Shatter Point Page 14

  I am a strong woman.

  She had found a wide array of makeup options in the dresser during her earlier search of the bathroom. She glanced back at the stranger in the mirror. She could hide the bruise with a little make-up. The puffiness would still be there, but she could conceal the redness.

  She turned from the sink. Let him see it. Maybe it will slow him next time.

  She returned the bedroom knowing that she needed to be careful.

  Cooper had displayed a volcanic temper as a boy, and it would surely be worse now. The photographs proved it. They showed the work of a madman.

  Cooper appeared at her doorway as if her thoughts had conjured him from some evil hiding place. He beamed a wide smile, his impossibly blue eyes twinkling. He cradled a gift in his hands as if it were the most valuable item in the world—as if it were a newborn. He strolled gracefully into the suite of rooms, like a dancer. “That dress looks lovely on you. You are more beautiful than ever.”

  She smiled. I hate you!

  She steadied her breathing. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”

  He waved his hand toward the couch in the living area. “Let’s sit. We have much catching up to do.”

  Maggie nodded and inched her way toward the couch as if the world tilted under her feet and one misstep might cast her off. To steady herself, she focused on Cooper’s throat, but he was too strong for her to choke the life out of him. Maybe if he were sleeping....

  Cooper reached the couch first and waited for her to join him, the smile never leaving his face. When she got within arms reach, he held out the gift. “I’ve brought something for you.”

  Her hands trembled as she took the present. Pink wrapping paper encased the box, with a large green bow on top.

  Cooper bounced to the couch, elegantly sitting on the end, and patted the seat next to him. “Come, sit and open your present. The gift is only a token, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

  She stiffly joined him, sitting as far away as the couch allowed. The box felt heavy in her hands.

  He bounced his legs boyishly, his smile widening to the point that it looked almost painful.

  She unwrapped the present, careful not to rip the paper. An old habit; she hated to waste wrapping paper. She fleetingly considered stuffing the paper down his throat, but she needed to be smarter than that. Instead, she let the paper fall to the floor.

  “Well, open the box, Maggs.” Cooper’s smile lost a little of its genuineness as his legs bounced to an even faster tempo.

  She opened it and found a complete set of French drawing pencils and a new English sketchpad.

  “Do you like it?”

  She stared at the pencils. Pencils are sharp. I can stab him in the throat with a pencil.

  “I like them very much. Thank you, Cooper.” An idea flashed in her mind. She smiled and batted her eyes shyly. “I’ve started to dabble in calligraphy. If it isn’t too much to ask, do you think you might be able to bring me a pen? I know they’re expensive.”

  Calligraphy pens are sharper and stronger than pencils. The best are diamond tipped. A good calligraphy pen would make a reasonable dagger.

  “Of course I can.” He tenderly reached for her chin. She flinched, and his smile vanished as quickly as a flash flood.

  She thought she smelled sulfur, and rolled her head back and feigned a dizzy spell.

  “Are you all right, Maggs?”

  The sulfur smell receded. “I’m just so tired, and a little dizzy.”

  He clenched his hands into fists. His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. “I told that doctor not to give you too much of the sedative. I told him I wanted you alert for my visit! He’s going to pay for this!”

  She stammered weakly, “I’m sure it’s not his fault. Everything is so overwhelming. I just need a little rest.” Touch me again and I will bite your ear off!

  Cooper stood, a deep scowl on his face marring his good looks. “Of course, Maggie. I’ll come back when I can.” He kicked the discarded wrapping paper on the floor on his way out of the suite.

  Please bring the pen so I can stab you in the heart.

  Mary led Jack and Tom back into Rachel’s office.

  Rachel and Aunt Jackie sat on the couch, and The Professor studied the letters on Rachel’s computer with a sour expression.

  “So what did you uncover?” Rachel asked Mary as Tom shut the door behind them.

  Mary slid behind Rachel’s desk. “Let me show you.” She tapped on a keyboard and the video feeds on the wall vanished, replaced by a single image. “This press release was published in The Patch, which is a small local newspaper in upstate New York on August 22, 2013. At the bottom you can see the logo.”

  She highlighted the symbol, identical to the one from the stationary on which Cooper had written the first note. Mary watched their reaction to the short article. Having a photographic memory, she had no need to review the document again.

  “According to the press release, a fire on the property killed one of their employees. Apparently, the main lodge was heavily damaged. The resort said they would rebuild the lodge, making it better, modernizing, expanding, et cetera.”

  “Did you find out anything else about the fire?” Rachel asked.

  “Just these two short articles.” Mary added two other pages from The Patch to the wall. “The first one simply reported the fire and the one casualty. The second is dated April 2014 and announced that the lodge had been fully reconstructed. A local zoning issue required the resort to post a notice in the paper. A reporter for the newspaper got credit for the article, but it reads like another press release with similar wording and style as the first one.”

  “Who died in the fire?” The Professor studied the newspaper articles intensely, his arms folded over his thin chest.

  “Neither the article about the fire nor the press release mentioned the victim by name. However, I did find a short obituary in a local newspaper close to the resort, dated two days after the fire.” The obituary appeared on the wall above the other articles. “A man by the name of John Grant died the same day as the fire. The obituary indicates he worked as a stable hand, but it doesn’t say where he worked when he died. The days match up too closely to be a coincidence. I bet he died in that fire.”

  Jack turned toward Aunt Jackie. “Didn’t you say Grandpa worked with horses? Have you ever heard of this guy?”

  “This is the place. It has to be.” Aunt Jackie’s skin turned ash-white.

  “Tell us what you know, Aunt Jackie. Don’t hold back information from us.”

  “We need the data,” encouraged Tom.

  She tugged on her ear and sighed. “I’ve heard the name before. I was overseas at the time, but your grandfather had a good friend named John Grant. He died in an accident before I returned.”

  The Professor spoke, his voice heavy and dark. “The subject had already developed a strong attachment to Maggie by the time he gave her that first note. He signed it ‘Your Special Friend,’ but he has no ability to truly make any friends.”

  He stroked his goatee tenderly as a cherished pet. “It’s impossible to tell with the limited information we have, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the subject started this fire. If John Grant was a friend of Maggie’s father, perhaps he wanted to show her how powerful and important he was. He would have been young to exhibit that level of malice, but there are other cases of children doing similar things.”

  “Great,” Rachel muttered. “Mary, did you access their records so we can cull through them and find out the true identity of Cooper?”

  “I’ve hacked into their systems. They have a sophisticated encrypted living database, but I found a back door and snuck in. They keep all their client lists off the servers on separate drives. Apparently they don’t trust their electronic security to keep them safe. Everyone’s worried about hackers these days.” She shrugged. “I tried my best, but there’s nothing I can do.”

  Rachel added, “This type of resort would keep those rec
ords on the property in a secure location.”

  Aunt Jackie pushed herself off the couch with a grunt. “Looks like I’m going on a road trip.”

  “Terrific,” Jack muttered.

  “Jack and I are coming,” Tom said.

  “Me too,” Mary added.

  “This may be dangerous, Mary. You should stay here and see if you can find anything else out through the computers.” Tom tried to smile, but his expression withered under the glare she shot his way.

  “The files might be encrypted on a separate drive, and you’ll need me to retrieve them.” Her hands flew to her hips, and her stance defied Tom to say another word about the matter.

  For once, he made the smart decision and remained silent.

  “Better break out the armory,” Aunt Jackie said. “Everyone’s going to be prepared. I’ve brought my own.”

  She slipped a thin but powerful looking old handgun from her bag—well oiled and glistening.

  “Aunt Jackie, I thought you sold insurance after leaving the circus,” Jack said. “Something tells me that’s not true.”

  Aunt Jackie smiled. “Who would have told you something like that?”

  “You did!” Tom added. “You said you sold policies.”

  He felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of him. His family kept surprising him. Every time he dug, he unearthed family secrets—first the Fourteenth Colony, then his mom’s situation with Cooper, and now Aunt Jackie’s strange past. What am I going to find next?

  “Oh that. I said I traded policies, my dear. I never said anything about insurance. Policies have nothing to do with insurance.”

  “Unbelievable,” Jack grumbled.

  Rachel placed a metal case on top of her desk. “Jackie’s experience will come in handy.” She popped it open and removed a sleek black pistol. “This is the latest advancement in weaponry. It acts much like a traditional gun, but instead of bullets, it shoots poison darts. The tips are razor sharp and will penetrate most types of armor.”

  She pointed to a small dial on the handle. “There are three settings. Three is the strongest and will kill the target immediately. Two should knock the average person unconscious for about five hours. One disables the target for an hour or so. The gun contains twelve darts.”

  “Poison darts?” Aunt Jackie snorted. “You must be joking! We’re going to face serious people with real guns!”

  Rachel scowled at her. “This weapon is as lethal as your gun. The people at the resort are innocents in all this. This way there will be no hesitation by those who are not as comfortable with killing as you are.”

  “I think they’re an improvement over that relic,” added Mary.

  “Speaking of relics, Jackie, your pistol has to be over thirty years old,” said Rachel. “Don’t you think it’s time to retire it and try something modern?”

  “Never. Excalibur has never failed me. We’re a team. I don’t need anything modern. That’s the problem with the world. Everybody wants the new thing, something that makes life easier. The new generation could learn a thing or two from the old ways.”

  “Your gun has a name?” Jack chuckled.

  Aunt Jackie glared at him, and Jack shriveled under the strain.

  “Well, I think it’s important to keep up with technology,” Mary said, interrupting the awkward silence. “The dart pistol will be good for me.”

  She tapped on the keyboard. The documents vanished off the wall and a wall-sized satellite view of the Lake Country Resort took their place.

  “This is the resort. The place is huge, with a golf course, lake, lodge, individual houses, and several other buildings. Its size gives us an advantage. Three roads lead onto the property, all heavily guarded, but the golf course is not watched. We can take this service road along the edge of the course, cross through the grass, and head to the lodge up here.” Mary pointed to the largest building toward the middle of the property.

  Tom snuck a worried look at his diminutive aunt. “How far is it between the course and the lodge?”

  Mary frowned. “A little over two miles separate the course from the lodge at the narrowest point.”

  “Do you think you can make it?” Jack glared at Aunt Jackie. “We’re not going to be able to stop for oxygen.”

  The old woman bristled. “I’m in better shape than you, racquet boy! Just make sure you keep up.”

  Mary hid a grin with the back of her hand. “There’s a summer ball tonight, so the lodge will be busy.”

  Aunt Jackie glanced at The Professor. “What about you, shrink? Are you saddling up? We might run into someone who needs psychoanalyzing.”

  “The Professor will stay behind,” answered Rachel, glowering at her. “He’ll continue to look into the letters and photographs. We’ll try to determine the identities of some of the victims and start to develop a better profile of Cooper.”

  ***

  Jack’s phone vibrated and he checked the screen. Doctor Beck called for the third time in the last half hour.

  The doctor will have to wait.

  He tucked the phone back into his pocket.

  Darian sat with his legs crossed on the tiled floor, a tablet at his side. He stroked Lassie’s soft yellow fur with a gentle hand, and she wagged her tail and settled into his lap.

  “We’ve been through a lot together. You’re the last of my test subjects, the only animal I haven’t managed to kill.” His voice faded as he completed the thought.

  Lassie settled even deeper in his lap, nuzzling her head against his thigh.

  “I’ve taken more blood from you than a vampire, and I’m surprised you don’t glow in the dark after all the imaging I’ve done of your brain. Still, you haven’t complained.”

  Lassie barked once, as if she understood him and agreed.

  He scooped up her head in his hands and kissed her on top. “I don’t understand why your brain has stopped developing. You’re the key to EBF-202, and I need to understand. Jack only has a few days left now.”

  He showed her the tablet. “This is a full analysis of your blood. There must be something here that makes you different from the rest. Can you just point it out to me?”

  Lassie raised her head, looked at the computer, glanced at him, and dropped her head back on his lap with a sympathetic whine.

  “I’ll take one last vile of blood and a brain scan.” He stopped petting her. “But if I can’t figure out the secret, I’m going to have to put you to sleep and autopsy your brain. It’s the only procedure I can think of that might give me the answer. Maybe I can create a drug from your gray matter. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I can’t just give up on Jack. He should have his whole life ahead of him. I can’t be the one responsible for his death.”

  Lassie looked up at him, growled, and bit him firmly on the thigh.

  The Silver Bullet sped north with Aunt Jackie behind the wheel. She swung the car around slower moving traffic, traversing the highway like a downhill slalom course.

  Tom sank his nails into the armrest and sucked in his breath a few times as she narrowly whizzed by cars, tractor-trailers, one speedboat, two tour busses, and an entire motorcycle gang. He was shocked the car could move so fast.

  He reconfigured the radio. He couldn’t shut it off completely, but he managed to lower the volume. Old-time country music gently wafted through the speakers. He had tried to change the station once, but when Aunt Jackie growled at him, he jerked his hand away from the controls, fearful she might bite him.

  The music was still too loud for Jack, mumbling in the back seat next to Mary, who typed on her tablet, lost in her binary world.

  Tom tore his eyes off the road and scrutinized his great aunt. Was she really an assassin? “So, Aunt Jackie, what exactly did you do with these policies?”

  She grinned. “I guess you’re old enough to know. I worked for the government when I was younger. As a circus performer, I traveled abroad without raising suspicion.” She glanced at him. “Did I ever tell you what they called me?�
�

  “Yes, Aunt Jackie, a million times. You were the Sorceress of Secretariat.” Tom knew she was trying to distract him, but he wanted to learn more about her prior life. “Getting back to your other job, did you work for the CIA?”

  “The Sorceress of Secretariat,” Aunt Jackie repeated, ignoring Tom’s question. “In some places in the world, they still talk about my performances. There’s a Danish museum that runs a five-minute video of my most famous performance. They used to paint my costume right onto my skin. Nothing separated me from the horse or from the audience.”

  “I’ll never sleep again,” Jack muttered from the back seat.

  “Seriously, Aunt Jackie, that’s too much information,” Tom said. “Tell me about your other job.”

  She gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I worked for the government, Thomas. There are agencies you don’t know about. When I came home, I took more sophisticated jobs from them. I did things that needed doing.”

  “How many policies did you cancel?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. He still had a hard time imagining his diminutive great aunt as a killer, but as the day grew longer, it became easier.

  She shrugged. “More than I can remember.”

  “Did Mom know what you did?”

  “Maggie knew enough. That’s why she came to me. If anything happened to her, she asked me to protect you boys from Cooper.” She huffed. “I guess I screwed that up.”

  “How could you kill those people?” The question spilled out on its own. Tom understood killing in self-defense or while protecting a loved one, but premeditated murder was something altogether different.

  Aunt Jackie stared intensely out the window. “The country had enemies that had to be dealt with. America was different back then. We stood for something—freedom, opportunity, democracy.” She shook her head. “That was then. Now the country serves only the rich and powerful, but things will change back. They always do.”