by Stone, C. L.
“Do you know about Murdock’s Core?” I spit out quickly.
Doyle made a face and twisted his features. “God...damn...shit...” He snarled and twisted away, pulling the gun around and holding it in his arms sideways. “Why the hell did you have to ask about that?”
“What do you know?” I asked.
“Oh nothing,” he said. He waved his hand in the air and shook it. “Just everything. I mean for Christ’s sake, they only made themselves completely obvious by over-complicating their security. If you want to get away with anything, don't make things so obvious.”
Brandon stepped forward, up beside me then. “Can you tell us where the core is located?”
“Oh no,” Doyle said. He cradled the gun in one arm and pointed a finger at Brandon. “Listen here, junior. If you knew anything about this core, you'd stay away from it. I mean, it is a shitty piece of work. The only thing that made it at all difficult was the security dog packet thingie. But then you don't really have to bust through the security when members blab their own password in person when they talk on their regular cell phone lines. The thing about security is it could be the best in the world, but a person with a password is the weakest link.”
“Doyle!” I snapped my fingers at him. I was trying to remember how Blake negotiated with him. “What do you want for information about where the core is? We need to find it. I’m not asking for you to get involved. I wasn’t even here. I just want an address.”
Doyle tightened his mouth. His hair fell into his face and he raked it back. “I need some cigarettes. I'm out. I'm a mess when I'm out.”
“Why didn't you go get some?”
“Do I have to do everything around here?” he asked. “And I think I need a new microwave. This one is busted.”
“Do you want cigarettes or a microwave?” Brandon asked. “I've got a motorcycle. I can't carry both.”
“What are you? An ape? Use your brain.” Doyle pointed at his own head. “I'm not even asking enough. This is shit I could die from if you hint at who told them...”
“Don't make me tell NSA you're listening in,” I said.
“Tell the fuckers,” he said. “It's their line I'm borrowing. They'll just put another shitty protocol up that I'll have to work around. And there’s no proof here that I’m listening to them.” He pointed again at us. “One of you go fetch what I want and I'll give the other the info. I prefer the female, but I'm only saying that because I'm not gay.”
If I didn't know he could get the information we wanted, I'd have wrestled him to the ground and get Brandon to teabag him for good measure. I eyeballed Brandon, asking him quietly to go get a microwave and cigarettes. It wasn't like I'd be able to buy anything myself.
Brandon sighed heavily, lifting up his hands in a gesture of defeat. “You're lucky I grabbed some cash out of the till at my shop before I left.”
COMPANY PROPERTY
Doyle had the location of the core before Brandon got back with a microwave strapped to the back seat of the bike with bungee cords and a couple of cartons of cigarettes tucked under his arms.
With a few more curses, Doyle took his payment and we were on our way.
An hour later, Brandon and I were stopped in front of the gate blocking off access to Kiawah Island. My legs were icicles, but my chest was sweating underneath the heavy sweatshirt and from being pressed up against Brandon. I imagined my hair was looking like an 80’s teased style and could effectively have worked as its own helmet.
The guard at the gate greeted us with a smile. “Good morning,” she said.
I was tense. I'd never been to Kiawah, but then, I never would have gone willingly. I didn't like even the thought of the place. The whole island was basically owned by the rich. Security blocked off everyone except people who lived here and who worked for the people who lived there. It wasn’t exactly my social circle. But then, even if I was rich, I wouldn’t live here. It felt too much like cutting out the real world, and normal people weren’t good enough to come check it out.
“Hi,” Brandon said. He took off his helmet and presented a smile. “Is the gift shop open?”
“Sure is,” she said. “You know where it is?”
“Yeah,” Brandon said.
The woman nodded and then moved the lever that lifted the barrier.
That was how easy it is to get on the island? If I'd known...probably wouldn't have made a difference. I was still thinking like a thief. It just seemed silly anyone could enter the island to access the gift shop.
After a few more minutes on the bike, Brandon parked in a lot facing a hot tub and swimming pool that overlooked a beach.
“Oh my god,” I said, stripping off the helmet and blowing hot air toward the scene. There was the gift shop nestled into a quiet corner of the parking lot. Even with the few cars parked, there was no one around. I felt safe venting about how flabbergasted I was at this scene. “You've got a whole ocean right there, and they build an open pool and hot tub in front of it?”
“I know, right?” he said. He took our helmets and plopped them onto the back of the bike. “I can’t blame them though. It isn't even that great of a beach. I mean, see those waves?”
I squinted, checking the water, which seemed really still, serene. When waves washed up, they were low and gentle. “Yeah.”
“That's how it is. Like all the time. Unless there's a hurricane or something. No wave action at all.”
I blinked for a moment, taking a second to figure out what he was getting at. “You mean no chance to surf?”
“Folly is better. North Shore.”
“North shore?” I asked. Marc had mentioned it once, but I’d been in a funny state of mind. Now I recalled it wasn’t possible. You couldn’t go in the water at North Shore. There were strong undercurrents. “You can't surf there.”
“Not at the point,” he said. “Not near the lighthouse, but there's a spot nearby...” He waved his hand through the air. “Forget it for now. Let's get going.”
Still, I had to agree with him. Why would the rich want a beach that never saw any wave action? But then, perhaps tall waves were too noisy for Kiawah residents.
We took to the beach. He made a point of holding my hand, claiming we needed to look like visitors enjoying the beach. I didn't fight him on this issue. I didn’t think it was totally necessary, but I’d already lost three boys within twenty four hours on my watch, and I didn’t want to lose him again. Holding on to him made me feel like he couldn’t disappear again.
We were on the lookout for a house on the beach with an L-shaped pool in the back. We got a satellite picture view of the place from Doyle, and then an old real estate photo he dug up from the Internet. He checked for who owned the house currently, but it was actually a real estate company, and the owner of the real estate company was a corporation. Doyle said it was probably so they could write off the home as some sort of business expense. He didn’t have time to hack into the mail system to check whose name was getting put on mail delivered to the house. Brandon sent the info to Corey who confirmed the information, but said that someone in the Academy knew someone in the post office and would ask.
The walk along the beach was better, because driving up, there was a row of trees in front of every house, essentially cutting off our view. Besides, if we walked the beach, we could pretend to sit and enjoy the ocean while we were really checking out the house.
The house itself appeared to be three stories, and a multimillion dollar place, according to the real estate websites. Like I’d told Axel and Marc, if I owned a fancy core everyone wanted, I’d have a million dollars...and a private island was a more likely location for someone that rich. Kiawah Island seemed the type of resort island getaway most people around Charleston would live in. Charleston peninsula was where the rich lived to be seen. Kiawah Island was where the rich went to escape public view.
We were quiet as we walked. It was hard to enjoy the serene surroundings when we were on the hunt, but the breeze caught in
our faces and my senses were filled with salt and sand and I had the urge to go walk in the water. I was having a hard time walking on the sand without tripping in the boots that were too big for me, so I stopped to take them off and walk barefoot.
Brandon kept his boots on. We walked on the damp sand just beyond the tide rolling. The sand was cool to the touch, and while my feet were cold, it was actually helping to keep me awake. The sand, the warmer sun, and the sound of the ocean made me want to plant myself down on the dry sand and take a nap.
I studied each house as we came up to it, looking for similarities to the photo I’d seen.
“Almost there,” Brandon said. He squeezed my hand, like he’d done every few steps since we started. I wondered if he used holding my hand as his own method to stay awake. “I think it was like ten houses down from the gift shop.”
“Wouldn’t it have satellite dishes and an antenna all around it? I mean, to send out a signal and act as a core for a cell phone service?”
Brandon did an eye roll, smirking. “Did you see an antenna in the picture? No, because it’s a secret phone service,” he said. “The core might just be a computer server inside. And an antenna could look like anything. It doesn’t have to have prongs sticking out all over. It could just be metal, reaching outward. Besides, we’re not one hundred percent sure it is here. I mean, this is a normal house. I’m not sure I’d keep a core in my home.”
“You don’t think Doyle could pinpoint the signal location?”
“I don’t exactly trust Doyle not to lie to us for free cigarettes and a microwave.”
I made a face at him. He squeezed my hand and stuck out his tongue, mocking.
He did have a point. I didn’t think I’d keep an illegal underground cell phone service at my house. Then again, a house on the beach would keep it from looking suspicious, but would it have enough range for locals in Charleston to use it? I didn’t understand how cell phone towers worked very well, but even I knew about cell phone bars, and the ranges from towers, and once you got too far away from one, you didn’t have a signal at all. “How close do you have to be to a tower to have it give you a signal?”
“Not sure,” he said. He used his free hand to rub a couple of fingers at his temple. “Corey would know. I wish he was here.”
I studied Brandon’s face then. His cerulean eyes had a particular depth to them now. The determination was there, the anger, but they were subdued by that sadness again. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
He stopped rubbing, and turned his head to look at me. The sadness subsided, but only a little. It was replaced by something unreadable and I wondered what he was really thinking. “I’m tired,” he said. “And sore. And we’ve only got so much time...”
“There’s something else,” I said. If it was important enough to think about now, he had time to tell me.
Brandon sighed and again tightened his hand around mine. “I honestly didn’t think I was going to make it out alive,” he said. “If it wasn’t by the team I was with, with Eddie and the other Germans, it would be with this new team, who seemed to be killing anyone standing in their way. I was sure Eddie would have sacrificed me to save his team by giving me up next. I would have never seen you again. Or my brother. Or any of the guys. And now that two of them are gone, and I haven’t seen my brother or Raven or Kevin or anyone, it’s like I don’t know for sure if I will ever.” He lifted my hand slowly, bringing it to his lips, and kissed the knuckle. “But I’ve got you, though. I’ll be hanging onto you for a while. I’m glad you seem to be out of your slump. I’ve not seen you look so alive. Angry, maybe, but alive.”
I bit my tongue, wanting to give a retort of some kind, but it was just an angry impulse to defend myself, even if there wasn’t much to defend myself from. I couldn’t blame him for saying that. I just didn’t like being looked at so closely that people could tell what I was thinking.
Funny how now I felt awake for the first time in weeks, and it was because I was busy saving people from getting killed.
Distracted in my own thoughts, I walked quietly beside Brandon. It’d been too long to actually answer anything he’d said. Brandon appeared to be back into his own thoughts, too.
I refocused on what we were there for. I expected this house to be covered with security and guards, even though from the real estate photos, it looked normal.
I mean, if it were easy to waltz in and get access to this core, Alice would have done it by now and wouldn’t need Corey to do it for her.
That meant it would be harder than it appeared to get to this core. Eddie’d had weeks to get access to this thing and failed. What made us think we could do it in a day? The house probably had radioactive laser security ready to hit a fly if it crossed into his yard.
I tried to put that thought out of my head. People at the mall didn’t allow me to take their wallets either. I found a way, though. Doyle had been right. People were the weak link. It was a morbid expression in a way. People aren’t generally stupid. They’re just vulnerable. Wasn’t I, after all, weak in a way? We were weak and doing what we were told to save our friends. We were putting other people’s security, people we didn’t know, at risk.
That didn’t sit well with me, either. I didn’t want anyone to have this core. I didn’t really want it to exist, either.
A few houses later, we found an L-shaped pool and the house that matched the real estate photos, just in a different paint color. The house was three stories, a Cape Cod style, bluish gray slate walls and white trim, with a balcony on the second floor, overlooking a small garden and pool and the beach. It all looked plain, like the other homes, except for the third floor, which was completely glass, gleaming in the sun. A third floor greenhouse? I couldn’t see in from the reflection. It must have been a hot box in the summer.
The extravagance of it seemed to even outdo the neighbors’ ostentatious homes. I imagined the owner could view far out into the ocean and around the island from all angles. That probably meant if anyone was up there, they could see us.
We stood on the beach together, looking at the house. I was trying to identify something that might be the antenna, but nothing stood out to me. It was just a big, fancy house. There wasn’t even a tiny satellite dish or weathervane. The sand from the beach was cut off by a low hedge from the garden and yard. The pool looked clean, with an unrestricted view of the ocean from it. I wondered how they kept local kids from getting in his pool. I guessed local kids probably had their own pools.
In fact, not a lot of the homes had fences at all. I could look right at the back porch. Most homes had hedges to block of sweeping sands, but that was it. Back doors were exposed. Did they really trust the one security guard in the front to be all the protection they needed? I suspected there were security alarms everywhere. I looked for cameras, not spotting any, but that didn’t mean they weren’t hidden somewhere.
There was a van parked on the driveway, near a side door. It had rolled up backward, facing the road, and the rear doors were open. The back of the van was empty now, so I couldn’t tell what was being delivered.
Brandon whistled, a low one meant just for me to hear. “That’s a big fancy house. Seems bigger than even Coaltar’s.”
“It is bigger than Blake’s,” I said, and then shut the idea of Blake Coaltar out of my mind.
“If this is the house, and there is a core here,” Brandon said, “then we should get inside and look for it. Maybe we can poke around and ask a few questions.”
“Ask questions?” I blinked at him, and took my hand away so I could rub at my tired eyes. “Sure. Let’s just walk in and ask the kids where the secret illegal core is.”
“I meant more like, ‘hey kids, which rooms are you not allowed to go in?’ or ‘which room does daddy yell at you if he finds you in it?’” he said, and smirked. “There’s ways to learn stuff without asking directly.”
“They teach you this in spy school?” I asked.
“You just said the spy word,” he said.
He refocused onto the house. I did, too. Maybe Academy spy training taught him how to ask things without asking directly. Wasn’t my thing. I was more for waiting until people weren’t home and then breaking in a window and snooping around.
And exactly how were we supposed to deliver the core anyway? It’s not like we could walk out with it and it’d still be operational. She said she wanted access. It seemed like she needed to give us more direction. But then, she assumed Corey would be able to do it. We needed a Corey.
“We can’t stay too long,” Brandon said. “They might not notice us now, but they will notice if we’re standing here, staring at their house from the beach. We’ll have to move on and come back.”
How were we going to learn anything and get this core if we were going to sneak around? I was about to point this out when a couple of men came out of the side door, returning to the van.
Brandon immediately encircled my waist, turning enough to make it look like we were embracing on the sand, rather than staring like we were. He ducked his head close to mine, his cheek pressed against my face.
I was the one left looking at the house over his shoulder.
“Tell me what you see,” he said quietly into my ear, his lips brushing at my skin.
I swallowed, trying to focus, and checked out the van. The men were in black jeans and long-sleeved black button up shirts, clearly dressed up to deliver to opulent homes rather than common ones.
They shut the doors and headed for the front of the van, keys in hand and ready to go. The sign on the back of the van read: A1 Party Supplies.
“They’re hosting a party,” I said quietly. “Or they just hosted one. It’s a party supply company. Could we sneak in that way if they’re having a party tonight?”
Brandon groaned, and buried his head into my shoulder. “It isn’t the best of circumstances, but we don’t have time to do this another way. More eyes means more chances we’ll get caught where we’re not supposed to be, but we don’t have much of a choice, and it might be our only opening.” He backed up, pulling away from me and then captured my hand. “We’ll need to get ready. And we’ll have to do some research. We still don’t know for sure if this is the right house.”
