10
“Clyde, I’m in trouble,” Paul began. The brothers were in their parents’ kitchen again. Clyde was frying bacon and making coffee while Paul leaned heavily on the table, standing over it with both arms locked at the elbows, hands planted on the tablecloth with fingers outstretched. His head was hanging low, his boyish locks falling forward. Clyde thought he looked about twelve. Bailing him out of trouble had been as routine then as it was now. “Did you hear me, Clyde?”
“I heard you. I knew you were in trouble the moment you walked in the door. I told you not to do that Kinji thing. She’s smart and a woman, two reasons why she’s not worth it.”
“No, it’s not her. John Williams is blackmailing me. He found out what I was doing.”
“What? How did he know?” Paul had Clyde’s full attention now.
“He has a bug in Kinji’s office. He knew everything, and he had me in his cross hairs.”
“What does he want with you?” Clyde felt a familiar stirring within him. It was the same force that had led him to despicable acts in the past; all to protect his little brother… or, maybe, it was beyond that. It was a hunger, a craving, and his protective nature was an excuse? Possibly, but why then did he not act on these urges unless Paul was in trouble? No, this was about protecting family. Clyde was not a psycho, of that he was sure.
“He wants me to kill somebody.”
“He what?” Clyde laughed, thinking Paul was making a clever joke. He had him going, what a corker that brother of his. Clyde laughed until his belly shook. Only when he stopped to take a breath did he notice that Paul wasn’t laughing with him. Paul was still frozen in his stance over the table, arms holding his body up, head bent; a beaten man, a scared man, a fugitive. Clyde sank into a kitchen chair, the bacon left to grow cold on the counter.
“He sent his nephew to give me the message. If I don’t kill Serena Wilcox, he’ll have me put in prison and then they’ll have me killed in there, in prison.”
“Serena who?”
“She’s a former private detective. She’s one of ours, Clyde.”
“What do you mean, one of ours? Our Off Grid people?”
“Yes. She has three kids, husband. We set them up in Goodhue. We gave them the new name of Meadows. Before that they were the Browns, no, the Bridges.”
“Okay, yeah, I think I know who you’re talking about. Why do they want her dead? What does she know?”
“She knows something big, Clyde. I can’t believe it. The government knew about the attacks before they happened. She has proof, e-mail proof sent from an Iranian woman.”
“Our government?”
“Yes, our own. We knew and didn’t do anything.”
Clyde sucked air between his teeth and then exhaled slowly with a prolonged wispy whistle. “Paul, they were never after you. They were following her. We made it easy for them. They’ve been watching us all along. They know me too, don’t they?”
“Yes, they know you. They know about your computer lab, and they’re calling Off Grid a cult.”
“It is a cult. Sort of, anyway. Just a big sham, and I suppose they know that too, don’t they?”
“They know all about us, they think we’re buffoons. When I showed up at the tarmac, they had to be laughing their asses off.”
“We know nothing about them. That will change.”
Paul finally freed himself from his vigil at the table and sat in the chair across from his brother. He stared at his empty plate, and as if Clyde could read his thoughts, bacon suddenly appeared on it. He ate three strips, one after the other, and then spoke, “Clyde, this is bigger than my problems in the past. We’re talking about killing a person.”
Clyde raised his eyebrows and snorted. “And what makes you think I haven’t done that for you before?”
Paul stared at Clyde. He knew it was no joke. The repressed memory of what John Williams said to him came back. My people tell me that your only childhood connection to Kinji is a babysitter in common. A Mrs. Mason, who we’d have talked to, but she’s deceased. Died from a freak accident in the home.
Clyde cleared the plates and loaded the dishwasher. He let the information settle, knowing that Paul would accept the situation and would move on if given enough time to digest it, process it. He was Clyde, the big protective brother. He only did what needed to be done. If Paul didn’t see that now, he would come around to it eventually, of that Clyde was certain.
“Mrs. Mason?” Paul croaked. He tried to don his poker face, but he couldn’t con a con, especially the better of the two of them.
“Don’t look so shocked, Paul. The old bat had it coming. She did it to herself. No one messes with my brother.”
“Is she the only one?” Please, please let her be the only one, thought Paul.
Clyde smiled gently, placating a child. “If that’s what you need to hear, we’ll leave it at that. Let’s move on. We have a serious situation on our hands.”
Paul’s self-preservation instincts kicked in and this time he was successful at putting on his best poker face. Never show your true feelings to a sociopath, especially if he is also your brother. As Paul’s life was crashing down on him, he still felt that Clyde was his best, and only, option. “What do we do?”
“Well, we don’t kill her.”
“We don’t?” Paul was careful not to let relief creep into his voice.
“No, we let him do it.”
“Him?”
“John Williams. We’ll bring the girl to the President himself.”
“What? Why would we do this? Wouldn’t he have us all killed? And how would we even get close enough to him? I only got close because he nabbed me. And before that, they must have let me get close, because they knew who I was, and they were following me. They won’t let me near them if they don’t want me there.”
“We go through his nephew. We get the nephew, then he’ll want to see us. He gets the nephew and the girl. Lets us go. That’s the deal. We won’t kill her, that’s what they want us to do.”
“Yes, I know that’s what they want. I don’t get what you are saying. Even if we manage to get both of them, and get them to the President, and go as far as making the deal, wouldn’t they kill us after they got what they wanted?”
“Paul, they want to frame you for the murder. They get rid of both of you that way. They’ll kill you, you know. But if you refuse to kill her, and they have to go another way, you have leverage.”
“They’ll just kill me anyway, remember? If not on the spot, they’ll get me for the blackmail attempt and kill me in prison.”
“No, they won’t. You will have too much information on them, with the proof uploaded to our computer lab. Our kid hackers are very good, Paul. They can get them at their own game. They’ll have everything recorded in the cloud, so to speak, including the e-mail they sent you – you still have it right? Why did they get sloppy about that, did they think we wouldn’t forward it, save it, copy it?”
“I don’t know, maybe they made a mistake. The nephew is cocky. He might be going off the rule book.”
“They won’t be able to get their fingers on all the recordings, they’ll be digitally floating everywhere and anywhere, all timed to be released should something happen to you.”
“Recordings? All I have is the e-mail.”
“I’m talking about what we will have, what the kids will get for us. They’ll love this project. I’ll tell them they’ll get college credit for it.”
“So they get the girl, we get left alone. Why should we give them the girl at all? I don’t like getting a woman killed, a mother with three kids.”
“It’s the fastest way out of this. They want you because of her. Sever that connection.”
“Then we leave the country?”
“They can find us anywhere, even in the remotest of African villages. But it’s unnecessary to hide. What will keep us safe is our insurance policy. We blackmail them, we stay safe.”
“Blackmail didn’t work out so well for me, remember?”
“That’s because you didn’t have me running the show. Don’t worry, little brother, I’ve got your back. This will work. I’ll talk to my pimply faced hackers and get them on it. They’ll have you all suited up to record everything.”
“What if they check for bugs?”
Clyde winked. “You haven’t met Nicholas, my best – he’s the new kid. That boy is a magician. He’ll put a bug in play that not even you will know is there.”
“They’ll scan.”
“Not an issue. He has a remote controlled bug; that looks like an actual bug. He can fly it remotely, very remotely. He programs the thing and it can transmit from wherever it is, from long range too. We can bring it with us; release it before meeting their people. It’s so small it’s nearly invisible to the naked eye, and it’s fast.”
“I don’t know, it’s the President’s security detail, they probably have ways.”
“The bug is fast, it’ll zip right by them. You’ll see, it will work.” Clyde rubbed his hands together gleefully. At heart, he was a computer nerd too, but he was born too late to take to computers as naturally as the younger generation. He lived vicariously through his dream team of young geniuses.
Paul shook his head in amazement. “Where did you get these kids anyway? How do you get them to do what you want? They aren’t on payroll.”
“Funny how building a state of the art lab can reel them in. Free lab time is enough, and I do pay them a little something out of my pocket. If I bring in pizza, they’re happy to stay all night long.”
“I never knew how you got them there. I never knew a lot of things,” said Paul.
“You aren’t still hung up on old Mrs. Mason, are you? I only do what’s necessary. You trust me, don’t you Paulie?”
“Yes, I trust you Clyde.”
“Then we’ll get the kids to set us up with everything we need, and find the nephew and the girl for us. I’ll get the nephew. You get Serena-whatsherface. I’m sure you can talk her into coming to our place. She knows you.”