ELIJAH: A Suspense Novel

by Frank Redman

  “I reckon you don’t. But I suggest you do. You ain’t got no car, no way to protect yourself. I looked over the trashed heap out there in my woods and found the bullet holes you talked about. I even found one bullet.” He held that up so I could see. He was good at show and tell. He also seemed real proud of the find.

  “And like I said, I went through your stuff, saw all the techno thingies… Then I found something quite near intrestin’ in the purse.”

  Oh yeah, that. “What did you find?”

  “A business card for Bob Meredith. We fought in Nam together. He’s also my financial advisor.”

  Intrestin’. Quite near indeed. I looked at Jenny to see her reaction. She just stared at him. I didn’t have a clue what was going on in her mind. She’d been sipping coffee, but stopped to stare at Charles.

  For his part, Charles didn’t look at her. I’m sure he figured out who Jenny’s dad was. He just looked at the floor.

  Uncomfortable silence.

  Jenny didn’t seem to be mad, so I prodded her a little, just to get things moving in a direction, any direction. “Your dad’s first name was Bob?” I hated using past tense, but there was no point in denying her dad was dead.

  “Robert Meredith. Everyone called him Bob. He was in Viet Nam, though he never talked about it. He did his best to act like it never happened. I wasn’t allowed to ask questions about the war. He didn’t get mad, but I think he just didn’t want to relive the things that happened there. He’d rather ignore it all. He worked in finance, was on the board of a few companies. I know he provided advice for some friends, but that was more of something on the side.”

  Charles looked up from the floor, but didn’t look at either one of us. “Bobby, that’s what we called him then, was a rock. We saw some real hellacious stuff happen to guys in our platoon. It never fazed him. The VC set traps all over the jungle. We lost so many men. Hidden pits with metal spikes. You’d fall into one of those pits, and the spikes would pierce through your legs, your tummy, your head. Horrible deaths. Scary as hell to see. Those screams… Bobby would try to save them, even though it was obvious they were dead. You knew that could have been you. Booby traps hit from below, above, the sides… One second, you’re creeping through the jungle, the next, your squad mate right next to you is dead with a bamboo spear through his neck. The safest thing was to keep moving, look for traps, hope to God you wouldn’t trigger any, hope to God no one else did. That’s why he didn’t talk about it.

  “We’d try to get him to join us when we got together. He never did. He helped with financial planning, even gave some of the guys money when they were down and out. But he didn’t want anything to do with the war. We talked on the phone some, but I hadn’t even seen him in years, though we live in the same town.”

  More silence.

  Tyler was still content with the heifer leg.

  Charles said to me, “You’re not drinking the coffee.”

  I was still trying to figure him out. Tyler wasn’t concerned with Charles. I imagine the bone helped. So I figured he was probably all right. Either way, I didn’t want to offend him. “I’m sorry, sir, it’s not because I think you drugged it, it’s because I hate coffee.”

  “Well why didn’t you say so? What do you like?”

  “Do you have Coke?”

  “I have Coke and DP. But I ain’t got none of that prissy diet stuff. You don’t drink prissy diet do you?”

  “No, sir. Coke would be great, thank you.”

  Jenny drank prissy diet stuff, but either she wasn’t man enough (symbolically speaking) to admit it, or didn’t care what Charles thought of her supposed weakness as compared to diet drinks.

  Charles returned with a cold bottled Coke and a glass of ice.

  I’m sure the level of caffeine in my Coke wasn’t as much as the brain cell agitating amount in Jenny’s coffee, but it did feel like more of the fogginess melted away.

  Charles said, “I suggest you look at the data that is so important that two of my platoon buddies were killed.”

  Oh yeah, data. Important data. Questions answered. Plans devised. Worlds saved. I definitely needed more caffeine. “That is a good idea, sir.” I drained the Coke. “May I have another bottle?” Wait, did he say two buddies?

  Charles sneer-smiled and got up. To Jenny, “Would you like anything else, ma’am?”

  It was weird hearing him call Jenny ‘ma’am.’ I looked at her every time he did to make sure she wasn’t suddenly 80.

  Jenny said, “The coffee is warm, thank you.”

  Charles looked at me. I shrugged.

  Charles said, “I’ll make some breakfast while you check out that data.” He walked to the kitchen. “If you need the bathroom, it’s the first door to your left down the hallway. Don’t go beyond that.”

  Yikes. Bladder to brain communication was one of the last subnets of my internal network to get powered on after the makes-me-sleepy hot coca. Charles just flipped the switch with the mentioning of bathroom.

  I looked at Jenny to defer. She seemed content.

  Thank you. My bladder had reached a critical state, and I did not want to perform a disaster recovery. I scampered for the bathroom.

  Much to my relief, disaster averted. I returned to find Tyler in the kitchen, trying to look inconspicuous, peering around a trashcan so as to not be noticed.

  Sausage sizzled. The aroma quite pleasing. Charles was also cooking eggs and pancakes.

  Tyler licked his lips. Sausage! I love sausage! I’ll get your slippers for a week if you get me some sausage!

  “I don’t wear slippers.”

  Charles turned to look at me. “Huh? Is that some sort of crack about my cooking?”

  I’ve got to remember to stop talking to Tyler in front of people.

  Tyler said, You’re in trouble, in almost a singsong voice. Then, Hey, can I have your sausage?

  After nearly talking aloud to Tyler again, I said to Charles, “No, I’m sorry, sir. I’m sure your cooking is wonderful. I was just thinking out loud about slippers.” Awkward.

  He made some indecipherable facial expression and returned to cooking.

  I returned to the living room. Jenny was gone, presumably averting her own crisis involving a bladder. The shields were still down over the windows. But for the first time since entering Charles’s house, I took in the surroundings.

  I half expected to see wood paneling on all of the walls, dark colors, very masculine and very bachelor. Though, come to think of it, I didn’t know if Charles was married or had a family. In fact, I didn’t even know if there were other people in the house. I needed to work on my Spidey senses.

  But instead, the walls were white and all of the colors were bright. The couch and the chairs Jenny and I slept in were green leather. The coffee table and end tables were tan. A similar color scheme carried throughout the room, highlighted with bright blue pillows and accent pieces. A large, colorful picture of a sunrise hung over the fireplace in a gold frame.

  I retrieved my backpack off the couch, pulled out my laptop and sat on one of the chairs by the fireplace. There was another backpack next to Jenny’s chair, similar to the one on the floor by me. I wondered what was in them, but tabled the thought for now so I could check out the data.

  I powered on the laptop and looked up to see Charles walk in from the kitchen. Jenny returned from the bathroom just then as well.

  Charles said, “Breakfast will be ready in a couple of minutes. If you’re wondrin’ what’s in them backpacks, clothes, food, and a few personal items, like toothpaste and a toothbrush, for each of you. I figured you’ll need them.”

  Jenny looked at me, then Charles and said, “Why?”

  Charles sighed and sat down on the couch. His bulk sunk deep. “You can’t stay here. Eventually, those that killed Bobby and Nick will find you here. Tracked from your car, because of my connection, logic, somethin’.”

  Aha! “You knew Nick Broxton too?”

  Charles nodded. “Same squad
.” He slapped his knees and stood. “Let’s eat.”

  Same squad? Was someone picking off members of that specific unit? I suddenly felt vulnerable in Charles’s house, despite the Fort Knox fortifications.

  I locked the laptop, then Jenny and I followed Charles into the kitchen, which was warm because of the cooking. An abundance of white pine cabinets covered the walls. The counter was green granite with copper flakes that reflected the light. The kitchen was spotless, except only those things needed for the morning meal.

  Tyler sat obediently on a small rectangular rug. Charles tossed a sausage patty at his feet. Tyler’s head tracked the flight of the patty until it landed. Then he just sat there, didn’t even look at it.

  I got the feeling this wasn’t the first such exchange between Charles and Tyler. I raised my eyebrows, impressed. Tyler didn’t project anything to me, but I could imagine he was thinking wait for it, wait for it…

  Then Charles said, “Release!”

  Tyler attacked. Sausagesausagesausage! In less time it took for him to project his love for sausage to me, it was gone. He immediately moved back to the rug and sat obediently, head pointed straight ahead, eyes glancing between Charles and the sausage, but head still. His eyes shot to me and then locked back on the imaginary target straight ahead. Charles gives me sausage. You don’t give me sausage.

  “I—” I stopped myself this time from answering Tyler directly, instead saying, “If Tyler was even half this good the rest of the time, I’d get him some sausage.

  He chuffed.

  Charles said, “He seems like a good dog. Reminds me of one I had a long, long time ago. Similar type, Golden Retriever instead of black. Good huntin’ dog. Loved that dog.”

  Charles flipped another sausage patty to Tyler.

  Tyler waited patiently.

  “Release!

  Tyler chomped. He said, Charles likes me better than you. He’s giving me sausage. You don’t have any.

  “That—” Ugh!

  Charles and Jenny looked at me.

  Tyler grinned.

  I said, sheepishly, “That dog sure loves sausage.”

  Charles said, “Came back from the war, and he was gone. My parents were watchin’ him. There wasn’t anyone else. My dad said he ran away. He hated animals. No more needs to be said.” He clapped his hands once. “Well, enough of that. Si’down and eat!”

  There wasn’t anything fancy about the breakfast table, but the food seemed fit for a king. And I just remembered I was famished! Pancakes, eggs, sausage, gravy, biscuits, hash browns, orange slices, bananas… My turn to chomp. There was even a bottle of Coke set out for me. And Heinz ketchup. The man was simply brilliant.

  Jenny said between mouthfuls, “This is awesome.” Mouthful. “I’m so hungry.” Mouthful. “You’re a good cook.” Mouthful. “Are you married?”

  So Jenny had been wondering too. That was a sly way to pose the question. Good job. Upon arriving, we’d been segregated to a small portion of what had to be a big house. She and I had not had a chance to talk since, when… since getting out of the car.

  “Nope, never married. Just retired from truck driving. Lonely business, that. No time for a wife or family.” He looked at Jenny. “What’s your age limit for a husband?” He sneer-smiled.

  Jenny smiled uneasily.

  “I’m just playing, ma’am. And in case y’all’re wondrin’, there ain’t nobody else here but us three. And the dog.”

  I still didn’t get how he did that.

  I got seconds on everything, then said, “Why do you have metal shields over the windows and the back door? You have them over all the windows and doors in the house?”

  Charles nodded. “Every one. Zombies.”

  “Zombies?”

  “Zombies.”

  “Zombies.” I looked at Jenny and repeated with a slight shrug, “Zombies.”

  “That’s what the secret entrances are for. Among other things. Now I’m not one of them crazy zombie apocalypse doomsayers, but the way I figure it, God’s gonna punish us, kinda like them Bible cities Sodom and Gomorra. Except He’ll turn miscreants into zombies.”

  “Zombies.”

  He nodded. “Zombies. And if the Lord Almighty don’t, then that’s fine. The protection’s also good against peddlers. They’re bad in these parts.”

  I laughed, thankful to have an outlet.

  Jenny smiled, still a little uneasily.

  Charles said, “Nah, I’m just joshin’ ya, son. It’s just something fun to me. A hobby. Bob mentioned it one time, said he made tunnels and such, spy games, I thought it’d be fun.”

  “No zombies?”

  “No zombies.”

  Somehow, now I was a little disappointed.

  Tyler said, I knew that.”

  I gave him a whatever look.

  Between the three of us, and continued assistance from Tyler, we cleaned our plates, the serving dishes, bowls, pretty much everything.

  Charles said, “Getting onto something serious, once you figure out what’s in that data, y’all need to leave. The bad guys will be back. You can’t hide out here forever. The way y’all eat, I’ll go bankrupt in a month.”

  I smiled.

  He said, “I’m going to drop y’all off somewhere, thus the backpacks.”

  Jenny said, “What? We can’t camp out in this weather. We’ll freeze!”

  “Don’t worry, y’all’ll be safe.”

  I had visions of bad guys with German accents using us for target practice as we ran through the woods. For some reason, the food didn’t taste as good as it did a minute ago.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I unlocked my laptop and fished in my backpack for the flash drive with the data from Mr. Broxton’s computer, hoping in my excessive carelessness over the last day plus that I hadn’t lost it. Finding a friend dead, watching another person die, running from killers, shot at, running over killers, car chase, drugged… all of this stuff was best experienced in movies, not real life.

  I’m just an IT dude with a bad tan.

  Which, I’ve never really understood that expression. How can you have a bad tan? You either have a tan, or you don’t. There are degrees of darkness for a tan, but they all imply the existence of a tan.

  Focus. I popped in the flash drive while listening to the clatter of dishes in the kitchen as Charles and Jenny cleaned. I’m sure Tyler was a willing participant as much as possible.

  I tried to open the parent folder containing the data from the hidden directory on Mr. Broxton’s computer, but much to my surprise—and dismay—it was encrypted.

  PGP encryption, which is typically used for encrypting data exchanged between two or more entities, or data communications such as email messages. This posed a big problem, because the encryption key is randomly generated by the sender’s encryption software. A private key is created, and then a public key is created and stored on an online PGP server. That public key is sent to the intended recipient. The recipient then uses his/her private key to decrypt the data or message, allowing access to the content. The algorithms involved in the encryption could take years to crack.

  I didn’t have years. I also didn’t have the key.

  Remembering I had set up the second NIC on Mr. Broxton’s computer so it could be accessed later, I was thrilled that I planned ahead for once. I love being proactive. Hate being reactive. Much of life is reactive, though.

  I powered the mobile broadband card installed on my laptop. This allowed me to connect to the Internet from anywhere, as long as there was cell coverage, without having to be dependent on another source of connectivity, such as DSL, cable, satellite, etc.

  I launched Remote Desktop on my computer, created a VPN tunnel to the router I set up on Mr. Broxton’s network, and keyed in the static IP address I set up for that second NIC, praying that the bad guys didn’t take the computer.

  They didn’t! I was in!

  I opened the PGP encryption app on his computer and got the info Mr. Broxton use
d to set up the private and public keys and sent it to myself. I could finally take a look at the data in the hidden directory.

  I was surprised that Mr. Broxton not only hid the data, but encrypted it as well. He was much more computer savvy than I thought. Which then made me wonder why he needed my assistance…

  Speaking of why, why would the killers leave his computer there? They knew the possibility of whatever critical data for their cause existed, or they wouldn’t have been demanding such data from Mr. Meredith.

  It didn’t make sense…

  Crap!

  I yelled, “We need to go! Now!”

  I quickly backed out of Mr. Broxton’s computer and network and shut down the broadband card, then powered off the laptop. Unlike a cellphone with GPS, the location of the laptop could not be traced while powered off.

  That’s the good news.

  The bad news is I fell right into their trap.

  I’m an idiot.

  Being proactive is stupid.

  Jenny said, “What’s wrong?”

  I postponed answering so I could concentrate on gathering my stuff. “Charles, wherever you were going to take us, now is the time. We’re going to have company soon!” I began to think I’d never see the data in the files.

  Jenny got the message and grabbed her purse and the backpack provided by Charles. “Ellie, what’s going on?”

  “I’ll explain in the car.”

  She frowned at me. It was a beautiful frown. I hoped nothing ever happened to that frown, save that it turn into a smile.

  “Tyler! Come on, boy. Where’s Charles?” I increased volume, “Charles?”

  Jenny said, “He ran down the hallway when you said we’re going to have company.”

  “Now is not the time for a potty break.”

  Charles appeared at the end of the hall and motioned for us to follow him, saying, “The garage is over here. Let’s go!”

  I thought that was a weird location for the garage, which wasn’t by the kitchen.

  As we hurried toward the garage, we passed another kitchen.

  What? I stopped abruptly, causing Jenny to run into me.