Mr. And Miss Anonymous (18 page)

“Ten million dollars wired to the Caymans will buy my silence. Wired within the next ten minutes. And the contract canceled. Your word will do. Consider it collateral damage. No questions asked. For whatever it’s worth, the kid is gone. Will he resurface at some point? I don’t know, and I don’t care. Your people did not have good intel, and that’s why things didn’t go according to plan. You’re on your own now. Sir,” Morgan added as an afterthought, “do we agree on all of this? A simple
yes
or
no
will satisfy me.”

“Very well.”

“I’m going to take that as a
yes,
” Morgan said as he pressed a button on his wrist. “I can see myself out. I think I’d be remiss, sir, if I didn’t tell you that if I were you, I’d get the hell out of Dodge.”

The man’s zany laughter floated around the dining room as the single diner pounded his fist on the table in frustration. “Bastard!” he seethed.

J
osh woke to a sound he couldn’t immediately identify. He lay still and listened intently. Rain! Hard-driving rain beating at the windows. His tense muscles relaxed until he remembered he was sleeping in Adam Dickey’s bed. He hopped out at the speed of light.

“Where are you, Tom?”

“Right here, buddy. It’s just rain, don’t go getting spooked. You can’t go anywhere anyway. You’re socked in until this evening. What’s your game plan?”

“I don’t have a game plan. I’d need a computer and a telephone to have a game plan. Do you have any ideas?”

“Maybe. Sort of. More or less. Didn’t that guy from Hotdog Haven tell those homeless people he was working the day shift today?”

“Yeah, I did hear him say that.”

“Well?”

Josh’s mind raced. “You want me to break into his apartment at Number 16 and use his phone, is that it?”

“He might have a computer. You could leave some money for the use of those things. It’s not like you’re breaking and entering to steal or destroy his apartment. I think you could do it and get away with it. It’s really raining hard. No one will be paying attention to anyone out in the rain. It’s worth a shot, Josh. You have to get dressed and check this place out. Who knows, maybe Mr. Dickey left some clues here that will help us.”

Josh was already in the kitchen checking out the refrigerator. He found some yogurt that was past the due date, two oranges that were still edible, and a package of English muffins. Josh ate it all and washed it down with two bottles of water.

The kitchen was neat and tidy, just like Mr. Dickey. It was obvious by just looking around that Adam Dickey was not a collector of anything. He had a set of dishes for four, one fry pan, two pots, and silverware for four. There were four glasses in one of the cabinets, some boxed crackers and canned soup. The rest of the cupboards were empty.

Josh sat down on one of the kitchen chairs as a feeling of grief came over him. He had really liked Mr. Dickey, who’d told Josh so many things about the outside world, things he said Josh would need to know when he went off on his own. “Always be courteous,” Mr. Dickey had said. “Never do anything to anyone you wouldn’t want done to you.” “Always treat women like the ladies they are and respect them.” “Be kind to your elders and all animals.” “Work hard and save for a rainy day.” “Never judge people, only God can do that.”

“What’s wrong, Josh?”

“I was just thinking about how nice Mr. Dickey was and how good he was to all of us. I’m sorry he’s dead, and I’m sorry I’m here using his things. Do you think he had any family?”

“He said he was an orphan. Miss Carmody was an orphan, too, I do remember that. I guess that’s why they got along so well. Why, is it important?”

“Maybe. It doesn’t seem right that no one is claiming his things. I know it isn’t much, but someone out there should want them. I would if I could. It bothers me that he died the way he did, and now people will just throw his things away. If that happens, no one will remember him but me. It’s not right. He didn’t say anything about this kind of stuff going on in the real world.”

“Yeah, I know. Remember how he used to tell us that every day would be a new experience, and we’d have to adapt a little bit at a time? Okay, enough of this, let’s get to it and make a plan. Get dressed and make it snappy, Number 8446.”

Josh ran to the closet, pulled out pants and shirts, and didn’t stop to think about dressing in his teacher’s clothes, which were a little too small, and his sneakers, which were a little too big. But it all worked. At the last second, he reached for a hooded zip-up sweat jacket and carried it to the kitchen with him. “Where are you, Number 8211?”

“Right here. So, what’s the game plan?”

“Like I said, I need a phone and a computer. What do you think about me calling a newspaper and telling my story to a reporter? They won’t know where I’m calling from. I can ask questions, get a sense of what’s going on. Reporters on television never tell about the people who give them scoops.”

“Their sources,”
Tom volunteered.
“Reporters go to jail to protect their sources. Good thinking, Number8446. I bet that guy Charlie gets a newspaper. You can pick a reporter out of it and call. Remember, though, there’s that thing called ‘caller ID.’ The person you’re calling can see where the call is coming from. Keep that in mind.”

“Okay, Tom. Boy, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d manage. It’s time to go. You want to get in and out before Charlie gets back from work. Do you have the ice pick? Where’s the book?”

“I have both on my person. I’m ready. Should I go out the kitchen door or the front door?”

“The back door, you goose. Why call attention to yourself?”

Ten minutes later, soaked to the skin, Josh was twisting the ice pick into Charlie’s lock. The tumblers clicked, and the door slid open. Josh rushed inside. A small lamp was burning on a table in the living room. The blinds and curtains were closed. Josh sniffed as he tried to identify the smell that seemed to be all over the apartment. He finally identified it as BENGAY, the same junk he used to rub on the calves of his legs after a hard hurdling session. He realized he hated the smell.

It was a cluttered apartment, with stacks of newspapers and magazines on all the tables. Empty coffee cups and candy wrappers littered the kitchen table, along with a lot of crumbs. Charlie needed a wife, Josh decided. He sighed with relief when he saw a yellow phone hanging on the wall in the kitchen. Now, if he could just be lucky enough to find a computer, he’d be all set.

Josh spied a stackable washer and dryer in the kitchen. He peeled off his wet clothes and stuck them in the dryer. He padded around in Mr. Dickey’s underwear to check out the bathroom, which was neat and clean, then went to the bedroom, whose bed was unmade. In the corner were a card table and a wooden chair. He closed his eyes in relief when he saw the computer. He checked it out and was glad it was a newer model. He turned it on and sat down.

Ever mindful of the time element, Josh quickly scanned the headlines in all the newspapers, then logged on to the identity he’d created at the library to see if he had any e-mails. There were none. So the FBI didn’t want to be bothered with him. Obviously, the police thought he was a weirdo because they hadn’t answered either. He was angry as he typed out an e-mail to each of them informing them that he had records that were going to be turned over to the
Chronicle.
He then did a Google search and fired off another e-mail to CNN.

“That’ll work,”
Tom said.

“No, it won’t. Don’t you get it, Tom, they don’t care? They probably get tips like this all the time and don’t have the manpower to follow up. I think our best bet is going to the newspapers. I can send an e-mail instead of calling. What do you think?
”

“What I think is if you e-mail, you might not be able to get back in here to check the e-mail for a response, whereas if you call, you have a real person on the other end of the phone. I vote for the phone call. If they trace the call, Charlie won’t know a thing about it when they show up to question him. If you need to make a second call, you’ll have to use a phone booth or buy one of those throwaway phones. Find a paper and pick a reporter.”

Josh turned off the computer and pushed the chair back to its original position. Charlie would never know that his territory had been intruded upon.

Yesterday’s edition of the
Chronicle
was on top of the pile. Josh scrutinized it carefully and finally whittled down his list of possible reporters to call. He looked around for a piece of paper and a pencil. He found a pencil next to a crossword puzzle that seemed to have stymied Charlie, since it wasn’t finished. Josh couldn’t help himself, he finished it and made a star at the top of the puzzle. He then ripped a corner off one of the older newspapers and wrote down his short list: Desmond Quigley, Amanda Summers, Phil Coster, and Tessie Dancer. “Which one would be your choice, Tom?”

“Think Captain Queeg. Amanda sounds like a flirt. Phil sounds like a fuddy-duddy. Tessie Dancer sounds like she’s got it going on. I think I’d go with her. What do you think?”

“Tessie Dancer it is.” Five minutes later Josh had the main number for the
Chronicle.
He dialed the number and asked for Tessie Dancer. He almost fainted when he heard a female voice announce her name—“Tess Dancer. What can I do for you today?”

“Miss Dancer, this is Josh Baer. I’d like to talk to you about…some…some things. Will whatever I tell you be held in confidence?”

“Josh Baer! The kid from the academy?” Tessie bolted upright in her chair, the power bar in her hand all but forgotten. She quickly snapped on her recorder, and said, “A reporter is just like a priest. We never give up our sources, and once we give our word, it’s golden. I’m giving you mine. Kid, where the hell are you? Everyone and their brother is out there looking for you.”

“I can’t tell you where I am. I’m okay. I tried to go to the FBI and the police, but they wouldn’t help me. Doesn’t anyone care about all those kids and teachers that were killed? I don’t see anything in the papers or online.”

Tessie’s heart raced as she tried to come up with something compelling that would keep the boy on the line. “That’s because some very powerful people put a lid on it.”

“I sent them a picture of the man who did the killings. I didn’t see it on the news or in the papers. Where’s Jesse?”

“I didn’t know that. Can you send it to me? I don’t know this for sure, but I think the FBI has Jesse safe in a secure location. I can try to find out more. How can I reach you?”

“Are you crazy? I can’t tell you where I am. I can call you from time to time, but that’s it. That crazy guy almost killed me yesterday. He wants me dead because Jesse and I saw him kill all those kids and the teachers. He keeps following me. I don’t know how he knows where I am, but he does. He changes the way he looks. And some big guy keeps showing up with a dog and a lady.”

“Listen, kid…Josh…the big guy, the dog, and the lady are the good guys. Trust me on that.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Dancer, but I can’t trust anyone. I don’t even know you. I have a book with all the numbers in it. Me and my friend Tom wrote it all down. Tom and Sheila are dead, and now I have the book. When you catch that guy, I’ll turn it over, but only if I’m sure it goes to the right person. You work for a newspaper. Why aren’t you writing about the shooting? All those kids are dead, and no one cares. I care, dammit, they were my friends, and now they’re dead. They were my brothers and sisters.”

“All of them were your brothers and sisters?”
What the hell?

“Jesse was. I think. They said we were all related. Mr. Dickey… Mr. Dickey said that was impossible. Miss Carmody said it could be true. They were going to get married, but no one knew but me and Tom. Now they’re dead. Mr. Dickey knew a lot. He was going to quit. I don’t know about Miss Carmody. Maybe she was going to quit, too. They killed them. They don’t care.”

Tessie was beside herself as she struggled to give this tormented boy some kind of hope. “I care, Josh. I really do. I’m working with that tall man with the dog and the lady. He wants to find you desperately.”

“Why?” Josh snapped.

Truth or lie? Somewhere in between. Find the right words without scaring the daylights out of the kid. Try to get him to trust you
. “He wants to help you. He doesn’t live here in California, but he’s visiting right now. He’s a good man, so is the lady. They were at the school yesterday. The guy doing the shooting shot out their tires. You helped the lady get to the kitchen. She was scared out of her wits.”

Josh threw Tessie for a loop when he asked, “Are you a mother?”

“I wish I was, but, no, I am not a mother. I have a mother, though. And a father. I take care of them. Is it important to you for me to be a mother?”

“Mothers are protectors. They don’t let bad things happen. Miss Carmody taught us that. She cared about all of us. She used to tell us what it was like to have a family and how families did things.”

“Sometimes, Josh, when mothers and fathers get old, the roles reverse, and the children have to take care of them. Do you have a mother or a father?”

“No.”

Tessie bit down hard on her tongue. She wanted desperately to tell him he did have a father, but this wasn’t the time. Then again, maybe this was the right time.

“Josh, what would you say if I told you I think you do have a father, and I might know who it is?”

“Josh, don’t fall for that. We both know we don’t have parents. We’re artificial kids. She’s lying to you to gain your trust. Don’t trust her. Hang up right now.”

“I don’t believe you. If what you said is true, it would have been in the newspapers because that’s news. Your newspaper doesn’t care about me or the others. No one is looking for that guy who wants to kill me. Tell me I’m wrong, Miss Dancer.”

“If it was up to me, Josh, I’d have it plastered all over the front page of the paper and it would be on the news twenty-four/seven. Unfortunately, I just work here. You can trust me. Maybe between the two of us, we can figure out the best way to handle all of this.”

Josh broke the connection, his hand shaking when he replaced the phone in its base.
Shit, shit, shit. Now what am I supposed to do?

“Get out of here right now. Hustle, buddy, and don’t forget to leave some money for Charlie.”

Josh was almost to the door when he realized he was still in his underwear. He grabbed his clothes from the dryer and dressed. He was back in Mr. Dickey’s kitchen within minutes. He was huffing and puffing as he stood in the center of the floor, shaking all over.

“Okay, okay, calm down. Let’s talk about this calmly and rationally. That’s what Mr. Dickey used to tell us when things got out of hand.”

Josh snorted in disgust. “None of that stuff we learned is worth anything. This world is nothing like the make-believe one we were taught. I’m getting scared, Tom. There’s no one out here I can trust. What’s going to happen now?”