Mr. And Miss Anonymous (15 page)

“Oh, shit!”

“Yeah, oh, shit!”
Tom said.

“Okay, okay.”

P
ete and Winston saw the movement in the sycamore tree at the same moment.
The boy!
So he’d been right after all. He was going to lose him again if these dumb clucks didn’t get out of his way. Still, did he want to take on the FBI and the rent-a-cops, who were all holding guns pointed at the SUVs? He looked down at the driveway to see all their own firepower as well as all their cell phones in a tidy little pile.

“This is bullshit!” Pete said, opening the door and stepping out onto the concrete apron. He and the others would have been fools not to hear the click of seven guns. Even Winston knew enough to freeze in his tracks. Pete raised his hands high over his head. Winston, at his side, growled menacingly, the fur on the back of his neck standing straight up. Inside the SUV Pete could hear Zolly’s and Lily’s protests.

Even though his hands were high in the air, Pete’s eyes were on the sycamore tree and the branch that was weaving and bobbing. Without the interference he was facing, with his long legs he could have snagged the boy before he slid to the ground. Goddamn it!

“That’s far enough, mister,” Agent Warner said.

To Pete, his voice sounded shaky. His firing hand didn’t look exactly stable to him either. The rent-a-cops looked nervous.

“Look, we didn’t do anything. We stopped at the taped line when you told us to. We came here to see if we could find the boy. I think I know him. Now, either let us go or charge us with something. We have all the paperwork to carry those guns lying on the ground. What’s it going to be?”

“You’re staying right where you are until I get orders telling me otherwise. Now, get back in that vehicle and stay there.”

“See, now that’s where you’re wrong. We’re leaving, and we’re taking our property with us. You want to shoot me, then damn well shoot me. Before you can get that gun into firing position, this dog will have your throat ripped to shreds. I also want to remind you that I’m the CEO and founder of PAK Industries and have friends in some very high places, like 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, for example. I bet with one phone call I could have your ass booted out of the Bureau with no trouble. And those rent-acops—well, I understand Walmart is looking for help. And the bill for all these tires is going to be sent to the Bureau since you allowed a bogus agent to use an Uzi to flatten all our tires. Bogus agent, Mr. FBI Agent. How’s that going to look in your file? So back off, hotshot.”

Agent Warner longed for a deep, dark hole to swallow him up. During his nine years at the Bureau, this was his first confrontation. Damn that stupid Robbins. Everything this guy said made sense. Still, to back down in front of all these people was going to be one hell of a humiliating experience. Sometimes you just had to bite the bullet.

Warner holstered his weapon, the rent-a-cops did the same.

“This is a crime scene, so get your gear and your posse and get the hell out of here. Don’t let me see you within a mile of this school again. You hear me?”

“Screw you and the horse you rode in on,” Pete responded. “Zolly, get the guys, and let’s go!”

On the short walk to the road, while Pete called for transportation, Zolly was stewing and fretting. “We could have taken them, boss.”

“Yeah, I know,” Pete replied, snapping his cell phone shut. “We don’t have time to spend in custody waiting for bail and the paperwork that goes with it. That asshole got away, and I saw the boy up in the tree. I told you he’d come back here. Now he’s going to run again. I need to get back up there. Me and you, Zolly, and, of course, Winston. We need to find a way in through the back, and this time I’ll let you take on the rent-a-cops. We can do it, Zolly, but we have to do it right now. That bumpkin back there won’t think we have the chutzpah to do something so quick. You game?”

“Yeah, boss.” Zolly’s honor was at stake here, and he knew it. “It’s almost dark, so let’s go for it. What about Miss Lily and the others?”

“They’ll wait for our transportation.”

“Do not ever make the mistake of speaking for me again,” Lily warned. “I’m going with you. I have as much invested in this as you do, Peter Aaron Kelly. Don’t give me any guff either. Let’s go.”

Zolly rolled his eyes as he cut through a mass of brambles at the foot of the long driveway, with Pete, Lily, and Winston bringing up the rear.

Josh raced into the kitchen, where he fell against the counter as he struggled to bring his breathing under control.

“That was certainly an experience to write about in your journal. They saw you, you know. What’s your game plan now?”
Tom asked.

“No shit! Why do you think I’m standing here breathing like a racehorse? I need to get the book, Tom. Then I have to split, but I don’t know where to go. Do you have any ideas? That’s my game plan unless you have a better one,” Josh gasped.

“Actually, I do have an idea, Josh. Mr. Dickey kept an apartment in town. He went there on weekends. If you can find his address, you could go there and hide out. It’s a complex. He told us about it, don’t you remember? He told us about all the weird people who lived there and how hard he had to work to get along with them.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just what I need, more weird people. Like this isn’t weird enough,” Josh said, waving his arms about. “That means I have to go back to the library.”

“That’s exactly what it means, Josh. You should be safe at his place because the FBI went through everything there already. I bet his rent is paid to the end of the month. But maybe the people who own the apartment already rented it out. It’s a chance you have to take. Sheila agrees.”

That was all Josh had to hear—his two best friends agreeing on a course of action.

“So do I take the book with me or not?”

“Yeah, yeah, take the book, but I don’t think you should leave it there. Sooner or later the apartment will be up for rent. Maybe you can find a place in the library that will be safe. You know, some book no one will ever look at. I think you should make copies first, though.”

“I can do that. Yeah, yeah, I can do that. It’s almost dark out. Should I leave now?”

“First go get the book and, yeah, go out the way you got in here, through the back. Stick the book in your pants and, for crying out loud, don’t lose it. It’s all you got going for you, buddy, to prove what’s been going on around here.”

“Wait for me, Tom.”

“You know it, buddy. Sheila’s here, too. She said to tell you that you’re going to need an ice pick to open Mr. Dickey’s lock. You better take some food, too.”

Josh’s mind raced as fast as his feet as he ran through the building. Fifteen minutes later he was back in the kitchen, Tom’s spiral-bound notebook tucked securely in his sweatpants. He jerked at the string holding up his sweatpants to make sure the book was secure.

Within seconds he had an ice pick in his pocket and a paper sack filled with food. “Wait a minute, I forgot something. I have to go back.”

“Josh, there’s no time. I hear a commotion outside. What’s so important you have to go back for it?”

“My photo album with all our pictures. I can’t leave without it. I don’t ever want to forget what you and Sheila look like. Our other friends, too.”

“All right, all right, but hurry up.”

“Fan out, people,” Pete hissed. He placed a cautionary hand on Winston’s head to warn the big dog to stay close. Winston whined.

Thirty minutes later, Zolly had taken out three of the rent-a-cops. “They’re sleeping like babies, boss, and, no, I didn’t really hurt them. They might have a headache when they wake up a few hours from now, but that’s it. Do you want to go inside, or are we just checking the grounds?”

“I’ll take the inside, you do the grounds. Keep Winston with you. Lily, come with me. You take the first floor, I’ll take the second.”

“Pete, it’s pitch-dark inside, we aren’t going to be able to see a thing. The boy could be standing in the same room with us, and we’d never know it. This isn’t going to work unless we feel our way around and call his name. We both know he isn’t going to answer us. We need a better plan.”

Pete knew she was right. How did he get to be this stupid? “You’re right. You stay here, and I’m going to wander around and call his name. I can’t leave here without giving it a shot.” There was such anguish in his voice when he said, “I have to try, Lily.”

“I know, Pete. I’ll do the same. There’s a little light coming in some of the windows. Don’t call out too loud,” Lily warned, as Pete moved off.

Lily ventured forth, wishing she had Winston at her side. From time to time she called out to the boy, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the fear in her voice and know she was in a state of panic. Thirty minutes into her search she also knew she was hopelessly lost. Her heartbeat kicked up several notches as she broke out into a cold sweat. “Pete!” she croaked. “Can you hear me? I’m lost.”

Josh Baer stopped dead in his tracks. Was his mind playing tricks on him or did he just hear a female voice no more than a foot away? He thought his heart was going to explode right out of his chest. He moved quickly to the opposite side of the hallway that led to the biology lab.

“Oh, shit! Be careful, Josh. This isn’t good, buddy. Don’t even breathe. Let her pass you. She sounds scared. We both know scared people do crazy things.”

Josh flattened himself against the wall, hardly daring to breathe. He clutched at the spiral-bound notebook and the thin photo album he’d stuck in his sweatpants. He just knew they were going to fall out, so he pulled them out and stuck them under his sweatshirt, which he tucked into the sweatpants. Too bad he didn’t have a Windbreaker with a zipper.

“C’mon, c’mon, you ditzball, get the hell out of here. She’s calling someone who must be upstairs. How’d they get by us?”

Did Tom really think he was going to answer him? The woman was whimpering, or it sounded like she was whimpering, although he’d never heard anyone doing that. Who was she? What was she doing here? Who was the guy upstairs? Tom was right, he had to get out of here. He moved then, the toe of his sneaker sticking on the slick tile underfoot. He’d made a noise. Damn.

“Pete, is that you? Thank God. I thought I heard something. I have to get out of here before I pass out. You know the way out, don’t you?”

“I know what you’re thinking, Josh. Don’t do it. Do you hear me, don’t do it!”

Josh wished he could tell Tom to shut up. Instead he whispered, “Follow me.” He felt movement then, the air stirring around him as he started down the hall.
Please,
he prayed,
don’t let this be a mistake. Please, please, please.

Lily was babbling as she followed him, but he was so intent on getting safely away that he had no clue what she was saying. At the doorway that led into the kitchen, Josh reached out and pushed her forward. He whispered, “Kitchen. Wait.” He raced past her and out the door.

“That was probably the dumbest thing you’ve ever done in your whole life. Now, how the hell are you going to get out of here? There are people out there, and they have that big dog. What are you going to do, Josh?”

“I’m going to pretend I’m you and run like hell; then I’m going to go back to being me and hurdle any obstacle that crosses my path. You know, like Superman. Unless you have a better idea.”

“Go for it, buddy.”

And he did.

Lily listened to the sound of the door closing and frowned. Why was Pete leaving her alone? She called his name, knowing he couldn’t hear her.

“What’s wrong, Lily? You sound scared out of your wits,” Pete said as he came up behind her. He put his arms around her shaking shoulders.

“P… Pete? Didn’t you just go out the kitchen door? How did you get back in here so quick?”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t go out the kitchen door, I just got here. I was looking for you. It’s too damn dark, so all I could do was call his name. But Josh didn’t answer. Did you have any luck?”

“No. I got lost, then I panicked. I thought you led me out here to the kitchen. Someone whispered, ‘follow me,’ and I did, then he went out the kitchen door. I thought it was you. Oh, God, it was Josh, wasn’t it? He was right here with me, and I didn’t even know it. Oh, Pete, I am so sorry.”

Pete kept his arm around Lily’s shoulders as he led her out of the school into the dark night. Within seconds, Winston bounded to his side, followed by Zolly.

“He got away, boss! Winston tried, but he tripped on some roots, and the kid was like a streak of lightning. At least I think it was the kid. Man, can he move! He’s gone!”

“Yeah, I know. C’mon, we might as well join the others. I hope they’re waiting for us. He’s not going to come back here, that’s for sure. Jesus, what does he know? Why did he help Lily, then run?”

“He doesn’t know who to trust, Pete. Hey, he could have left me back there blithering like an idiot or bopped me on the head, and he didn’t. And, he’s afraid.”

“Not as afraid as I am,” Pete muttered as he followed Zolly and Winston to the area where they’d invaded the school grounds. “Are the guards okay, Zolly?”

“Yeah, they’ll be waking up soon with bad headaches. This has been a hell of a night, boss. Someday you have to write a book and send it to your stockholders at Christmastime.”

“Smart-ass,” Pete mumbled.

“Takes one to know one, boss.”

“That’s the truth,” Lily said, weighing in.

T
essie Dancer parked her red Taurus in the dimly lit parking lot of the Belly-Up Bar in a less-than-desirable location in town. She looked around at the rows of pickup trucks and battered cars the Belly-Up’s customers arrived in. It was a strip bar with pole dancers who were shy about removing their clothing, saying they danced for the art of dancing. Tessie considered the dump educational because she had visions of wrapping herself around one of the poles and going for it. Not that she ever would, but every girl deserves to have a fantasy. Little Slick hated the place, but he was the one who found it and said it was the only safe place in town for people like him and Tessie to discuss business.

The Belly-Up Bar had a private room for such discussions, and for forty bucks, it was theirs for a solid hour. One free drink each and a bowl of peanuts came with the deal.

Little Slick, who really wasn’t so little at six two, climbed out of a Jeep Wrangler and walked toward Tessie, who was just getting out of her car. “Evening, Tessie,” he drawled.

“We have to stop meeting at dumps like this. It’s not good for my image,” Tessie drawled in return. She looked pointedly at Little Slick’s hands, knowing full well the hacker never carried anything with him. Among other things, Little Slick had a photographic memory.

The Belly-Up was smoky. The patrons, as they were called, didn’t give a shit about ordinances and the people who issued them. Anyone brave enough to enter the Belly-Up with the intention of enforcing any of the ordinances was never seen or heard of again. Or, so said the owner, a barrel-chested ex-wrestler who kept not one but six guns under the bar.

Tessie and Little Slick waved to the owner behind the bar as they headed for the private room that was so in demand a reservation had to be made in advance. Usually ten minutes prior to arriving qualified as a reservation.

Knowing the rules, Tessie and Little Slick went in and sat down at an old Formica-and-chrome table with bright red chairs, complete with brass nail heads, and waited. There was a certain ritual that had to be adhered to. Little Slick said it was the owner’s version of a class act. A knock sounded and the door opened. A bowl, as big as a watermelon, filled with peanuts was placed in the middle of the table. Five minutes later two bottles of BUD LIGHT were on the table, along with two skimpy cocktail napkins.

The moment the door closed, Little Slick leaned across the table, his eyes boring into the reporter’s. “Tessie, what the hell are you involved in? Girl, this is not good. Are you listening to me?”

Tessie bristled. “Well, I would if you’d tell me what you’re talking about. What?”

“Give me some background. I’m not divulging anything that’s going to get you wiped off the map until I know how you…how you got involved in whatever this is.”

Tessie could feel her stomach start to churn. “It fell in my lap. I got a phone call and I responded. Credible people. What, Slick?”

Instead of answering the question, Slick asked one of his own. “How credible?”

“As credible as they come,” Tessie snapped.

“Who? I need names, Tessie.”

“Well, you aren’t going to get any names. You know better than to ask me something like that. Either you trust me or you don’t. For God’s sake, what?”

Little Slick moved his beer bottle on the table, making round wet circles, his eyes cloudy with worry. “Call your friend or whoever it is and ask him or her if you can give me their names. I’m not giving up a thing until I know what this is all about. It’s for your own good, Tessie. Mine, too. This is all too far up the food chain for either one of us to go off half-cocked. The retaliation could be deadly. Either you do it, or I’m outta here.”

Tessie couldn’t believe her ears. In all the years she’d known Little Slick, this was the first time she’d ever seen him so concerned, looking this worried. She bit down on her lower lip. “I guess I can do that. Why don’t you go out to the bar and buy us another beer while I make the call.”

Little Slick stood up. “Don’t even think of snowing me, Tessie. I’ll know if you try to put one over on me.”

Tessie waited for the door to close behind Little Slick before she pulled out her cell phone. She pressed in Pete Kelly’s cell number. When there was no answer, she tried Lily Madison’s cell. She picked up on the third ring.

“Lily, it’s Tessie Dancer. Listen, I’ve run into a bit of a problem. If you know anything about reporters, then you know we don’t reveal our sources and don’t mention names unless we have permission. I have a long-standing source right here with me who has information Pete needs, but he’s telling me he won’t give it up until he knows who it is that wants it besides me. Are you following me here? Good, now, can I talk to Pete?”

As Lily handed the phone to Pete she told him who was on the line.

“Tessie! I was just going to call you.” Before Tessie could tell him why she was calling, Pete launched into the happenings at the California Academy of Higher Learning. “Lily was
that
close to him, Tessie. He actually led her out to the kitchen. He’s gone now. So for now he’s lost to us again. I was right, though, he did go back to the school, where he felt safe. That bastard shot up the ceiling, so I’m assuming the boy was crawling through the ductwork. There were hundreds of shell casings in the hallway floor. Somehow or other the kid got away, thank God. I hope you’re calling with better news.”

Tessie digested the information, sifted and collated it with her reporter’s brain. She cleared her throat. “Listen, Pete, I’m meeting with one of my best sources. At the moment he’s not with me, so he can’t hear what I’m saying. I want you to believe me when I tell you this guy is the best of the best. He has something, but he won’t divulge it unless I tell him who you are and how I came by the story. My thinking, and he pretty much verified it, is that this is so far up the food chain he’s afraid. And, trust me, I did not think there was anything in this world that could scare this guy. I’ve gone to jail twice to protect my sources, and I’ll go again. It would just make it easier if you give me the okay to mention your name. He’s not going to do anything with the info. It’s strictly for his ears only. What say you, Pete Kelly?”

The sudden silence on the other end of the phone caused Tessie’s stomach muscles to crunch into a tight knot. When Pete finally started to speak, she felt light-headed with relief.

“You’re the reporter, Tessie. Whatever you decide is okay with Lily and me.”

“Okay, I’ll get back to you in a bit. Tell Lily to think about the shooter and the changes to his appearance. I’ll bring the drawing she made, and she can sketch in the changes. You’re telling me there isn’t going to be any fallout with the FBI over your visit?”

“So far so good. Other than a mess of flat tires and a bunch of tow trucks, we got away clean without being hauled in.”

“Okay, good. We’ll talk in a bit.”

Tessie clicked her cell phone shut and stared at the only picture on the wall. It had a black velvet background with a glow-in-the-dark image of Elvis Presley decked out in a white rhinestone-studded, one-piece suit. A true work of art. She really loved tacky crap.

Her eyes glued to the artwork, Tessie heard rather than saw Little Slick enter the room, two bottles of beer in hand. His eyes questioned her.

“His name is Peter Aaron Kelly, CEO and founder of PAK Industries, and his lady friend, Lily Madison, doyenne of children’s clothing.”

Little Slick’s expression gave away nothing. “The rest, please.”

“Being as smart and astute as you are, I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out. Pete donated his sperm, Lily donated her eggs. A lifetime ago, nineteen years, to be exact. The kid that got away… Pete thinks it’s his kid. Which then begs the question of why would some crackpot blow away a whole classroom of kids? Somehow the shooter missed the boy and his friend. The friend, by the way, is mentally challenged and in the protection of the FBI.” Tessie leaned back and stared across the table at Little Slick.

“Tell me the rest.”

Tessie sighed. “With the help of Pete’s security, they broke into the clinic and sperm bank. Both places were deserted, wiped clean. The sperm bank was pretty much what you would expect. The clinic was different. In the back was a complete minihospital. Delivery rooms. Labs. Just like a regular hospital, only scaled down. Not so much as a paper clip was left behind. Both buildings were abandoned within hours of their visit, during which they asked some real serious questions. That’s it, Slick, it’s all I have. Now it’s your turn, and don’t leave anything out.”

Slick pointed to the picture on the wall. “True art.”

Tessie knew he was stalling for time. Well, she had all the time in the world.

“What happened first, Tessie, the shooting or Kelly getting in touch with you?”

“The shooting. Pete and Lily were in the airport in Atlanta, both taking a flight here for a fund-raiser at their alma mater. They met by accident, although they had met nineteen years ago. A brief encounter. Both of them have some severe problems where all this is concerned. It seems neither one of them took advantage of the counseling that was suggested back when they were…uh…making their…donations. Yes, they made those donations for money, but they also made them believing the donations would go to childless couples. That doesn’t seem to be the case, in my opinion.

“Another thing, Slick, where are the other youngsters who attended that school? All I can find out is that they left several days before the shooting. As far as I know, no one knows where they are. How do you secret away so many kids, and why? The shooting was a contract kill. Who in the hell orders something like that? What kind of sick bastard would do something like that? Well?” Tessie asked through clenched teeth. “Do you know, Slick?”

“Let’s just say I know where all the threads lead. Can I prove it? In time, yes, if I stay alive long enough. That goes for you, too, Tessie. You know that dream you have of getting a house on the water so you can putz and putter around and maybe write a book? That might not happen if you stick with this. Anyone capable of killing a bunch of kids isn’t going to think twice about killing a reporter and her friend.
Me
being said friend.

“I’m willing to give up all I know, but then I have to back off. From here on in, you’re going to have to forget you know me. I have to think about my wife and kids. Your call, Tessie.”

Tessie eyed her friend across the table. She’d never seen him this
frightened.
The Slick she knew didn’t have a bone of fear in his body except maybe when it came to one of his kids. For one wild moment she wanted to heed his warning, grab her bag, and run, but the reporter in her wouldn’t allow it. She offered up a salute to Elvis as she nodded to Slick. “Lay it on me, big guy!”

Morgan blitzed his way down the highway, knowing he had to ditch the Land Cruiser and heist another set of wheels. An all-night supermarket was the most likely place, he told himself. He was rattled, and he admitted it to himself. He still couldn’t believe he’d gotten away with that show he’d put on back at the academy. But he was on borrowed time and he knew it.

He had to get back to the Daniel Marley house so he could fall back and regroup. No way was he ever going to get another chance at the school and the kid. If the snot was half as smart as he seemed to be, he was already long gone. This whole thing was getting way too dicey for Morgan. He needed to distance himself from the whole scene as soon as possible. He knew how to disappear. The others involved could stay and pick up the pieces. He’d worry about the damn money later. For now he had to think about saving his own skin and getting rid of this vehicle.

Morgan was careful to stay within the speed limit so as not to attract any attention to himself. Twenty minutes into the ride, he spotted a twenty-four-hour supermarket. He pulled in, cruising up and down the aisles as he looked for the darkest section of the parking lot. Near the Dumpster was a battered rust-colored Chevy just begging to be stolen. Hell, he’d be doing the owner a favor if he hot-wired it and drove it away. He parked the Land Cruiser at the opposite end of the parking lot and, with all his gear, walked back to the Chevy, which was just waiting for him, without drawing any attention to himself.

Morgan was back on the highway in less than ten minutes. Fifteen minutes from the Marley house, he stopped at a farm store where he bought two six-packs, six burritos, and a copy of the
Chronicle.
He asked for a shopping bag, paid for his purchases, and was quickly back on the road. Two blocks from his house, he ditched the Chevy and carried his belongings with him as he jogged all the way to his house.

Morgan fell into his well-trained soldier mode as he carried his weapons to the basement to secure them. He hung his suit in the closet, careful to pull the zipper of the storage bag all the way to the top so no dust could invade the quality suit. His shoes went on shoe trees, his underwear and shirt in the hamper. He showered, dressed in a baggy T-shirt and flannel pants. He walked barefoot back to the kitchen, where he wolfed down all six of the burritos and washed them all away with three beers.

He felt calmer, more alert, and not nearly as hyper. He flipped open the newspaper to see what was going on in the world. On page three he found what he was looking for. His jaw dropped, his eyes popped, and his fist shot upward.

The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Well, damn.

No, double damn!

This time both clenched fists shot into the air.