by Steven James
Zelda was wrong.
The thing is to finally open your eyes. That’s the only way to find hope.
The only way to find anything that really matters.
“And what about you, Pat?” asked Ralph, interrupting my thoughts.
“Me?”
“What’s next for you? You going to stay in Denver or go back to teach at the Academy?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll have to talk that over with the rest of the family.”
Tessa nodded ever so slightly to me, and I nodded back.
Moments passed by, and that was OK.
She leaned forward and peered out the window. I tried to see what she was looking at but couldn’t quite get the right angle. At last I asked her what she’d found.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
She pointed. “A unicorn. Up there in the clouds.”
I leaned over as far as I could to follow her gaze. I didn’t see the unicorn, but I did see the tourmaline necklace dangling from her neck, collecting sunlight with wide-open arms. And the glistening black necklace looked right at home as it swung across the skull on her shirt.
And then landed again.
Right beside her heart.
EPILOGUE
The Pentagon
Department of Defense
Sublevel 4
4:58 p.m.
General Biscayne scratched his signature across the last two forms and was just pushing back from his desk to head home when his phone jangled to life.
“Yeah,” he snapped. “What is it?”
“Hello, Cole. It’s Sebastian.”
A chill ran down the general’s spine. Sebastian Taylor frightened him. Always had. He’d suspected Sebastian was responsible for the disappearance of two operatives back in ’78 and a couple of others in the ’80s but had never been able to prove it.
General Biscayne tried to mask the fear in his voice. “What do you want?”
“You called Margaret Wellington, didn’t you?”
“Sebastian, I—”
“You told her to keep everything quiet. To make the case go away. But you made one mistake. You mentioned my name.”
A pause. A decision to lay down all his cards. “So maybe I did. You’re a fugitive. What are you going to do about it now?”
“I think, General, that I’m going to go fishing.”
The line went dead.
And with trembling fingers, the general set down his phone.
And so.
Now it begins.
Look for the next Patrick Bowers thriller, The Rook, in spring 2008.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The Internet, great repository of knowledge that it is, has various attributions for the quote about the foolish mice and the wise cats. So, my thanks go out to either Andrew Mercer or Scott Love or whoever else might have thought of it in the first place.
In addition, I’m indebted to the following friends for their ideas, support, research, and encouragement: Wayne Kirk, Chris Haskins, Lara and Pam Johnson, Michelle Cox, Dr. Todd Huhn, Tammy Edwards, David Lehman, Dr. Godwin, Dr. Morse, Von Roebuck, Dr. Kim Rossmo, Tim Carter, Becky Cox, Steve Kipperman, the Asheville Chamber of Commerce, Dr. John-Paul Abner, Lee Garner, Shawn Scullin, Alton Gansky, George Hill, Deb Van Horn, Lonnie Hull DuPont, Pamela Harty, Jennifer Leep, Cat Hoort, Kristin Kornoelje, the Black Mountain Writers’ Group, the Jonestown Institute, and finally, my daughters and my wife for their unending patience and encouragement, and, oh yes, the kind folks at Oasis Coffee Shop for staying open late.
Steven James is a critically acclaimed author and award-winning storyteller. He has written many collections of short fiction, scripts, and inspirational books that explore the paradox of good and evil. He lives at the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains with his wife and three daughters. This is his first thriller.
