Lies (The David Chance Series Book 3)

by Hileman, John Michael

  At the bottom, in the same neat printing, was her name, address, and phone number. The life drained from Jon’s face. He had heard the name before, from David Chance. At the time, there seemed no reason to make the connection, but now, how could he not?

  His mother was the scientist who was developing the weaponized virus. His mother was Dr. Kathleen Peltz.

  Chapter 35

  Jillian sat across from Jon in the limousine, her nerves twisting her insides. She had never kept anything from him; the secret was eating away at her gut. He probably already knew. He didn't have to touch her to know her thoughts. His power allowed him to connect through inanimate objects like tables, phone lines even the vehicle they were now sitting in. But she put her hands in her lap anyway, as a precaution. A dark silence filled the compartment as the limousine carried them toward their uncertain destiny. Jon's temperament had been quiet and brooding since leaving the room.

  "You want to talk about it?" she said, studying his face.

  His face remained stone as he stared out the window. "‘Bout what?"

  "About what's bothering you."

  His silver blue eyes slowly turned her way. "It's nothing, just nerves."

  He was attempting to be brave, but she could see the fear hidden just under the surface of his countenance. She wanted to comfort him, wrap her arms around him, and remind him of her love, but her lie kept her from doing so.

  "I just want it to be over," he said, with a measure of introspection.

  "Yeah, me too. Have your voices revealed their plan to you yet?" she asked.

  "Some, but it is mostly vague." The corners of his mouth turned downward.

  "I know how you feel. Jakson didn't given me much to go on either."

  "What does he want you to do, just follow me around?"

  "No. Once we get inside, I'm going to see if I can access the computer with the speeches on it."

  "The speeches? Why? Do you know what this unifier person is going to say?"

  "Not the entire speech, just the first few sentences."

  "Let me guess, Jakson told you."

  "Yes."

  "He's a clever one, that Jakson."

  Her disability did not allow her to hear the subtle inflections and tones others took for granted, but through the years she had studied ways to compensate. Her trained eyes easily noticed his micro expression, showing a morbid pleasure when he said the words, as though it were an inside joke that Jakson should be so clever.

  She gave him a suspicious look. "Did your voices reveal something to you about Jakson?"

  He was unable to mask his surprise, but recovered quickly. "I was just saying he's clever."

  There was no time to press him. The conference center was near.

  She shifted the topic back. "If I find the speech I'll return to you, then we can decide what to do from there."

  "Yeah," he said absently. "Okay."

  "So—what are you going to do?"

  He looked out the window. "Whatever they tell me."

  "Will you kill him if they tell you?" As the words came out she wished she could draw them back in, but it was too late.

  His eyes drew away from the window and studied her face for longer than was comfortable. "Would you rather I let him live, Jillian?"

  "I'd rather you let Jakson do it."

  Jon frowned. "He’s going to be there?"

  "Yes."

  He thought for a moment, then said, "I want to meet him."

  "I'm sure he..." Her sentence was cut off as the driver window slid down.

  "Sir," said the driver over his shoulder. "We've arrived at the conference center. Mr. Castle instructed me to drop you off at the back entrance. He said he will meet you there."

  Jon looked at the throng of people in front of the center. "Are all these people here for me?"

  "Yes, sir. Word leaked out that you would be speaking; people have been showing up ever since."

  "Will they be inside?"

  "No, sir, the conference is invitation only."

  He heaved a sigh.

  "Look at them all," Jillian said, glancing at his reflection in the glass to read his response. "They stretch all the way around the building."

  He stared quietly, his eyes deep and sullen.

  "All those people," she said, distantly. "All that need. It’s a lot to take in."

  He did not respond as the limo continued around the building, picking up interested looks from some of the more observant people in the crowd. Fortunately, the reflective windows hid his identity from them and the limo moved past without incident.

  Castle came to the limo door and opened it. "There's my guy. Are you ready to make history?"

  Jon climbed out and offered his hand to Jillian.

  "I appreciate your chivalry," she said, trying to not look at it as a diseased appendage. "But I think I've got it."

  He snatched his hand back as though he were remembering that he was not supposed to touch her. Did he already know about her betrayal? Did he want her to think she had gotten away with looking inside it?

  She looked down at the handle of the case in his grip. His knuckles appeared white. She wanted to question him, but there was no time; Castle was taking control.

  "Come on. Let's get you two inside."

  Jon grabbed his arm. "Is there any way we could have those people removed from the property?"

  Castle gave him a once over. "This isn't Russia, my boy. Don't worry, they can't get in without an invitation. And there’s plenty of security at the door. Come on, let's get you two signed in." He herded them through the rear door and down a short hallway to a well-lit room with a handful of people on both sides of a counter. "May I?" said Castle, pointing to the briefcase.

  "Sure," said Jon, casually.

  Jillian wondered if Castle knew about the gun. Had Jon already worked things out with him?

  Castle weighed the briefcase with his hand. "What do you have in this thing?"

  "A laptop," said Jon, still relaxed.

  Jillian wished she shared in his ease.

  "Go ahead and sign the form on the clipboard here and grab a badge. Then we'll show you to the greenroom."

  They signed in, grabbed a badge, and Castle handed Jon's briefcase back to him as he guided them out into the crowded corridor. There were more than a couple of stares, but no one approached them.

  Jillian came to a stop. "Mr. Castle?"

  He looked back.

  "Where is the ladies room?"

  "It's on the other side of the lobby." He pointed. "Would you like us to circle around that way?"

  "Oh no," she said, "I don't want to keep you. Can I get into the greenroom with this badge?"

  "Yes. Show it to the man at the door. Do you know where it is?"

  She flashed him a bright white smile. "Yes. I've been here before."

  "Okay, we'll see you in a few minutes then."

  She gave a grateful smile.

  Jon's mouth formed the words, "Be safe," as Castle guided him away.

  She strolled off through the people and made her way to the main lobby and down a side hall. Halfway down the hall, on the right, was a door labeled Break Room, and a red plaque below it with the word Restricted. It had been years since she had come to this conference center, but she remembered every detail of her trip to this break room, including the make and model of the black card swipe.

  She made a quick check to see that no one was in the hall behind her, pulled a black device from her pocket, and set it in place at the top of the card swipe. It blended perfectly with the unit. The next card that was swiped through the machine would track down through the skimmer, and the data would be sent via wifi to her smartphone. She turned around.

  And ran straight into a tall black security agent.

  "Ma'am, what are you doing?"

  Her hand shot to her bag and, as she pushed the pile of electronics down and out of view of the guard, she located her pad and pen. His eyes watched her with suspicion as she drew
the pad out and wrote a note. She held the note up to the security guard. I'm sorry. I'm deaf. Where’s the restroom?

  His fierceness melted away and was replaced by the sort of expression one might have if they realized they were holding something fragile. "I'm so—rry," he said slowly, so she could read his lips. "It is this—way." He waved demonstratively for her to follow.

  It always made her laugh the way people reacted to her disability. The behavior was so predictable. In her equation for human interaction, it was nearly a constant. She gave him a sweet look and allowed him to take charge. The crippled deaf girl was an act she was used to playing; it took no effort to slip into the role. She let him lead her across the lobby and down the large corridor to the bathrooms where she wrote him a large happy Thank You! on her pad. This pleased him and he walked away content that he had done his good deed for the day.

  The bathroom was busy, but she was able to find a stall and set up shop in her lap. It took longer than she liked before the first key swipe came through on her smartphone, but, to her relief, her first catch was a big fish—level one clearance. All she had to do was print out a couple of magnetic strips, tape them to their cards, and she and Jakson had the access they needed. Step one was complete.

  She packed up shop, retrieved the skimmer, and made her way back out into the lobby without incident. The crowd of people stood in clumps, waiting to enter the main auditorium. Some of the faces were familiar. There was a senator from her home state of Massachusetts, a well known preacher she had seen on television, and even an actor or two—one in particular who had quit doing blockbuster movies and started appearing in obscure religious films. She liked him though, he had a nice smile.

  Where was Jakson? He should have approached her or texted her by now. Did they have him doing some menial security job? That would have been fun to watch. As she scanned her mind attempted to slip into overload, but she pushed the impulse away. It was always difficult to look at so many talking faces. Her mind wanted to catalog every conversation in the room, but she couldn't afford the distraction. She had to stay focused and find the mainframe room.

  Her mind whispered the words mainframe room, and she sensed a beacon in the sea of information she had gathered. Someone in the lobby had just mentioned the mainframe room as she looked around. Who was it? She let the sea of talking lips flutter in her mind with one search goal: find the word mainframe. There! The lips belonged to a young black-haired girl with bold burgundy framed glasses.

  She had said it. "It's in the mainframe room. I can get it for you."

  Jillian's eyes lifted, and she looked to where the girl had been standing. But the people she'd been talking to were standing alone. Fortunately, one was looking off toward the large hall that led to the bathrooms, and Jillian was able to catch a glimpse of the black-haired girl as she disappeared around the corner.

  She took off into a slow jog, weaving between people as she went.

  When she got to the corner of the large hall she scanned the next room. The girl had made it to the center and was working her way across at a diagonal. Jillian continued forward, moving as fast as possible, hoping to not draw any suspicion. The black-haired girl was taking her time. Jillian was confident she could tighten the gap before the girl made it to the other side of the room.

  Jillian drifted to the right around a group of three men, left around two middle-aged ladies, and straight into Jakson. Her hand shot out to keep from slamming into his chest as her eyes bounced from his stern leathery face to the black-haired girl. She gave him a look to convey her situation, but he stepped in closer and held his hand out discreetly. What was he doing? Then she remembered. The keycard!

  She scrambled in her pocketbook but kept her eyes on the black-haired girl through the gaps between the people. She had crossed the crowded hallway and was nearing the corner to the next hall. Jillian's fingers found the card, pulled it from her bag, and thrust it at Jakson.

  "We'll talk later!" she said, moving past him. The girl had disappeared around the corner. If Jillian followed, she would lose her for sure.

  There was only one way to track her, cut sideways to get a view down the hall faster. She walked briskly, parallel with the auditorium wall, until her eyes found her. She watched as the girl came to a stop in front of a door opposite the auditorium, swiped her card and disappeared inside. Jillian strolled across the plush carpet of the side hall straight to the door and swiped her hacked security card. The light on the box turned green and the door clicked. With a casual look back toward the large hallway of milling people, she stepped in.

  On the other side of the door was not a hallway or a stairwell as she had hoped. It was the mainframe room itself. Sitting in the center of the room, looking more than a bit startled, was the black-haired girl.

  Chapter 36

  Jon wiped a sweaty palm on his dress pants, shifted the briefcase, and wiped the other. The gravity of his situation was palpable as he looked around the lushly decorated green room filled with famous people, some he had spoken to the day before. It felt more daunting with them all in the same room, but his voices were quick to reassure him. "Are these men anything compared to you?"

  I grew up watching most of these people on television.

  "And what were they doing on television? Groveling for money? Promising blessings from an invisible deity? You are better than them, Jon. And infinitely more powerful."

  He didn't feel powerful.

  Castle's voice interrupted his inner dialogue. "Jon. I want you to meet the man behind all of this."

  Beside him was a sandy haired man in his forties. His face was meek, and his smile welcoming. "It is a real pleasure to meet you, Jon." He offered his hand, and Jon shook it. "I read your speech and, I have to say, it blew me away."

  He could hardly remember what they had directed him to write. "Thanks," he said, with a pressed smile.

  "To be honest, when I was approached by a friend and they suggested I invite you to speak, I was resistant at first. Sure you have an amazing gift, no one doubts that, but I didn't want to put someone up there who hadn't been proven. I'm sure you can understand."

  He gave an understanding nod, though he had no idea what the man meant.

  "However, after reading your speech, I'm convinced we made the right call on this one. Amazing. Absolutely amazing. It is a real honor to have you here with us."

  He felt the familiar control come over him as his voice said, "I'm humbled by your invitation and grateful you would put your trust in me. I hope my speech gives some much needed edification."

  The man beamed. "No doubt it will." His eyes tracked on something behind Jon.

  Jon turned.

  "I apologize for interrupting," said a leathery faced man in a blue suit. "We need to borrow Mr. Blake for a moment." The man had a security badge. His name plate said Jackson. Was this Jillian's Jakson? He looked like someone had peeled him off a Marlboro Man poster and stuffed him in a suit.

  "Is there a problem?" said Castle.

  "No. No problem. Mr. Blake asked us to grab him if a certain individual made an appearance."

  "Oh," said Jon's voice. "Good." His head turned to Castle. "If you don't mind, I need a moment."

  "Sure," said Castle. "Anything I can help with?"

  "No. Just someone I'm helping. I won't be long," said his voice. He flashed a sheepish smile.

  "All right. I'll be here if you need me."

  Jon offered his hand to the other man, whose name he hadn't gotten. "It was a pleasure meeting you, maybe we’ll have time to talk later."

  The man nodded.

  Jakson turned and guided Jon out of the green room and up the hallway, away from the crowded lobby.

  "So—you’re the infamous Jakson."

  "I'm sorry we have not had a chance to meet before this, things have been busy as of late."

  "I can imagine."

  Jakson held a card out as they walked. "Take this security card. You'll need it to get into the maintenance r
oom where the central air system is located."

  Jon slowed. "What? Wait a minute. I have questions."

  They rounded the corner into the back hall. Jakson came to a stop. "Questions?"

  "Yeah, questions about you. About us."

  "This is hardly the time."

  "I think, considering what we're about to do..."

  "What question do you have that we have not already answered?"

  "If they have you, why do they need me?"

  The man's brow ridge lifted. "It is your family's legacy."

  "My family? You mean my mother's legacy?"

  "It began with your mother and Jillian's father, but that legacy will pass on to your children—to Jillian's children. Your family will be revered for centuries to come. Why would we steal that from you?"

  His short sightedness knew no bounds. Of course the answer would be grander than his simple mind could understand. "I'm sorry," he stammered. "Thank you."

  "We are the ones who should thank you."

  He didn't deserve the gratitude, but he humbly accepted it.

  "Now, back to the matter at hand. At the end of this hall, just past the kitchen, is a green door that leads down to the maintenance room. Go down there. We will guide you in what you must do."

  "Right now?"

  "Yes. I'll meet you in the green room when you're done."

  "Okay." Jon gripped the briefcase handle tighter and walk down the hall toward the room.

  "Be calm," said his mind. "We will guide you. We are with you."

  He wiped at the beads of sweat forming at his temples.

  "Be at peace. We will watch over you. You are safe."

  He passed by the open doors of the kitchen, but none of the kitchen staff took note of him. He was like a ghost in the hall, a specter of death, moving toward his destiny. No. Not a specter of death, the savior. His race would live on because of him. On the other side of this dark moment, the future was beautiful and bright. He had to stop thinking about the present and keep his eyes on the future they had promised—the future that was well within their power to grant.

  The keycard unit clicked and the light turned green as he flashed his card. He left the rear hall, took the concrete stairs down, and followed a narrow hall down to a room labeled Maintenance.