‘What?’ Jenna said, baffled, and beside her, Porter mouthed, ‘What the fu—’
‘Let me make this simple for you, Doc, since I don’t have any crayons to color you a picture. You know how pearls can form inside certain mollusks, right?’ Saleda asked.
‘Been looking for my lucky oyster for years,’ Jenna said sarcastically.
‘Well, the mollusk shell secretes this nacre, and the substance forms a protective layer to shield the pearl from parasites. It’s scientifically called nacre, but a lot of people know it as mother of pearl.’
Jenna’s heart rate didn’t so much as speed up a beat, and Porter threw his hands in the air as he shrugged. But beside the window, Grey gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth.
Jenna glared at her, then glanced at Porter, who only shook his head. She stared down at the phone lying on the table as if Saleda would be able to feel her scowl. ‘What are you, Teva, and Grey putting together that’s lost on the rest of us?’
The phone’s speaker crackled. ‘Obviously Slender’s letter opener was made out of mother of pearl,’ Saleda said, drawing out the last words so slowly it reminded Jenna of the way people sometimes thought they could make a foreigner understand a language they didn’t speak.
Jenna forced herself to ignore Grey, who now had her hands clasped together in front of her and was bouncing in her chair like a child about to get her birthday presents.
‘You’re apparently going to have to spell it out for me, Saleda, because unless there’s a book called The Letter Opener that was written by Mother of Pearl—’
‘The references—’
But Grey let out an excited squeak, cutting Saleda off. ‘Pearl was her daughter! Hester Prynne. She’s the mother of Pearl!’
‘The main character from The Scarlet Letter, eh? They don’t seem to realize no matter what names they pick and what character personas they hide behind, they still show us things we can use,’ Dodd said as he returned, laying Johnny Tremain on the table in front of Porter.
‘They’ve already shown us a lot more than they probably realize. For one thing, Slender – Hester, I mean – and WASP UNSUB probably don’t have a clue they did anything in the bank to betray their connection, but we had them linked from the word go,’ Jenna replied.
‘The Wasp Man? The Moby Dick Wasp Man you were talking about?’ Grey asked, jumping into the conversation again, her voice softer this time. Curious. ‘He and Hester Prynne … eat dinner together?’
Jenna didn’t bother explaining to the others that asking if they ate dinner was Grey’s equivalent of asking if they were in a relationship, since if they were getting used to Grey at all, this one was fairly easy to follow. Jenna nodded. ‘We think they have some sort of relationship, yes. We don’t know its extent, whether it’s romantic or platonic. There’s a chance they could even be old friends, husband and wife, or siblings. Or maybe they met in the group and just developed an emotional bond for whatever reason. No matter the type or depth, we always look for those sorts of links between people. In any of those cases, knowing about the connection could prove useful.’
Grey shook her head, but she was smiling. ‘You don’t understand. It already has. This inks the deal that she’s Hester Prynne. It’s not just the Scarlet ‘Letter’ opener or mother of Pearl now.’
Here we go.
‘What is it, Ms Hechinger?’ Dodd asked.
‘Herman Melville was inspired by Nathaniel Hawthorne! They met, I think, in 1950,’ Grey said with authority.
‘And you know this because your pen pal Herman Melville wrote you a gushing letter about how he just couldn’t put The Scarlet Letter down. Did he also write his name next to that of the author of his favorite book and enclose them in a heart with the words, “4-eva”?’ Porter laughed.
Grey turned to Porter, her face cold as stone. She blinked rapidly as silence hung in the air.
‘I know this because Herman Melville dedicated Moby Dick to Nathaniel Hawthorne. I read that. In a book,’ Grey said, standing in a huff after her last biting words and storming off toward the beanbag chairs.
‘Does it get you hard, Porter, antagonizing the mentally unstable?’ Jenna snapped. ‘Normally, I wouldn’t defend Grey, because I’ve been on her little trips through Wonderland, too, and while they’re interesting and colorful at first, I know they can turn into bashing your head into any mirror you see on the off chance you’d locate an exit. But right now, she is actually helping us. We wouldn’t even have found this library and this note if not for her—’
‘And what good has this little jaunt through the friendly halls of public books done for us? At this point, what it’s done has taken up precious minutes we could’ve been pursuing other angles of the profiles. As I see it, we’re still missing two books, and even if we somehow manage to pull them out of thin air, who’s to say we won’t show up at another location only to find another code?’
‘Simmer down, Undergrad,’ Dodd cut in, his voice even and calm. ‘You have a very valid concern there, but arguing for more minutes and hours about whether or not we’ve taken the right steps up to now definitely won’t get us closer to saving lives. I think the thing to do here is to see what we can do about getting those last two books and let this play out. See if this test of honor delivers on its promise.’
‘We’re tapped out of ideas about those last two here,’ Saleda cut in. ‘Any thoughts?’
Jenna’s eyes fell to Porter’s paper. The orange-tinged red of a ladybug flashed in. Sequence. Jenna reached for the list of barcodes and slid it toward her, a thought hitting her. She looked to Dodd.
‘Tell me again what the poem says about lining up the masks,’ she said, deep in thought.
Dodd pulled the evidence bag containing the still-open note from his pocket. ‘Line up the masks in order – the only order we know them in is the order in which they entered the bank, and take one from each—’
‘One digit from the barcode of each. OK. Got that. But which number …’
Jenna reached for the evidence bag, and Dodd obliged. She reread the text:
OUR FINAL PIECE OF ADVICE TO GIVE INVOLVES A DOUBLE DEBUT. LINE UP THE MASKS IN ORDER, TAKE ONE FROM EACH, AND YOU’LL GET A DOUBLE ON ONE OF TWO.
As Jenna read the first line, Air Force blue flashed in. One. The number one. Debut. Debut.
They were supposed to take the first number from each of the barcodes. The debut number!
Jenna picked up Porter’s pen from the table and went down the barcode list, noting the digit each began with, placing them in order from memory, leaving two blanks for the two attackers they weren’t able to link a book to. When she was finished, she handed it to Dodd since her own phone was still on the table on speaker with Saleda.
‘Send these to Irv. With the two books’ digits missing, there should be a hundred possible combinations of thirteen-digit numbers—’
‘Ten,’ Grey piped up. ‘All thirteen-digit ISBN numbers begin with either a 978 or 979 prefix. Your first missing number is the second digit. That means it has to be a seven. Ten possibilities.’
Jenna took in the new information in stride, already going on. ‘You get that?’
‘Loud and clear,’ Dodd replied.
‘We need a list of all ten of those possibilities in the form of books assigned those ISBN numbers.’
Twenty-nine
Jenna’s phone vibrated for the first time since they’d hung up with Saleda so she could go help Irv. She opened it to read the text:
JUST FOR THE RECORD, I’D APPRECIATE IT IF ONE DAY, YOU JUST CALLED ME FOR SOMETHING LIKE A LIST OF THE CITY’S TAKEOUT RESTAURANTS OR A BREAKDOWN OF HOW MUCH YOU COULD SAVE IF YOU SWITCHED TO GEICO.
Jenna typed back:
I DON’T DO TAKEOUT. THAT WHOLE ‘NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO KNOW WHERE MY HOUSE IS’ THING. AND DUCT-TAPE REPAIR DOESN’T INVOLVE A PREMIUM HIKE. GOT THE BOOKS?
Within ten seconds, the phone buzzed.
IN YOUR E-MAIL NOW. CONSIDER EASING UP ON THE TAK
EOUT POLICY. I HEAR SOME OF THE GOOD PLACES HAVE CARRY-OUT.
Jenna’s heart fluttered as she opened the e-mail. Now or never.
She passed her phone to Grey. ‘We’re looking for the book on this list that could fit or be described as getting “a double on one of two,”’ Jenna said.
After the longest minute of Jenna’s life, Grey let out a single laugh.
‘What?’ Porter said, popping up in his chair.
‘What is it, Ms Hechinger?’
Grey smiled. ‘This is an easy one. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness …”’
Raspberry red flashed in as Jenna recognized the words.
‘All of them, opposing pairs. All on page one,’ Grey finished, grinning.
Jenna already had her phone out, speed dial pressed for Irv. She’d congratulate, praise, and otherwise say things to Grey she never thought in a million years she would after she got Irv.
When he picked up, she didn’t even let him speak.
‘Irv, I’ll ask you for takeout menus and insurance quotes and any other boring things that will make your heart happy next week, but right now, I need you to scour the groups you’ve flagged online as possibly subversive with even a remote connection to classic literature and spit out the one that has a direct connection to A Tale of Two Cities.’
Jenna held her breath, letting the silence stand between them. This was the first time she’d ever made this kind of request and implied that she intended to wait on the phone for it. But just as she’d told him to locate the online group out of those he’d been culling since the attack, she stayed on the line with him now for the same reason. Ruby red, the hue a touch deeper than the pomegranate of confidence she associated with absolute certainty.
She knew it was there.
After a long minute, the typing and clicking stopped. For a second, Jenna thought she could feel her heart in her throat.
‘Yep. Got it. The site and the person who created it. Shall I dictate his address to you verbally, or would you like it sent to your phone, email, and personal subversive group address coordination butler?’
Jenna laughed, hard and loud. She couldn’t believe it. A break.
‘Send it to your mom, Irv,’ she said.
He laughed, and the phone clicked.
Jenna turned to the others. ‘What are you all sitting around for? We’re about to go meet the page-master.’
The SUV bounced as the front tires rolled into the driveway of 1482 Sycamore Bend in Bethesda, Maryland.
‘Oho!’ Dodd said, a big, surprised grin widening, ‘Look, Mr Lewis must be expecting us!’
Jenna nodded. She’d seen it, too. The flash of a curtain on the lower left, a man in dark rimmed, square glasses peeking out, wary.
Dodd threw the SUV into park, and the three agents opened their doors at once. Jenna glanced back briefly at Grey. ‘Grey, stay put. As soon as we clear the area as safe, we’ll come get you.’
She slammed the door and jogged toward the porch, catching up to the other two, who already had their guns drawn. They’d made enough calls on persons of interest to know that a peek out the curtain could mean a perp had spotted the cops and was now making a run for it or was loading his own Glock for a showdown.
Innocent light pink flashed in, and the info Irv had sent them on Flint Lewis, creator of the group and website Irv had found with a motto based on a quote from A Tale of Two Cities – Black Shadow. Age thirty-one, married to Ruthie Lewis for four years. One baby daughter named Nell – thirteen months – and another on the way.
‘Remember,’ Jenna said, bracing for the door to open. ‘Pregnant wife and one child. Careful.’
Dodd banged hard on the castle-like front door and was just opening his mouth to bark his deep, ‘FBI, open up!’ when the massive, dark blue door flew open, Flint Lewis standing in the hallway.
‘Won’t you come in?’
The tall, slender man stood aside, allowing Jenna to step through the door first. She flashed her badge, launched into her spiel. ‘Mr Lewis, I’m Dr Jenna Ramey, and this is Special Agent Gabriel Dodd and SA Porter Jameson.’ She cocked her head toward where the helicopter that had been clipping overhead was now setting down in a large, open front yard two houses down. ‘That’s Special Agent in Charge Saleda Ovarez. We’re from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Uni—’
‘I know who you are,’ Flint said, taking off his glasses and rubbing the lenses with a white handkerchief from his pocket.
‘Oh?’ she said.
‘Of course. Been expecting you. I even cleared my schedule,’ he replied, replacing his glasses on his face. ‘Come, come. Let’s sit.’
He led them through the foyer and into the living room, gestured to the two-piece sectional couch covered in deep, chocolate leather forming an ‘L’ shape along two adjacent walls across from a fifty-inch flat screen. As Jenna passed Flint Lewis to accept the seat, her eyes fell to the hardwood floors. No scratches, dings, or stray dust bunnies to be seen. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the fireplace on the far wall – the only things atop its gray-stone base an iron hearth tool set and a decorative wicker basket of kindling.
This didn’t seem like a growing family’s living room. No bumper pads on the hearth, baby gates in doorways to other rooms. No diapers, wipes, or toys … anywhere.
Hot pink flashed in. Order because of a need to control. Maybe OCD tendencies. The types of people who thought children should be seen and not heard.
From Irv’s information, Jenna knew Flint was a freelance computer programmer and web designer with a background in marketing and public relations. They didn’t have a lot on his early life. Home-schooled, dropped out of college when he figured out he could teach his technology professors’ courses better than they could. Worked a few jobs here and there for tech companies and start-ups but settled down in the suburbs and moved his career home, too.
So where’s the fam?
‘Would anyone like a glass of ice water? Pellegrino?’
‘No, thank you,’ Jenna answered.
‘Right then,’ Flint said, and he took a seat in the beige suede armchair. ‘Like I said, I expected you. I hate to say it. I wish I didn’t have to. But as soon as I saw the bank on the news, I knew Black Shadow was involved. Knew you’d want to talk to me.’
Saleda, who had let herself in behind them and sat down, leaned in toward Flint. ‘Let me make sure I understand this correctly, Mr Lewis. Are you saying that when you saw that there was a massacre at a Washington, DC, bank on the news here in Bethesda, Maryland, you immediately believed the group you started was behind it?’
Flint crossed his legs, shook his head. ‘Not exactly, no. The Black Shadow I created – a place where people who were angry about problems in the government that no one would do anything about could come and vent their frustrations in a supportive, open-minded environment – ceased to exist two years ago.’
The apricot of consistency flashed in. Jenna nodded. The original Black Shadow site hadn’t had much if any activity in over 24 months. ‘What exactly happened to it, Mr Lewis?’
‘Please, call me Flint,’ he said. He clasped his hands in his lap, his knuckles whitening a bit. ‘As treacherous as the name sounds, the Black Shadow forum was something more of a support group for myself, in lot of ways.’
Flint hung his head, blinking back full eyes.
‘What kind of support did you find in an anti-government website?’ Saleda asked bluntly.
Flint looked at her, folded his lips in, an expression that said that while he was disappointed she didn’t understand, that he’d gotten the question many times before. ‘Let me clarify one thing, Special Agent. I am not and was never anti-government. Anarchy would cause as many tragedies as the current problematic system does, if not more.’
A distinct shade of purple flashed in. In the age of foolishness, we are the age of wisdom.
The take on one of the most famous phrases
on page one of A Tale of Two Cities – and how Irv had nailed down this as the group – had been Black Shadow’s motto as stated on the website, and it underlined what Jenna had suspected all along: this group of people was very intelligent – many to the point of narcissism – and they were convinced the average mind wasn’t fit to cast a vote, much less hold government office and make decisions.
‘So what is it exactly that you believe about the government that led you to start Black Shadow?’ Jenna asked, though she knew the answer – in part, anyway.
Flint uncrossed his legs and stood, strolled toward the tall windows behind the armchair. ‘Growing up, I spent more time in hospital cancer wards than on playgrounds,’ he said, turning back to face them as he reached the window. Upon seeing the surprised looks, he waved his hand. ‘Oh, not me. It was my little sister. She was diagnosed with leukemia. They started chemo right away, but she went downhill fast. A bone marrow transplant was her only chance. Well, I happened to be a perfect match. Unfortunately, the transplant only put her into remission for a year. She got sick again. First, she was anemic and needed blood. Next, her kidneys started to fail, so of course, I was more than willing to give her one. She was my best friend. When she went into liver failure, my parents scheduled the surgery for me to give her half of mine. But a doctor at the hospital had started to worry my parents weren’t making decisions that considered my well-being as much as my sister’s. This doctor notified the court systems, and she was appointed my temporary legal guardian in charge of making medical decisions for me. The first time the government overstepped in my life was the moment I realized that because of them, I’d lose my sister.’
‘You were only a kid,’ Dodd cut in.
Flint faced him, crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Yep. I was. But that’s part of the problem. So was she. She went through so many awful treatments. She wasn’t even a teenager yet when she’d had enough torture that, had she been able to choose for herself, she would’ve opted to die. While she still had some dignity, still felt human. But people don’t believe kids can possibly be as intelligent as adults, so kids can’t elect to stop treatment and end the pain … or decide to donate organs to give their sister a chance at a real life. No, the intelligent adults knew it was best to continue putting her through hell. More medications, more surgeries, all designed just to keep her alive a little bit longer. Here these simple-minded fools couldn’t fathom that “saving” her might mean something other than preserving her ability to breathe. And yet, despite that, they were too deficient to grasp such a concept. They were allowed to make her medical decisions. They were allowed to vote! The government gave them those rights.’
Flash Point Page 17
