Saved By The Glass Slipper

by Markee Anderson

  “Mark!” I tried to bend over to see if he was okay, but someone grabbed me from behind, something was shoved over my mouth and nose and everything went black.

  ~~~~~

  Chapter 11

  “Amy Summers. We finally meet.”

  I pushed my eyes open and faced my nemesis—Ron Augustino. I’d recognize that face anywhere, after staring at the pictures in that folder, even though he was much older now.

  Looking around the room, I saw only the chair I was tied to, Ron standing in front of me with his arms crossed, with a thug standing beside him. There was no other furniture in the room, which I found very odd. It was a small room with white walls and a white door and no windows.

  I faced the evil one. “Ron Augustino. So the big man himself feels threatened by me?”

  The thug standing beside Ron hauled off and slapped my face. I felt the pain immediately, realizing that I’d been roughed up before I came to, because other parts of my body started to ache as well.

  Ron leaned closer. “Let that be a warning to you. You don’t mess with me, and as soon as I get what I want, you’ll be with your parents.”

  “Why? What do I have that you want?”

  “You already know that.” He straightened up. “My contacts at the NSA need one piece to give to the Chinese and they’ll rule the world, then fund the rest of my campaign, guaranteeing that I’ll be President. You’re the key, Amy.” He walked behind me, returning with my thesis in his hands. “Now. Chapter twenty-one. Tell me how it works.”

  “No.”

  “Look. You told Mark, he told the NSA and they have most of it programmed already. They need one more piece and that’s it.”

  “I don’t understand this. You expect me to tell you the one thing the Chinese need so you can kill me and sell this country down the sewer? Do you think I’m stupid?”

  “No. But I don’t like what you’ve done for the security of this nation, because, according to Bobby, you’re going to help the government weed out all terrorists. I don’t like that, and neither do my backers. They have people in place so we can make the world a better place.”

  “Tell me, Ron, have you had any psychiatric help? I think you need a lot.” I wasn’t in any mood to put up with his questioning.

  He chuckled slightly. “A chip off the old block. Your dad thought he was funny, too. I guess he thought otherwise when he was killed.”

  “Did you kill him, or did you have one of your thugs do the dirty work? Maybe your brother-in-law?”

  “No, not family. I can’t soil the name, because it’ll come back to haunt me. No, it was someone who can’t talk any more.”

  I felt my lip get fatter. “Who?”

  “I’m not even sure. Ned hired them and then had the murderers killed in a tragic car accident. Wasn’t my doing, and Ned was paid handsomely for helping out. However, he didn’t find what I was looking for, and told me he’d get it, if I just gave him time. Looks like his time ran out when he didn’t find it at your brother’s house.”

  “What were you looking for?” I asked. Blood ran down my chin, and I hoped it would get all over his white walls somehow.

  “Oh, you know. Things that your father held over my head for years. Now, tell me what I want to know and I’ll go easy on you.”

  I almost laughed at him. “Go easy on me? To kill me? I don’t think so.”

  He got closer to my face. “What do you know?”

  “About chapter twenty-one?”

  “For starters.”

  This man wasn’t very bright, that was for sure. So, I started spouting off various mathematical theorems, making both of the men’s mouths fall open. I wasn’t even close to explaining chapter twenty-one, but they had no idea what I was saying. I figured I could filibuster for years with everything I’d learned in my classes.

  “Wait. I’m not ready for this yet. I have to have help.” He opened the door, and Dr. Urban was pushed inside, handcuffed behind his back.

  “I’m so sorry, Amy. I had no idea—”

  “Let it go. They want to know about chapter twenty-one, so I’m telling them everything I know.”

  He glanced over at the two men. “Everything?”

  “Oh yeah. Everything.”

  Dr. Urban nodded, smiling slightly. “I see. Start at the beginning and I’ll see if I can translate for the NSA. I never did understand all of it, but it was an interesting read.”

  The thug brought Dr. Urban and a chair, then pushed him into it, facing me. I began to talk, discussing ring theory and nothing about chapter twenty-one, when Dr. Urban stopped me.

  “I need paper and a pencil. This is major what she’s saying, and I won’t remember it.” Great actor, that man.

  The thug glanced at Ron, who nodded, then left the room. Dr. Urban winked at me, and I knew what he was saying. Codes. This should be fun.

  “Where is the rest of what I want?” Ron asked me.

  “Like what? Your dry cleaning, or something?” I asked. “Want me to go out to get it for you?”

  “Smart aleck. No, I want the painting and the pictures.”

  I put extreme innocence on my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He hauled off and slapped my face. “You do know about the pictures, at least. I found out from Ned that your dad had the picture of the prostitute from Amsterdam.”

  I knew the pictures were from France and not Amsterdam, but said nothing. I wasn’t about to tip my hand. “Sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, I think you do. Where’s the painting?”

  “Let me get this straight. From what you’re asking me, it sounds like you painted the prostitute then took a picture of it. It seems a little odd, but am I right?”

  “Oh, very funny.” He leaned up closer. “My man told me you found it. Where is it?”

  “Who’s your man?”

  “One of Mark’s men. It’s amazing what a little money will do for you, huh?”

  Mark. I remembered. He’d been shot, and I felt the blood drain from my face. Everything about him came back to me, full force. “Is he dead?”

  “Oh, so you have questions for me now, huh?”

  “Answer me! Is Mark dead?”

  “Sorry. I don’t answer questions. I ask them.”

  The thug walked back into the room, untied Dr. Urban and handed him a pen and some paper. The thug leaned over to Ron, whispered something, then Ron nodded and left the room.

  I stared at Dr. Urban, trying to give him the code to fake the things for chapter twenty-one. He did understand it, because we had a long meeting to discuss how they’d put it to use. He even wrote the program, longhand, to make it work, then destroyed the papers.

  Ron walked back into the room, smiling. “One of my friends at the NSA is coming to visit, just to make sure you’re telling the truth.”

  “You don’t trust me?” I asked.

  “Not as far as I can throw you.” He turned to Dr. Urban. “And I don’t trust you, either. You had us steal Amy’s paper on terrorists, because you wouldn’t part with it. Fortunately, your boss was on our side.” He faced me again. “Now where’s my stuff?”

  “Well, the painting is out of the country, in case you need to know that.”

  His face turned confused. “Where?”

  “Well, it’s probably at the Louvre right now, back where it belongs. Oh, and don’t worry. Your fingerprints are all over it, I’m sure. They’ll be hunting you down in no time, and you know the French police. I wouldn’t doubt they’d love making you the laughing stock of everything. If it were me, that’s what I’d do. I’d destroy both your political career and your personal life, then make you a prostitute in the French jails.”

  Dr. Urban, sitting in front of me, just smiled.

  “You’re bluffing,” Ron said. “You don’t know where the painting was.”

  “Sure. Let’s go with that,” I answered. “Tell me, Mr. Augustino. How do you expect the American public to
fall for your antics? You’ve killed people, stolen, and now are selling the United States to the highest bidder. What happens when they find all of this out?”

  “They won’t. Even if you or your friends talk, you have no proof of anything.” He glanced at both Dr. Urban and me. “Both of you will be dead, so you won’t have to worry.”

  I looked him straight in the eyes. “I think my contacts can get something together before your town hall meeting.”

  Ron checked his watch. “You mean the town hall meeting in three hours?”

  Three hours? What? “What day is it?”

  “Thursday,” Dr. Urban said. “May 7. Why?”

  “What happened to Monday night, Tuesday, and Wednesday?” I asked.

  “Oh, we’ve been playing with your head during all that time,” Ron answered, just smiling.

  I looked down. “Have you changed my clothes? These look like the same clothes I was in on Monday night.”

  “No, we didn’t. But we had nurses taking care of you. You talked a lot under our medical procedures, but never told us what we wanted to know.”

  “About what?”

  “That’s what you’d always say, like you’d forgotten. Did you even write your own thesis?”

  Dr. Urban grinned.

  “Yes, I did.” I was glad I was able to store that thesis way back in my memory so he couldn’t get to it and could also protect the location of the picture of Ron shooting the prostitute in my shoe, because it sounded like he didn’t have that, either.

  “Where am I?” I guessed I was close to Maryland, somewhere.

  “Washington, D.C. I have enough people on my side to help hide you.” He looked around the room. “You’ll never get out, in case you’re wondering.”

  “You’re probably right. Oh well. I guess you’ll never get what you want, either, then. We’re at an impasse.”

  A knock at the door had Dr. Urban and me turning out heads. Ron crossed the room and opened the door.

  “Nicole, I’d like you to meet Amy Summers and her mentor, Terry Urban.”

  A well-dressed and coiffed woman walked into the room, making Dr. Urban’s face pale.

  “Terry, how are you doing?” she asked, then kissed his cheek.

  “You? But you were working for the NSA!”

  “And still am.”

  “But we dated,” he said.

  “Sure. I had to get my hands on what you were doing, and it really paid off. Now I’m making millions from other countries. Greece has a ton of cash, backed by many other countries.”

  Dr. Urban wiped his eye. “But I was in love with you.”

  “Sucker,” she muttered. Nicole turned to me. “Now explain chapter twenty-one to me.”

  “I already did, but you missed it. Sorry. One explanation per customer.”

  She hauled off and slapped me so hard, my head turned toward the left, and my teeth rattled. She pulled my face to hers. “Tell me now! We couldn’t get it to work, even with Mark’s explanation.”

  Dr. Urban and I glanced toward each other.

  “What are you hiding?” she asked me.

  “We changed the real solution on purpose,” I said. “No country needs to have the solution to this, because they could hurt others, or it could be sold to other countries, hurting the United States.”

  “What’s the real answer then?” she asked.

  “Neither of us know, because we created it with a third party, who has the key,” Dr. Urban said. “We have it hidden with that person someplace very close by.”

  Nicole smiled, facing him. “I never thought you were that bright. No wonder you’ve taken more than one trip to Washington. It’s near here, isn’t it?”

  “Our very good friend is in Washington, and he’s protecting it for us,” Dr. Urban said. “He won’t tell anyone without me being there in person, and to get the entire truth, you’ll need both of us in the same room with him. Also, it has to be at his house, because he doesn’t even know which objects we each chose that contains our key.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Ron said. “What made you think of some stupid security system like that?”

  Dr. Urban and I started to laugh.

  “For idiots like you,” I said. “We talked about scenarios, and something just like this came to our minds almost immediately.”

  Ron and Nicole stared at each other. “What now?” he asked her.

  “We have to take them. We’re out of time.”

  “Out of time for what?” I asked.

  “It’s not your problem,” Ron answered.

  I leaned forward. “Yes, it is my problem. What’s going to happen at that town hall meeting?”

  Ron ignored me, then turned to his thug. “Untie her and take us all to the house.” He checked his watch. “You’d better make this quick, too.”

  The thug untied me, and I massaged my arms. Dr. Urban helped me to my feet, and gave me a hug. “You okay?”

  “Yep. I don’t like losing a few days, but I’ll survive.”

  “You look awful, in case you need to know that. People might stare, you look that bad.”

  I could tell I’d been beaten. “Thanks for the positive thoughts. I feel a lot of it, but I’ll be okay.”

  The thug pushed us to the door.

  “Do you know if Mark’s okay?” I whispered to Dr. Urban as we were taken to the hallway.

  “I don’t know. What happened?”

  “We were getting on the plane in Pennsylvania, and Mark pulled me aside to talk about his mother.”

  “Oh, the future mother-in-law.”

  “Try current. We got married in Colorado.”

  “So soon?”

  “Yes, for protection. We were standing at the side of the rental car, and before I could even pull out the big guns about the evil witch, someone shot him in the back and grabbed me.”

  “Nothing was reported about it, from what I heard,” he said. “But they took me Tuesday night, so it’s hard to tell what happened.”

  “Where are we?” I whispered as we got to the end of the hallway and the thug opened a door.

  “The basement of the Capitol,” Dr. Urban whispered.

  “How did we get in here?”

  “Ron has friends in high places. More than you know.”

  “I know. I found Dad’s journal,” I whispered back.

  We were driven to Chevy Chase, Maryland and it was still light outside. Dr. Urban directed them to the home of his friend, Dr. Antonio Giovanni, who taught Mathematics at the University of Maryland, the same place housing the town hall debate. That was one thing in our favor.

  Dr. Giovanni was an interesting man, originally from Italy, in his upper sixties and widowed. He loved the United States, and he and I had corresponded on various occasions about different things we, as mathematicians, could do to save the world.

  The thug pulled up to his small home and parked in the driveway.

  “No funny stuff,” Ron said, showing us the gun in his hand from the front passenger’s seat. Nicole was on the other side of Dr. Urban, who was in the middle. She also held a gun.

  We got out of the car and walked up to Dr. Giovanni’s house, and Dr. Urban knocked on the door, with a code knock. It was three raps, then two, then three. I knew what that meant.

  “Coming!” I heard from the other side of the door. I hoped Dr. Giovanni remembered our long talk on the phone. “Just give me a minute.”

  He did. That phrase was our code phrase.

  “It’s Terry,” Dr. Urban answered.

  “I’m not so young any more. Wait, and I’ll get there, eventually.”

  “Take your time,” Dr. Urban answered, glancing at me. “We just want to see your clocks.”

  “Uh-huh,” Dr. Giovanni answered. “Oh, my knees are so sore. I’m almost there.”

  Good. He had the cops on the line and was ready for us.

  “Clocks?” Ron asked.

  “Where we stored the key,” I answered.

  We waited a few m
ore minutes and Ron began to get antsy, trying the locked door. “He’d better hurry, or I’m going to blow the lock off.”

  The door unlocked from the other side, and Dr. Giovanni opened the door. “Sorry I took so long. I’m old and you have to understand.”

  We all entered the house, where every wall of every room was lined with some sort of clock.

  Dr. Giovanni’s mouth fell open when he saw me. “They beat you…a lot.”

  “Seems so,” I said. “I haven’t seen my face yet, but it hurts.”

  “Don’t look,” he whispered. “It’s not good.

  “Do you have a clock fetish?” Nicole asked Dr. Giovanni, looking around the room.

  “Oh, I like clocks from the old country,” he answered. “However, some are the key to a very important puzzle, and only Amy and Terry know which ones they chose for the key. I know mine only, so if you’re here for that—” His eyes rested on the gun in Ron’s hand. “And you are, from what you’re holding.”

  “Yes, we are and we’re on a timetable.”

  Dr. Giovanni looked over at Dr. Urban. “What happens if we tell?”

  “Death,” Dr. Urban whispered.

  “Oh, I see,” Dr. Giovanni answered with a nod. “So I guess they want the right answer?”

  Another key phrase. Because I was the youngest of the three, I was to give the right answer, and both of them would give the wrong answer, just to keep everyone guessing.

  “I think so,” Dr. Urban answered, glancing at the thug and Ron.

  We all studied the clocks. I walked into the kitchen and chose an Austrian cuckoo clock, removed it from the wall and turned it around. I flipped the time to 12:00 and when the bird came out to sing, I held him in my hand, reached in and retrieved a small piece of paper.

  “Give me that!” Nicole said, grabbing it from my hand. She unfolded the paper and studied it. “It’s in code! What’s the answer?”

  I smiled. “I don’t remember exactly what the code was, but I’ll have to work on it for a moment.” I took the paper back from her hand and sat at the table, then faced her. “Do you have paper and a pen?”

  She fished through her purse and handed me a pen that said NSA on the side. How ironic. I’d be giving away a secure secret using an NSA pen.