by H. L. Wegley
But, if it really was the FBI, or some rogue element within that organization, her only hope of ending the danger was to completely document the conspiracy and expose it in the media.
Who in the media could she trust to do that? It had to be someone known as a good investigative reporter, someone who could expose the conspiracy so thoroughly to an audience so large that the conspirators dare not come after her. Hopefully, so thoroughly that they all ended up in prison.
That was the only way she could resume life as Gemma Saint. But for now …
I just need to be Saint Elsewhere.
She turned off her cell and dropped it in her purse.
Gemma opened another drawer and tossed the contents into her duffle bag.
One thing was certain. She needed to leave Madras, now.
Chapter 2
Max Carr opened the door to his office in the J. Edgar Hoover Building and the constant reminder that he had fallen short of his goal screamed at him from the nameplate on his desk. Deputy Director, Maximillian Carr.
The word Deputy needed to go. And, in about eighteen months, it would.
But another matter had erupted a few hours ago, something that could cost him his goal and possibly his career. A phone call could right the ship before it took on water. If it didn’t, things could get messy … very messy. But cleaning up a mess was preferable to going down with a sinking ship.
He pulled his secure phone from its holster and hit Agent Clarke’s speed dial number. Sometime soon, before his cell was replaced or went in for repairs, he needed to delete Clarke’s entry.
Max’s working relationship with the analyst in the Data Intercept Technology Unit (DITU) would be questioned if found. Heaven forbid that the IG team would find it during an inspection, because Max’s use of Clarke to investigate certain U.S. citizens violated several Bureau policies and, depending upon a judge’s interpretation, it violated U.S. Code.
“DITU, Clarke here.”
“This is Carr. I’m secure on this end. How about you?”
“I’m secure … well, as secure as one can be in this place.”
Nothing was absolutely secure around DITU. One never knew—
“Is this about the email account?”
“Yes. It seems our little saint in WITSEC has gone AWOL. Have you seen any activity?”
“Uh … as a matter of fact, I noticed some activity a short time ago.”
“Short as in a few hours?”
“No, sir. As in a few minutes.”
Max was in luck. Maybe he would know where little Miss Saint was going before she got there. “Where did the message originate?”
“The message came through a router at a cheap motel in Bend, Oregon. I have the IP address.”
That wasn’t surprising. She had opted for a somewhat larger city to hide, at least temporarily. “Where did it go?”
“That’s the strange part. She’s in Bend, but the message went to a server in Bend, a server that hosts email for that Internet news site that’s been stirring up trouble, The American Motto.”
“Lex James!” Max muted his phone and swore, reaching for the dregs of his vocabulary, anything profane enough to express his loathing of Mr. James, the young man with a platform too big for the likes of a kid like him. Now, the little witch, Gemma Saint, was trying to save herself by exposing everything to a friendly media mogul.
“Are you there, sir? Mr. Carr?”
Max unmuted his phone. “I’m here. Just ranting a bit. Can you get me … uh, more than the IP address?”
“More than the metadata? Sir, that would be violating—”
“We wouldn’t want to violate the Fourth Amendment. Thanks, Clarke. Please keep monitoring the metadata from the originating server—the one hosting Saint’s account. And let me know, immediately, if there are more messages.”
“Will do, sir.”
Max ended the call and hit Agent Bladen Sikes’ secure phone number.
He gave up after five rings. Maybe Blade was still in the air somewhere near Portland.
Max called again.
Blade answered on the third ring. “Sikes.”
“Blade, it’s Carr. The mission has changed somewhat. Saint’s in the Bend area trying to contact TAM.”
“That’s not good, sir.” Blade’s deep voice rose a semitone or two.
“No, it’s not. If we can’t find her before she contacts TAM, Mr. Lex James might need some … special attention, too.”
“Sir, if you have a long trail of bodies … well, it’s easy to track. We need to limit the scope of this mission and leave no trail.”
“Sikes, that’s why I hired you. Now, do your job.”
Chapter 3
Lex James pressed the post button and his editorial went live on The American Motto. “That ought to twist the Attorney General’s Fruit of the Looms.”
“Uncalex, whatcha’ mean about twistin’ the general’s fruit?” The curious eyes of four-year-old Joshua gave Lex the look. Josh’s questions wouldn’t stop until that incredible curiosity, from his somewhere-north-of-two-hundred IQ was satisfied.
Caleb plopped a hand on his twin brother’s shoulder. “No, Josh. It was his fruit loops.”
Lex bent down, hands on knees in front of the boys. “Okay, guys. This is how it is. I posted an article to my newspaper that the head of our Justice Department won’t like. That’s what twisting his underwear means.”
Caleb tugged on Lex’s pant leg. “Uncalex, if he works for justice, he’s a good man, like you. Why won’t he like it?”
This could go on for an hour or more if he didn’t nip it now. “Josh, Caleb, this is how it is—”
“But you already told us that.” Josh’s wrinkled forehead turned upward, and his wide eyes met Lex’s, sucking him into those dark blue pools so deep that only the Einsteins of this world could plumb their depths.
Lex swam out of the depths, pulling hard for the surface so he wouldn’t drown. “Boys … let me explain it this way. We live in a pluralistic society where a lot of people believe different things.”
“Makes’em argue, huh, Uncalex,” Caleb said.
“Yeah.” Josh pointed at Lex’s laptop screen. “That’s why you post all those peds.”
“Op-eds. But, yes, different beliefs certainly make people argue. And some people, like the Attorney General, think we should all keep our beliefs to ourselves and never say anything or act on our beliefs in public. But other people think we all should agree with everybody and celebrate what everyone believes.”
Caleb shook his head. “But they believe different stuff.”
“Yeah,” Josh said. “If they believe different stuff, some of them gotta believe lies. Ya’ can’t celibate lies.”
Lex grinned at Josh. “Celibate lies. Lies that can’t reproduce. What an idea, Josh. That’s what my news site tries to accomplish—stop the spread of lies.”
“Uncalex, we wanna help. Mama and Dad would want us to help you … until …” Josh’s voice trailed off and he swiped at an eye.
“Until we all get to be together in heaven.” Caleb finished for him and then gave his brother a side hug.
“Yes, they—” Lex’s voice broke. He took a deep breath and tried to give the twins a warm smile.
Josh turned his head toward his brother.
Caleb nodded. “Wono oop tap wye.”
“Nonna tap wipo.” Josh pursed his lips.
“Josh, Caleb, how many times have I told you it’s not polite to do that in front of other people. They’ll think you’re talking about them. Besides, you could both use a little work on your English—celibate, fruit loops.”
“But we—”
“I know you’ve been talking in your language since before you could walk. And you were talking about me, right?”
Caleb nodded. “But you don’t know our language do ya, Uncalex?”
Josh nodded too. “But it wasn’t anything bad. You’re the best uncle anybody could have. If we can’t have … them
, we want—”
The doorbell rang, ending what was becoming an intimate, painful conversation full of memories of the beautiful sister Lex had lost, the loving mother and father the boys missed, and of the injustice of a justice system that only slaps the wrists of a drunk who drives and kills people.
Lex exhaled some of the pain in a long sigh and headed toward the front door.
Please, God, don’t let me fail these boys.
Chapter 4
Events of the past twenty-four hours seemed to have pushed Gemma inexorably to the door in front of her, the door to Lex James’s house. There had to be a reason Gemma had been removed from WITSEC. Or was it booted out of WITSEC?
Regardless, if she was meant to play a role in unraveling the insidious conspiracy that had engulfed her …
Please, God, show me what you want me to do.
The sounds of people talking came from inside the house.
She rang the doorbell and prepared to meet the man who seemed determined to restore integrity to journalism in the U.S.A.
No response.
Gemma raised her hand to rap hard on the door. She drove her knuckles into it but hit nothing, lost her balance, and stumbled forward through the doorway.
Strong arms caught her shoulders and stood her up. Bright blue eyes studied her. Lips just north of a chiseled chin smiled.
The man inside the door had saved Gemma from an awkward fall, otherwise, her introduction would have begun with Gemma Saint sprawled out on the floor.
“Are you okay?” He removed his hands from her shoulders.
Lex James was young, too young to have such an impact on an entire nation. And there was a lot more to what she saw, things she shouldn’t even be thinking with all the problems she had.
“Uh, yes. I’m okay. And I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, but … are you really Lex James?”
Barge in? She had fallen in. She’d really impressed Mr. Lex James.
Look at him, Gemma. He thinks you’re a nutcase. Then, after you tell him why you came, you’ll certify it.
“Yes, I’m Lex. I’d ask you to come in, but you’ve already done that.”
Movement in the hallway at the far end of the living. room caught her attention. Two boys stopped in the middle of the room. Identical twins.
Wavy blonde hair hung low on their foreheads. The look on their faces as they studied Gemma—wide-eyed and open-mouthed—lay somewhere between astonishment and awe.
Adorable faces held large, deep blue eyes that, somehow, appeared wise far beyond their years. When they walked it was graceful, like athletes, not like kids. The boys were, there was only one word for them … angelic.
Gemma needed to respond to Lex, but that one look at the boys had stolen all her words. She ripped her eyes from the twins and looked at Lex. “Mr. James … they are—”
“Angelic?”
Was he psychic?
“I don’t read minds, but I saw the expression on your face. We get that at church every Sunday, at the grocery store, wherever I take those two. But, as they say, looks can be a bit deceiving.”
Making gaga eyes at two four- or five-year-old boys—what must he think of her? “I didn’t know you had a family. That you were married. I—I shouldn’t have come.” Had she actually said those words? What an idiot. What would he think?
“So if I wasn’t married, you should have come? This is getting interesting.” Lex gave her a teasing grin.
That grin with those words—her cheeks burned. This was no time for blushing or whatever else was happening. She could be bringing danger to this man and these boys.
One of the boys inched closer to her. “Uncalex, ask her what her name is.”
“Yeah, ask her,” the other boy said. “She’s beeeautiful, just like mama.”
Lex glanced at the boys then looked back at her. “Since I’m under orders to ask you, what’s your name?”
The boys’ words, their eyes ogling her, Lex’s teasing that seemed to border on flirting—it seemed like her college years all over again. Pursued now by three men—one big one and two little ones. That was certainly different. To top it all off, there were no signs of ad nauseum.
“Well, if you’d rather not tell us …”
“I’m sorry.” She blew out a breath and tried to focus on Lex. “My name is Gemma Saint. And I think I made a mistake by coming here. But when you didn’t reply to my email and then I stumbled across your address …”
“First things first, Ms. Saint. Please have a seat.” He pointed at a long couch that curled around one corner of the living room. “And then you can tell me why you wanted to come here and why you think it was a mistake.”
“Before I sit down, Mr. James—”
“Lex.”
“Okay, Lex. I could be endangering you. I won’t do that to you and your family. Honestly, I didn’t know you were married or I wouldn’t have come.”
“That made a little more sense the second time. But about—”
“Uncalex? You gonna let a dangerous lady in our house?”
“Yeah. Are ya? We can get rid of her just like we—”
“Like you did the last babysitter. Josh, Caleb, go to your room until I ask you to come out. I need to hear Ms. Saint’s story without your two cents.”
“But we got two hundred and—”
“Caleb, that’s enough. To your room now. And no spying on us with any of your contraptions.”
“Aw, alright.”
The two boys trudged down the hallway.
One of the twins stopped. “My squirt gun.”
A plastic soaker squirt gun lay on the floor by Gemma’s feet. She picked it up.
“Caleb.” Lex snatched it from her and sent it spinning across the room toward the boy.
She gasped. It would hit Caleb in the face.
Caleb took a step forward and caught the gun between his two small hands.
He had the hand-eye coordination of an athletic boy two or more times his age. What other abilities did these twins have? And what did they have two-hundred of?
Gemma tried to regain her focus. They had lost time and she might not have much of that left.
“Ms. Saint, since you came to me, I’m assuming the danger you mentioned is regarding something that’s newsworthy.”
She nodded. “Just call me Gemma. I’m trying to get used to using my name again.”
“Your name? Did you have amnesia or something?”
“No. I’ll explain in a moment. But, if I’m right, this will be the biggest story you’ve ever broken.”
Lex’s eyes darted between looking at her and out the living room window at the driveway. “Did anyone follow you here?”
“No. But they could find me at any time. And so I need to go.”
“And have me pass up the biggest story I’ve ever broken?”
“But your boys and your wife, y’all won’t—”
“Gemma, I’m not married. But you’re right about the boys. I won’t put them in danger. First, tell me who’s after you.”
“I’m not certain, but I think it’s rogue or off-the-books, whatever you call them, members of the FBI.”
“The FBI? You mean like a black operation?”
“Yes.”
“Gemma, have you broken the law?”
“Uh … I just got a fake ID. So, technically, I have.”
“Fake ID?”
“I was in WITSEC and the FBI located me, killed the U.S. Marshal who was my inspector, and now they’re after me.”
“So Gemma is your real name?”
She nodded.
“I want to hear your story, but first I need to take the boys to a safe place.”
“I didn’t know you had any family. Honest, or I—”
“I do now. My sister and her husband were killed by a drunk driver a few months ago, and I’m the guardian for Josh and Caleb, twins, both with IQs in the vicinity of two-hundred but too high to measure at their age.”
High IQs. Mayb
e that’s why the boys seemed so different … and adorable. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. Me and the boys too. I lost my sister and brother-in-law, but so thankful I have those two boys.”
“How do you tell them apart? They’re identical right down to the way their blonde hair hangs on their eyebrows.”
“Mostly by their mannerisms. Josh usually leads with shock and awe. Caleb comes in behind and mows down whatever is left.” Lex stood and looked out the front window where her car sat in the driveway.
Gemma stood beside him, noting the concern in his eyes.
“You need to pull your car into my garage. We’ll hide it there and you can ride with me to where I’m taking the boys. We can talk on the way. It’ll save time.”
“Lex, after what I’ve told you, would y’all rather I just left?”
Lex turned and laid his hand on her shoulder. “That’s not going to happen, Gemma. What reporter in his right mind would choose to miss out on the biggest story they’ve ever broken? Come on. Drive your car into the garage and throw your bag in the back of my SUV, while I get the boys.”
As Gemma walked to her car to park it inside Lex’s garage, she still had the opportunity to leave. She could just drive away.
She turned the key to start the car, still unsure what she was going to do. But coming to his house, and what she’d already told Lex, might bring trouble his way. That could endanger those two little angels.
If she left now, would it change that?
Chapter 5
What in the blazes was Blade up to? Max hadn’t heard from him in eighteen hours. He had enough time to drive from Portland to Bend, find the girl, interrogate her, finish the job, and cover his trail.
And Gemma Saint, if Blade hadn’t found her, had enough time to contact Lex James. Maybe the girl was smarter than they’d given her credit for.
Max’s secure phone rang. The display indicated Mr. Blade Sikes. It was about time.
