Forging Truth (The Truth Saga)

by Raymond Masters

  “I’ve been giving it some thought,” Caduceus said. “Your uniform says Statue Security. Mayhap they have some kind of record of those that were killed or M.I.A. that day. It’s worth a shot.”

  “Old man, I could kiss you! That’s awesome. I’m going to call right now and see what they can tell me.” I took off, heading for the phone and stopped. “Um, do you even have a phone back here in the boondocks?”

  “Yes, I have a phone. And this isn’t the ‘boondocks.’ I told you, it’s New Jersey. Go look out the window there.”

  Shrugging, I went to the window and raised the blinds to a hustling, bustling world of front lawn, sidewalk, chain link fence, and traffic. From what I could tell from my view of the block, we were in some kind of suburban community of joggers and dog-walkers. I shrugged, again. Why not? Either I gave in and accepted everything, or I’d have the biggest headache by the time this strange trip was over. Strange tripping, I thought. That’s probably closer to it.

  I laughed and headed back toward the couch where Caduceus was waiting for me with a portable phone. “It’s okay, after all these years, that one still amazes even me.” Handing me the phone, he said, “The roaming fees are a booger.”

  SEARCHES

  1

  The phone sounded shrill in the modular office building that housed the security firm responsible for Liberty Island. The man answering the switchboard was bald with a square chin. He was very built and tanned and would have looked more at home behind a jackhammer than behind his desk. He had been entering report after report this morning, and it was only nine o’clock. He welcomed a little interruption. He picked the phone up and hit the green talk button. “Statue Security. May I help you?”

  “I think so. I hope so, anyway. Look, I, uh, had a buddy of mine come up missing during the attack and its aftermath. He worked security for the island, and, uh … I was just hoping you could tell me if he was there,” said the voice on the phone.

  “Oh, sorry, sir. I’m afraid I’m not going to be of any help to you at the moment. We’re not giving out names or any other personal information on those that were employed by the national park service or by Statue Security. I’m sorry. They’re still looking into certain aspects of the case. The government’s involved, and everything.”

  “The government? They’re not thinking there was an inside man or anything? Do they think it might’ve been a guard?”

  “I can’t say for sure, but I don’t think so. Look, I really don’t want to be rude, here. I know you’ve lost someone, and I can definitely sympathize, but …”

  “I understand. It’s just that it’s so vital I find out about … about my friend. What about … can you at least tell me if there was a security guard killed in the attack or maybe still missing?”

  “Well, I don’t think that’s against the rules. Hold on a sec, while I check my data.” He briefly clicked and clacked on his keyboard. “Hmm, according to my screen, they did find a couple of the statue guards dead at the scene: a man and a woman. I don’t show any that were missing, though. Hope it’s not your guy, friend.”

  “Okay, thanks. I … do you know when the names might be available?”

  “Sure don’t, sir. You’re welcome to check back anytime. Plus, I think they got a website for that kind of thing. Good luck to you.”

  “Thanks again for your help.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Before hanging up the receiver, something caught his eye on his monitor. “Sir, you still there?”

  “Yes,” answered the voice, dripping with anticipation.

  “There’s an asterisk, that might mean something. Hold on, I’ll click on it. That’s odd.”

  “What’d you find?”

  “It says here the body of the security guy turned up missing during that first night after the attack. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I hope it doesn’t affect your friend either way. Look, I tell you what I can do if you want me to. I can take your name and contact info and give you a call when I hear they’re going to be releasing the names. How does that sound?”

  But the caller had already disconnected.

  “Well, alrighty then.” He said into the dead air. He gave his cheek a quick scratch before going back to his stack of papers.

  2

  “Peterson,” Chief Marks said, walking up to stand next to the reception desk. “Listen, I’m issuing the order to not release any more info, period, regarding the attack. There’s been some sort of communications blackout. I’m not getting any word from the top, no memos, nothing. I don’t know what’s going on, but it can’t be good. We’ve been taking lots of heat these past ten days, and there’re no signs of stopping. I just thought I’d give you a heads up. If you need me, you know where I’ll be.”

  Stephen Marks walked down the short hall to his office and went inside. He needed to hide out for a few minutes, get away from all the heat he had been taking. It had been a week and a half, and still they had learned very little. No one had officially stepped up to take credit, no group or lone fanatic. The president and the American people were both clamoring for someone to throw their missiles at. It was his job to do just that. Marks had just lain back in his desk chair when his intercom buzzed. It was Peterson. “Chief, President Perry’s on line three for you.” Fantastic, an impromptu D.C.-size headache.

  “Tell him I’m in a meeting,” Marks replied into his microphone.

  “Sir?”

  “I’ve got it, Peterson, thanks.” Pushing the appropriate button on his phone, he said, “Mr. President! Good to hear from you. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, Stephen, you can tell me not only that you have definitive proof of who orchestrated this attack, but you also have the sons-of-bitches in custody, and even as we speak, you have them lined up spread-eagle in front of what used to be the embodiment of liberty, just waiting for my presidential size twelves. Short of that, though, I’d take a progress report, per the usual.”

  “Funny stuff, Mr. President.”

  “You wouldn’t be condescending me, Marks. That’s not a question, that’s a very serious suggestion. Now, enlighten me.”

  “Sorry, sir. It’s just been trying, sir.”

  President Perry gave a laugh totally devoid of humor. “Trying? You jackass, I’m the president of the United States. You don’t have a clue what the word even means!”

  “Yessir. I know you didn’t call for excuses, sir. I don’t, however, have anything new to report, at this time.”

  “Well, then … I was afraid that’d be your response, though I remained hopeful. You’re done, Mr. Marks. You’re finished as the security chief there.”

  “With all due respect, sir, you don’t have the authority to fire me. We’re independent.”

  “Are you perhaps mentally challenged, Marks? Power is authority. I can, and do, do whatever the hell I want. You’re not directly under my purview, but I promise you I have already pulled the right strings, and you’re already finished. You just haven’t got the memo, yet. Why do you think you’ve not heard anything from your bosses lately? It’s because there is a massive amount of restructuring going on. You can stay in place long enough to give the layout to the new owner of Statue Security, from then on, it’s totally up to him on whether or not he deems you useful.”

  “New owner? What’re you talking about?” In answer, there came a courtesy knock at the door before it was pushed open.

  “Hello, Stephen. I do hope I’m not interrupting an important call.” Richard Van Parson came over to the desk, where the recently dethroned Marks sat. “I believe that’s my chair; though, looking at it, I think I’ll have to have it replaced, along with its current occupant. Well, out with the old and all that, right?”

  “But Mr. President? Richard Van Parson is a businessman; what could he possibly know about running security? I’ve covered these twelve acres for years. You can’t replace me. This was a terrorist operation. You can’t just throw me out on my ear for not being able t
o piece everything together in two weeks!”

  “You’ve certainly got spunk, Mr. Marks. I tell you what; let me have a word with Richard, would you? Richard, you there?”

  “I’m here, Vincent,” he answered, making a point of handing the first name treatment right back to the president.

  After an awkward pause, the president continued, “Right. Well, here’s what I propose. I propose you keep Stephen on as a sort of …”

  “Mascot,” offered Stephen wryly.

  “That’s good. No, I was going to say middle manager. Let him put his knowledge of the island and its security flaws to use in any way you see fit.”

  “Vin, I’m confident I can get you results, even with Stephen Marks still on board my team.”

  “Well, you’d better, Rich. This is day ten. I’ll give you four more. That’ll be two weeks since the attack. At that point, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take some kind of action. I’ve got General Douglas, foaming at the mouth, wanting us to take the next step and blow France out of the proverbial water. Four days, gentlemen. Four short days until I declare an unsubstantiated war on the nation of France.” The line went dead. The man sure knew how to leave ‘em wanting more.

  3

  “And then, he handed you a box for your stuff and just left you there to clean out?” Jessica Hall set on the dock, her feet under her, taking in the New York shoreline. “What a prick.”

  “Pretty much. He told me he didn’t care where I chose to relocate, just as long as I didn’t stay there. He wanted to show everyone else that mediocrity would not be rewarded under his command. His command, can you believe that? Do you think he’s ever commanded anything, other than those stupid, brown-nosing yes-men of his in his entire life?

  “Sorry, Jess, I’m done. So how’re you holding up? You haven’t given up on finding Kade, have you?”

  “No. I’ll never give up. I know he’s the missing guard. He has to be alive.”

  “Hon, you know I hope you’re right, right? More than anyone in the whole world, but … they said he went missing from the dead line-up. I just don’t like seeing you get so worked up. It’ll only lead to more heartache down the road. You loved him. I loved him, too, but I think it’s time to be realistic.”

  She slapped him quick across the mouth. “You’re an ass. You were supposed to be his friend, and what’d you do? You hired him for this stupid job and now he’s gone. How’s that for realistic? You just want the closure to give your conscience a rest. Why don’t you work on being more hopeful and less of a jerk? Kade would never give up looking for either of us, if the roles were reversed.

  “I’m sorry, Stephen, I shouldn’t have snapped. The ferry’ll be here soon. I guess I’ll go make sure I’ve got everything together I brought with me. Thanks, again, for letting me stay with you. I need a friend right now. It’s good to have someone who knew him, too. Sorry again for flip-flopping.” She gave the corner of his mouth the briefest of kisses.

  Stephen raised his hand to trap the kiss. “You’re a good friend, too. Kade was a lucky man to have won you away from me.” Covering his blush, he asked her, “So what’re your plans, now?”

  “Well, I figured I’d go see his mom. I don’t think he’s even talked to her in years. I think someone needs to let her know what’s happening.”

  “Do you want me to come with you, Jess?”

  “Why don’t you stay here? It sounds like you’ve got the most powerful man in America on your backside, demanding results.”

  “You mean Vinnie or Ritchie,” he asked with a grin.

  “Take your pick, Stevie. Thanks for the offer, though. I’ll stay in touch.”

  “You better. Okay, well, I’ve gotta get back before the president decides to attack someone or something. Do me a favor, will ya? Tell Tabitha I said ‘hi’ and I’m sorry I haven’t called or written, like I should have. And tell her … tell her I’ll find her son.”

  That earned him a second kiss, slightly longer than the first. “That really means a lot. Talk to you soon,” she said. Then, the two went their separate ways, mired in their memories of Kade and feeling a little guilty over their brief lip-locks.

  4

  At the same time Jessie’s ferry was pulling out of the dock, Stephen Marks was meeting with two of his former subordinates. “Listen, Byers, Peterson, I’ve got to talk to you guys. We’ve worked together for years, yeah? I know you don’t think too highly of our new boss, but can I tell you something, in confidence? I can’t help thinking about that guy who first reported the Sanders’ murder to us. The one that carried the girl up to us that day, Byers. When I interrogated him, he seemed certain Van Parson was behind it all, somehow. I know he didn’t commit the murder, himself. He was on the stage. I don’t know. I just can’t shake this feeling he might’ve been involved, somehow.”

  “I know you’re upset about being demoted, Mr. Marks, but c’mon? Van Parson giving the order to murder someone? Why would he be working with Ambassador Andres, anyway?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just a hunch, that’s all. Do you guys think you could humor me on this? Can you work under the radar and find this guy?”

  Peterson shrugged, “Byers?”

  “You got it, boss,” Byers answered. “But if I get caught, you need to know I’m ratting you out.” He gave Marks a broad smile. “What was the guy’s name, again?”

  “Caduceus. You remember, like the Wand of Hermes.”

  Up the hall came Van Parson’s lead bodyguard and his head lawyer. With them was a third man, whom neither of the guards had seen before. He had a head of long white hair that reached all the way to the shoulders of his blue-black suit. He wore a pair of reflective glasses, which partially obstructed their view of his face. Talmage and the stranger came to a stop a few feet out, but the lawyer continued on to the men.

  “Gentlemen. Hard at work catching the rapscallions responsible for the attack? Let’s hope so. I hear World War III is brewing out there, and you guys are the last line of defense against it. No pressure, am I right, boys?” It was obviously a rhetorical question, and a mocking one. Before Stephen could reply, Bishop waved a dismissive hand his way. “You, receptionist, please, inform Mr. Van Parson of our arrival. He’s expecting us.”

  Officer Peterson bristled, “Whatever you say, sir.” He let the contempt pour off of the last word. Punching the intercom, he said, “Misters Bishop and Talmage are here to see you, sir. And they have a … guest with them, sir. They say you’re expecting them.”

  “Yes, yes, that’s good, now send them in,” he said brusquely.

  “Mr. Van Parson will see you, now.”

  As they filed by, the white-haired man looked toward Stephen. He let his gaze linger for a beat, and then continued on to the office. He waited until they were safely out of earshot, before commenting, “When that guy walked by, did anyone else get the feeling like their grandma just died or anything?” Neither Byers, nor Peterson, answered aloud, but the looks on their faces showed Marks they had felt it, too.

  5

  “You should never have brought the old man here!” Van Parson was livid and very close to shouting.

  “Careful, careful,” purred the old man. “You wouldn’t want the guards, outside your door, to hear just how unnerved you are by my presence. That wouldn’t be good at all, now would it?”

  “You have no business coming here. When I need you, I’ll come to you,” Van Parson hissed back.

  “Of course. I merely thought you would want to hear what I learned regarding your winged friend. Sorry I have misjudged. Mr. Bishop, would you, please, escort me back to the limo?”

  “Wait, dammit. Wait. Do not play games with me, old man. What is it?”

  “Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine. It’s just this: I have discerned the location of our guardian angel. I know where he has been hiding.”

  “Well, why didn’t you just come right out and say so! Where, where is he? Talmage will mount an assault team tonight.”

  “Calm
your nerves, merchant. I only said I knew where he was; I did not say I knew how to get there.” He removed his glasses, revealing a piercing pair of reptilian eyes.

  Despite their unnatural appearance, Van Parson kept eye contact, refusing to display any more weakness than he already had. “You speak in riddles. In this online age, you can put in any coordinates, or address, to gain directions to any place on earth. Through the wonders of satellites held by my company alone, I can look down upon kings, as they have their way with any number of women or children. How then, can you sit there and say we cannot get to him? Unless, he truly is an angel, and it is Heaven, of which you speak?”

  “You might mock me, but I tell you this: it might as well be Heaven, for all the good your satellites and internets will do you. His place is a place out of time, outside the grasp of man, even of a man of power, such as you. Do not fret, however, for very, very soon, if we are possessed of patience, I believe he will come to us.” He let out a breathy screech of laughter.

  “Bah! Be gone with you, I say. Donald, get this creepy, old fool out of my sight. And do not bring him back, again, if you value your status in my council.”

  “Yes sir, Mr. Van Parson. C’mon, you crazy old goat. Next time, keep your nonsense to yourself.”

  6

  “His eyes,” commented Byers some time later. When Van Parson’s cronies had left his office, the old man had looked again at the guards, and Stephen in particular. He had not replaced his glasses. “Did you see? It was like looking at a snake.”

  “Or at Satan,” replied Stephen as a chill ran down his spine. He shuddered and went back to combing through his notes for the umpteenth time.

  IN TRAINING

  1