by Paul Seiple
“What do you mean I’ve been lying to you?”
“You know exactly what I mean. Michelle was never in San Francisco.”
“Yes…”
“Save your breath. I have little time left. I have another associate who does what you do, but he does it in the real world, not behind the false security of the Internet. There is no one The Spotter cannot find.” A pain pierced Norman’s side causing a sharp gasp. “Sometimes it takes longer when he is sent on a wild goose chase, but he always finds them.”
“Don’t hurt her. She’s just a kid.”
Norman laughed. It turned into a deep cough. “You poor, delusional fool, I will not hurt my granddaughter. I am going to give her something before Death takes me for one last ride.”
“I won’t let you corrupt her,” Jessie said. He tried to speak with confidence, but the hitch in his voice let the truth out. Norman scared Jessie. Even more so now that Norman knew he had been lying to him for the past six years. But Jessie felt an obligation to Mack. To Reid. And to Michelle. He would not let Norman find her.
“What you should do is worry about The Spotter and when will he find you. I may leave this world soon, but he has orders.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Look, she’s not in San Francisco. She’s in…”
“I know the exact location of my granddaughter.” Norman coughed. “I have for years.”
“But…”
“You’re not as smart as Hoffman thinks you are. I let you believe you had me fooled because you’re the only lifeline to Michelle. If you knew the truth, Hoffman would know the truth.” Norman took a moment to catch his breath. “And that would have meant more work for The Spotter. He’s already cantankerous enough.”
“But you kept paying me.”
“The money means nothing to me. It’s all about the power. I paid you to be my fool.”
Those words hit Jessie like the burn of a striking match. Norman played him. No one ever played Jessie. “I’ll find her before you do.”
Norman tried to laugh, but it was more of a wheeze. “Once again you’re the fool. Do you think she’s still in San Diego? I’ve already found her. One last thing, give my regards to The Spotter.”
Norman hung up.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Jessie stared at the phone. “She must have finally run away.”
There was nothing elaborate about the way Jessie kept tabs on Michelle. For a year or so after the move, against strict orders, Rebecca stayed in touch with Jessie as a way to check up on Michael. She never stopped loving him, but she had to forget him. It took a while, but eventually she stopped contacting Jessie. Through those emails, he gained access to her I.P. address. He monitored it and found Michelle posting on a grunge music message board. Jessie befriended her and learned of her intentions to run away. Each time she mentioned it, he convinced her it wasn’t a good idea. Or at least he thought he did.
“She’s got to be going back to Carolina.” Jessie picked up the phone to call Mack. Half way through the number, he stopped dialing, and looked at Richard Hiatt’s number still on the computer screen. Jessie knew that his income stream would dry up now that Norman was on to him. “I can find her on my own. I’m going to need money.” He dialed Richard Hiatt. The phone rang ten times. Then a generic voicemail message greeted him. Jessie waited for the beep. “I saw what you did in the elevator, Richard. It’s in your best interest to pick up.” He waited. Nothing. “And I know what you’re planning.”
“Who the hell is this?”
“So, you are there. Screening calls, I see. Is your phone blowing up since your little video?”
“Who the hell is this?”
“Got you stuttering, Richard? Hey, what’s in the box? You know the box the delivery guy brought you? The delivery guy you killed in the elevator. Didn’t you know there is a camera in the elevator?”
“Who…”
“Listen, Dick, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to give me five-hundred-thousand dollars and I’m going to forget everything I’ve seen today. I don’t care about your little plan to end the world. But, let’s be honest, your chances of pulling this off are slim. If you don’t give me what I’m asking for the chance goes from slim to none because the tape I have is going straight to the cops along with everything I know about you. And I know a lot. You rented Big Butt Babes in Babylon three nights ago from Late Night Video. It’s two days overdue. You like big butts and you cannot lie. I get it. But don’t test me. Are we on the same page here?”
“I don’t have five-hundred thousand dollars.”
“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’re not the mastermind behind this apocalypse stunt. I suggest you ask your partner. Believe me, I can find out everything about them just as easy as I did you.”
“I swear I’ll find out who you are, and I’ll kill you.”
“Oh, tough words. Tell you what, Dick, I’ll save you the trouble of finding out. I’m Mack Root.”
Silence met Jessie’s claim.
“What’s wrong, Dick?”
“You’re not Root.”
“Ok, ok, you got me. Why the hard-on for Root? He’s butt really isn’t that big.”
“How do I get you the money?”
“Ah, so you see things my way. That’s good. There will be a P.O. Box at the post office on Wendover Road. Go to the front desk and ask for the key to Robert Guiscard’s box. I’ll arrange it so that there are no problems. Leave the cash and go on your merry way.”
“And if I can’t get the money?”
“Can’t isn’t an option. And, oh yeah, the money must be there before 1pm tomorrow or I’ll find Mack Root and give him your information.”
Jessie hung up.
“That went well. Now, I have to find Michelle.”
20
Michelle Callahan
Winston-Salem, North Carolina
“Tell me more about Sunshine.” Michelle said, handing Pipes an unopened can of soda.
“You shouldn’t be wasting your money on me,” Pipes said.
“I’m not wasting anything. I’m sharing a Coke with a friend.”
Pipes smiled and popped the lid on the can. “You really are like her.” He took a sip. “Sunshine used to love soda. She’d go weeks craving it and when she finally got her hands on one she would always share.”
“Why did he kill her?”
Pipes ignored the question. “She was the only bright spot around here. I know I’ve got a better chance at winning a marathon than a singing contest, but Sunshine always said she loved my voice.”
“I like your singing.” Michelle took a sip from her can.
Pipes chuckled. “Just like her.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” Michelle sipped from the can again.
“It’s no important. You can’t bring her back. Let’s just talk about the good times. They are few and far between around here.”
Michelle sat the can on the curb. “I need to know about her. I can’t explain it, but in that dream I connected with her. I felt her pain, but what I remember most was her strength. This is going to sound crazy, but it’s almost like she passed it on to me.”
Pipes sat for a moment staring at the Coke can. “Your grandfather is an evil man who can manipulate people into doing bad things.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Michelle picked up the can and took another swallow.
“Remember, I said your uncle thought certain people where fireflies and that killing them would bring on the end of the world?”
Michelle nodded.
“Well, he didn’t think that up on his own. Your grandfather put that in his mind.”
“How do you know this?”
“I stayed in touch with your father for a while. After he moved to Charlotte we lost touch.”
“So, why did he think Sunshine was one of these fireflies?”
“Norman didn’t. He made the firefly stuff up just to trick your uncle.”
“But, I
don’t get it. Why Sunshine? From everything you’ve told me, she was just a homeless runaway.”
Pipes looked at the can of soda again. “Boy, do I wish there was some alcohol in here.” He smiled. “And I don’t even drink.”
“Just tell me.”
“Sunshine was your aunt.”
“My aunt?”
“Your father thought killing Sunshine was a test for your uncle.”
“From my grandfather.”
“Yes.”
Michelle stood up and walked to the corner of the block. She stared at the dilapidated hardware store where Sunshine took her last breath. “How could he?”
“Pure evil. It’s the only explanation,” Pipes said. He picked up his guitar and strummed the first chords of “Sympathy for the Devil” by The Stones.
“I’m a man of…”
Pipes and Michelle turned around at the same time to see a man standing behind them.
“Wealth and taste.” The man laughed and poked at a hole in the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Maybe not. I love that song anyway. I’m Ham, nice to meet you?” He extended his hand to Pipes.
“What do you want?” Pipes asked, sitting the guitar down.
“I just hopped off a train and thought I’d see if I could find a trailer for sale or rent?”
“Find another corner,” Pipes said.
“It’s a joke. Boxcar Willie? ‘King of the Road’? You know that one?”
“I know we don’t take kindly to strangers,” Pipes said. “So you best be moving on.”
“You look familiar,” Michelle said.
“Well, little girl, I was a movie star in another life. Maybe that’s where you remember me from.”
“No, you look a lot like this guy I met on a bus, but his hair was gray and his beard was longer. I swear you could be kin to him.” Michelle focused on Pipes and then back on the stranger. “And I don’t take kindly to you calling me little girl.”
The man smirked. “Sorry. And I’ve never seen you before. I just got to town. Was hoping to find work here.”
“Ain’t no work down here. Like I said you best be moving on.” Pipes picked up his guitar and sang “Hit the Road Jack.”
“All right. You don’t have to tell me three times I’m not wanted. I can take a hint.”
The man turned away. As he left he sang the chorus to “Hit the Road Jack.” When he was out of sight, Pipes stopped strumming the guitar.
“Why were you so mean to him?” Michelle asked.
“Something a little too familiar about this whole situation.”
“What do you mean?” Michelle took a seat on the curb next to Pipes’s chair.
Pipes glanced at the broken down hardware store where Sunshine lost her life. “He came for her the same way.”
“Who?”
“Your uncle. He showed up out of the blue, made small talk, and then…well, you know, what happened then.”
“You think he was here for me?”
“I made the mistake once of not trusting my gut. And now Sunshine is gone. I’m not doing it again. It’s better to safe than sorry, Chelle.”
Pipes sang Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition” a cappella.
Michelle smiled and placed her hand on his. “I feel safe with you,” she said.
21
The Plague Vendor
Charlotte, North Carolina
“Answer the damn phone.”
“Don’t you think there would be a better chance of getting a response if you had answered when the good doctor was calling you?”
The Vendor dropped the phone to the floor and picked up the pair of bloody scissors from the table. He whirled around to see Norman Wallace standing in the doorway.
“Don’t tell me you greet all visitors with a pair of scissors.”
“What the hell do you want?” The Vendor lowered his arms, but kept a white-knuckled grip on the scissors.
“Monahan called me and told me what happened.”
“Look, I’m sorry about the video.”
Norman chuckled. “You fool. This isn’t about the video. It’s about the call you received.”
“I should have known you were behind it. You want me to fail.”
“Jessie Walker is the person who called you. Whatever dirt he says he has on you, believe him.”
“You’re not behind it? Then how do you know?” The Vendor pointed the scissors at Norman. “You’re here to kill me, aren’t you?”
Norman pulled his blazer to the side, exposing a chrome-lined 9mm Beretta. “Relax. If I had intentions to kill you, you would be dead. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually need you.”
The Vendor lowered his arm. “You need me?”
“While I don’t believe your plan will be successful. I still need you to follow through with it to keep eyes off of me.”
“Wait. How do you know about the call?”
“Monahan has your phone tapped.”
“That son-of-a-bitch.”
“That son-of-a-bitch will save your life. Actually, I’m going to.” Norman bent down and pulled a gym bag from the hallway.
The Vendor held the scissors toward Norman. “I can hit you in the heart with these before you get off a shot.”
Norman laughed. “Money. It’s only money” He opened the bag and pointed a stack of cash at The Vendor like a gun.
“Why are you helping me?”
Norman counted the money. “I told you. I need you to continue with your plan. If Walker turns you over to the police…well…that hampers my plan.” He looked up at The Vendor. “How much?”
“Five-hundred thousand.”
Norman counted out ten thousand without hesitation. He reached into the bag and dumped the rest on the floor. “Count it, if you want.”
The Vendor started counting. Norman placed his hand over The Vendor’s.
“When we are finished here…”
The Vendor pushed the stack of cash to the side and reached for the scissors. Wallace tightened his grip which was surprisingly strong for a man in his condition.
“You will take this,” Norman handed The Vendor another ten thousand dollars. “and leave this apartment tonight. Set yourself up in a nice hotel. Tomorrow, follow Walker’s instructions and give him the money he’s asking for. After that, you’re going to continue on with your plan to infect the children.”
“But, Doc told me not to.”
“You will go through with it.” Norman flashed the Beretta again. “I’m your boss now.”
“If that Walker guy found out who I am, the police will too.”
“You let me worry about that. What’s your problem with Mack Root?”
“Root is the reason my family disowned me. He had me kicked out of the academy.”
“Tell you what, if you succeed tomorrow night, I’ll serve Root to you on a platter.”
“Why the change of heart? I thought you hated me.” The Vendor said.
“We got off on the wrong foot. At this point, we need each other, so, we have to make this relationship work. You have to trust me. And I have to trust you. Can I trust you to carry out your plan tomorrow night?”
The Vendor nodded.
“All right then, I will trust you. But if you do not follow through, you will not have to worry about Walker contacting the police. There will be nothing left of you for them.”
As Wallace turned to leave, his phone rang. He took it from his blazer pocket and looked at the screen.
SPOTTER
“Did you find her?”
“She’s living on the streets in Winston.”
“Did you make contact?” Norman asked.
“I tried. She’s keeping house with this overprotective old man in a wheelchair.”
“Keep her in your sights, but don’t make contact again. I’ll be there tomorrow.”
22
James Beamer
Charlotte, North Carolina
Reid sipped on what seemed to be his twelfth cup of coffee. Ev
en with caffeine it was still better than him breaking down and resorting to alcohol. He hadn’t spoken in well over an hour. Mack watched a documentary on missing persons in Alaska. Jill decided that ten straight hours with three men was enough. She went back to her room, but not before handing out strict orders to call her if something happened.
I stared at the phone. Nothing happened. I knew Jessie well enough to know that it wouldn’t take him this long to find something in that video. The erratic way The Plague Vendor came across in his introduction to the world led me to believe it wouldn’t be hard to find him. He was amateur. Announcing himself was a mistake. I was sure it wasn’t the only one he made. No thought was put into the video. Sloppy dialogue. Nervous movement. This guy wasn’t an accomplice of Wallace’s. Wallace wouldn’t want the added job of babysitter.
I waited for a commercial and asked Mack to call Jessie again.
“He said he’d call me when he had something, James.”
“It takes this kid less than fifteen minutes to crack the encryptions on State Bank’s passwords, but he can’t find anything in some video a hack made. It’s been…” I looked at my watch. “…eleven hours now.”
“It was a mistake to bring Wallace into this,” Reid said. “You know damn good and well he has nothing to do with this after watching that shit show of a video. Let the Bureau handle this and let’s get the son-of-a-bitch before it’s too late.”
