by Gary Hoover
Jeff looked at her. His father had always been sociable and enjoyed being with other people. It didn’t sound right that he would have been a loner. Maybe I’m just fooling myself into believing it’s him. Some things fit, some don’t.
Jeff had made his way to the far side of the lab and found a small, comfortable-looking bedroom.
He looked for anything that might give him a clue, but there were no photographs or anything else personal.
Jeff opened a drawer on a nightstand and found some pens and notebooks. He flipped through the notebooks anxiously.
Blank.
He pulled open the next drawer and his heart leapt.
Chapter 62:
Jeff’s hands trembled slightly as he opened the old, cracked wallet. It seemed very fragile and on the verge of falling apart.
There was about $50 worth of various bills which were badly faded. Mixed in with the bills there was a scrap of paper with three numbers: 33 – 12 – 15.
Jeff put the scrap back and carefully opened the photo section. There had been a snap closure, but that was broken, so the flap opened easily. The top photo was badly faded and the plastic sleeve had lost much of its transparency, but Jeff still immediately recognized the photo. It was a studio shot of his mother. Jeff had seen a larger framed version of the same photo many times. It was back in Princeton on his father’s dresser.
The next photo was of Jeff, taken three or four years earlier, then one of his grandparents.
Jeff wiped away a tear and then looked toward the door where the others clustered – curious, but giving Jeff some space. Jeff unzipped a pouch on his belt and dropped the wallet into it.
He stood and looked around the room for any other interesting items. The space was mostly bare and there didn’t seem much other than the bed and nightstand. Jeff found a closet with some clothes and flipped through them. None of them were recognizable – they were more like the clothes Artimus, Dave, and Jeff himself now wore than the clothes his father had worn at home.
Jeff exited the room and headed back toward the lab area. The others backed up to let him through without saying a word.
Jeff found another room that seemed to be a study. There was a desk, chair, bookshelf and what looked like a roughly constructed piano. Baldwin joined Jeff as he entered the study, but the others continued to hold back. Jeff ran his fingers over the keyboard, listened to the tones and noticed the curious look on Baldwin’s face. Has he never seen a piano? Jeff wondered but didn’t actually ask.
He looked through some of the books: A Man Forgotten, King Falousian, People of the Rivers Edge...
“Have you ever heard of these?” Jeff asked Baldwin.
Baldwin took a few steps forward and leaned in to read the titles. “Sure. These are classics.”
Jeff ran his hand along the row of books. He had a feeling there was something in the room he needed to find. He went to the desk and pulled open a drawer.
Empty.
He pulled open the next and found a stack of notebooks. He flipped through them but, like the ones in the bedroom, they were all blank.
Why does he have so many blank notebooks?
Jeff checked the last drawer and found some books. He closed that drawer and looked around. There wasn’t much else. He drummed the desk a few times then leaned back in the chair. He closed his eyes and tried to see if anything would come to him.
What am I missing?
He took another look around the room. The bookshelf was full, and it seemed a likely spot to keep something that might be useful.
He stood and went to take another look. None of the titles were familiar, but they all seemed like typical books – nothing special.
He pulled a few out and flipped through to see if there were any notes.
Nothing.
When he pulled out a particularly thick one he noticed something.
Wait a minute...
He reached back and dropped the book on the desk then pulled out another one that had been next to it.
Yes!
He pulled several more out and quickly dropped them on the desk.
Baldwin leaned in to see what had Jeff so excited.
“There’s a safe back there!” Jeff said anxiously.
Baldwin nodded.
Jeff had cleared the area so that the door to the safe was uncovered.
“And... I have no idea what to do now,” Jeff said with a nervous laugh. He turned to the group gathered in the doorway. “I don’t suppose anyone here is skilled at opening safes.”
They looked back at him with blank expressions.
Once again, Jeff was stumped. He stared at the safe as if it might pop open if he looked at it hard enough.
After a few tense, quiet moments he turned and went back to the desk. He pulled out the chair and plopped down. He alternated between staring at the desk and the safe, but none of that got him any closer to opening it.
Wait a minute...
Jeff jumped back up and headed to the safe. Baldwin watched with anticipation as Jeff pulled the wallet out of his belt.
He opened it carefully, trying not to damage the cracked leather and pulled out the scrap.
33 – 12 – 15
Jeff began spinning the dial: 33... 12... 15.
He pulled the handle, but it stayed firmly locked. He tried again with the same result.
I guess I shouldn’t have expected it to be that easy.
Jeff started running different numbers through his mind.
My birthday?
Mom’s birthday?
He tried as many combinations of those numbers as he could think of but to no avail. After about five minutes, he gave up on that strategy and pressed his ear against the lock as he spun the dial.
What do tumblers falling even sound like anyhow?
After a few more minutes of fumbling, he exhaled and stepped back. He ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know... ”
He went back to the desk and began going through drawers again.
This is stupid.
Jeff slammed a drawer in frustration and then looked sheepishly at the others who had been watching him silently the whole time.
Jeff tried to think like his father. When he had found his father’s keys, he realized that his father had intentionally mislabeled them to throw off anyone who might find them and try to use them.
That’s it!
Jeff jumped up and went back to the safe. He pulled the wallet out of his belt and found the scrap of paper, but this time, he reversed the order: 15... 12... 33.
And...
It opened!
Jeff found stacks and stacks of notebooks, but unlike the others, the ones in the safe were filled with detailed notes.
Chapter 63:
Artimus checked his gun-belt and then took a quick look at the smaller weapon he had hidden in his jacket. He tried to stay calm as he waited for the elevator doors to open.
When they did, he stepped out of the elevator and into the security holding area that seemed to be getting more and more complex each day.
Is all this for me and ‘my kind’? He found himself wondering as he stepped toward the counter and unstrapped his gun-belt.
“Do I really look like I’d shoot someone?” he asked with a forced smile as he unbuckled his belt and handed it to the stern-looking woman behind the counter. He could feel the adrenaline surging, and he tried to prevent it showing through shaking hands or any other telltale signs.
She looked at him over her glasses, but her expression never changed.
He turned toward the next station and tried to move naturally, but his limbs felt awkward. He tried to make them swing freely but found the harder he tried, the more difficult it was. He glanced down, very briefly, toward the small lump in his jacket, and then he quickly looked up at the security officer who was gesturing for him to step forward. Blackbuck had assured Artimus that the gun wouldn’t register on the type of detectors Duanan was using, but Artimus wasn’t sure if Blac
kbuck even knew what detectors they had.
He paused in front of the scanner and tried to look calm. He willed his leg to move forward and then walked through as smoothly as he could manage.
He cringed as the buzzer sounded.
“Do you have anything in your pockets?” the guard asked with an eye-roll.
This could be where it ends for me, Artimus thought as his mind raced to consider options. He had been running on emotion and hadn’t really thought things through. Blackbuck’s assurances regarding the gun had led him to believe he would at least make it past the scanner.
Can I just turn around now? Maybe pretend I thought of something else I had to do? Will I ever get this close again? Should I pretend to be insulted that anybody would suspect me? I should be THE one they do suspect, but I doubt anyone really suspects I could possibly do what I intend to do. . .
“Do you have a communicator or anything in your jacket?” the guard asked with weary indifference.
Yes!
Artimus hadn’t thought to pull out his communicator, and he quickly and excitedly fished in his pocket to remove it to hand it to the guard.
The guard looked at him with an expression of annoyed condescension as he took the communicator and gestured for Artimus to pass through again. Artimus exhaled and stepped through again.
No buzzer.
Artimus realized, as he took his communicator back and smiled awkwardly at the guard, that his relief was limited. It would almost have been more of a relief to have been wrestled to the ground and taken into custody right then and there rather than going on to the next stage.
The whole area was swarming with security personnel, and Artimus tried to walk as calmly as possible through the gauntlet of humorless faces. He approached the reception desk and forced a smile.
“Artimus Winfred is here to see you, Governor,” the receptionist said into the intercom.
Artimus stepped toward the door. Two large guards flanked the door and the three of them stood staring at one another for several moments. A green light illuminated, and one guard reached for the door and pulled it open. Duanan was seated behind his desk.
He wasn’t wearing his typical smile.
Artimus had come to believe that Duanan’s smile was less and less genuine, but even a fake one gave him a certain sense of comfort. The lack of that smile just put him more on edge.
The two guards entered with Artimus and took up positions on either side of him. Roho was already in the office, and she stood to one side of Duanan’s desk.
Artimus eyed the guards uncomfortably. He opened his mouth to request they be dismissed but Duanan spoke before he was able.
“I think they’ll stay,” he said matter-of-factly. “I suppose you want to talk about Codi.”
That took Artimus by surprise, but rather than speaking, he waited for Duanan to continue.
“I’m not sure how much you know, but yes, we’ve been together for quite some time.”
Artimus’ heart and mind were racing. Codi and Duanan? Feelings of doubt, anger, pain and confusion all flooded through him.
“We have a child. I’ll bet you didn’t know that. That’s why Codi took that time off a few years ago.” Duanan smiled an odd, uncomfortable smile that made the hairs on the back of Artimus’ neck stand up.
“You always thought you could have whatever you wanted,” Duanan continued, “but you couldn’t have her, could you?” He leered at Artimus for a few moments and then looked down and fiddled with some objects on his desk. “Codi told me about the locket, and I’m taking full advantage of that information. Things are going to change around here. You’re not going to be able to stand in my way… and take what is rightfully mine anymore.”
Artimus felt on the verge of passing out, but he also felt energized as if he no longer had any barriers to doing what he needed to do.
“You were always so perfect. You always had everything,” Duanan said. “But now… NOW! I finally have everything you had. I have everything.”
Artimus reached in his jacket, pulled out the small gun, and there was a blinding flash.
Chapter 64:
Jeff stepped over a log and looked at the cloth sack filled with notebooks. He realized he was gripping it too tightly and made a conscious effort to relax his grip. He soon felt his grip tightening again.
His mind rewound through the recent events. He was so excited that he now seemed closer than ever to possibly finding his father that he wasn’t paying much attention to where he was going and realized he was falling behind the others. He concentrated on picking up his pace.
These notebooks are the key. I can feel it!
Jeff allowed himself a brief grin. He had experienced very few optimistic moments over the past year, and he was enjoying the feeling. He loosened his grip again and again noticed he was falling back. The others were nearly out of sight.
What’s that?
He had the feeling that someone or something was watching them as he had before they went in the cave. This time, he was positive. He drew his gun and opened his mouth to warn the others, but before any words came out, everything went dark.
Within what felt like moments, Jeff regained consciousness in some sort of vehicle. He was sitting in a chair with his arms and legs bound.
The notebooks!
Jeff looked around anxiously, but then saw the cloth sack by his feet. A young man sat across from him. Jeff’s gun and baseball bat were on a chair next to the man.
“I know you,” the man said, shaking his finger at Jeff with an eerie grin. “I wasn’t sure, but now that I see you in person, I know that we’ve met.”
The man was familiar to Jeff too; very familiar. He was thin, tall and dressed in black that matched his dark eyes, complexion and hair. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, and his eyes had a very strange character – they had a dark edge that contrasted with an air of playfulness. It was as if they were saying, ‘Sure I could kill you... but only if I think it would be fun.’
Jeff tried to think of how he knew him.
“Do you know where we met?” the man asked.
Jeff shook his head slowly. The man had a strange manner of speaking. He accented odd syllables and the pacing of his delivery was unusual. It seemed he might be crazy or on drugs – or maybe both.
“I do. I know where we met.” He continued shaking his finger and grinning. He sounded almost childish and playfully mischievous. “Ooooh, this could be fun.” He sat back in his chair and seemed to be thinking for several moments.
“I was sent here to capture or–” He made a violent twisting motion with his hands, accompanied by a harsh vocalization; then his mouth twisted into an odd, smirking smile. He nodded his head rhythmically for several seconds. “But I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to do that because I remember where we met even if you don’t. Though, technically I guess I’ve already captured you, but I don’t think I’m going to turn you over.”
The dream!
Jeff realized this was the man he had seen in his dreams; the man who killed Artimus’ wife.
His stomach did a barrel-roll.
He had been mostly puzzled and confused up until that point, but the seriousness of the situation became clear with that realization.
“I think I’m going to take your restraints off,” the man said as he rose from his seat. “You’re not going to try anything are you? Because I would. If I were you, I’d punch my captor in the face and do anything I could to get out of here. Who knows how crazy this guy is?” He grinned exaggeratedly.
He stood up and approached Jeff, but paused and looked directly at him. “But you’re not like that, are you? You’re not violent. That’s what I like about you. You’re... nice. Sort of flowery... and... nice.”
Jeff glanced quickly at his bat and gun.
The man saw his eyes and looked over his shoulder at the weapons. “Yeah, but you’ll at least think about it, won’t you?” He smiled and shook his finger. “But you won’t do it.
That’s what makes you different.”
He unfastened the straps around Jeff’s ankles and then started working on his wrists. “See, this is your perfect opportunity,” he said without taking his eyes off the straps as he worked them loose. “You’re nearly free, but my hands are occupied.”
Does he want me to do something? It’s almost like he’s playing a game and daring me to do something...
The man backed away and put a hand behind him to find his chair again. “See, now we’re just friends... talking.”
Jeff was completely perplexed. The two of them sat for several moments looking at one another, and Jeff had no idea what to do. He felt – despite how odd his captor seemed – he had strange sense of… honor?
“You killed Nafeesa Winfred, didn’t you?” Jeff asked.
The man seemed to think for a few moments then slowly nodded. “Yes... yes I did. How did you know that?”
“I have my ways.”
The man laughed and wagged his finger at Jeff. “I like you. I really like you. There’s something special about you. So now I know something about you... and you don’t know how I know it. And you know something about me... and I don’t know how you know it. This could be fun.”
“You know me because people think I’m The Raja,” Jeff said.
The man nodded. “True, true, but that’s not all of it. We actually did meet. Do you remember that?”
Jeff was almost certain he would have remembered meeting someone who had such a strong and unique personality.
The man twisted in his chair so that his back was toward Jeff. He put his arms behind his back at waist level and clutched them. He seemed to be trying to give Jeff a clue.
Handcuffs?
Jail!
“Now I remember. We were both getting processed into the prison at the same time… John,” Jeff said with some satisfaction.
The man nodded. “You helped me untwist my shackles. I may be a murdering thug, but I don’t forget a favor.”
“Who hired you?” Jeff asked.
John shook his head. “Don’t push it. I may be a hired goon, but I don’t talk. You’ll have to figure that one out for yourself.”
