by M. Z. Kelly
“It’s Hud.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Maybe you remember, my given name is Hudson. I was named after my grandfather. I’ve decided to honor him by using it again.”
I smiled. “Dinner sounds great, Hud. See you this weekend.”
I walked away, thinking sometimes there can be a silver lining in the midst of a thunderstorm. It was just too bad I had the worst timing in the world.
FIFTY-THREE
“I can’t believe Lindsay is with that monster,” Robin said, after I’d stopped by his condo later that afternoon.
My bother, and his boyfriend, Adam, had spent the past few days in Santa Barbara, where, he told me, they’d purposely avoided any media coverage of the events in Washington. His shattered front window had been repaired, and I’d been told the FBI was continuing to provide protection for him.
I took a few minutes to fill him in on everything that happened while I was away. “I’m afraid Nathan Caine is holding all the cards, so it’s just a matter of waiting for him to surface again.”
“Do you think Lindsay’s in danger?”
I could see his emotions were surfacing, but decided I needed to level with him. “As long as she’s with the Swarm—and Caine, in particular—she’s not safe. Joe Dawson’s using all his resources to track her down.”
“How are things with Joe?”
I knew he was asking about our relationship. “They’re good. I think my feelings for him are growing stronger.”
“You’re dating?”
“Not really. I just made a promise to visit him in Arizona after things settle down.” He nodded, his gaze moving off. “Are things okay with you and Adam?”
He hesitated before answering. “I’m not sure. He seemed a little distant when we were away.” He looked at me. “I know the signs, and I have a feeling there’s somebody else.”
“Did you confront him?”
“Sort of.” He brushed a hand through his short brown hair and exhaled. “Not really. I guess I’m afraid of what his answer might be.”
We were on his family room sofa, and I scooted closer to him, taking his hand. “I think you need to tell him what you’re feeling. See how he responds.”
He smiled. “You always did give good advice.”
“Feel free to take my advice, I’m not using it.” I smiled. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I haven’t made the best decisions in my own life.” I released his hand and mentioned Daniel. “Mo thinks she saw him getting into a car a few days ago. She talked to the manager at the motel where he was staying. He thought Daniel might have been dealing drugs.”
His features drew together. “No way.”
“I don’t want to believe it either, but the fact is we don’t really know him.”
He massaged his forehead. “Maybe you’re right.” He met my eyes. “I talked to Mom about him a few days ago. She said he might be mentally ill.”
It was my turn to express shock. “I didn’t know that Mom knew anything about him.”
“As we both know, our mother has a lot of information that she sometimes doesn’t care to share. I think she’s secretly kept tabs on him for years. She even said something about him maybe being bipolar.”
I took a moment to process what he said. Our mother was someone who had a history of deception. The more I thought about it, the more I realized what Robin had said about her knowing Daniel’s history seemed possible.
“Maybe I should stop by and have a chat with Mom one of these days.”
He chuckled. “Good luck with that. She’s in one of her New Age phases.”
“Don’t tell me she’s meditating in the nude again.” I remembered a prior episode where we’d encountered Mom in her birthday suit.
Robin covered his eyes and smiled. “Strike me blind if she is.”
After leaving Robin’s place, I dashed home and changed into my new dress before meeting Grant at the Water Grill in Santa Monica. The restaurant was on Ocean Avenue, across from the beach. I’d been to the establishment a couple times before and liked its comfortable, casual vibe, not to mention its great seafood.
I met Grant in the lobby, where he complimented me on my dress. I mentioned what my friends had said about it. “They basically told me I should go back in time and live in the 1960s.”
He smiled. “Well, if they dressed like that back then, I’m all for it.”
I chuckled. “You probably would have made a great Muppet.” I saw his questioning look. “It’s a long story. I’ll explain later.”
After settling in at our table, we ordered drinks and made small talk. Grant was about my age, with sandy hair that was perpetually tussled. He was handsome, rich, and smart, making me wonder why there weren’t any sparks, at least on my part.
After ordering our food, Grant asked me about my time in DC. I took a moment and touched on the events, not wanting to go into a lot of details.
He must have sensed my reticence and changed the subject, telling me about his work and mentioning his search for his brother, who had been missing for over a year after going backpacking in Alaska.
“Do you think your brother could still be in Alaska?” I asked.
“It’s possible. He had...I should say has an independent streak. I harbor fantasies that he’s still alive and living off the grid somewhere.”
“You never know, maybe he is. Sometimes living off the grid sounds pretty good to me.”
He smiled. “Me too. There are times when I feel like this world is just too complicated and confusing.”
I lifted my wineglass. “I’ll drink to that.”
After we ate, Grant asked me to go for a walk on the beach. I hesitated, but finally gave in, deciding there was no harm in the offer.
We spent a half hour walking along the sand before he turned to me and said, “This isn’t working, is it?”
I looked up into his luminescent eyes and sighed. “I do like you. A lot. It’s just that...”
“Friends?” He held out a hand. “Lately, it seems like that’s what I do best.”
I smiled and took his hand. “Friends. I would like that.”
We moved on as he said, “It’s a funny thing about true friendship. Sometimes, I think it can be the hardest thing to find in this world.”
“I can personally vouch for that,” I said, as we continued to walk along the water.
I felt my earlier apprehension easing now that we had shared our feelings. There was something comfortable and relaxing about being around Grant. I even took some time to tell him the details about my past week that hadn’t been reported to the press.
We stopped at the water’s edge. Grant skimmed a stone across the water, saying, “I read about that terrorist they’re after—Caine. He sounds like bad news.”
“He is, believe me.”
“I don’t suppose you have any leads on his whereabouts.”
I shook my head. “The trail has gone cold.”
He looked at me. “Would you like some help?”
“Of course. You think you can find him?”
“I’m not sure about that, but, as you know, my expertise is computers and software. If you have any data associated with your case, I might be able to take a look at it and see what I can put together.”
“That’s the problem. Caine used burner phones when he contacted us. Other than that, there’s no electronic trail.”
He nodded, folding his arms across his chest. “Have you ever heard about The Find?”
“The Find? I have no idea what that is.”
“It’s a technique that was developed by the National Security Administration about a decade ago. It enabled the NSA to find a burner phone by triangulating cell towers, sometimes even when the phone is turned off and on for just a moment.”
“I can’t say for sure, but it seems likely to me that Caine would have switched phones, destroying the prior phone each time he used a new one.”
“Maybe, but it’s been my experience that peo
ple make mistakes. In the case of criminals, they sometimes turn off their phone or remove its battery, believing that it makes them untraceable, then use the same phone again. It’s probably something worth looking into.”
We walked along the water again, as I said, “Don’t you think the FBI would be aware of what you’re saying and would have already tried to track his phone?”
He shrugged. “Maybe, but you’re assuming again that people act logically and are thorough in their methods.” He smiled. “Sometimes they’re not. Even law enforcement officers can be...” His smile grew wider. “...less than thorough. Present company excepted, of course.”
We stopped walking again, and I said, “Let me do some checking with those in the know. Who knows? You just might help us find the world’s most wanted terrorist.”
His eyes brightened. “That’s what friends are for.”
FIFTY-FOUR
The truck where Lindsay was held prisoner moved down the highway, the miles and hours rolling by. She was alone in the darkness, shuttered in the empty cargo hold. She had lost track of time, unsure how long it had been since the events in Washington took place. Nathan Caine had forced her to lie, telling Kate that they were in a helicopter lifting off from a high rise. Her last words to her sister had been to tell her that she loved her.
Tears slipped down Lindsay’s cheeks, thinking about Kate. She knew that both their lives had been difficult because of their family backgrounds. Lindsay remembered that, when she was little, her parents had brought her to California because Daddy said he had business there. While he was away one day, Mommy told her that they were going to the park.
After telling her about the planned excursion, Mommy had bent down to her and said, “You must promise me that you will keep what we do today a secret. Daddy must never know about it.”
“I promise, Mommy,” she had said.
Lindsay remembered they had gone to a playground, where other children were playing. They had sat on a bench, watching the children from a distance.
“Can I go play?” she remembered asking her mother.
Mommy had turned to her with tears in her eyes. “Yes, but just for a few minutes.”
She hadn’t understood her mother’s tears, but soon forgot about them as she played with the other children. After a couple minutes, she met a girl who was playing in the sandbox.
“My name is Kate,” the girl had said. “What’s yours?”
“Lindsay,” she’d answered.
She remembered that Kate had taken her by the hand, and together they’d played on the swings. They laughed and played together for what seemed like a long time, until she heard the voices. She turned, seeing that Daddy was there. He and Mommy were arguing.
Her father called over to her. “We’re leaving! Now!”
When she returned to her parents, Lindsay saw that her mother was crying again. “I met a friend,” she said. “I want to stay here.”
Daddy had taken her roughly by the arm and took her to the car with Mommy.
Lindsay didn’t know exactly what had happened after that. All she knew is that Daddy and Mommy had gone into the bedroom after they got home, while she watched TV. She heard angry voices and thought Mommy was crying again.
Lindsay let the long ago images drift away as sleep finally found her. She slept for several hours before she realized the truck was slowing down. Her heart raced as the doors rumbled opened and she saw Astrid and a couple of the other Guides motioning to her.
“Come here,” Astrid demanded. “There’s no time to waste.”
It was freezing cold as she stumbled out of the truck. She was marched down a driveway to a house. Once inside, Astrid and the other women forced her downstairs into the basement.
“Wait here,” Astrid told her. “Someone will be coming for you.” Then she locked the door.
While she waited, Lindsay took the time to survey her new prison. There was a bed here, with a dresser, and a small adjacent bathroom. It wasn’t luxurious by any means, but it was better than being locked in the back of the truck.
It was almost an hour later when the door to the basement opened, and she saw Nathan Caine making his way down the stairs.
“How do you like your accommodations?” Caine asked, after taking a seat across from the bed where she sat.
“Where am I, and why am I here?” she demanded.
He chuckled. “I’m afraid I can’t answer your first question. As for the second...” He hesitated, his dark eyes fixing on her. “...you may be of some use to me again.” He studied her for a moment, then asked a question that surprised her. “Has your sister ever mentioned her biological father to you?”
She took a breath and nodded. “Of course. She said she’s always wondered who he is and what happened to him.”
“I see.”
Lindsay studied him when he didn’t go on. “Do you know who he is?”
“Perhaps, but it’s not for me to say. At least, not yet.” He stood. “I have some unfinished business here. Astrid and the others will see that you’re well cared for.”
“Wh...what’s going to happen to me when you’re finished?”
Caine had moved to the door and stopped. He looked back at her. “That all depends on your sister.”
FIFTY-FIVE
I spent my Sunday doing my best to relax at home until Otto’s new guy, Grover, came over with his dog, Lady G. Bernie spent the afternoon doing his version of courting, while Grover fixed a seven-course French dinner, one course consisting of duck with sweet cherry sauce.
As we finished dinner, Natalie asked Grover about his background.
“I grew up in tenement housing in Philadelphia,” Grover told us. Otto’s boyfriend was around fifty, African-American, a bit on the heavy side and jowly, with gray hair. “As a boy, I worked in a soup kitchen just so I had something to eat. Everything I learned about cooking was from a chef there named Harold Greene. His dream was to someday attend Le Cordon Bleu in Paris.” His eyes became glassy. “I’m afraid it never happened.”
Mo worked on the heaping mound of food on her plate. “I’d say he had the world’s best student. This is better than Easter Sunday at Denny’s.”
“It’s wonderful,” I said, trying to take the edge off what she’d said.
Grover chuckled and said to Mo. “That delights me more than you shall ever know.” He looked at me. “Thank you, madam.”
“Grover said he’ll share some of his recipes with me,” Otto said, probably also trying to move the conversation along. “I expect I’ll be fixing a gourmet meal or two.”
“You ain’t gonna steal our butler, are you?” Natalie asked Grover. “’Cause Otto, here, is part of our family now.”
“I have no such intention,” Grover assured her. He smiled at Otto. “We’re old school, taking things slowly.”
There was a knock on the door. Otto answered it and brought Tex over to the dining room. After we greeted him, he took in the spread of food on the table. “This looks like something out of a Gagnaire offering.”
“I guarantee it won’t gag you,” Natalie said. “Pull up a chair.”
“Actually, I’m here to see Kate.” He looked at me. “Would you have a moment? I left my companion by the front door.”
“He must be talkin’ ‘bout his robot,” Natalie said. She stood and said to me, “Let’s go see what Sherlock Bones has to say.”
Mo joined us, and we gathered in the living room. Tex removed his android crime solver from a box, placing the skull on the coffee table. “I’ve reworked Bones’ operating system and fine-tuned his algorithms. I believe he has some things to say about what happened in Washington that are worthwhile.”
“Where’s that dirty wanker Nathan Caine?” Natalie asked Bones.
The robot’s eyes flashed, and it said, “I have no idea.”
Natalie told Tex, “Looks like you need to go back to the bloody drawin’ board.”
“Let me try another tactic,” Tex said. He addressed
his creation. “Bones, please use your analytics to predict the next actions of the subject known as Nathan Caine.”
Bones’ eyes turned red, and we heard his urbane voice again. “The subject is engaged in a latency period. But there is a ninety percent probability he will be active again within the next ten days.”
My anxiety spiked. I felt ridiculous addressing a robot, but said, “What is his likely course of action?”
There was a whir, then, “He is seeking to engage in a manner similar to what he has already attempted.”
“Nuclear terrorism?” Tex asked.
“Indeed. It is also likely there are other players.”
What he’d said wasn’t a surprise, given that Caine was acting as part of the Swarm. “Do you know who the other players are?”
“They cannot be precisely identified, but I believe there are two levels to what is occurring.”
I looked at Tex, back at Bones. “Explain what you mean.”
“Caine is a secondary actor in the events that are transpiring.”
“Secondary? Then who is the major ‘actor’, as you call him.”
There was another whir before Bones said something that shocked me. “Phaedrus.”
“Phaedrus? I thought that was Nathan Caine’s alias.”
“An incorrect assumption. Phaedrus is the primary player you’re after.”
I sighed, realizing that Caine might have been playing us, covering for someone he was taking orders from. “What can you tell us about Phaedrus?”
“He has a pawn.”
“A pawn? Who are you talking about?”
“Your sister. He is using her to put the queen into play.”
I realized he was using a chess analogy as I said, “And who is the queen?”
Bones’ red eyes glowed. Maybe it was my imagination, but his head seemed to turn fully in my direction as he locked eyes with me. “You are the queen.”
FIFTY-SIX
What Bones had said was still on my mind the next morning as I called Joe. I decided to keep Tex’s creation out of our conversation, but told him what Grant had said about the technology to trace burner cell phones.
