Franklin smelled pancakes.
He set Harry’s old soup box heavily on the breakfast table. He felt like throwing the whole mess in the trash. “How could my sister,” he mumbled, “a banker with a high-paying job, have spent every cent she had?”
“What’s that, boy?” Del set a massive plate piled high with blueberry flapjacks in front of him. “Your sister wasn’t broke!”
He’d forgotten how sharp her ears were.
Franklin nodded up at her from the table. “I can’t understand it.” He spread some butter, scooped some blueberry jam onto his flapjacks.
“Speak up,” Del said. She stepped over to the counter and set Melissa in an old wooden cradle piled with fluffy goose-feather comforter. At the kitchen sink, she began peeling a bowl of apples.
“I think maybe Cynthia and Steve spent all their money on a house.”
“Talk sense, boy,” Del said. “What house? She’d have told me.”
“From her records it sure looks that way. Something weird with the accounts though. There’s somebody she mentioned here named Aramath.” Franklin fished through the papers in the cardboard box. “Cynthia was trying to call him.”
Del walked over and took a look at the note on page two:
“516?” she said. “That’s Long Island, isn’t it? So call him! Follow the money!” a hard edge to her voice. “Down the mines, that’s what Hurricane said. Always follow the money. Maybe this Aramath’ll know something.”
Franklin put down his fork, brought Cyn’s pages to the wall phone. Dialed the number.
There was a click. It just hung there. No busy signal. No recording. The line was dead. Probably like all the connections to Long Island.
Dead as the city of New York.
Del’s Uncomfortable Breakfast
Del slid a plate of flapjacks in front of Everon.
“I’ve been looking through Cyn’s old bank accounts,” Franklin said. “Do you know if GC and SI are symbols on some stock exchange?”
“Doesn’t sound familiar, Bro,” Everon answered, folding a flight chart into a thin red bag — alongside a revolver Franklin had never seen before. Everon slid a blueberry-slathered bite into his own mouth but his eyes swung to Del as he slid his chair around for a look.
Franklin studied his brother’s face. He’s avoiding something. He looks like a trapped animal. He still hasn’t told her he’s going back!
Franklin turned to Del. Hunched over the sink. Head pulled in.
She already knows!
A battle was coming.
“Robert Aramath?” Everon said. “Isn’t he the New York Fed's CEO? That’s the bank Cyn worked for.”
Everon thought for a second. A look of sadness grew on his face. “When Cyn rode out to Kennedy Airport with me, she said there was some report she had to talk with you about. Something at the bank. I was so excited, telling her about the new jet, I didn’t really listen much — I wonder if this —”
Everon leaned back. “Steve, Melissa, if only I could have just brought them all back here —” He suddenly leaned over to Franklin. Sniffed. “Do I smell —” he asked softly — “tequila? A minister? Drinking?”
“Just a toast with Mano and Jack,” Franklin answered. “To Cynthia.” He frowned, running a vertical crease down the middle of his sister’s papers, slid them inside his jacket. Tequila. Cyn’s papers. Anything to avoid having it out with Del. Is he hoping I’ll do it?
Everon took another bite, “Mmmm,” eyes darting to Del across the kitchen.
Or just hoping to put it off until the last minute?
Harry let out a sudden wail that ended in a repeating bark, like a small dog would make. The doorbell rang. Everon’s cellphone went off. The rasp of tires on pavement came from the front drive.
Del looked at Everon.
“I’m expecting some of the crew,” Everon smiled faintly.
Overhead a whirling sound filled the air and roared across the ceiling. Someone knocked on the back door.
“You’re going back there!” she shouted harshly.
Everon stared at her. The beat overhead increased until out the back kitchen window, a helicopter set down deftly on a square concrete pad not far from where the jet sat on the runway.
She stared grimly back at him, eyes tight with determination.
“I don’t want you to go!”
A Lack Of Argument
“For what damn thing are you willing to risk your life again, boy?”
“The grid —”
“Fixing the power grid is a waste of your time,” Franklin muttered. “It’s not —”
“See!” Del said. “Your brother agrees with me! And what about your niece?”
“Franklin and I talked about —”
She spun to glare at Franklin, a frightened look in her eyes. “You’re going too?”
“Erie’s pretty far west, Gran.” She’s scared to death, either of us being so close to the East Coast again.
“Isn’t it just as likely Nevada could be a target?” Everon asked.
“No it isn’t. All this crap’s happening on the East Coast. And you, boy!” she pointed at Franklin. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”
A series of tones continued to float through the kitchen.
“Things are desperate back there,” Everon answered her. “I’ve got to see what I can do.” He was snuffling down last forkfuls of syrup-smothered blueberry hotcakes. His phone chimed again. “Cell tower must be up!” Everon mumbled.
“It’s too dangerous!” Del tried as Everon reached into his flight bag. “Where there’s two bombs —”
“Hello? . . . Hunt!” Everon answered the phone with relief. He glanced at the phone’s display. “This isn’t your usual number.”
Franklin pictured Hunt Williams, the salt-and-pepper-haired executive in round, rimless glasses. Owner of a Pennsylvania power company Everon had met with, just minutes before they left Teterboro Airport in New Jersey.
“ . . . Yeah, uh, your plane’s okay . . . you too? . . . I know, it was terrible . . .”
As Everon spoke into the phone his blond hair tossed, green eyes darted in quick movements. Mostly at Del. Franklin guessed his brother wasn’t about to get into it with Hunt over the phone, how near death they’d come on the plane ride west. Not while Del was listening. It sounded like Hunt had experienced something similar — leaving Teterboro Airport probably just two aircraft behind them.
“ . . . Down in Virginia? EMP went that far? Electronic damage must be all down the Mid-Atlantic . . .
“ . . . Yeah, well, we’re loading now,” Everon said.
Everon counted down a list he held in his hand.
“ . . . Uh, we should have eleven — twelve, including myself —
“ . . . I know it’s not but my brother makes thirteen. That’ll be a full load in the jet with the equipment we’re bringing. I’m having a couple more guys drive out in our 18-wheeler . . . A bunch of solar panels, two of our electric pickup trucks, some other gear —
“ . . . Okay. After I drop Franklin off in Ohio, where shall I put down?
“ . . . Okay, Trenton International. Six hours . . . Hunt, we are leaving soon. We’re getting packed and organized as fast as we can. Anything special you need?”
Keeping a wary eye on Del, Everon nodded at the phone, “ . . . Well, there’s a local computer store in Pahrump. I’ll see what we can find. It’ll have to be fast if we’re going to get out of here. Hold on a second.”
Everon pulled the phone an inch off his ear and hurried to the back door. Yelled, “Scrounge!” then muttered, “How the hell am I going to make payroll?” one ear to the phone.
He pulled the phone back to his mouth. “Look Hunt, how are you planning to pay us? My company bank accounts are inaccessible. We bank in Nevada and it looks like it’s going to be at least a week. If your bank is anywhere near the East Coast, I imagine you’re gonna be even longer.”
Everon’s head began to
shake back and forth. “Wait? How long? . . . I’m not really comfortable with that, and a lot of my people can’t afford to wait that long even if they were willing. I’ll tell you what, Hunt. I’ll take your old Learjet on account. Against four weeks work for my whole team . . . Yeah, I know it’s expensive, but it’s not outrageous, considering . . . Okay, then, it’s a deal.
“ . . . Emergency generators? Yeah, well without them, coming out there is pointless.” Everon grabbed an old envelope of Del’s off the counter, made a note. “ . . . None of the oil companies allowed to bring fuel onshore?”
The sound of big wheels and a heavy diesel engine grew and then diminished outside.
“ . . . Our truck’s leaving now.”
Del watched Everon until finally she let out a long huff, a breathier version of a sound Harry might have made. Then, with Melissa in one arm, she walked away, disappearing into the back of the house.
Franklin watched his brother. Deep crease in his forehead, Everon pulled the phone from his mouth, whispered, “She isn’t even going to say goodbye?”
Franklin shook his head. He’s feeling hurt. After all these years, he still doesn’t understand her.
“ . . . I know gas stations can’t pump without power, Hunt . . . We can only spare one portable generator, but we’re bringing lots of solar film —” Slightly hunched, feet apart, Everon stood watching the hallway back into the house.
“ . . . Water plants in Elizabethtown and Trenton already down — yeah, no bathrooms, no kitchens . . .”
Franklin looked down the hall and to Everon’s dismay, smiled.
Everon has it wrong!
Decisions
One of Everon’s taller guys, rail thin with dark curly hair and black plastic glasses, Franklin knew as Scrounge, ran into the house breathing hard.
“ . . . Hold on, Hunt,” Everon said.
“Food’s loading now,” Scrounge told Everon. “Everything else is in.”
“Good. Look . . .” Everon quickly outlined Hunt’s damaged systems, eyes checking the back hall again as he told Scrounge about the computer gear they needed.
Del returned with Melissa. She held out two banded stacks of hundred dollar bills. “Twenty thousand.” Everon’s mouth dropped open. “Well, don’t just stand there, boy. Take it!”
He pulled Del into a hug. “Thanks, Grandma. I’ll see you get it back.”
“When you can. Rather get you back sooner ’n the money.”
Everon noticed Franklin smiling and turned on him. “You knew, Bro?”
Franklin shrugged.
Everon handed the cash to Scrounge, saying, “Take Nick and Lama with you.”
As Scrounge ran out the back door, Everon pulled the phone back to his mouth, took a deep breath. “Anything else, Hunt? . . . Anders? Why?”
Anders! Franklin recalled. That military general after us at Teterboro?
“ . . . Arrest me? No military clearance? Shit!”
If General Anders is looking for Everon, the fault’s mine! Franklin thought. For snooping around, scraping that sample of radioactive dirt off one of the military helicopters!
“ . . . I hope you can handle that before we get there, Hunt,” Everon was saying. “It’s not going to do us much good if I’m in a military jail somewhere.
“ . . . Yeah, I’ve got it, grocery stores, gas stations, mass starvation . . .”
Hunt’s pleading, Franklin thought. If he keeps it up he’s going to talk Everon out of going.
“ . . . Hunt, I get the picture. I think what you’re saying is, you need every man you can get as soon as possible. If you let me get off the phone, we’ll be on the plane headed east in half an hour.”
He disconnected.
“They paying well?” Del asked.
“Very,” Everon nodded. Looked to his younger brother. “Franklin has to get back there too, you know.”
“I know,” she grumbled, about ready to fire up again.
“Finish your breakfast and meet me out back,” Everon told Franklin, and ran through the kitchen door.
Melissa picked that moment to let out a sneeze followed by an odd gurgle. Del and Franklin peered closely at her. Melissa smiled back.
“I was going to have Doc Brownie take a look at her this afternoon,” Del said.
Franklin smiled.
“What is it, boy?”
“Everon and I talked about it,” he answered, his words dark and smooth. “We . . . think she should stay with you.”
His grandmother’s face changed. An odd combination, concern mixed with something like true joy, played around the old woman’s mouth and eyes.
“I don’t know . . .” she said gently. “An old goat like me with a young kid? If something should happen . . .”
But Del was a lot more enthused than she let on. Her tone was casual, yet she stood more erect. Her words hesitantly negative, her voice energetic.
“If something happened, you have your ranch hands,” Franklin said. “Jack and Mano — and Doc Brown are your backup.” He smiled at her. “Silly point anyway. There are a lot more years left in you than you’re willing to admit. Besides, Everon and I figure you did all right with us — and Cynthia.”
“And Cynthia.” Her voice was hollow.
She looked at Melissa. Smiled, letting a few age-worn teeth show. “I suppose you think I need something to do. You two probably know nothing about this sort of baby-raising thing anyway. Hmmm,” she tapped a finger on the granite countertop. “Well, that’s it then.” Del laid Melissa back in the old wooden cradle.
On its blond well-worn headboard Franklin noticed a crucifix carved atop a triangle that was about half as tall as the cross itself. He pulled a small gold cross on a chain from the neck of his shirt and compared the two. Cynthia had given him his when he graduated from seminary school — “But that’s from the family,” Franklin protested, “Dad gave it to you.” “I want you to have it,” Cyn insisted.
“Look at this,” he said now to Del, holding his gold cross up to the cradle’s headboard. “That same triangle underneath as the one on Alma’s gravestone.”
Del was quiet as she brought out a piece of trout and surprised Harry by sliding it through the spokes of the owl’s old wire cage. The bird neatly snatched it from her hand. “I know. Symbol’s been in the family a long, long time — I guess we know what he likes. Didn’t take to seeds much.”
Harry’s ears had long brown and black strands sticking up, almost like whiskers.
“He’s a handsome sort, isn’t he,” Del said. Harry’s speckled feathers jittered. “Looks a bit shivery, though.” In her voice Franklin heard something she wasn’t saying as he lifted the last delicious bite of jam-smothered hotcake.
“Why does he shake like that?” she asked.
Fork poised in front of his mouth, about to inhale the dripping slice of pancake, he got it. Melissa’s plenty. You can just take that bird with you. “I don’t know, Grandma. If you don’t mind, though, I think I’ll be taking Harry back with me.”
She squinted at him, knowing he’d got the message. “No, I don’t mind a bit.”
Last Minute
Del carried Melissa out the back hallway, still at her bottle, making hard, forceful sucks with an almost desperate energy.
“She seems to like milk,” Franklin said, carrying Harry’s cage, holding the back door for Del. “I didn’t know you kept any around. There’s none in the fridge. You don’t have any cows, Grandmother.”
“Goats. Got a pair of ’em last year. Good company and eat most anything. Remind me of myself.”
Franklin smiled. “Goat’s milk never agreed with me. I guess we’re all different.”
“Boys,” Del said sadly at the jet, “last time you left, there were three of you. I’m expecting the both of you back. And soon!”
“Yes, Grandmother.”
“Yes, Gran.”
Del hugged Franklin tightly to herself.
“Grandma,” he said puttin
g his arms around her, hugging her back. Surprisingly, Everon went to Melissa and stroked a hand around her chin, across her dark hair.
When Del released Franklin, Everon took his place. “See what you can do about putting a few things on the right track back there,” the old woman told him. “And then you come home safe, boy.”
“I won’t be long,” he answered, letting her go.
Things were moving fast — Hunt’s white leather seats had been covered with a canvas tarp, Right checking the last of their equipment and supplies as the crew loaded in. Everon and Nan, Everon’s helicopter pilot, went down the jet’s checklist together.
“By the way. I got them both. That’s the turbine engineer there.” She pointed at a man with a tightly trimmed dark beard, mustache and glasses. His hair was wrapped Hindu style in a lavender head scarf.
“Aja?” Everon asked.
“They call him Turban.”
“I wonder why,” he laughed.
“The semi’s on its way east,” Right said. He handed Nan a clipboard, nodding toward the jet. “Suitcases, Scrounge’s emergency food are all in. Here are the weight figures.”
“How’s the balance?” Everon asked. Nan did the calculations on a hand tablet. He looked over her shoulder.
He nodded critically. “Within range. I don’t want to come even close to gross weight. We went through the worst air I’ve ever run into on the way out here. I think it might have been part of the shock wave from the second bomb.”
“How far away were you?”
“New York State.”
“The second bomb went off in Virginia. That’s like two hundred miles!”
“I know.”
“How bad was it?”
“Pretty bad.”
“Sounds like we need a total disassemble and some X-rays. Think it’ll make it back okay?”
Everon hesitated. “I hope so.”
She stared at him.
Search For Reason (State Of Reason Mystery, Book 2) Page 9
