Independent, and even the late editions of The Mail and The Telegraph, was a large black-and-white photograph staring back at him. His picture!
He was not the only one to notice the marked resemblance. Two burly male passengers, jammed halfway down the packed bus, spotted the strangely dressed boy, wearing a white lab coat over a torn orange jumpsuit, and with a knowing nod to each other, elbowed their way among the standing crowd toward the wanted fugitive.
Eddie saw them coming and leaped from the slowly moving vehicle, dodging cars as he ran through the pouring rain between two lanes of traffic before disappearing into the night and the welcoming darkness of Hyde Park.
Alex and Cate paced back and forth across the basement study, tension and confusion showing on their faces. Finally, Alex
stopped, “I don’t see any other way. We have to follow your plan. We call the boy in London tomorrow and find out what’s going on.”
It was Cate’s turn to hit the brakes, and the pacing had not helped her decision making, “But my plan’s not great. I don’t do my best thinking at three in the morning. Calling Eddie won’t help, he doesn’t know anything. He said he just woke up there.”
“All right, I’ll wire him money and he can fly back. We can work it out then.”
“Professor Turner, he can’t leave England without a passport and if he goes to the US Embassy, what’s he going to say – ‘hi, I just escaped from Juvie Hall in California and by the way, I’m dead!’? He’ll sound like he’s lost his mind, and when he has nothing on him to show he’s an American, with immigration as tight as it is these days, they’ll think he’s running some kind of scam and won’t even let him in through their gates.” She took a deep breath, knowing Alex wouldn’t agree with what she was about to say, “I’ve got a new plan. We have to go there.”
“Where? London?”
“Yes. It’s the only way. Someone’s got to help this kid.”
“Cate, you haven’t even met him.”
“That’s why the two of us have to go. We bring his birth certificate and the research showing his family line, and we present it at the Embassy. That should be enough to get him temporary papers so he can return to America with us. But it can’t just be me, you have to come too. He’s met you; he trusts you. We got him into this. If we don’t try to help him, one day you’ll regret sitting here doing nothing.”
Alex heard her words and a shudder ran down his spine. They were eerily familiar to him. They were almost identical to what his wife had said when he told her he couldn’t leave the hotel room and his research to join her exploring Prague with their little child. She had warned he might regret it, and he had. Those words had haunted him every day of his life since then. If he’d gone with them, if he had done something, maybe they would still be alive today.
Cate saw the change in him and the sadness clouding his face, “Are you okay, Professor?”
Birthright: Pray your past stays hidden (Alex Turner Book 1) Page 7
