TPG

by The Perfect Game (mobi)

  She nodded. “It was a prerequisite of my engagement to Allie’s father, my ex-husband,” she said, dabbing the corner of her eye. “His parents wouldn’t approve of the wedding unless I converted. So I did. I kept with it after our divorce, mainly for the kids. It’s a nice community, and Rabbi Kleinman’s been great in helping me through this. My free therapist, I guess. Although,” she paused and slightly grinned, “I suppose ‘free’ is a relative term when you consider the amount of the donations we’ve made over the years.”

  Kyle flashed a warm smile. He didn’t know Allie’s financial situation for certain, but had already assumed her family was well-off. Her records listed her as having an Upper East Side address, somewhere in the 70s he recalled. So when you added the surface parts together—University of Michigan, Upper East Side—it wasn’t hard to figure out there was some money there. The revelation that her parents were divorced was a bit of a surprise, but not completely unexpected.

  “Anyway, I appreciate that you’re helping out,” she said, letting her eyes trail down to the dingy carpet, breaking eye contact for this first time. “As I’m sure you’ve probably realized by now, my brother can have an interesting way about him.” She looked up again. “He’s not always the easiest to get along with, so I really do appreciate you taking the time to speak to him.”

  “Not at all,” Kyle said. “I just wish I had a better grasp of what he’s talking about.”

  “Don’t you, though?” Nicki crossed her slender legs as she became more comfortable in her seat. “He said you’re an expert.”

  Kyle smiled. “While I appreciate the compliment, I’m still struggling to even understand what he thinks happened, let alone consider myself any type of expert on the subject.”

  The few thin creases on her face deepened. “Really? Liam’s been telling me the opposite. He even said you texted Allie about it before it happened.”

  Kyle squirmed. “We did text about energy transfers, yes,” he said. “And I know about them. But I definitely don’t have any expertise on the subject, and I honestly can’t see how they’re connected to what happened to your daughter.”

  The natural glow of her green eyes dampened.

  “Did Liam actually explain his theories to you?” he asked.

  “He did,” she said. “But I’m a hopeless case there. Science was never my strong suit.”

  “What you said about your brother before, that he has an interesting way about him. I agree, and I get the impression that he hears what he wants to hear and shuts out certain realities at times and … how do I say this? Seems to be a bit … unaware sometimes.”

  “A bit unaware?” she laughed. “That’s putting it mildly. He’s one of the most unaware people you’ll ever meet. Even though he’s a few years older than me, all throughout high school I tried my best to get him to stop wearing shirts that were five sizes too small and pants that didn’t crawl up to his ankles. I tried to give him at least a fighting chance to move up the social chain of popularity. But he didn’t care then, and doesn’t care now. People are always amazed at how different the two of us are, but he’s still probably the most caring man I know.”

  Kyle paused, the lines in his brow betraying the curiosity underneath. “Was Liam ever diagnosed with anything?”

  “Like a mental disorder?”

  “Yes.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Never. He was a nerd and social outcast, but that’s it. He never had any mental issues at all. In fact, because he was so oblivious he was less depressed than the rest of us. He was perfectly happy with just his core group of nerdy friends, his comic books, fantasy books, video games and obsession with the Yankees. That’s all he needed. His only real vice, if you could even call it a vice, was that he didn’t push himself. He never put his talents to use.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, he’s smart. Really smart. Aced every one of the standardized tests he took and even had a near-perfect score on his SAT. Fifteen-twenty.”

  “Impressive,” Kyle said.

  “Right. Impressive. And he did it without any tutors or prep classes. Yet his GPA was barely a C average. Not because he wasn’t smart, he just didn’t care. Didn’t study, skipped class constantly, didn’t turn in assignments. So instead of going to an Ivy League school, where he should’ve been, he received an associate degree from the local community college and never finished up to get his bachelor’s.” She fixed her gaze on Kyle. “But why do you ask? Do you think he has mental issues?”

  “Well, I haven’t spent enough time with him to diagnose anything, but he’s—”

  “Odd. Eccentric. Unaware,” she interrupted a bit harshly. “Yes. Like I said, he’s those things. But that’s it. And maybe he’s acting even stranger because of Allie’s condition, maybe he’s bottling up his feelings or something, but that type of odd behavior is somewhat expected, right? I mean, I’m doing the same thing. That’s what everyone keeps telling me. But no, Liam doesn’t have any mental health issues. If he’d been born in the past decade, would he have been diagnosed with Aspergers or some other form of autism that they come up with now to find a reason why some people are just a little different, or just plain weird? Yes. Perhaps. So maybe he’d be diagnosed with a touch of this or that, but he hasn’t been. And I really don’t think there’s anything wrong with him. Not on that level.”

  Kyle silently let the terse response linger.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, taking a deep breath. “It’s just a sensitive topic. Even though Liam’s older, I was always his protector, his defender.”

  “I didn’t mean to be critical of him,” Kyle explained. “It’s just that on the surface, without knowing him … his theories, and some of his mannerisms, they … they tend to—”

  “That’s okay,” she said. “I understand. Really. It’s just a reflexive role I’ve played since high school. My mother wasn’t around much then, she worked. So I guess I dealt with it a lot.”

  “What about your father?”

  “He passed away when we were young. Liam was six. I was four. Vietnam. He’d been there for only a few months.”

  “Did your mother ever remarry?”

  “Never. We moved in with her parents until I was about seven.”

  “Are they still alive?”

  She shook her head. “My grandfather died about twenty-five years ago. Heart attack. Liam was devastated. The two of them were inseparable.”

  “And your grandmother passed away as well?”

  She nodded. “About six years ago. Alzheimers.”

  “What was your grandfather’s personality like?”

  Nicki smirked. “Do you mean was he weird like Liam?”

  “No. I just—”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Like I said, I know Liam’s weird. I just don’t think he’s crazy. There’s a difference in my book. A huge one. But no, my grandfather wasn’t weird. But he wasn’t a disciplinarian either. He spoiled us. He was a big kid himself. Sometimes I think he just enjoyed having us around to give him an excuse to play video games and see movies. He was an accountant, and I think he liked the creative outlet games and movies offered. He never took over the role of our father though, never came down on Liam for bad grades or helped out in that way. In fact, he used to go in the opposite direction. He’d tell my mother to go easy on Liam. Said that school wasn’t for everyone, and to let Liam choose what he liked. Looking back on it, he was probably projecting. He probably didn’t want Liam to end up like him, pigeonholed in an unsatisfying career.”

  “Was there any other male figure in Liam’s life? Anyone other than your grandfather?”

  She crinkled her brow a bit. “Not really,” she said. “My ex used to try to talk to him, but they really didn’t connect on anything other than the Yankees.” She paused and forced an awkward smile. “I’m guessing the point here is that you’re trying to tell me you think Liam’s chasing a dead-end?”

  “Well,” Kyle said, careful to be delicate in hi
s response, “what’s happening with the strokes is without a doubt odd. But I just don’t see the connection like your brother does.”

  Nicki lowered her eyes and stayed silent for a while, letting the response sink in. She stared at Kyle’s sparse desk, focusing on his copy of the Late Edition of The Times, on the headline that discussed the two deaths from the night before. Kyle looked at the paper as well, remembering what Tom had said about the young man. That he’d had a hemorrhage.

  “Would you mind if Liam still continued to bounce ideas off you?” she asked, once again meeting Kyle’s eyes. “I think it helps him cope.”

  “It’s the least I could do.”

  “Thank you,” she said as she stood and extended her hand.

  Kyle came around the desk to take it, feeling her smooth fingers wrap around his own as they shook.

  “You know,” she said, looking into his eyes as she held his hand, “there aren’t many people Liam takes to, but when he does they’re usually good souls.”

  “He seems like a good one himself,” Kyle said, a slew of emotions grabbing hold of him: sorrow for her pain, amazement as to how she and Allie looked so much alike, and guilt for the attraction he felt.

  She slowly let go of his hand and walked toward the door, then turned to him again. “Do you really think Liam’s theories are that far out there?”

  He felt bad having to be the one to say it, but he couldn’t lie to her. He couldn’t give her that false hope. So he said nothing.

  She looked down. “I do appreciate you talking to him.”

  “He’s an entertaining man,” Kyle said, feeling the need to say something.

  She took a deep breath and smiled. “He most definitely is,” she said, then turned and made her way down the corridor.

  After he closed the door, Kyle slipped out his BlackBerry, having heard the ping of a few texts during their conversation.

  Each one was from Liam.

  “Look at your email,” the first one read.

  “Did u look yet?” read the next.

  The third one said, “See it yet?”

  But it was the last one that made his stomach turn.

  “I know who the killer is.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Before calling Liam, Kyle scrolled through his emails to find the one Liam was talking about.

  The email had been sent about fifteen minutes earlier and came with an Excel attachment that Kyle opened. It was a simple spreadsheet showing eight dates. That was it. Just one date after the other, all from the last few months. Kyle scrolled to see if there were any other columns or notes anywhere, but there wasn’t anything other than the dates.

  The earliest ones dated back to April, and the most recent one was that very day. He looked at them more carefully and realized the second to last date was the day Allie collapsed, which meant at least two of the dates were days when someone had a ruptured aneurysm—one when it happened to Allie and the other from earlier in the morning. He counted them again. Eight. The number matched the number of ruptured aneurysms he knew about. There were the six Tom had initially given him, the guy with the broken neck, and Allie.

  But how did Liam know about all of them? He had said he’d only known about four who had died and, of course, Allie. That was it. Had Liam discovered them on his own? But how could he have found out about the guy with the broken neck? It was still being kept under wraps.

  Kyle looked at the dates again. Maybe the email wasn’t about the aneurysms. Maybe it was about something else. After all, other than Allie and the one from earlier in the morning, he didn’t even know the dates. He never got that specific with Tom.

  As he continued to stare at the computer screen, his BlackBerry started to ring.

  He checked the display.

  Liam.

  “So?” Liam asked as soon as Kyle clicked on. “What do you think? Crazy, right?”

  “The dates you sent?”

  “Yes. Of course the dates,” Liam said as Kyle continued to stare at the spreadsheet up on his screen. “Someone in the city had a ruptured aneurysm on each of those dates.”

  “You do realize that you have today’s date listed, right?” Kyle asked.

  “Dang right I do,” Liam said. “There must have been another stroke somewhere in the city today. Probably really early in the morning.”

  Kyle was confused. “Must have been? So you’re saying you aren’t sure about that? You don’t know if there was or wasn’t?”

  “Oh, make no mistake about it, I’m sure alright,” Liam said. “It definitely happened today. Who the victim was, I have no idea. Not yet, anyway. But it definitely happened today. There’s absolutely no question about that.”

  He was right. Tom had already confirmed it. But how did Liam know about it?

  “What makes you so sure?” Kyle asked while trying to decipher whether there was a pattern to the dates.

  “Okay,” Liam said, excited that he had Kyle’s interest. “So, one of the Crusaders put me in touch with a guy who knows a lot of stuff, and this morning I get a return email from him.”

  “What do you mean ‘knows a lot of stuff’?”

  “You know, the guy’s a real heavy hitter.”

  “Heavy hitter?”

  “Yeah,” Liam said. “He’s even been in the news before. I had to promise him I wouldn’t use his name but, trust me, the guy is big time.”

  “Big time what, though? Who is he?”

  “Who is he? He’s someone the government actually contacted to say the conspiracy theories out there about 9/11 had no credibility to them.”

  “So he’s a conspiracist?”

  “He’s a truth seeker,” Liam corrected him.

  “Okay,” Kyle said, not looking to quibble. “And the government actually contacted him about 9/11?”

  “Well,” Liam said hesitantly, “they didn’t say it was the government. You know, they go through back channels, but he knew it was them.”

  Kyle closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose, swallowing his frustration, an act that was becoming routine while speaking with Liam. “Okay,” he said, “so what did this … truth seeker have to say?”

  “When I called him, he started telling me a story about KnightWare and he asks—”

  “KnightWare, Liam? Really?”

  “Yes,” Liam said. “But just listen.”

  Kyle was familiar with KnightWare. The whole world was familiar with KnightWare. They were one of the largest private military contractor firms in the world. Which also meant that if one Googled the words military and conspiracy together, the name KnightWare would litter the page. He knew exactly where the story was heading.

  “So this guy asks me if I know how KnightWare got its start in the business,” Liam said. “And I told him what I know about the founder, Mack Reilly. That he was a Vietnam vet who started contracting a small band of private soldiers for covert operations the government wanted no official role in. You know, black ops type of stuff. He says, ‘Yes, but do you know how they separated themselves from all the other groups doing the same thing?’ And then he tells me. It was their assassinations. No one else could do what they did.”

  “Seriously? A KnightWare story?” Kyle cut through the dangling end of the sentence. “That’s what led you to finding these dates?”

  “It didn’t lead me to it. It just helped me connect the dots from the question that’s been bugging me about this whole thing. Who in the city would need to siphon the energy of these kids? Why would they be doing it? So the guy tells me the reason KnightWare was so good at assassinations was because they were able to get it done without any indications it was an assassination. No drugs and no physical violence. It didn’t even look like an assassination, the targets would just stroke out.” Liam paused. “Hear that? They would friggin stroke out. Just like what’s been going on here. Just like what happened to Allie. And because the deaths would be so clean and undetectable, it allowed them to become a big player in killing people here
in the States because, whereas overseas people could pretty much do what they want, here in the States there’s too much scrutiny. So this gave them a whole new platform—private assassinations. It separated them from the other firms.”

  “Liam—”

  “Wait,” Liam interrupted, “there’s more. So the guy told me he’s spoken to someone who used to work for KnightWare. And even though the company has the strictest confidentiality agreements there are, and everyone knows squawkers get snuffed, he was able to talk to this former KnightWare guy because the guy’s already in hiding for other stuff he did. He’s already a marked man, so he didn’t mind spilling the beans because they’re after him anyway.”

  “So how is it that your friend was able to find him, yet the top private security firm in the world with nearly unlimited funds and connections wasn’t able to?”

  “He didn’t. The guy found him. He wanted someone to know his story before they got to him.”

  “So if KnightWare is actually in the habit of killing people who spill their secrets, why wouldn’t they just kill your friend if he knows things he shouldn’t?”

  Liam hesitated. “Good question,” he said. “And I don’t know the answer to that one. Maybe it’s because he’s too high profile. Or maybe because he has information on them that will be released if he dies. Or maybe they don’t know he knows. Not sure. I’ll ask him the next time we speak.”

  “Can we just get to the dates?” Kyle asked as he refreshed his screen to look at the spreadsheet again. “What did he tell you that made you figure out there was another victim today?”

  “Right. So he tells me this former KnightWare worker told him there’s this guy who’s got a knack for finding people with special abilities, whom he then contracts out to companies like KnightWare. And the special ability of one of the guys was what allowed them to perform these—”

  “Liam,” Kyle cut in, growing frustrated with his refusal to cut to the chase. “Just tell me how any of this led you to the dates.”