Secondary Targets (18 page)

CHAPTER 30

ERIC understood Grace’s motive, she’d always had a tendency to remain quiet unless she was pissed off, but he didn’t get why Marcus waited to question their next step until they were less than twenty miles outside St. Augustine. 

Going to St. Augustine and finding the motel sounded good, in theory, but what if too much time had passed? 

“So, if I’m right, and my father left this—whatever it is—at this motel...” Grace’s voice faded, right along with her confidence. Obviously the same doubts Eric was experiencing were running around in her head too. “What if the motel’s not there anymore?”

“Well,” Cherilyn spoke up, “if he went to all that trouble to leave something for you there, something that was obviously so important to him, you can bet your ass that motel is still there.”

Okay. Eric would buy that if the General wasn’t dead. It’s kind of hard to make sure the motel remains, years after he’s passed on. Unless... “He owns it!” Eric realized out loud. “Or at least you do,” he said, looking at Grace.

“Hell, Eric, you catch on fast.” Cherilyn’s half-hearted laughter echoed past them. “Why weren’t you ever recruited?”

Something about that notion jumbled Eric’s nerves. “Beats the hell out of me.” He couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason it bothered him so, but still, anxiety swept over him as he consciously tried to cast the idea from his mind.

Hell, he didn’t know anything about this so-called organization, or even if the General’s and Cherilyn’s were supposed to be one and the same. But according to Cherilyn, that was something they may never know. Nevertheless, he found the idea of erasing Eric Wayne’s identity a little unsettling.

Grace’s hand inched toward Eric and she laced her fingers with his. He gave a gentle squeeze and an appreciative smile, letting her know he approved.

Things were starting to look up. For the first time, Grace felt they were actually getting somewhere. She had no doubt that the passage in the V.A. file was the clue they’d been looking for. Her father had written that file. Whether the others believed it or not, she knew it to be so. Still, whatever her father had left behind, to be found at the end of this scavenger hunt, was also meant to be discovered a long time ago.

Finding it back then, just as her father had planned, probably would’ve been easy enough if she hadn’t run away. Eric would’ve told her about the key, and they would’ve started the search immediately. If it was gone now, she had no one to blame but herself.

Grace could spend all day playing the what-if game. But at the end of the day they were still here, and now it was eleven years later. She wasn’t exactly confident that the endowment was still in its hiding place after all this time.

“So, what do you think, Marcus?” She valued his opinion, and wanted to know whether or not he was as convinced as Cherilyn would have them believe.

“Well...” His face showed the doubt his tone tried so hard to hide. “It is a fairly odd coincidence that your memories ended up in a fallacious V.A. file that’s supposed to ward people off the trail of Michael Hendricks.”

He had a point. There was something to be said for that. What exactly, she wasn’t sure. “And you, Cherilyn,” Grace asked, focusing on Marcus’s ex, “what do you think?”

“Well, Marcus makes a lot of sense, but...” Cherilyn glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “If there’s any truth to this theory...your father’s plan was ingenious.”

They all had, even Grace, for one reason or another, led themselves to believe they’d find the answers at the Holiday Inn, to at least some of the questions they shared, if only in their minds.

Then they found the site of Grace’s childhood vacation destination. None of them were prepared for what they found. Of course, finding it had happened quite by mistake. St. Augustine had only one Carrera and it was a ‘Street’. There were no Avenues, Drives, or Lanes. Simply Carrera Street and nothing more.

After driving up and down the street several times, and not seeing any motels or even the hint of one that once was, they had just about decided to go back to square one and start all over.

Cherilyn chose a donut shop as their point of  reorganization. “Let’s grab some donuts,” she said, pulling into the parking lot. “Then we can figure out where we went wrong.”

“I don’t remember this place being here,” Grace said, surveying the parking lot and the building sitting center-point. If a donut shop had been nearby during their vacation stays, she would’ve been bugging her parents about the tasty treats. “We must be on the wrong end of the street,” she said absently as she climbed out of the car.

“Maybe we can find some information inside,” Eric said, closing the car door. He followed Grace toward the entrance.

She hoped he was right as she followed Marcus and Cherilyn inside the
Grand Central Donut Station
. Taking seats at the counter, Grace and Cherilyn sat next to one another with their guys at their sides.

Grace scanned the large menu covering most of the wall in front of them. She drew a breath, reveling in the aroma. The shop smelled delicious. Grace inspected the menu. Ooh, chocolate covered éclairs. Now that was something she could sink her teeth into.

A frumpy waitress appeared around the corner and Cherilyn gave a little snort, but checked herself quickly. Good. Grace didn’t like being embarrassed. Sure, the girl was moderately overweight and undeniably self-conscious about it, but there was no reason to humiliate her over it. It was a safe bet that working in a donut shop had been part of the reason she’d ended up this way. Too much temptation on a daily basis. Grace knew how easily that could happen and preferred to give the girl the benefit of the doubt.

“What can I get you guys?” she asked with a forced smile and brushed her carefully groomed yet hopelessly outdated hair back out of her face.

“I was afraid you were going to ask me to make a choice.” Cherilyn laughed, looked at Grace and added, “donuts are my weakness.” Her hunger-stricken face said she wasn’t kidding. Cherilyn turned back to the waitress. “I think I’ll have a couple of glazed donuts and some coffee.”

Grace and Marcus rattled off their orders, each procrastinating about what to get. Sometimes, Eric had to fight the urge to hurry them along. But he’d learned a long time ago that that did little in the way of actual help.

He glanced at the waitress’s nametag as she sat a cup of coffee and a chocolate covered donut on the counter in front of him.
Boy, Trish, if you keep working here, before you know it your weight’ll be up around three hundred pounds
.

Eric pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He’d need to put aside the sarcasm in favor of something much more agreeable—like charisma—if he wanted to know what the waitress knew.

“So, Trish,” Eric called her name, and, while he waited for her response, he tested his coffee. Hot. He willed the burning sensation away as she approached, and prepared to turn on the charm.

“What can I do for you?” she asked with a smile.

“Back in my younger days,” he said, “I swear I recall a motel on this street somewhere. A Holiday Inn.”

“You’d be right.” The waitress propped her hands on her hips and glanced back and forth between Eric and Grace. “A Holiday Inn used to be right here on this very lot.”

“Really?” Grace’s eyes lit up.

But Trish ignored her, instead focusing solely on Eric. He was torn between fishing her for information and schmoozing closer to Grace to give the impression that they were “together”.

“It was bought up by some big corporation about twenty years or so ago.” She baited Eric with the promise of valuable information, and he jumped off the fence onto her side. A victorious smile spread across her face. She truly believed she’d drawn his attention away from Grace.

Eric didn’t fight it, didn’t deny it. There was much more information that needed unearthing. He wasn’t sure why, but they needed to know more about the corporation that bought this land.

He winked at Trish and then cut his eyes toward Grace, who showed absolutely no signs of jealousy. But really, why should she? This girl was hopelessly plain, almost to a comical point.

Grace wasn’t anybody’s fool. She had to know Eric’s intent. She probably even felt sorry for the girl. Unless, of course, she couldn’t care less who Eric got together with. There was that.

Eric couldn’t dwell on such possibilities. He had to stay focused. For Grace’s sake. In the end, he was there to protect her, nothing more.

“So, they decided to do away with the motel and build a donut shop instead?” Eric hadn’t meant it as sarcastic but it was a ridiculous notion.

“Well, not at first.” Trish continued to let the information pour in his direction. “First, it was Grand Central Laundry Station.”

Grand Central? Wasn’t that the name of the place now? Grand Central Donut Station, or something? “Grand Central is an odd name for a Florida corporation,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound boorish.

“You’re telling me.” She laughed. “The people who own the land are very specific though.” She proudly told him what she knew, and for that he was thankful. “No matter what goes up here, it has to have some form of
Grand Central Station
as its name.”

“Trish...” Cherilyn put on her friendliest tone, as if she knew the waitress was only receptive to Eric. “Do you recall the name of this corporation?”

Trish peered at her like she was contemplating whether or not she wanted to oblige Cherilyn. Eric didn’t think Trish cared much for Cherilyn. To that, they had something in common. Something about Cherilyn also rubbed Eric the wrong way.

But luckily, a smile from Eric and Trish was more than happy to pop around the corner and check the business license hanging on the wall.

She came back out and announced proudly, to Eric, “It’s owned by the
Grace of Sunshine Corp
.”

Well
... Eric managed to contain his reaction to just a thought.
What do you know about that
? 

CHAPTER 31

CHERILYN glanced into the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of Eric and Grace, mostly Eric. “Do you really think it’s so simple that it could be locker thirty-six at Grand Central Station in New York?” she asked out loud. Nah. It couldn’t be. Did she dare hope?

“Simple maybe,” Marcus chimed in. “It’s brilliant, I tell you. Hide it in plain sight.”

“He couldn’t have picked a better locale,” Eric agreed. “There’s no fear of anything ever happening to that place. At least not in our lifetime.” He paused as bewilderment furrowed a frown on his forehead. “But who’s been paying for the locker all this time?”

Eric’s stature had stiffened considerably. She doubted he’d last much longer.

She’d have to give him incentive. “Do you think your General would have thought that far ahead?” Cherilyn asked. For the sake of the position they were currently in, she hoped so.

“The General wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble to end up letting something go that he’d regarded with such importance.” Marcus shook his head. “He wouldn’t let it be confiscated for non-payment.”

“If the General is part of some elusive organization.” There was still a degree of doubt in Eric’s voice. He was a hard one to convince. “He would’ve thought the whole thing out, thoroughly, before putting a single plan into motion.” He hesitated and fidgeted, as if the conversation bothered him. “The man did not take things this far, only to let a little thing like
failure to pay
get in the way.”

“So...” Grace finally spoke. In the rearview mirror, Grace turned toward Eric. “Are we headed to New York and Grand Central?”

Eric shrugged his shoulders and his face twisted into a crazy display of uncertainty. Grace laughed softly, as Cherilyn was tempted to do. She kept her cool though. They were almost home free. She could feel it, and it was exciting.

“Well, yes,” Cherilyn said. “But we’re not going directly there. No.” She cut her eyes toward Marcus. “First, we’ve got to make a stop.” If she convinced him, he’d convince them.

“A stop?” Marcus asked. “Where?”

“Memphis, Tennessee.” She hoped her vague tone tempered any urgency emerging in their minds.   

“Why?” Eric asked. His curiosity hadn’t cooled.

That question was bound to show up sooner or later. Why? Why weren’t they headed straight for the bounty? Whatever was there had to be crucial. Hell, it was enough to make people chase Grace around, even after eleven years. So, why were they headed somewhere else? Not to mention, in the opposite direction.

Since Eric opened the door, Cherilyn saw no reason to keep them in the dark any longer. But, she had to break it to them gently. She hoped they were ready for it because they didn’t have a whole lot of time to get used to the idea.

“Look.” Cherilyn glimpsed at Eric and Grace by way of the rearview mirror before settling on Marcus. “You guys know that you can’t go back to your lives, don’t you?”

“What?” Grace blurted out, abhorrence cracking in her voice. Cherilyn had expected as much.

“The people that are after you,” Cherilyn said, her eyes locking with Grace’s in the mirror, “they’re never going to give up.” She’d convince her, one way or another. “The best thing you guys can do for yourselves is forget who you are and never look back.”

“I don’t see how it’ll help us to drop off the face of the Earth.” Eric gave a slow, disagreeing headshake, but she doubted it was something he’d set out to do purposefully.

“It won’t.” Confidence exuberated around Cherilyn’s words and in her tone. “That’s why we’re going to make a quick stop, and I’m going to fix that.”

“I’d be interested in knowing how you’re going to accomplish that.” Marcus’s voice filled with skepticism.

“Me too.” Eric almost laughed.

“It’s really not that hard,” she said, filling her tone with simplicity. She
could
fix it. Cherilyn could fix everything.

T
he safe house Cherilyn had tucked away in Memphis showed a side of her that none of them expected. While typical, at least at first glance, the difference between this house and the others she’d taken them to, was, this one literally brought to life the realism that Cherilyn was indeed a spy.

This house had a secret room off the master suite. Not a secret compartment or a closet, but an entire room. It boasted no windows, just wall-to-wall computers, telephones, and other technological equipment.

Grace, Eric, and Marcus looked on as she whizzed, whirled and whipped around the room in her wheeled office chair, turning on various pieces of equipment and finally booting the computers.

Once the machines were up and running, she breezed around the room from one computer to another, as if she and the equipment were participating in a well-choreographed dance.

It was apparent, even to a novice, Cherilyn knew exactly what she was doing. Clearly, she’d done this—whatever it was—before.

What was she doing?

After a few assiduous moments of bouncing around between various keyboards, Cherilyn looked at Eric. “How does it feel?” she asked casually. “You no longer exist.”

“What?” Grace cried out. This business of wiping out identities made no sense to her. She didn’t like it one bit.

Grace was more comfortable residing somewhere in the realm of sure bets. She needed a basis set against facts and figures. If she had that, she was home free. If she knew what a company’s annual revenues were, or if she had a good idea of what an employee’s annual income was, she could talk either one—the company or the employee—out of at least two percent. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a fundraiser, and she wasn’t collecting donations for the needy.

Eric leaned against the closed door, looking all calm and collected. Obviously, taking this recent turn of events much better than Grace. “So...” He laughed. “I’m just a figment of your imagination then?” Folding his arms across his chest, he mocked Cherilyn.

“Very funny,” she said, undaunted by his cynicism. “Within forty-eight hours you will cease to exist. At least Eric Wayne will anyway. I’ve already erased your social security number and your military records.” She looked over her shoulder, specifically at Eric.

There were no telltale signs conveyed on her face. Nothing about her expression indicated what was really going on inside her head. The woman simply stared at him with a stoic face and continued on, “I’ve released a slow-crawling virus that will never be detected by anyone because it’s only after one thing. To delete records of you.” She paused, catching her breath. “It’ll take about two days to complete its job. After that, any legal records of you will be gone. Including the record of your birth.”

“How are you going to do that?” Marcus’s voice reeked of skepticism. “The state where he was born has his birth certificate on file,” he said as if he’d blown holes in her claim.

“Well...” Cherilyn responded, but showed no signs of defeat. “While there is a microfiche tucked away somewhere with his birth certificate imaged on it,” she acknowledged that much to be accurate. “No one will ever look for it,” her tone changed with her mounting condescension. “Records from both state and national levels are stored on computers now. When someone requests a record, whether it’s a birth certificate, a marriage license, or even court records, the requested record is accessed and printed out from the computer file. The original microfilm or microfiche are never touched.”

Eric was quiet for a brief moment, as if letting Cherilyn’s claim sink in. “Fine idea,” he conceded. “Your computer virus is going to weed its way through all government, legal and financial records and start chomping. But won’t people become suspicious when large chunks of information turns up missing?” The smirk on his face said he thought he had her. “Too many people start complaining because the state can’t seem to find their birth certificate or whatever...the state employees will eventually have to go back and dig out that piece of film.” It was a logical conclusion, and one Grace figured Cherilyn had already thought about.

“That’s the beauty of my little virus.” Cherilyn laughed one of those soft, gifted laughs that screamed complacency. “Nobody’s going to complain about anything. No one else’s documents are going to come up missing. That piece of microfiche your birth certificate’s on—” She offered an example to prove her point. “My virus won’t destroy the entire piece of imaged film. It’s only going to damage a specific image. But to the human eye, it’s going to look blank where your record used to be.” She gave him a wink and a fake smile, its only purpose was to rub her triumph in his face. “So, in essence, it’s going to remove your record and leave everybody else’s intact, right where it was.”

“You can do that?” Grace asked, failing to, yet not caring that she hadn’t hid her shock.

Cherilyn’s claim was amazing, to say the least, not to mention unbelievable. But it must be so. It justified her father’s death certificate’s disappearance. What other explanation could there be for the state of North Carolina’s contention that there was no death certificate, when they gave her one at the time of his death? When she looked at it like that, it made perfect sense.

Finally. A logical, well as close to logic as she could get at this point, for why North Carolina couldn’t produce a copy of Michael Hendricks’s death certificate.

“You’re next.” Cherilyn’s voice dragged Grace’s thoughts back to the here and now.

“Why?” Grace asked. “Why are you erasing
us
?” She readily admitted the fog surrounding the mystery was slow to clear, and even though it had begun to, she still didn’t get the value in vitiating the identities of Eric Wayne, Grace Hendricks, and Marcus Johnson.

“It’s the only way to keep you all safe,” Cherilyn said. “Chances are, there’s only a few people that know about you and your connection to Michael Hendricks. If we build you new identities, by the time I’m done...they’ll never be able to find you.”

“Hold up,” Marcus objected. He didn’t have a problem becoming someone else, especially if it gave him and Cherilyn a second chance, but he wasn’t ready to turn his back on the only thing that’d been constant in his life over the last fifteen years or so. “What about my bank accounts? What happens to my money?” He wanted his money. It was his. He’d worked hard for it, and wasn’t prepared to see it dumped down the drain along with his identity.

“Funneled.” Cherilyn’s simplistic tone was tangled in mystery.

“Funneled?” Marcus repeated, he hadn’t bought into her bill of goods just yet. “Could we be a little more specific, please? To where exactly are you going to funnel it?”

“Well, in your case, it’s going to be laundered,” she said, way too calmly to suit Marcus. “Eventually it’ll be released back into a bank account for the new identity I create for you.”

“Uh huh...” Marcus’s voice ventured off onto a lonely trail of surrender. He may not like what was happening, but it was happening, and if he wanted to come out of this thing unscathed, he’d better let Cherilyn go back to her business.

“You guys had better make yourselves comfortable,” Cherilyn said. “This will take a while.”

That made sense. While it may not have taken long to start the process, completing it had to be another matter. How long did it take anyway, erasing three identities? One day. Two? Maybe more knowing Cherilyn. She’d check, recheck and triple-check her work.

He suspected that by the time they reached Grand Central Station, Marcus Johnson, Eric Wayne and Grace Hendricks would no longer exist. That notion left a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.