SKELETON

by Peter Parkin

  Mel looked up at Barb as she stood. "I'll reserve judgment on that 'forgiving' thing, if you don't mind."

  Barb placed her fists on the table and glared at Mel. "I've had just about enough of your attitude today, Melissa. Your mother would be ashamed of you." With that, Barb whirled around with an angry flourish and left the restaurant.

  Dennis took Mel's hand in his. "Sis, you have to calm down. Barb's been a friend of the family for a long, long time. Don't overreact."

  "Denny, something has changed with that woman. Maybe it's a 'woman's intuition' kind of thing, but I sense something is wrong."

  Fiona jumped in. "I agree with her, Denny. You're so close to Barb that I don't think you can see it."

  "Fiona, she answered my question with complete candor. She didn't try to hide the fact that she'd been on the island of Nevis."

  "She's quick on her feet, Denny. She's a lawyer. And you're a cop. She's sharp enough to know that cops and lawyers don't generally ask questions that they don't already know the answers to. She sensed a trap."

  "I don't know."

  "You should have let me ask her why the contract work she did was nicknamed 'Shackleton.' I saw the look you gave me and I shut up. But I was dying to put her on the spot about that. All along she's pretended not to know what the word 'Shackleton' meant, and yet here she was working on a contract that had that as a code-name."

  Dennis nodded. "You're right. I should have let you probe her on that. Okay, we'll do that as soon as we get back to the city."

  *****

  Brett had been listening to everything from his spot in the parking lot. He'd had his laser device aimed right at the window where they were sitting. He knew the three of them were going back to the cabin, and that Barb was leaving them in a huff.

  He watched Barb rush out of the restaurant, put the motorhome in gear and race out of the parking lot.

  Hello? Where's she going?

  Brett saw the Ford turn left instead of right. She wasn't going back to the city like she said. She was heading back in the direction of the cabin.

  In that instant Brett decided he had to follow her. He wouldn't hear the rest of the conversation in the restaurant, but at least he knew that the three of them would be heading back to the cabin in a while. It was better that he be there before them, and essential that he follow Barb.

  Barb Jenkins was his most important target at the moment. His instinct told him something was going to happen.

  *****

  Mel was reading Lucy's note over for about the third time. Dennis watched her face—that serious expression of intensity that he adored so much.

  Suddenly her expression began to change. Her eyes widened and her pretty mouth opened wide.

  "Denny! I've got it! I know what she's telling us!"

  Denny and Fiona both leaned forward over the table. "What, Mel?" Her hands began to shake and the paper crackled in her hand. "Mom used the word 'take.' She wants us to take something. And she used the word 'memory' or 'memories' five times. She used the word 'times' twice."

  Denny nodded politely. "Okay, I follow you. But where are you going with this?"

  Mel took a deep breath. "Denny, she also used the word 'encapsulate.' Sure, mom was articulate, but even she wouldn't use a word like that in writing a note or in speaking.

  She grabbed his arm and squeezed hard. "Denny, Denny—she's talking about the Time Capsule we buried!"

  *****

  Brett was following at a safe distance behind—close enough to see where the Ford motorhome was going, but not close enough to be suspected of anything nefarious.

  He could see the Ford turning into a driveway now. At a house, down the street a bit from the cabin. He kept driving. Right past the house, glancing at it as he passed.

  She'd pulled around behind the house—her motorhome wouldn't be seen from the cabin. Brett noticed the windows boarded up on all sides of the house. He knew why she'd picked this place—she could hide her vehicle, which would have been recognized by the other three when they came back if she left it out on the street. And she knew this house was unoccupied, so it was a safe pick.

  Interesting.

  Brett continued down the street about a mile, then did a u-turn and parked his truck. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a pair of high-powered binoculars. He trained them on the house.

  Out along the side of the house she came—but she had company now.

  Two men wearing long trench coats walked with her through a thick grove of trees on the side of the street where the cabin was.

  A minute later, Barb emerged from the trees and walked to the back of the cabin. The two men were still in the trees and Brett knew exactly why they were there. He knew what was under those trench coats. And now he knew why Barb needed that big motorhome. Occasionally she had company with her.

  Barb Jenkins was his 'double.'

  Brett opened his car door and started working his way through the trees toward the cabin. The forest was thick and there were no houses along this stretch. He could easily pick his way to where he knew the two assassins were waiting.

  Brett Horton had to take care of this. He had to work fast. And he had to work quietly.

  *****

  Harry Bolton lit a cigarette and grinned at his partner. "We'll get a good payday for this one."

  Greg Newton grinned back. "Yeah, should be a snap. Easier than shooting Iraqis, eh? This will just be a shooting gallery."

  "Yeah, but don't get too excited. She said we can only shoot if she beeps us. She's hoping to resolve it without anyone dying."

  "Well, we get paid the same whether we shoot or not. So, I could care less either way. Except that...well...shooting is more fun!"

  The two killers enjoyed a good chuckle.

  Harry checked the rifle underneath his jacket. Scope was in place, a full magazine—locked and loaded. "So, do you know anything about this broad? She sounds like someone well connected."

  Greg shook his head. "No idea. I'm guessing she's CIA, or even the Mob. Her money is as good as anyone else's. I don't care—that's what I love about this mercenary business we're in. Everyone is our customer!"

  They laughed harder this time—so hard they didn't hear the footsteps. He spoke in a whisper. "Gentlemen, I'm here to relieve you of your duties."

  Greg was the first to spin around, reaching under his coat for his rifle. Then he stopped himself. He didn't know why. Something in the utter arrogance and confidence in the unarmed man standing behind them. He was a dude—dressed in an expensive cream suit, yellow shirt. Standing with his feet apart. Ready. Confident. Unafraid.

  Harry was less mesmerized. "Who the fuck are you, man? Get the hell out of here if you value your life."

  The man didn't answer.

  Harry lunged at him. The guy wasn't holding a gun and Harry sure wasn't going to blow this assignment by warning off the targets with a gunshot. Harry was a specialist in hand-to-hand combat. He'd used his skills many times when he was in the Seals.

  But none of that training prepared him for this. The dude waited until he could almost see his nose hair, then brought both forearms up in a furious blur to either side of his head. Harry could hear the crack of his own skull, could feel his brain turning to mush. His eyes began to blur, but he was just able to make out the shape of a finger racing towards his forehead. A finger!

  It seemed to go right through him. Harry fell to the ground knowing that he'd never get up again.

  Greg watched in horror as his partner's head was butchered in a matter of seconds. He started to run. His feet were moving as if running but they weren't touching terra firma. He was flying.

  When he finally landed, which seemed an eternity, he turned his face upward to the sky. Blocking the light was the dude in the cream suit. He smiled at him. Then Greg saw both man's hands rear back and slam downward. He watched the mirage of two fingers crossing his line of vision. Then the impact to his head which he knew was inevitable. The pressure he
felt at that instant was unlike anything he had ever felt in his life.

  He got the sudden urge to fight back but he couldn't move.

  Then he couldn't breathe.

  What was left of his hearing picked up the sound of a weary sigh. And his dying eyes watched the well-dressed man brush himself off and disappear into the forest.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  Dennis stared back at his beautiful sister. Sweet memories were swirling in his head of the two of them together with their parents on a hot July night way back in 1970.

  The Time Capsule.

  It was July 20th, 1970 to be exact—the one-year anniversary of the Apollo 11 mission, the first ever landing of a man on the moon. Neil Armstrong had become an instant hero to Dennis. He researched everything he could about the mission, about the moon, about future planned missions. He could recite Neil Armstrong's life story by heart. He drove his sister crazy.

  Of course, she was sixteen years old by the time the one-year anniversary rolled around, and Dennis was only a thirteen-year-old teenybopper. There was a huge chasm between them. Her interests lay in being 'cool' and hanging out with boys. Dennis was only concerned with fast cars and spaceships. The moon mission fascinated him beyond the understanding of most people.

  But his mom and dad understood. That's why they made sure that they were all at the cabin for the one-year anniversary, because it meant so much to Dennis. Melissa went along reluctantly.

  They went to the cabin on Saturday, the 18th, which was the night of a beautiful full moon. The timing for remembering the infamous landing couldn't have been more perfect. A full moon for the weekend.

  By Monday the 20th, the actual date of the landing the year before, the moon was still bright—and while a bit oblong, still almost full. Dad lit a bonfire near the oak tree that had a trunk shaped like a scythe, and they all sat around in camp chairs. The night was warm and still and the moon was bright. Dennis remembered looking up at it thinking that exactly a year ago men were walking on that mysterious ball. It was surreal. He looked around the campfire and could tell that for once it wasn't just him who was mesmerized by the moon. His entire family was caught up in the occasion.

  Suddenly he didn't feel so alone. Mom smiled at him and reached behind her chair and lifted a large box wrapped in sparkly paper. Dennis thought it looked like a starscape.

  He could hear her voice in his mind as clear as if she was still with him... "This is for you, Denny. Open it."

  Dennis ran over to her, grabbed the box and tore the paper off. He was so excited.

  He loved presents, and it wasn't even his birthday! He opened the lid and pulled out the object inside.

  It was a replica of the space capsule that brought the astronauts safely back to earth. Dennis lifted it up and admired it. He'd wanted one of these ever since the moon landing. They had been flying off the shelves in stores and he'd pretty much decided that he would never be lucky enough to have one.

  He looked around the campfire and smiled at his family. Then he ran over to his mom and dad and hugged them. Melissa got up and joined them—a group hug.

  Dennis examined his capsule. It was about three feet high and looked exactly like the real thing. It had a nice big hatch on the side, just like he remembered seeing the astronauts crawl out through.

  He thought back to that time—with the help of parachutes, the capsule splashed down in the Pacific Ocean on July 24th, 1969, four days after Armstrong and Aldrin walked on the moon. The capsule was an integral part of the Saturn V Rocket—the only part that was designed to survive re-entry into the earth's atmosphere—and it had sat on the nose of the rocket as it hurtled up into space. When it came down, it was all alone—a tiny leftover of the giant that had left earth eight days before.

  Now Dennis had one of his own. But he knew he couldn't keep it.

  Melissa and Dennis had been told a month ago that the family was going to bury a Time Capsule on the anniversary of the moon landing. Dennis had no idea in advance that it would be a real capsule they'd be using, but he appreciated the symbolism. He thought it was great. He didn't mind burying this gift—it was serving a mightier purpose than sitting in his room, which was already adorned with too many things as it was.

  Dad dug a deep hole a few feet away from the oak tree. Mom thought that not only was it symbolic that they use a replica Saturn space capsule for their family's Time Capsule, but since the scythe-like trunk of the oak tree resembled a half-moon it was doubly symbolic if they buried it near that tree. Dennis thought that his mother was so smart.

  Each of them had backpacks with little treasures inside—not too many, just a few little things that someone twenty, forty, eighty years from now would find fascinating.

  They took turns stuffing the items inside the capsule, and then Dad placed it carefully in the earthen tomb. All four of them helped cover it with dirt. Then they lay down on the grass and gazed up at the moon.

  It was one of the most magical nights of Dennis' childhood.

  Melissa squeezed his hand, shaking him out of his daydream.

  She smiled warmly at him. "You were remembering, weren't you?" Dennis nodded. Melissa got up and came around behind his chair. She hugged him and nestled her lips into his ear and whispered, "I love you, little brother."

  *****

  Brett worked his way through the thick forest until he was on the fringe facing the cabin. He chose an extra-large trunk to hide behind. He sat down with his back to the trunk, and pulled his laser listening equipment out of the inside pockets of his jacket. Brett put the headphones on and adjusted the sizing. Then he checked his 357 Magnum to make sure the safety was off. All set.

  He leaned his head back against the bark and waited.

  *****

  Dennis and Fiona pulled into the driveway of the cabin, with Mel's Toyota turning in right behind them.

  Fiona and Mel walked quickly over to the old oak tree, while Dennis went to fetch a spade out of the shed. This was the moment of truth. Digging up a Time Capsule that was never intended to be dug up by the original diggers. It had been hidden from the world for forty-two years.

  Dennis and Mel walked around the old tree and then stood back—both picturing where they were sitting forty-two years ago. Picturing their father digging the hole. Trying desperately to remember the exact spot.

  Dennis stamped his feet. "It's right here, Mel. It's so vivid to me. I can recall it exactly—it was such an exciting night for me."

  "Okay, Denny. Dig."

  "No, sis, you dig."

  Mel smiled at her little brother. "Denny, pretty please? Will you dig for me?"

  "Well, that's more like it. If you ask me like that, I'll do anything for you, Mel!"

  Dennis rammed the spade into the ground and began to remove the dirt. The ground was soft due to the recent rains, so the going was easy.

  It wasn't long before his spade hit something hard. He got down on his hands and knees and began to feel around the object. It was cylindrical and metal.

  "I've got it!" He began to dig furiously now, all around the circumference of the object until he could clearly make out the shape. After six more spadefuls, he had it uncovered. He reached down and lifted it out of the hole.

  Mel and Fiona moved in close as Dennis placed it on level ground and brushed off the dirt.

  "Are we ready?"

  Mel gushed. "Darn ready."

  Dennis opened the hatch and began pulling out the contents. He smiled as he saw photos of the Beatles, his miniature models of 1970s cars, a Barbie doll, newspaper articles that his parents had stuffed in. The front page of the New York Times dated November 22nd, 1963 announcing the assassination of President Kennedy, several newspaper articles featuring the 1970 moon landing, a photo of Neil Armstrong. It went on.

  Dennis looked at Mel and he could see she was crying. Fiona walked up to her and hugged her hard. Mel sobbed louder.

  The capsule was almost empty except for one more item that Dennis didn't recogniz
e. It was an envelope with the Pentagon emblem printed on the front. Mom had dug this capsule up herself a long time ago, and put something extra inside. Mel and Fiona leaned in closer as Dennis broke the seal.

  He pulled out the contents. Microfilm.

  "Jesus Christ—this is it!"

  A voice behind them said, "Yes, that does indeed look like the package." Dennis whirled around. Barb Jenkins was standing thirty yards behind them.

  Her steady hand held a pistol pointed at Fiona's head. "Give it to me, Dennis, or your lover will be no more."

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  "Barb, what is this? What's going on?"

  "Denny, sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not the person you thought I was. I guess that's life, huh?"

  Mel took a step forward.

  "Melissa, don't tempt me. While I want the first bullet to be in Fiona's head, I'll make an exception for you, trust me."

  Dennis raised his hands. "Barb, take it easy. No one needs to get hurt here. Just tell me what you want."

  "I just want that envelope, Denny. Your mother got rich off keeping that secret hidden. Now it's my turn."

  Denny took a tiny step forward. "Barb, who are you?"

  "I work for Defense Intelligence; the DIA. Have for decades. I never retired. That envelope contains information that is crucial to national security. It can't become public."

  Dennis couldn't believe what he was hearing. This long-time friend was a fraud. "You loved my mother! You've been a friend of the family for years!"

  Barb scowled. "I hated your mother. So honorable and self-righteous. Idealistic. I was a convenient friend. I make friends easy, Denny, you know that. Even you wanted to fuck me. Sorry, Fiona, but it's the truth.

  "I fucked my way up the ladder. Until I didn't need to do it anymore. Now I'm one of the top operatives, and this assignment is going to bonus me beyond my wildest dreams. I still have dreams, even at my age."

  Dennis was sure his confusion was written all over his face. "But you warned my mom after James Layton was murdered! You tried to help her!"