Green File Crime Thrillers Box Set

by James Kipling

  Jessica kept her eyes closed. “You know I'm under the desk. Why don't you just kill me?” she cried out, unable to bear the suspense any longer. Jacob, hearing Jessica reveal her location, sped through a red light, crossed over Waugh Street, and continued down Thorton Avenue; receiving a few honking horns in the process.

  Wendy walked around the desk, like a spider about to plunge its venomous fangs into an innocent butterfly. “The CIA is not pleased with President Green, Mrs. Mayes,” she explained. “The CIA wants the virus your husband created, and the files he stole on President Green.”

  “I don't have...my husband never even spoke to me about his work!” Jessica cried out.

  “I'm aware of that,” Wendy replied without bending down. “Roger Alden, however, is convinced that Jack Mayes must have passed along some type of...shall we say...gold nugget to you. That's why I was sent to monitor you.”

  Jessica stared at Wendy's legs. What was the woman waiting for? “Please, allow my husband to rest in peace,” she begged, as tears began to flow from her scared eyes. “Whatever my husband did wrong, he's dead now.”

  “But you are alive, Mrs. Mayes,” Wendy pointed out. “And you have caused me a great deal of trouble.” Wendy felt rage flash through her mind. “I assumed I had created the perfect plan to have you framed for murder, in order to be able to monitor your conduct from a Federal Prison. You see, I do believe Jack Mayes is not guilty of involving you. Being assigned to you was a complete waste of my time. I was only assigned to you because I have a degree in Commuter Engineering. Roger Alden needed a field agent with my expertise.” Wendy resisted the urge to kill Jessica right then and there. She needed to vent a minute, and then calmly reclaim her pride. “Jack Mayes has a contact. My goal was to locate that contact and stop wasting my time with you. However, somehow, I made an error. Do you hear me?” Wendy snapped at Jessica. “I made an error, and now I'm being forced to turn rogue.”

  Jacob listened intently, as he sped toward Professional Boulevard, passing a Salvation Army Thrift Store that displayed an arrogant sign that read 'Doing the Most Good'. The Bible, he thought, teaches a man to never let his left hand know what his right hand is doing. “Matthew Chapter 6:3 'But when you give to the poor, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing',” Jacob whispered as he sped past the Salvation Army Thrift Store.

  Jessica watched Wendy's legs begin to form a squatting position. The woman was preparing to attack. As her eyes watched the deadly spider lower itself down from the world above, a familiar and powerful voice yelled into her mind Fight!

  “Jack?” Jessica whispered, clearly hearing her husband's voice. “Jack?”

  Fight! The voice yelled again.

  Jessica felt a warm and loving hand touch her face. Even though she couldn't see anyone and was certain her dead husband wasn't in the room with her, she felt Jack's warm hand reach through a distant memory and touch her face, as if the man was sitting right beside her.

  “Jack...” Jessica broke down crying.

  Fight!

  “I'm so scared.”

  Fight!

  Jessica was terrified. The woman looked at her in way that clearly said, “It's time to die.”

  “No!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, and somehow, as if her body stopped being her own, Jessica felt her legs lift into the air and kick at Wendy, just as the woman prepared to fire her gun. “No!”

  Wendy, not expecting any fight out of Jessica Mayes whatsoever, was shocked to see the woman kick at her, the way an angry mule kicks at a biting dog standing behind it. She felt Jessica’s left leg strike her gun hand, while the right leg made contact with her chest. Unable to keep her balance, Wendy let out a vicious scream and toppled backwards. Desperate to regain her balance, Wendy threw her gun hand down towards the floor without thinking. That mistake cost her the battle. The last thing Wendy Cratterson remembered was the sound of her gun going off, and an awful pain erupting inside of her head, and then...blackness. Nothing else but blackness. She woke up several days later at Erlanger Medical Center in Chattanooga, Tennessee.

  Jessica, watching Wendy accidentally shoot herself in the head, froze in terror.

  “Mrs. Mayes!” Jacob yelled. “Mrs. Mayes! Talk to me!”

  Jessica heard Jacob's voice coming through her cell phone, but she didn't answer. Instead, she felt the warm hand return, touch her arms, and urge her to move. Jessica, again feeling as if her body was not her own, began to move. She crawled out from under the desk, looked down at Wendy; at the pool of blood pooling around the woman's head. She grabbed her purse, backed toward the office door on trembling legs, opened it, and escaped out into the hallway. Because Wendy's gun had a silencer attached to it, no one had heard the gun shot except Wendy and Jessica. The hallway was clear.

  “Mrs. Mayes! Talk to me!”

  “I'm...alive,” Jessica finally spoke, in a voice that sounded alien to her ears. “She shot herself. It was an accident. I kicked her, and she fell backwards.”

  “Get out front! Go!” Jacob ordered. “I'm turning onto the road leading up to the jail right now!”

  Jessica looked up and down the hallway. Every door lining the hallway was closed. Could she escape without being seen? There was only one way to find out. Jessica forced her legs to move and started to make her way toward an emergency exit, leaving Wendy Cratterson laying in her own misery; trapped in a black void...at least for the time being.

  ((((((((((*))))))))))

  Jessica stepped through a heavy gray door that felt like a coffin to her trembling hand. The poor woman was consumed with a fear she had never felt before. How close had death come to swallowing her life? How close had Wendy Cratterson actually come to shooting her? If it hadn't been for the feel of a loving, caring, warm hand forcing her to act, and a voice ordering her to fight, Jessica knew she would be dead, instead of walking out into a gray, icy rain that felt like funeral rain.

  “Think,” she begged herself. She turned her head to the left, and then to the right, and studied her surroundings. She was standing outside of the administrative portion of the jail. Wet woods stood to her right, a long sidewalk stretched off to her left, and a parking lot was sitting in front of her. The parking lot held a few personal vehicles.

  “Okay...stay calm,” Jessica whispered, even though she was shaking all over, and decided to follow the sidewalk as the rain soaked her body.

  Jacob lifted his foot off the gas as he pulled into the jail. The last thing he wanted was to bring attention to himself and have a bunch of eager beavers come running at him with arrogant faces, beaming with the chance to issue a speeding ticket; although Jacob had seen cops breaking the speed limit countless times.

  “Mrs. Mayes, what is your location?” he demanded, studying the layout of the jail, and then focusing on the parking lot. Jessica would—or should be—somewhere near the administrative area.

  “I'm preparing to walk down a sidewalk, and I'm okay, now. I'm facing a larger parking lot, and I see the main entrance to the jail; at least the entrance I entered through,” Jessica told Jacob, carefully walking down a different sidewalk, struggling to appear casual.

  Jacob immediately spotted Jessica. “I see you. I'm driving the jeep. Do you see me? I'm parked right in front of you.”

  Jessica squinted through the rain. Her eyes spotted a jeep slowly crawling forward. “I see you!” she exclaimed and took off running.

  Jacob leaned over and threw the passenger door open, as relief, mixed with anxiety, caused his heart to pound. Jessica Mayes was alive, but Wendy Cratterson was dead; or so it seemed, according to Jessica's report. Roger Alden wasn't going to accept the death of one of his agents—even an agent that was planning to turn rogue—laying down. No. The man was going to create a war.

  “Get in!”

  Jessica nearly dove into the jeep, slammed the passenger door, and began struggling to buckle her seat belt as Jacob stepped on the gas.

  �
�She's...dead,” Jessica told Jacob, barely managing to speak. “I kicked her. That woman fell backwards. Her gun went off…”

  Jacob focused on getting back to Thorton Avenue. If he could reach Thorton, hang a right, and make it to the North Dalton Bypass, he might have a chance of making it to I-75, which was maybe a mile or so—maybe more, maybe less—up the bypass.

  “Are you okay, Mrs. Mayes?” he asked in a quick voice.

  Jessica finally managed to buckle her seat belt and then closed her eyes, as Jacob swung a hard right onto Thorton Avenue.

  “I'm alive,” she whispered, feeling the icy rain dripping from her hair and running down her cold cheeks.

  Jacob drove up to a slow-moving, gray SUV and nearly began laying on the horn. “Your sister is waiting for us in Niota,” he explained. Checking the rearview mirror, he spotted a FedEx van riding his tail, and shook his head. “I need to make a call,” he told Jessica. He grabbed his cell phone and put a call through to General Garcia. “I have Jessica Mayes,” he spoke in a quick voice. “Wendy Cratterson is dead. Need immediate extraction in Niota, Tennessee.”

  General Garcia locked his eyes on the computer screen that appeared to be a fuzzy television tube. “Three minutes and twenty seconds ago, our systems came under attack. All intelligence and military communications within the Pentagon are down. The ELE is down. The MET is down,” he explained in an angry voice. “Attacks are coming from Iran, North Korea and China. The attacks are coordinated. Our team is working to respond.”

  Jacob felt dread enter his mind. “Cancel extraction. I'll drive Mrs. Mayes and her sister to—”

  “No,” General Garcia cut Jacob off in mid-sentence. “Cancel that. Take Mrs. Hayes and Ms. Andrews to the safe house in Wyoming.”

  Jacob finally reached a red light and waited behind a long line of vehicles. Dalton was worse than Atlanta, he thought. How many red lights could one town have?

  “Yes, sir,” he told General Garcia. “Moving West toward the safe house.”

  General Garcia stared at the computer screen, with eyes that held a deep, serious worry. “Assassination may be the next step,” he warned Jacob. “Mrs. Mayes may be the only weapon we have to defeat Roger Alden. Guard the woman at all cost.”

  “I understand,” Jacob assured General Garcia.

  “Your mission is confidential, son. The only people aware of Jessica Mayes are—”

  “A handful of people, I know.” Jacob watched the line of vehicles start to turn left onto the bypass. He eased as close to the gray SUV as possible and waited. “The less the better.”

  General Garcia slowly stood up, walked over to the window in his office, and stood very still. His body became stone, and his face froze with a horrible, pessimistic possibility: “If the President is killed,” he spoke in a low voice, “the Vice-President will follow. The Speaker of the House, Senator Oliver Brenton, will assume authority until Coldwell is put into power. If this happens, America will fall. We need Jessica Mayes.”

  “We need Jack Mayes,” Jacob corrected General Garcia, finally turning left onto the bypass, ignoring the hard, icy rain that was striking the windshield with furious fists. “We need the virus Jack Mayes created. If we can locate the virus, we can destroy Roger Alden. It's that simple.” Jacob glanced at Jessica. Jessica was staring down at her shaking hands, lost in a deep, troubled, thought. “The President doesn't have much time left in office before the next election—”

  “Let's focus on today,” General Garcia urged Jacob. “Take Mrs. Mayes and her sister to the safe house. I will personally meet you there.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jacob said in a tired voice, “moving west toward the safe house. Please inform me when the ELE is back up.” Jacob ended the call, pressed down on the gas, and slipped around the slow-moving gray SUV.

  “No more red lights,” he mumbled, as the jeep raced past a blue semi-truck carrying a full load. The semi-truck was also making a path toward I-75. Jacob focused on escaping, somehow missing several more red lights, before speaking. He raced past a Waffle House and a RaceTrac, zoomed under one last red light, spotted the ramp leading onto I-75 North, and stomped the gas.

  “The rain is fitting for days like today,” he spoke to Jessica in calm tone.

  Jessica felt the jeep gaining speed, raised her eyes, saw that Jacob was speeding toward I-75, behind a white BMW that wasn't too slack on the gas, and nodded her head.

  “Yes...funeral rain,” she said in a weak voice.

  Jacob checked the rearview mirror, spotted the blue semi-truck appearing on the on-ramp, and pushed the gas even harder. A few seconds later he burst onto I-75, swerved around a slow-moving RV with an Ohio license plate, worked the jeep into the fast lane, and pushed the speedometer up to 80 mph; ignoring the dangers of traveling at such a high speed through a heavy rain.

  “Looks like we're in the clear,” he told Jessica, feeling the relief in his shoulders.

  “Are we...am I?” Jessica asked. She raised her pretty eyes, that now seemed to resemble a gray tombstone, and looked over at Jacob. “The CIA will never stop trying to find me. A woman is dead, and I'm running away like a fugitive. My life is over...whoever you are.” Jessica wanted to feel anger. Fear and exhaustion extinguished the fuse of her anger before it could be lit. Why be angry at the strange man? The man had helped her escape a certain death that would have most assuredly arrived later on in her life. Surely, the CIA wouldn't accept the death of Wendy Cratterson with a smile and a grin. No. The CIA would viciously sink their teeth into Jessica, arrest her for a false murder, throw her into prison, beat useless information out of her tormented mind, and then kill her. Jessica understood this truth very clearly. How? The woman didn't know? The voice that ordered her to fight was somehow whispering these truths into her mind.

  “My sister's life is now over.”

  “Ma’am,” Jacob promised, “you have people—good people—who are going to fight on your behalf. If we win this war, you will regain your life, and so will your sister.”

  “And if we lose?” Jessica asked, as if the war had already been lost and Jacob was driving her to a cemetery to bury her.

  “Then we lose everything.” Jacob's honest answer caused a deep silence to fall in the jeep.

  Jessica closed her eyes, leaned her head back, and began thinking about Jack Mayes. Virus...stolen files...CIA... dead woman...running...running...running toward an open grave. Why? Because Jack Mayes wasn't as innocent as he had appeared in the eyes of his trusting, loving wife. Or was he? Surely, Jessica reasoned, Jack's intentions had to be carried out with noble hands. Surely, the man who read his Bible every morning wasn't a black widow spider, masquerading around the heart of his wife as a sweet prince.

  “Jack...why?” Jessica pleaded.

  Journal! That word exploded into Jessica's mind as if a bomb had exploded right next to her.

  Jessica jerked her eyes open and looked forward. She spotted a red truck pulling what appeared to be an empty trailer that was traveling in front of the jeep. She tried to focus.

  Jacob glanced over at Jessica, saw the woman staring into space with large, confused eyes, and asked, “Are you okay, Mrs. Mayes?”

  Jessica didn't answer. The word Journal kept exploding inside of her mind, over and over and over again. The warm hand that had pressed Jessica to fight seemed to be the mystery force behind the bombs. Jack had kept a journal—a secret, hidden journal. Jessica was certain of that. The journal was a realistic object that was hidden somewhere, not a delusional idea that Jessica was somehow grasping onto with desperate hands.

  “AIV.”

  “What?” Jacob asked.

  “Huh?” Jessica responded, slowly snapping out of the fog and back into the jeep.

  “You said 'AIV',” Jacob pointed out, clearing the Tunnel Hill, Georgia exit, and kept racing north. The Tennessee border wasn't very far away. Jacob knew I-75 North cut through Whitfield County, and Catoosa County, and crossed over into Ten
nessee. The only worry he had was passing a weigh station. What if the disappearance of Jessica Mayes had been discovered, along with the dead body of Wendy Cratterson? Surely Sheriff Butler would have to start screaming to the State Patrol. Or would the man give Jacob time to escape?

  “I guess I'll know soon enough,” he whispered, and turned back to Jessica. “You said 'AIV',” he said again.

  “Did I?” Jessica asked, feeling confused. Her mind, returning back to a late, cold winter day, saw a very tired man asleep at his desk. Next, she saw a loving wife approach the tired man, found him napping, and smiled.

  “Oh, Jack,” the wife whispered. She set a hot cup of coffee down next to her husband and began to walk away. An open journal caught the wife's eye. “What's this...'AIV'?”

  Before the wife could continue reading, she heard her husband start to stir. She had quickly stepped away from the desk and hurried out of the office. As she did, the three letters her eyes had digested slithered into her mind like a venomous snake, wrapped itself around her heart, and slowly drifted off into a coma, waiting...waiting to come back to life.

  “Yes, you did,” Jacob nodded his head. “Do those letters mean anything?” he pressed.

  Jessica grew silent. Do those letters mean anything? Jessica wasn't sure. How could her troubled mind know what the letters 'AIV' stood for? All she knew was that the more she thought about those three letters, the more the sleeping snake began to stir.

  Go back to sleep...go back to sleep Jessica begged.

  Whatever Jack created; I don't want to know. Please, let me remember my husband the way my heart hungers to. Please, don't force me to see Jack in a different light. He's dead. Leave him alone!

  “Mrs. Mayes?” Jacob asked. “Please, talk to me.”

  “My husband is dead. What does it matter?” Jessica pleaded, as tears began to fall from her eyes. “Jack was a good man. He was killed. Just leave him alone.” Jessica drew herself against the passenger door and formed a tight ball. “Please, leave Jack...leave us...alone,” she begged, hugging the casket of Jack Mayes inside of her broken heart. “Oh Jack, you're not a monster...you're not...you're not...”