by Jacob Whaler
Matt stares down at his hands. He wants to tell his dad to stop talking. He wants to turn and run out of the house without hearing the rest of the story.
“I knew I had stumbled onto something big when I got the environmental report back from the kid I sent to India. I just didn’t realize how quickly it would all spin out of control.” Kent’s eyes are red and brimming with wetness. “And how ruthless they would be.”
He stands up from the table and goes over to the kitchen sink where he takes a glass out of the cupboard and fills it with water. Drinking it carefully and methodically, he looks like he’s forcing himself to be calm. When he drains the glass, his eyes drift up to the mountains.
Matt swallows hard. “What happened next?”
“I was walking around in Times Square, trying to get through to your mother. To warn her.” His voice goes silent. Tears streak down his face.
Trying to look away, Matt’s eyes are pulled back to his dad. “Did you ever hear back from Mom?” He hates himself for voicing the obvious question. He already knows the answer.
“I got a hi-def video message on my jax from an anonymous source. It showed a large transport T-boning her on the driver’s side at high speed while she waited at an intersection. It completely demolished the car in less than a second. There was nothing left but scattered debris.”
Matt feels numbness spread through his body. For the first time in his life, he wants the tears to come, to release him from the coldness and emptiness that descend upon him like a steel dome. Inside his mind, a blurred image forms of his mom inside the car. She turns to look at an oncoming wall of metal. The last thing she sees is the grill of a giant truck. Glass shatters. Broken pieces engulf her in slow motion. And then it all goes black.
He tries to talk, but the words won’t make it past the massive lump in his throat. He stares at the back of his dad’s head.
Kent takes a deep inhale and turns. There’s a look of understanding on his face, like he knows what Matt is trying to say. “She would have died instantly. No time for pain or fear.” Kent shakes his head. “It all happened too quickly.”
The numbness seems to release Matt from its grip. “And after that? What did you do?”
“There’s more, and this is the part I want you to understand,” Kent says. “Four words appeared below that video clip.”
Another long silence.
Finally, Matt speaks up. “What did it say?”
Kent’s lips move but make no sound. He takes another long drink of water.
His words finally come out, almost a whisper.
Your son is next.
He walks back to the kitchen table and sits down. There’s a look of relief in his eyes, like a great burden has been lifted from his shoulders, and he can talk calmly again.
“I called my buddy at the Hawthorne Police Department. He rushed to the school and picked you up a couple of minutes before a half dozen black Cadillacs pulled into the parking lot. A bunch of men with combat gear and pulse rifles poured out and searched the school for you.”
“Really?” Matt says. “I didn’t know.”
“My buddy saved your life. While he was bringing you to the airport, I emptied out my savings account and every other account I could access and put the cash in a suitcase. I abandoned the car in Times Square and threw away my jax. I rode the train to the airport and met you there.”
Matt’s head bobbed up and down. “I remember that. I thought it was a game. We caught a flight to Mexico City, right?”
“That’s right. False identities are cheap there, and I bought a few sets for each of us. After a month of hiding, we hopped on a flight to Japan and melted into the countryside. You know the rest. We went off-grid, found our way to Professor Yamamoto up in Hokkaido.”
“Yeah, Dad, I know the rest,” Matt says. “Always on the run. Always scared. Always worried about who or what might jump out of the shadows.”
Kent takes a glass in his hand and sips water. “I did it to protect you. I saw what they did to your mother. I couldn’t allow them to get you too.”
“But, Dad, that was twelve years ago. I can’t live like that anymore.”
“Son, you don’t understand how deep this runs.” Kent reaches out his hand to Matt, grabbing his arm, as if to pull him back from the edge of a cliff. “They won’t stop chasing me, and you, until they know we’re dead.”
“How do you even know they’re still after us?”
“Look,” Kent says. “They know I’ve still got the report on the Ganges. They know I’ve got the video of Mom.” His voice falls to a whisper. “Can you imagine what would happen if all that became public?” He stands up and looks his son in the eye. “The whole world would see the truth. It would destroy their empire, destroy their power. They aren’t going to sit by and let that happen.”
“Why don’t you just turn the evidence over to the FBI or the CIA and let them handle it. It sounds like a simple corporate criminal investigation.”
Kent shakes his head. “You still don’t get it, do you? The corporation has its own people inside the government, at every level. They want me to run to the FBI so they can find me. Then it will all be over.”
“Dad, you’ve done a great job protecting me from danger.” Matt feels a lump in his throat. “But this is my chance to move on, to get away from all this. To finally grow up.”
“You don’t know what you’ll be up against.” Kent pleads. “I won’t be there to watch out for you.” His voice drops again. “I could lose you.”
Kent is stooped over, staring down. From the sagging flesh under his eyes, he seems to have aged ten years in just a few minutes.
Pushing off from the table, Matt rises and puts his hand on his dad’s shoulder. “I love you, Dad, but I have to do this.” His hands go down on his dad’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, but I am going to Japan tomorrow.”
Kent stands up. He turns and puts his arms around Matt. “I can’t lose you, son.”
For a long time, they hold each other.
Finally letting his arms slip off, Matt takes his jax off the table. “I’ve got to go pick up Jessica. We’re already late for the concert.” He starts to walk away, and then turns back. “One more thing. What’s the name of the company that wants us dead? At least tell me that. I can’t seem to find anything about it on the Mesh.”
Kent looks at his son.
“MX Global Corporation.”
CHAPTER 11
As the disgruntled director storms out of the MX Global boardroom, the crisp clicking of his hi-carbon shoes grows fainter down the hall.
Ryzaard sits with arms folded across this chest and stares at Van Pelt without so much as lifting an eyebrow.
Beads of sweat stand out on Van Pelt’s forehead. “This meeting of the Board of Directors is hereby temporarily adjourned.” He clears his throat and reaches for a handkerchief to wipe his forehead. “I respectfully request the remaining directors to stand by in this room. I shall get back to you shortly.” He glances over at Ryzaard.
They both stand and leave the room on the heels of the director. A loud chime tells them that he’s just disappeared into an elevator.
Waiting for the next one, they say nothing as they stand shoulder to shoulder.
As soon as the doors part and they step in, Ryzaard turns to Van Pelt. “You gave me your assurance that all the directors would be compliant.” The doors slide shut, and Ryzaard swivels so that he’s towering over Van Pelt and staring down into his eyes, noses only inches apart. “There is no room for error!”
Van Pelt wipes his forehead again. “Yes, of course. That was my intent.”
“Good intentions are the domain of losers and weaklings,” Ryzaard says. “Fortunately, there’s a tried and true method used by the corporation for this type of situation. For some reason, which I can’t fathom, you’ve allowed the old ways of your father to fall into disuse in the last few years. I learned about it shortly after coming here. It seems to have been a long and ho
nored tradition which I intend to revive.” Without taking his eyes off Van Pelt, Ryzaard pulls out his jax, traces a line on its side with a finger and raises it to his mouth.
“Who are you calling?” Van Pelt says.
“Hello, Ivan.” Ryzaard talks directly into the jax. “I need your help.” As he speaks, he continues staring into Van Pelt’s eyes. “A certain car will be leaving corporate headquarters in a few minutes heading for New Jersey, I believe. You’ll be jax’d the tracking information. Please have the car intercepted with the usual protocol.”
Ryzaard puts the jax in his pocket. “Don’t worry. Ivan is very good at what he does. He’s worked for the corporation for many years. Now go have a drink. Take a nap. I’ll call you when we are ready. Maybe you can learn a thing or two.”
When they return to the boardroom, three hours have gone by.
The directors are milling about the room, talking in loud voices, arms waving, venting frustration. When they see Ryzaard and Van Pelt enter, they quickly find their seats, but the chatter continues.
The looks of anger on their faces are unmistakable.
“We’ve received some distressing news about Mr. Johnson, the director who left earlier this evening.” Van Pelt looks out over the directors with a quivering lower jaw. His eyes sweep past Ryzaard, lingering for just a bit too long, and move through the room as he clears his throat. “His car was run over by a large transport on his way home to New Jersey.” All eyes stare at Van Pelt as he looks down in a display of emotion. “He was fatally injured.”
Ryzaard surveys the directors. Here and there, a hand goes up to a mouth. Color drains from their faces. Their eyes glance at the door.
Good, Ryzaard thinks.
An old Chinese proverb comes to mind.
Kill the chicken to scare the monkeys.
Van Pelt clears his throat. “I just spoke with Mrs. Johnson and expressed our deepest sympathies to her and her young children.” He leaves a suitable pause before moving on. “Let us observe a minute of contemplation to honor our esteemed colleague.”
A deathly quiet follows. As he bows his own head, his eyes glisten with just the right amount of moisture.
Ryzaard works hard to suppress a yawn.
Finally, the silence ends.
“It now falls to us to carry on the important work of the corporation.” Van Pelt’s head rises up. “With the untimely death of Mr. Johnson, we now have 19 remaining directors on the board, of which ten are present tonight. Accordingly, we have a quorum and will proceed with the business that is before us.”
Ryzaard looks down so that the directors can’t see the grin threatening to take over his lips.
CHAPTER 12
“Remind me again why I like Mozart so much.” Matt stretches his body in the direction of Jessica as they nestle together in a window booth of the all-night café across the street from Amazon Hall. The concert has been over for an hour, and they are enjoying pancakes topped with whipped cream and peaches.
The café is empty except for them.
“Mozart was the King of Pop in his day.” Jessica bites into the pancake and looks at Matt with white lips.
“Somehow I missed the part about the concert being a symphony.” Matt slips a succulent peach into his mouth. “I thought we were going to see the Slayers tribute band playing over at the X-Center.”
The truth is, he doesn’t care where they are going or what they are doing, as long as he’s with Jess.
“Didn’t you have something you were going to show me?” Jessica runs her fingers through Matt’s long hair. “I’m guessing it has something to do with those marks on your face and a chance meeting with a boulder up at Powder Puff.”
Matt reaches into his pocket and pulls out the rock he’s been fingering all night. As soon as he sees it, his hand jerks and knocks over a glass of milk, spoiling some perfectly good pancakes.
“What the—”
The rock is eggplant purple with a distinct faint glow in the darkness of the café. Matt turns it over and over in his hands.
“Nice crystal.” Jessica’s hand moves forward. “Let me have a closer look.”
Surprising even himself, Matt’s hand pulls the rock away from Jessica. “Hold on.” He stares down at it. “Is it possible for a rock to change color in a few hours? I swear this was jet black when I picked it up off the snow.”
“Probably just the light.” She raises an eyebrow. “Or maybe magic.” While Matt is staring down, she snatches the rock from his open palm before he can react. “Kind of looks like a large animal claw. Maybe I’ll keep it. It’ll remind me of you while you’re in Japan.” She drops it in her purse.
Matt is speechless.
“Just kidding.” She shoves it back toward him and presses the point into his chest. “Take it with you for good luck.”
His fingers come up and wrap around it. “According to my dad, I’ll need all the luck I can get.”
“He can’t stand the thought of you going, can he?” Jessica leans closer with her chin resting on her hands. Her brown eyes turn up to him.
“Nope. He’s afraid I’m in danger without him to protect me.” He downs Jessica’s glass of milk and sets it out on the edge of the table for a refill.
“What kind of danger?”
Matt scans the restaurant and lowers his voice. “We’ve had some close scrapes. Before we moved here, we lived in Santa Teresa, a New Mexico border town. We came home to our little house one night and found some commandos in tactical armor on the inside, tearing the place apart like we were terrorists, looking for jaxes and memory cubes, according to my dad. Good thing we saw them first, or we might be dead. That was just before we moved here. Seven years ago.”
“Are they still after you?”
“Nothing’s happened since then. Dad says we’re still in danger, but it’s been a long time.” Matt stretches out his legs and leans back in the seat, hands up behind his head. “I’m willing to take my chances. Sooner or later, I have to get away, on my own. I’ll go crazy otherwise. Besides, Dad’s taught me a lot. I can take care of myself.”
“Well, you are prone to accidents.” She squints out the window of the café at a billboard across the street with white letters against a blue background that says Find Peace through Shinto. “Doesn’t he see what a great opportunity this Japan trip is for you?”
“It’s complicated.” Matt slips the rock back into his pocket. “My dad’s a good man. A truth-and-justice type of guy. Just a little too paranoid for my taste. My guess is that they’ve given up looking for us. Dad’s done too good a job of keeping us out of sight and off the grid.” Matt slumps down in the seat and takes another big whiff of Jessica’s hair. Then he lets it out in a long, steady sigh. “You’re lucky. You have a normal family.”
Jessica rolls her eyes. “All my dad cares about is money. And putting his name on buildings.”
“But you have brothers and sisters, a mom and dad. Your family laughs together and goes on vacations together.” Matt grinds his teeth. “Your dad is out there in the world doing things, not afraid to attract attention. Putting his name on buildings. That sounds so cool. My dad doesn’t have that option, if he wants to stay alive.”
She puts her hand on Matt’s. “Can you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me why your dad is running. Who he’s running from.”
Matt feels his chest tighten. Talking about the past, especially his dad’s past, is the last thing he wants to do. “He hasn’t done anything wrong, but some very powerful people want him dead.” He decides not to tell Jessica about the threats against himself. “When I hop on that transport tomorrow, I’ll be leaving all that behind for good. That’s all I can say.”
“But Matt.” Jessica lifts a hand up to his chin and turns his head so he can’t look away. “I need to know. People are asking questions.”
“What kind of questions?” Matt’s eyes narrow.
“About you and your dad.” Jessica’
s hand slips off Matt’s, and her voice trembles. “Like why your jax ID changes all the time. Most people just get one when they’re born and keep it for the rest of their life.” Her gaze drops down and away from Matt. “I really don’t care. I know who you are inside. I don’t care about your past. But—”
“It’s your dad.” Matt reaches for a fresh glass of milk, just refilled by the waiter.
Her hand goes up to her eyes, and her fingers come away wet. “He said he’s worried about me. He knows how much time we spend together.” She picks up a napkin and wipes her nose. “I think he hired someone. To do some looking. He says there are too many questions, too many unexplained gaps about you and your dad.” Jessica’s mascara is running in black streaks down her cheeks.
“I’ll tell you everything. Just not right now. Trust me.”
Her fingers are trembling. “You know I do.” Her foot slips out of her shoes and rests against Matt’s ankle. “Ever since we met, there’s a connection between us I can’t explain. But I love my dad, too.”
“Let me guess.” The muscles in his jaw flex. “He doesn’t want you to see me anymore.”
Jessica doesn’t say anything.
A giant knot forms in Matt’s stomach.
A half hour later, they’re standing together on her doorstep.
She turns off the porch light. Matt wraps his arms around her from behind as she snuggles under his chin and looks into the infinite darkness above.
“Jess, can I ask you a question?”
“Anything you want.”
He pulls her a little closer. “OK. What do you see in me? I mean, why—”
“Do I love you?”
“Yeah. Exactly.” He looks down and kisses the top of her head, taking in a deep inhale of the fresh fragrance. Roses with a hint of apple. “I mean, I’m really just a big mystery. A past I can’t tell you about. An uncertain future. With all your connections and family money, you could have any guy within a thousand miles. Why bother with me?”
