Don't Order Dog (50 page)

Tom shook his head doubtfully. “And how would you know that?”

“Because I was in there with her!” Alex screamed. “I barely made it out myself!”

Tom studied his brother-in-law closely as he fought to maintain consciousness. As hard as it was to accept, he knew Alex was telling the truth. He nodded and slowly released his grip.

“Goddamm
it!” Alex muttered as he pulled free of Tom’s grip and stepped back from the bed. “You stupid sonofabitch.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t deserve that,
brother
.”  Tom replied bitterly. “Now tell me… how the fuck did I end up with a bullet in my leg?”

Alex spoke quietly as he caref
ully rewrapped his injured arm. “I’m sorry, Tom. I really am. I had no idea you were this fucked up. I should have read your psych evaluation more carefully.” He turned and looked at Tom with a mixture of sympathy and disgust. “Christ, you don’t even have the faintest clue why I’m here, do you?”

“Of course I do
,” Tom replied matter-of-factly. “You already told me. You’re here because you need my help again. You need me to help find our letter-writing terrorist
once
again
because you and your highly-trained team of agents fucked up
once again
and managed to destroy nothing but innocent lives.” He smiled and shook his head. “Things aren’t looking so good for you, are they Alex? I’m sure your superiors in Washington can’t be happy with the score right now – the terrorist, two… the CIA, zero. Amsterdam alone might have just been a manageable embarrassment, but this Flagstaff thing is going to draw all kinds of heat. Especially when they find out I told you our terrorist wasn’t dead. I hate to say it, but you’re going to need a fucking miracle to save you this time.” Tom pulled back the bed sheet to expose his bandaged leg. “Maybe you should have thought of that before shooting the only guy who can help you. Now, I’m going to ask you one more time… why did you shoot me?”

Alex looked at Tom for a moment before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a small plastic bag, its top edge folded and sealed with tape that was
stamped with the CIA’s insignia.

“You’re wrong, Tom. You
may not remember, but you’ve already helped me. In fact, you’ve already given me the key piece of evidence I need to finally solve this fucking case.”

Tom watched with sudden interest as Alex held the evidence bag up in front of him. Inside appe
ared to be a handwritten note. “What is that?” he asked.

“This?” Alex replied, dangling the note playfu
lly. “This is my miracle, Tom. The
holy grail
of evidence if ever one existed. It’s a confession of guilt, found on the body of the last person trying to flee from Joe’s Last Stand Saloon before all hell broke loose.” 

Tom suddenly sat up in his bed.
“Wait– you’re telling me you actually got him?”

“That’s right
, Tom. We got him.”

“So where is he now?”

Alex placed the evidence bag on top of his slung arm and pulled back his jacket until Tom could see his holstered gun. “In the hospital,” he said casually as he rested his hand on the gun and smiled. “Recovering from a bullet wound.”

“In contrast to its civil or international counterparts, direct warfare between competing Corporate States will not be driven – nor judged – by such complex factors as ideology, culture or religion, but by the sole factor of economic gain. Consequently, any and all actions designed to achieve economic advantage will be considered morally and ethically justified by the Corporate State. This new ‘economic morality’ will usher in a highly volatile code of behavior in the new business ecology.  

However, while it may operate with relative impunity from governmental oversight, any hostile action taken directly by the Corporate State will not be without risk. Regardless of its size and power, the Corporate State ultimately serves, and thus answers to, its customers and shareholders; both of whom hold an expectation of ethical conduct that is core to the Corporate State’s public image and, largely, its success. For this reason, the Corporate State will take significant precaution to ensure any objectionable actions do not elicit the unfavorable attention of media agencies or rights advocacy groups – at least those that it does not own or influence - that could damage this public image.

The logical expression of this precaution will be the use of clandestine teams to carry out the Corporate State’s more egregious initiatives. These teams, comprised most likely of top minds from both the public and private sectors as well selected military personnel, will act as the lethal claw of the Corporate State and the hidden face of inter-corporate terrorism.” 

Jeri closed her father’s book and laid it on the sleeping pad next to her. Her body ached from lying in the same position for what
was now several hours, but she quickly put it out of mind. There was too much else to think about. She clicked off the flashlight and focused her thoughts within the darkness of her cramped metal cell. As the drone of the engine echoed steadily beneath her, the fragments of an explanation slowly began to come together
.

It was all beginning to make sense.

Jeri was so engrossed in her thoughts that she barely noticed as the vehicle began to slow. A sudden bump in the road jolted her back to reality. She braced her hands against the sides of her small cell as the vehicle abruptly rolled to a stop. A moment later the sound of footsteps echoed above her, followed by the metallic click of a key entering a lock. Suddenly the ceiling above her swung open and the darkness inside her tiny cell was replaced by the blinding light of day. Jeri covered her face with her hands and squinted up at the harsh light. Through her fingers she could make out a lone figure kneeling over her, his silhouette all too familiar.

“Take my hand.”

Jeri slowly reached up and grabbed Chip’s large hand, surprised by the old man’s strength as he pulled her gently to her feet. She stepped out of the small container and stood up stiffly as her eyes darted apprehensively around at her surroundings. They were standing in the back of a large service van, the interior stripped nearly bare. On both sides, a collection of old hand tools hung from the walls. Looking down, Jeri could see that the cell she’d been locked inside was nothing more than a large tool compartment concealed within the floor. She then looked out the open back doors and gasped. The van was parked near the edge of a high bluff. Outside, a stark landscape of mountains and desert spread out before her, filled by a wide lake of placid, cerulean blue water. Looking closer, Jeri realized the lake was in fact a bay, its calm surface punctured in the center by a handful of small, desolate-looking islands.

“I apologize for the accommodations,” Chip said quietly. “We didn’t have any identification for you, so we had to improvise.” He handed her a cold bottle of water. “Here, drink that. It’ll help with the soreness.”

Jeri looked at the bottle suspiciously before twisting off the cap and taking a quick taste. She realized as the water touched her lips that she was ravenously thirsty. A gust of hot, dry wind blew into the van as she drank the bottle. “Where are we?” she asked, tossing the empty bottle onto the floor of the van.

“Mexico,” Chip replied, admiring the view below them. “That down there is Bahia de los Angeles
, and that beautiful body of water is the Sea of Cortez.”

“Okay, great
,” Jeri replied as she gazed out at the view. She then turned and stared at him coldly. “So is this where you’re going to kill me if I don’t give you what you want?”

Chip looked at her with a
remorseful expression. “I know what happened at
the saloon seemed a little extreme, but you needed to experience it firsthand.
It’s standard procedure for everyone we bring in.”

“Bring in? Bring
in
?” Jeri shouted. She reached out and pushed him roughly against the side of the van. “Bring into
what
? Your
agency
?”

Chip caught himself before slamming against the wall and looked at her in surprise. “Look, I know this is all very confusing, and I’m sorry. I wish we could have done this differently, but we simply ran out of time. Let me finish explaining.”

“There’s nothing left to explain, Chip. I’ve already figured it out. Tom Coleman was right– you and your code-named team of freaks are nothing more than mercenaries. You’re the
hidden face of inter-corporate terrorism
hired by large companies to do their dirty work. You and your men are responsible for the deaths of innocent people… including five researchers whose only mistake was working for Petronus Energy. Am I correct so far?”

Chip nodded his head slowly. “Mostly.”

Jeri reached down into the compartment she’d been trapped in and grabbed her father’s book. “You were right, my dad was brilliant,” she continued, pointing the book at him threateningly. “He predicted thirty years ago what the world was going to become, and he was
right
. No wonder you didn’t want him to publish his book! You wanted it all for yourself, didn’t you? After all, you were
bored
. It wasn’t easy for a big-time secret agent like yourself to suddenly give up everything and go into hiding in a quiet little place like Flagstaff. And I’m sure your new career of digging up fossils wasn’t cutting it. When my father handed you a blueprint of the future, you immediately saw an opportunity to get
back in the game
as you put it. That, and a two-decade jump on the competition.”

Chip looked at her without responding. 

“It suddenly dawned on me as I was lying there, locked in that little metal box, that all of this was planned years ago. You didn’t walk into the saloon by accident a year ago, did you Chip? It was no coincidence that you first appeared just weeks after my father died. You knew my father was dead. But there was something else of my father’s – something perhaps even more important than this book – you still wanted. So you came up with this elaborate idea of getting close to me in the hopes I could help you get it. How am I doing so far?”

“Quite well,” he replied. 

Jeri tossed her father’s book at Chip and glanced around the van. She noticed a rusty utility knife lying on the floor and picked it up. Chip watched her curiously as she quickly assessed the blade before gripping it tightly in her hand. She then looked at him with a menacing smile.

“I have to say though, the letters were brilliant. What better way to arouse my curiosity than
with some handsome, mysterious world traveler? Of course, I now know they weren’t intended just for me. All those ridiculously written letters were nothing more than Chilly’s cryptic progress reports to you… updates on where he was and how he was planning to kill his next victim. You obviously knew when the letters were arriving, just as you knew that with enough prodding I’d share them with you. No texts or emails that might be traceable by others – just simple, old-school pen and paper. Once Chilly had my interest, you had him hit me with the Polaroid of my father’s book. After that, you waited to see what I did. Or perhaps I should say you waited to see what I
uncovered
.”

Chip looked at her quizzically.

“The only thing I haven’t figured out yet is Tom Coleman,” Jeri continued, taking a step towards him. “Was he part of your plan too?”

“No,” Chip said quietly. “At least not initially. But after I realized who he was and what he was up to, I figured out a way to put him to use. In the end
, he turned out to be quite handy.” He absently thumbed through the book in his hands before fixing his pale blue eyes on Jeri. “So where
did
you find the book?”

Jeri pointed the knife at him threateningly. “You’ve spent over a year of your life sitting on a barstool to get that answer – to get your hands on everything my father had hidden away, haven’t you? Well tough shit, old man
. I’m not telling you.”

Chip shrugged in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Jeri narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t try to play me, Chip.
You know I have it.”

“Have what?”

“My father’s research. Everything he collected from those years preparing for his book. Journals… field notes… boxes of recorded interviews. God knows how many sellable secrets are collecting dust on those pages. But then that was your plan all along, wasn’t it? Manipulate me into giving it to you, and then auction it to the highest bidder.” Jeri took another step forward. “I even have documents surrounding the government pension plans that nearly got him killed. Financial statements, transaction logs, internal memos – enough evidence to send everyone responsible to jail.” Jeri paused and looked at Chip with disgust. “Or, in your case, bribe them for your silence.”

Chip stared at her for a long moment before a small grin appeared on his face. He stepped back and suddenly erupted in laughter.

“What the hell is so funny?” Jeri demanded. She watched as Chip tried to speak but was seized by another fit of laughter. Nearly a minute passed as he leaned against the side of the van trembling uncontrollably. When he was finally able to compose himself, he wiped the tears from his handsome, weathered face and looked apologetically at Jeri.

“I’m sorry Jeri… I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just…well…is that really what you thought we were after? Some buried old lockbox of your father’s?”

“Of course I did,” Jeri replied cautiously. “What else could it be?”

Chip stepped towards her, his expression again serious. “You’re right… you did figure it out. Almost everything you said was true, Jeri – with a few notable exceptions. We’ll talk about those later. But what I can tell you right now is that we were never after your father’s journals.”

Jeri shook her head in confusion. “Then what were you after?” she demanded.

A hot, arid gust of wind whipped through the van as Chip ran a hand through his hair. “What we’ve always been after, Jeri,” he said as he pointed his finger and grinned.

“
You
.”