“Nonsense. And I bet that you’d like to tell us that what you have here are actual pieces of aliens!”
“That is classified information.” said Schroeder. “Something that I don’t intend to divulge. You’re not going to get anything more out of me. So, if you’ll just step away from that phone, I’ll deal with you all summarily.”
Jake had a very bad feeling about that.
The thing was, though it appeared that Schroeder was just calling his security, or maybe the police, chances were that he was calling Editors.
And Jake well knew that these Editors that Scarborough had been dealing with handled things with extreme prejudice.
Namely, they killed you.
Jake couldn’t take that chance.
He was responsible for more than just himself here—himself and his desire to vindicate his career. Responsible more than for these two people who were with him. Responsible more than for Scarborough. He was in way over his head here—he was responsible to the welfare, maybe even the whole future, of the human race.
He pulled his gun out, aimed quickly, and fired.
Schroeder was surprised, but not totally. He was able to swing his gun around and get off a shot. But it was wild, smashing into one of the bottles on the shelves, exploding it in a splatter of liquid, glass, and organic bits.
Jake’s bullet wasn’t accurate, but it was close enough, grazing Schroeder’s left arm, spinning him about, and knocking him into the wall.
“Take cover!” cried Camden. And for his own part, he ducked behind the desk.
Martha ran out the door before Schroeder could recover from the shot.
But Mick Aragones made the mistake of pulling out his gun and attempting to fire before he’d put some furniture between himself and Maximillian Schroeder.
Schroeder spun and fired.
The man was clearly not a professional marksman, but at this range even the .38 he carried was accurate enough. The blast took Aragones full in the chest, so close it blackened his shirt with powder bums. Aragones gasped, staggered, went down.
Schroeder leaped over to the other side of the room before Jake could bob up again and take another shot. He ducked behind a couch. It was pretty clear where he was headed: There was a phone on that side of the room. Rather than blast away at his foe, Jake decided that cutting communications was by far the best thing to do at the moment.
The phone line ran along the wall to a jack right by the desk. Jake reached down and yanked the connection out.
Sure enough, moments later, he could hear the clatter of the phone as Schroeder picked up the receiver.
“Damn!”
Jake looked over to where Mick Aragones lay on the floor, a wide red stain spreading out from beneath him. His eyes were closed, and he didn’t look like he was breathing.
Panic seized Jake.
Talk about tight spots! And who knew when someone else on the wrong side might show up! Only a matter of time, surely—he was on enemy territory.
There wasn’t really much choice about what he could do. If he tried to run out of the room, he’d either get a bullet in the back, or eventually he’d get Schroeder’s dogs on his tail.
No, he had to face up to him here and now.
And the sooner the better.
The question was, how could he get past the usual Jakey cowardice?
“Camden!” cried Schroeder. “I think that some sort of deal might be in order, don’t you?”
“Deal? You shot my friend!”
“Come off it! You both were trying to shoot me! Now let’s get down to brass tacks here. I don’t want to die and neither do you. It’s really irrelevant what you think of the program I’ve been involved with. Needless to say, I don’t want you to get any proof out, and so I can’t allow you to carry anything from this room out.”
“Naturally,” said Camden, his mind working feverishly, warring with his fear to puzzle a way out of this situation.
“So, what we have here is a stalemate... One that can’t, I’m sure you realize, last for long. Not in my own territory. However, I find it quite uncomfortable, and I should rather bribe you than kill you. So what do you say? How much will you cost, Camden?”
“I’m not for sale.”
“Aren’t you? I’m not just talking about money, Jake Camden. I’m talking about your heart’s desire. I’m talking about a successful writing career. I’m talking about fame and respect as well as riches. You’re talented enough, Jake. You just need a little help, and that’s what my people can give you. The help you need; the help you deserve.”
“It’s a little beyond all that now, I’m afraid,” said Jake.
“What? You mean you’ve developed a conscience? You’ve achieved values? Pardon me, but I find that rather difficult to believe, not after knowing you for as long as I have.”
“Believe it, Schroeder. And believe that unless you throw that gun over the couch, I’m going to nail your hide to the wall, as God is my witness!”
“That would be pretty foolish of me, Jake. Don’t you think? Not when I can just sit here and wait for help.”
“I thought this was your private place no one knew about.”
“One person in particular knows about it now. And that person knows that I was on my way here.”
“That wouldn’t be that little stunning number Emily Elliot, would it?”
“I’m not saying.”
“She’s the one who had me followed, wasn’t she? She’s the one who ordered me killed up there in those Arizona mountains. Wasn’t she?”
“Again, I can’t say.”
“Who is she? Another employee of your people, right?”
“Have we got a deal, Jake?”
“The deal is you throw down your gun, Schroeder. You get your butt out from behind that couch and I take you along with me and you spill your guts to the authorities about what you know.”
“I don’t think that’s possible, Jake. Surely you know that my involvement in all this puts me in a very vulnerable position. You’d benefit enormously by a re-alliance, and you know it. I know you, Jake. I know what you really want. And I can make sure you get it. So how can you say anything else but yes to my offer?”
With a speed and agility that surprised even him, Jake Camden quietly leaped from behind the desk. Raising the gun, he ran around so that he could draw a quick bead on Maximillian Schroeder.
Schroeder swung his gun around, but too late. Jake shot him twice in the easiest target: the chest. The gun spun out of Schroeder’s hand as he was flung back, a look of total surprise on his face.
“Easy,” said Jake Camden.
Then he picked up the file folder again and got the hell out of there.
Chapter 35
“Diane! Diane! Is that really you?” Everett Scarborough felt as though time had frozen and he was suspended in a kind of breathless neverland.
“Yes. Yes, Dad. It’s me.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. I mean... sure.”
“Thank God!”
“You’re the one who’s been in danger, Dad. Are you okay?”
“Yes... yes, dear. I’m fine!” He looked over with disbelief at the others, then cupped his hand and directed his next sentence to Marsha Manning. “It’s Diane! She’s okay!”
“I rather gathered that!” said Marsha, smiling. “Where is she?”
“Good question.” He uncupped the phone receiver and spoke into it again. “Diane! Where are you?”
“I... I can’t tell you right now, Dad. That’s part of the deal. They say that it’s not the right time for that... But that it’ll be soon. But it’ll be real soon, Dad, because I’m in Washington, D.C.”
“You are! Good... But where did they take you... What have you been doing?”
“I can’t talk about that now, Dad. All I can say is that I was well treated and I learned... well, I learned just a whole lot!”
“I should think so. But they say that you weren’t taken... that you
went on your own accord.”
“Yes. That’s true...”
“But Diane... I’ve torn my heart out looking for you!”
“I... I knew that, Dad. I wanted them to tell you that I was okay. But they said you had... a journey to make. A kind of spiritual journey.”
“I’ve made the journey, Diane. Now I want to see you!”
“You will, Dad. I promise you... real soon. I wasn’t really supposed to even call you, but I talked them into giving me your number when they mentioned you were in Washington.”
“When will I know, Diane?”
“Soon, Dad. Soon. That’s all I can say.”
“Is there any other message… from the Others...?”
“No, Dad. Not right now. They said they will be in contact... But they told me… They told me that it would be over soon... And Dad—I’ll be happy when that happens!”
“I will too, hon. I truly will.”
“Dad. I want you to know. Through this all, I thought about you. And Dad... I love you.”
Scarborough felt something rise up inside him, making it difficult for him to speak. “I... I love you too, Diane.”
“I have to go. I’ll call back tomorrow.”
“No! Diane, I want to talk to you.”
“The Others will call later with instructions. I have to go, Dad!”
“Diane! You don’t understand! I must talk to you. There are a hundred things I need to know!”
“I’m sorry!”
“I’m your father dammit! Listen to me for once.”
There was a click at the other end, and the phone went blank; speechless, dead. Scarborough stood looking at the inanimate object for a moment. The he gazed up hopefully at Craig Steffan and said, “I don’t suppose you have a copy of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony around anywhere?”
She was alive!
That was the important thing.
Diane was alive and well and somewhere in the Washington D.C. area.
But where? Why hadn’t she been permitted to tell him? It was all quite perplexing and not a little frustrating. But at least he knew that the answers would be forthcoming soon, very soon.
It was difficult to finish up the meeting with Scapelli after that bombshell phone call had been dropped in their midst, but finish it Scarborough did, and he was glad of it. He had more and more of the feeling that he wasn’t alone in this, that there were others on his side. Both Craig Steffan and Vincent Scapelli exactly echoed his feelings not only of violation but of rage that these kinds of atrocities had been committed, were being committed against not only the constitutional rights of citizens, but against the God-given integrity of humanity!
They all agreed.
It had to be stopped.
But how?
The Others, of course, had the key to that question, and they wouldn’t be heard from until later.
Scarborough would just have to wait.
At the end of the meeting, he shook Scapelli’s hand, thanked him, and tried to give him an advance on his retainer. Uncharacteristically for a lawyer, Scapelli refused the money for the time being, since the case had not officially begun and they were only in “preliminaries,” as he termed it.
Afterwards he left, and then Steffan left as well to go back to his job. Scarborough did not feel a great deal more secure; he just felt better. At least he wasn’t alone... At least he didn’t feel like he was going crazy. And then he felt angrier; more indignant.
They were going to pay.
Richards, Schroeder, Cranston, the whole lot of them. They were going to pay.
At four-fifteen in the afternoon, there was a phone call.
It had been decided that should a phone call come, it was best for Marsha to pick it up. She did so this time, making sure to disguise her voice as previously discussed.
“Hello. Steffan residence.”
She listened for a moment, then her eyes flicked toward Scarborough. “Yes! Hello!”
“It’s them?”
“No! It’s Jake! He’s got something important!”
“Here, give me the phone!” said Scarborough, eagerly grabbing the receiver. “Jake! Where are you?”
“I’m on the road, man.” An uncharacteristic monotone, not the usual jaunty Jake at all.
“You don’t sound good.”
“I’m not. You know my friend Aragones? Dead. Schroeder’s dead, too. But I got the goods on ‘em. I got ‘em!”
“What about you?”
“Still in one piece.”
The phrase “the goods” finally registered in Scarborough’s mind. “What have you got, Jake?”
“Proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“Look, Scarb, I’m on Route 95 comin’ down from Boston and if I step on it, I can make D.C. late tonight. You still at the address you gave me?”
“Yes. Craig Steffan’s.”
“Good. Well, there’s a damned good chance I’m being followed, so I don’t want to give you away. So what I’m going to do, I’m going to check into a motel there tonight, and give you a call. We can meet.”
Scarborough was practically beside himself with suspense. “But Jake... What have you got? What did you find?”
“Proof! Letters between Schroeder and Cunningham... and others. White Book! This stuff is dynamite! If it doesn’t vindicate your story, it’ll go a long way toward shoring it up! A big, thick file. Who knows what else is in here? If I weren’t so scared, I’d be thrilled!”
“All right, Jake. Just hang onto yourself. Stay calm. Good work, no, excellent work. I’m proud to be your friend.”
“Hey... I guess we are friends. Thanks. I need ‘em. I just lost one.”
“I’m sorry, Jake. Justice will be served.”
“Yeah. I’m lookin’ forward to that. I certainly am looking forward to that.”
“Okay, the main thing is to get back in your car and get here. We’ve got to have that file. I’ve got a lawyer working on the case now, Jake. This is going to be just what we need, I just know it. But we need to get it out of the open and here, where it’s safe. Think you can do that?”
“I tell you, man, I can try. And I ain’t tired. I’m so revved up now; I don’t think I could sleep even if I wanted to.”
“Good man. You want to say hi to Marsha?”
“Just do it for me. Tell her I want a kiss from her if I get back with this. I’ll deserve it.”
“Jake says hello, Marsha. He wants a kiss.”
Marsha, laughing, mimed a kiss.
“No. When he gets back. He’s got evidence of the whole conspiracy.”
“You tell him if he gets back with evidence, I’ll be happy to give him a big kiss. And on the lips, yet.”
“Did you hear that, Jake?”
“Tell her my engines are revved. I’m heading your way. I’ll call you when I get in.”
“You do that.”
“Thanks. Ciao. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck, Jake. And Jake?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re counting on you, fellow. More than you know.”
“I know, man. I know. And believe me, I’ll be there, and I’ll deliver.”
The connection ceased, and Scarborough hung up the phone.
“Well, interesting development,” he told Marsha.
“Copies of letters.”
“Where’d he get them?”
“Presumably at Schroeder’s family estate. Sounds pretty nasty. Evidently there was some sort of gun fracas. Jake’s friend Michael Aragones was killed in the melee... But so, apparently, was Maximillian Schroeder.”
“By Jake?”
“Yes.”
“Well, looks like Scapelli will be handling Jake, too.”
“We’re going to keep the guy busy, evidence or no evidence.”
“Don’t even think that, Marsha. This sounds like precisely the break that we need. Jake’s got to get back here with it! He’s just got to!”
“Hey! Settle down. This is our t
ime to relax before we go into the final stretch.” She moved up to him, put her arms around him, kissed him.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t stand not being able to do anything.”
“I know what you mean. But can’t you see you’ve got to take your opportunities where you can!”
“Opportunities? Opportunities for what?”
“A little love. A little rest.”
“I’m sorry, Marsha. I guess those just aren’t my priorities right now, what with all that’s been happening.”
“Oh, I can understand that, Everett. But don’t you think that you should take what you can get from life?” She kissed him gently at the juncture between ear and neck. He felt her tongue tease his skin there, and shivers of pleasure raced down his back in response. “Diane’s alive. She’s all right, Everett. And she’s close. She’s going to call again. Accept that. Enjoy that. Before, you were wretched that you didn’t know if she was all right. Now you do. And you’ll have her back soon. I can just feel it in my bones. Soon. Soon, you and Diane will be back together. And you can both just exult in screaming at each other in your inimitable father-daughter way!”
“Oh, gee. Thanks for that, sweetheart. I guess I deserved it, though.”
“You certainly do.”
He let his arms drift down her back. She felt good. Like home and hearth.
Very sexy home and hearth.
“I’m not sure there’s much more that I can do with those phone exchanges right now. I know!” she said, raising her hand up above her head as though to touch an imaginary light bulb. “Why don’t we... take a nap?”
“Mmmm. I suppose I could use a few winks.”
She winked at him and took his hand. “Who said anything about sleeping?”
With a seductive smile, she led him back to the guest room.
The UFO Conspiracy Trilogy Page 105
