The Festival of the Moon (Girls Wearing Black: Book Two) (35 page)

I’m surprised Walter isn’t working harder to control Jill’s behavior. He knows what’s at stake. It wasn’t that long ago that you and he were having a little talk.

A little talk? Was Galen Renwick blackmailing Jill’s dad?

Remind me what we’re talking about
, Galen wrote in the next email.

The paperwork you had me deliver to Kim
, was Merv’s response.

Paperwork to Kim! It was one thing to read about Galen and Merv conspiring to blackmail Jill’s family—that was par for the course in Washington. Even people who pretended to be friends were always looking for an advantage over each other, always looking for that juicy secret. But to have Kim in the middle. Kim Renwick, reading some secret documents about Jill’s family! It made Jill sick with anger.

She continued reading.

Okay, I’m looking back at old emails,
Galen wrote
.

Did you forget?
 
wrote Merv.

Just needed a little reminder
, wrote Galen.
Maybe you do too. If you’ll recall, we are not to speak of this.

“A little reminder?” Jill muttered. What the hell was going on?

She created a new search string to bring up every email Merv had sent to Galen. She found almost two thousand of them, going back some twenty years. She narrowed the results to emails that contained the word, “Walter.” That reduced the count to two-hundred-sixty-seven. She started at the bottom and opened the emails one at a time.

It was fascinating to read the history captured in this correspondence. It looked like, a long time ago, Walter, Galen, and Merv were best buds. They were classmates at Thorndike. They helped each other navigate the waters of Capitol Hill. They took hunting trips together. They congratulated each other on their success as they climbed the ladders of power.

As the emails went on, they started to speak in their own secret language of sorts. They started signing their emails with numbers rather than names. Galen was 2. Merv was 3. Walter was 11.

It was a very primitive form of coding. And it was strange to see. Sometimes the emails sounded like dispatches from a dystopian movie, like the one from Galen to Walter that read:
3 met with 14 today to discuss the fire code. 14 has been nulled.

Other times the emails were just absurd. Jill particularly liked one that said:

11 is going to the henhouse tomorrow to get chick 57. Will be a pet rather than a turkey.

The code words began to wane as the years went by. The three men grew older. They settled into their positions of power. They dropped their secret language. They got married and had children. They emailed each other less, and when they did, the emails had a different dynamic. They weren’t equals anymore. They were a leader with two sidekicks. Galen had taken control of this group. He spoke to Merv and Walter not as their friend but as their boss. Sometimes he was crass in the way he ordered them around. Sometimes he was over the top. There was one email where Galen sounded like some Italian mobster.

From:
Galen Renwick

To:
Merv Tremblay

There may come a time in the future when I need a favor from you
.
When that time comes, I hope you’ll remember all I’ve done for you these past ten years, and all I still can do. If I do bestow upon you the honor of paying me a favor, I don’t want you to ask any questions, I simply want you to do it. Do you understand?

Merv wrote back with the same words the slaves used when Melissa Mayhew was programming them:
I understand.

Jill was half-way through this strange written history when she found the email she was looking for, “the little reminder” as Galen had called it when he needed to jar his memory about some “documentation” that Merv had given him.

The email was three years old now. It had a different tone of voice than any of the other emails Jill had read.

From:
Galen Renwick

To:
Merv Tremblay

Dear Merv,

Remember when I told you about a favor? The time has come. I need something from you and I need no questions asked. I want the full extent of your files on Walter Wentworth. The FULL extent. You know what I mean. I need them right away. I am in Canada right now but I can’t wait to get them. You will bring them to my house and give them to Kim. She will get them to me from there. After this is done, you and I won’t talk about this.

Galen

Merv’s response was short and to the point.
Got it. Will get the papers to Kim tonight
.

Jill couldn’t believe what she was reading.
The FULL extent
of Merv’s files on Jill’s dad? What happened? Why did Galen all of a sudden want to blackmail his old buddy Walter Wentworth?

Jill thought back about what was happening in her life when this email was written. What was her dad doing three years ago? Had he been up to something that was threatening to Galen, or threatening to Kim?

She didn’t remember anything because, at that time in her life, she wasn’t paying any attention to her dad. Galen wrote that email in September of her freshman year. She was dating Ryan.

Jill read the email again. There were a number of strange things about it. For one, it started with “Dear Merv.” She had just read hundreds of emails between these guys and never once had any of them started a note with that sort of formality. Galen was more apt to jump right into the body and start the message. Was he being more formal to drive home the importance to Merv of the request? Was he trying to scare Merv?

The language was odd too. There was a coarse tone to the writing that was unlike all of Galen’s other emails.
Remember when I told you about a favor?...You know what I mean…You and I won’t talk about this.

The Galen she had come to know in the emails spoke with more style. He wrote with a literary bent, saying things like, “bestow upon you the honor.”

This email had none of that flair. It was like he was rushed. Maybe even nervous.

“What were you up to, Galen Renwick?” Jill whispered.

Why did Galen want files on Jill’s dad? What kind of files did Merv have?

And how messed up was it for Galen to demand the documents get delivered to Kim? Who brings their teenage daughter in on a conversation like this?

A wave of revulsion came over Jill as she recalled her visit to Merv’s secret room. She was thinking about the Wentworth family heirloom she had found there. A medallion with The Borgia Rose stamped on it, an important historical artifact, sitting in Merv’s drawer. She thought about the fake ID’s she found, passports with nationalities that exactly matched the fake ID’s her father kept hidden in his safe.

Out in the other room, she heard footsteps.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hello,” said Zack. He was practically sleepwalking, barely alert enough to find his way into the bedroom. He plopped down on the bed and within seconds he was snoring.

Jill looked back at her screen. As interesting as it was, she was tired, and the bed looked much more inviting now that Zack was in it. She logged out of the database and crawled into bed, pushing her back up against Zack’s stomach.

“Is it morning?” Zack muttered.

“No,” said Jill. “It’s still night. Let’s go to sleep.”

“Okay. I like sleep.”

Zack draped his arm over Jill. Her mind, which had been spinning with thoughts about Merv, Galen, and Walter, went mercifully blank and she fell asleep.

Chapter 33

Beedledeedeep.
 
Beedledeedeep.

Jill had been dreaming about teenage versions of Walter, Merv, and Galen. The three of them were sitting on Zack’s sofa, watching late night TV. Merv leaned over to Galen and whispered something in his ear. Walter strained to hear what Merv was saying, but all he could hear was the sound of Zack’s alarm.

Beedledeedeep.

She felt movement next to her, sensed Zack rolling over to hit snooze. Her body remembered the last time she had been here, the snooze session that extended into the late morning, and the clarity of thought she had in Zack’s bed.

Back to sleep. In the dream, the teenage version of her father was scolding his two friends.

“You’re lucky that alarm went off,” Walter said.
 
“She might have heard you. You need to use the code.”

Teenage Merv and Galen looked at each other with mischief in their eyes.

“Who might have heard us, Walter?” said Merv.

“Shh!” Walter hissed. “She’s listening right now. Don’t use my name. Use my number.”

“Whatever you say, Eleven,” said Galen. “I still want to know who’s listening.”

Walter leaned in closer and spoke in a whisper. “My daughter.”

At this, Galen and Merv broke into laughter. “Oh Eleven, you’re a hoot,” Merv said. “Your daughter isn’t even born yet.”

Walter looked confused at all this, and turned away, shaking his head.

Beedledeedeep.

The alarm and accompanying movement in the bed took Jill one step closer to the waking world. The teenage versions of Walter, Merv, and Galen were still on the couch, but she was no longer a passive observer of their conversation. Now she could control what they said.

She chose to put words from the emails in their mouths.

She had Galen turn to Merv and say, “There may come a time in the future when I need a favor from you.”

“I understand,” said Merv.

“The time has come,” Galen continued. “I want the full extent of your files on Walter Wentworth. You will bring them to my house and give them to Kim.”

“I understand,” said Merv. “I will give them to Kim.”

“I need them right away,” said Galen. “I can’t wait to get them.”

“I understand,” said Merv.

“I don’t think you do,” said Galen, grabbing Merv by the shirt and pulling him close. “I need them right away!”

Galen’s voice was changing as he spoke, getting higher, more feminine. “I can’t wait to get them!” It was his daughter’s voice now, the voice of Kim Renwick. “I can’t wait!”

“What are you guys talking about over there?” said teenage Walter.

“Shut up Eleven!” Merv and Galen snapped in unison.

Beedledeedeep.

Now Jill was standing in the secret room of Merv’s house, looking at all the stuffed humans. In the unpredictable world of a waking dream, Jill didn’t trust this place—for all she knew these people might spring to life in some scene from a horror movie—but she knew she had to stay. There was something important here she needed to see.

What was it?

The medallion? Maybe. Now that she knew the lengthy history her father had with Merv, it made more sense that Merv owned it. It was a gift. For some reason, Walter had chosen to hand over this family heirloom. Both of these men were so obscenely rich, a priceless artifact full of history was probably the only gift Walter could swing that would make an impression.

Why would he want to make an impression on Merv?

I want the full extent of your files on Walter Wentworth.

Jill saw the line from Galen’s email to Merv and pondered its meaning. How had it come about that Merv had more info on Walter than Galen did? Galen, after all, had dedicated his life to collecting secrets. What kind of secrets would Merv have that Galen didn’t?

In the dream, Jill raced to Merv’s desk and opened the drawer. She pulled out the stack of papers Nicky had found and photographed. These were Merv’s secrets. A paper trail that tracked all the illegal transactions Merv made with Melissa Mayhew. These were secrets so valuable that Merv created a hidden room in his house to store them.

Jill picked up the papers one at a time and held them up to inspect. In the dream, she was able to see each sheet in complete detail. Her subconscious mind brought forth details her conscious mind had overlooked. Paper by paper she went, reading the names, stats, and medical histories of every slave Merv had bought, killed, and stuffed.

She was looking at a paper now for a guy named Roddy. The paper said that Roddy weighed 170 pounds, was five feet ten inches tall, had brown hair, and was of Irish descent. Jill looked up from the paper and saw poor Roddy standing at the end of the room, forever frozen in the pose Merv had chosen for him.