We understand little of the works of God, either in nature or grace. We pursue false knowledge, and mistake education extreamly. We are violent in our affections, confused and immethodical in our whole life; making that a burthen, which was given for a blessing; and so of little comfort to ourselves or others; misapprehending the true notion of happiness, and so missing of the right use of life, and way of happy living.
And till we are perswaded to stop, and step a little aside, out of the noisy crowd and incumbering hurry of the world, and calmly take a prospect of things, it will be impossible we should be able to make a right judgement of our selves, or know our own misery. But after we have made the just reckonings which retirement will help us to, we shall begin to think the world in great measure mad, and that we have been in a sort of bedlam all this while.
Reader, whether young or old, think it not too soon or too late to turn over the leaves of thy past life. And be sure to fold down where an passage of it may affect thee; and bestow thy remainder of time, to correct those faults in thy future conduct; be it in relation to this or the next life.
- quote from the preface of Some Fruits of Solitude, In Reflections and Maxims - by William Penn, published in 1682
James must have read the passage about ten times in all. He began thinking about the conversation with J.T., the group sessions, the one-on-one session with Dr. Thompson, and about where his own thoughts had been leading him recently. He was beginning to realize that it was all a pattern. It was all guiding him to a destination.
He thought back in his life and recounted the direction he had been taking - the wrong direction. He remembered how even then there had been those in his life who had tried to direct him along the right path. But he was too busy, too angry, or too distracted to really understand that he was in desperate need of the direction that was being offered to him. Now, here in this place, he was being given a second chance. He wasn't sure why they had selected him for this program, but he wasn't going to let this opportunity slip by. He decided that whatever it took, he was going to leave this place a changed man... a man changed for the better.
Chapter Twelve
As he ascended the New York brownstone's steps, Silas McGruder had disturbing thoughts. He thought of what he was about to do and who he was about to do it for. He thought of his wife of twenty years and his teenage son. He thought of their quiet suburban life in New Jersey and their plans to eventually retire in Florida. He thought of how his gambling had put a strain on their marriage and put all of those plans in jeopardy.
He paused at the top of the steps as he was about to press the doorbell. Once he did this, there was no going back. Once he did this, he would officially be a dirty cop. He could still turn around and walk away. He could come clean to his wife and tell her they were about to lose the house because of his gambling debts, and then get counseling - maybe the marriage would survive. He couldn't bear the thought of being without Maggie and their son. Losing the house and having to start all over again with a rental while they slowly built up credit to buy, then trying to fund their retirement plans....
No, not today. He shook his head from side to side. Not when he could possibly stop the avalanche from beginning just by finishing what he'd come to do. He was in the home stretch. After all, it was just information, nothing more. Just words on a piece of paper and a few pictures. He reached down and pressed the doorbell quickly before he could think anymore about it or lost his nerve.
It seemed like an eternity as he waited. Silas had to fight the urge to turn, jog down the steps, and walk down the street to escape. Then the intercom speaker came to life and a husky man's voice spoke.
"Who is it?"
One thing Silas could do was focus when required. It's what made him such a good detective. He was like a bulldog that way: once he got hold of something he never let go until he was good and ready. When he heard the voice come over the intercom, he pushed all the previous thoughts out of his mind. In that moment, he committed 100% to finishing what he had come here to do. No more debate. The decision had been made.
"I'm Johnny D. I'm here to see Mr. Bartonovich," Silas said with conviction as he introduced himself with the prearranged code name he had been given.
"One moment please," the voice responded flatly. In a few moments, Silas could hear the door being unlocked and then a stout-looking wall of muscle opened the door. "This way," he croaked as he motioned to the staircase, pausing only long enough to shut and lock the door before lumbering over to the staircase and leading Silas up the stairs.
The room to which Silas was led was at the top of the brownstone's four stories. His guide opened the door to the study and stood aside for Silas to enter, then closed the door behind him as he went back down the stairs. The room was large and had little furniture in it. There was a bar at one end of the room. At the end of the bar stood a strikingly beautiful woman of Asian descent with shoulder length black hair. She was tall for an Asian, Silas thought to himself, probably about five-foot-seven. She was dressed in closely fitted all-black clothing that a woman who wanted to show off her figure might wear, only she looked classy rather than catty. Judging from her eyes and something about her demeanor, he put her age somewhere between forty and forty-five, although many people who didn't pay attention to details the way a cop did would have guessed about fifteen years younger than that. She watched him like a snake with a gaze that made a slight chill run down his spine as he walked across the oriental rug to the man he had come to see.
The massive oak desk had four huge carved wooden legs supporting it. The two front-facing legs had large lions' heads carved into them at the top, with their fangs bared. The lack of side panels on the desk gave it a cleanly efficient look. On top of the desk was a laptop computer off to one side and a bottle of water on a coaster. Directly in front of the desk and facing it were two burgundy leather wing-back chairs.
Silas didn't bother sitting down in either of the chairs. He wanted to get in and get out. From the temperature in the room, he guessed Mr. Bartonovich was not going to ask him to have a long chat either. His host was turned to the side in a leather swivel chair and talking on a wireless headset. Silas caught the tail-end of the conversation as he waited for his presence to be acknowledged. He was somewhat surprised by the crisp, upper-crust slightly British sounding accent he was hearing, which belied Mr. Bartonovich's East European ancestry. His previous dealings with Mr. Bartonovich had been brokered by someone else and this was the first time he had seen or heard from his employer directly.
"?and I don't really care what your excuse is Myron. You defaulted on the loan and now it's time to pay the piper. I'm sending my man over to pick it up. And don't try to hide it because I know where you live."
Nick Bartonovich hit the disconnect button on the cell phone he had been holding in his hand and turned to face Silas without breaking stride.
"What do you have for me?"
Silas pushed the USB drive across the desk towards his employer. Nick picked it up, plugged it in to his laptop, and began opening files and scanning through the contents.
"Sit," Nick said without any preamble. Silas cringed inside as he sat down in one of the chairs, his hopes of a hasty exit evaporating in the process. Nick spent about ten minutes reviewing the documents and photos on the USB drive before turning to address Silas again. "You are sure the information about accessing the funds in the Cayman Islands is accurate?"
"That copy of the contract came directly from one of the bank's vice-presidents. I flew down there myself and picked it up straight from him in his office at the bank. If it's a fake, it came straight from the top."
Nick smiled slightly, with his mouth but not his eyes, while he continued to look directly at Silas. He seemed to be considering something, and it was several seconds before he spoke again.
"You've done well. Consider your debt canceled. I presume the money I gave you for the
expenses covered everything else?"
"Yes, it did," replied Silas.
"Good. Have a nice day, Detective."
Silas nodded his head without saying anything, stood up, and walked out of the room. The Asian woman followed him to the staircase and watched him exit through the front door before returning to the office and closing the door. She crossed the room quietly and sat down in one of the wing-back chairs without saying anything, waiting for Nick to speak.
"Mia, is everything in place for the extraction?"
"Yes, all we need is the green-light from you and it is a go," she replied.
"Do it. Meet me at the airport in two hours. We're taking the jet to the Cayman Islands so we can prepare for our guests."
Mia rose silently from her chair and exited the room without another word. Nick leaned back in his own chair and contemplated the events that were about to unfold. He had waited ten years for this day to come, and now that it was here he was going to savor it like a fine wine. He smiled and relished the thought that his old friend and business partner J.T. Thornbacker had no idea what was about to happen to him.
Chapter Thirteen
Laura walked into the diner for breakfast and she could feel the tension in the room. It was her first foray back into the general population since the incident two days before. She knew everyone must be thinking about what she had done to James and wondering whether or not she was going to freak out again and attack one of them. She walked to the breakfast bar and began serving herself breakfast, trying to act as if nothing had changed.
James was already seated at the far end of the diner and saw Laura come in. He decided to try and act as normal as possible, considering what had happened the last time they had spoken. His plan was to eat and get out the door without speaking to her at all. Better to not do anything that might trigger another outburst, he thought to himself. Even though the implant devices wouldn't shock anyone while they were in the diner, there were still forks and table knives available, and he didn't want to take any chances.
He tried to keep his focus on his own plate, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Laura was walking towards him with her plate and a glass of orange juice. "Great," he thought to himself, "now I'm going to have orange juice and breakfast food all over me." Laura stopped about three feet from his table, too close for comfort.
"James, I have something to say to you," she said.
James looked up from his plate timidly.
"O.k.," he replied.
"Look, I know I was out of line the other day. I wanted to say I'm sorry and to let you know that it won't happen again."
"O.k., thanks," James replied, not certain how to respond.
Laura turned away from him and went to a booth farther towards the door, where she sat down and began eating. James realized he had been holding his breath and exhaled. The tension in the room dropped several notches and everyone continued eating their breakfasts.
The next day, right before the group began their one-mile run, Laura walked by James and said matter-of-factly, "You can run with me if you want." Then she started jogging down the running course. James wasn't sure whether it was a good idea to follow her or not, but curiosity got the better of him and he started off after her. He came up on her right side, a respectful distance away just to be on the safe side, and kept pace with her for about a minute, not saying anything.
"I was angry, you know," she said. "Paul dying the way he did?. It felt like? well, I was really angry about it and I took it out on you, but it wasn't your fault."
James remained silent, giving her space, not sure what to say.
"I just wanted you to know that we could be friends. After all, we're going to be stuck in here for a long time," she said, saying the last sentence somewhat sarcastically.
"Laura, I'm sorry about Paul. I want you to know that."
"Thanks."
They ran for another minute in silence. James saw the end of the course coming up and they both began slowing down as they neared it.
"I would like very much for us to be friends, Laura," James said.
Laura smiled slightly as she turned towards her room and went to get ready for the workday.
As nighttime fell and darkness descended on the town of Utopia, three all-black ATVs silently approached the town's perimeter. They each sported a state-of-the-art electric motor that made them virtually silent except for the sound the wheels made as they rolled over the terrain - sounds not audible over the song of the desert Cicada, which sounded like a symphony after dark. Each ATV was manned by two commandos, dressed in all-black and armed for the occasion.
The trio of ATVs stopped just outside of the town and two of the commandos dismounted. One moved silently to the back of the building where the night watchman kept tabs on all of the town's extensive video monitoring feeds. Selecting one of the electrical wires, he took out a pair of wire cutters and cut it in half. The other commando had positioned himself near the front door. As soon as the power went out, he unlocked the door with a skeleton key and entered the building.
Inside the control room, the monitors and lights went dark and the emergency lights kicked on in the hallway. The night watchman cursed, got up, turned on his flashlight, and began making his way down the hall to the circuit-breaker box. As he rounded the corner, he felt a stinging in his chest. He grabbed at the area where the tranquilizer had penetrated his uniform reflexively, moments before the dart's payload took effect. The commando at the other end of the hallway lowered the blowgun from his lips. The watchman slumped into the wall and slid down to the floor, his flashlight rolling down the hall noisily. The commando silently crossed the hall, turned off the flashlight, and headed out of the building to re-group with his team.
James was dreaming of his mother. In the dream, he was a young boy, and he and his mother were rowing out into the ocean in a small rowboat. She had brought the fishing poles and they had begun fishing. Suddenly, James had a bite. He jerked the line to set the hook and began trying to reel the catch in. As he reeled, he saw a fin break the top of the water. He had hooked a shark, and it looked like a big one.
"Mom, cut the line and let's get out of here," he said.
His mother looked at him and smiled, seemingly oblivious to the shark that was fast approaching.
"Good boy, James, you've got something. Reel it on in, honey," she said, smiling.
"Mom, I've hooked a big shark and he's headed right for us! I'm scared! Let's cut the line and get out of here!"
Just as he finished his sentence, the big shark rammed the boat and his mother fell out, into the water. She surfaced quickly and began to laugh as if nothing was wrong.
"Mom! Give me your hand!"
James stretched his hand over the side of the boat towards his mother, but he couldn't quite reach her. She was close enough to reach him, but she just smiled and looked at him as she continued to tread water. Suddenly, his mother jerked to the side and a cloud of blood began to rise around her, but still she continued smiling.
"Mom!" James cried as he grabbed the oars, trying to re-position the boat closer to his mother so he could pull her to safety.
"It's o.k., son," she said. "I'm o.k."
The door to James' room burst open and two darkly clad figures with headlamps shining blindingly into his face came rushing through the door. James sat bolt upright in bed, awoken from his nightmare by their theatrical entrance. He raised an arm to shield his eyes from the light. He heard the crisp report of two tranquilizer darts leaving the chamber of the dart gun, feeling the sting as they embedded themselves in his upper torso. The last thing he felt was someone sliding something around his neck before he was swallowed by the darkness.
Chapter Fourteen
When James finally began to wake up, he could feel the floor moving under him. At first he thought it was the after-effects of whatever he had been drugged with, but the smell of
the salt air and rhythmic movement of the floor made him realize he was probably on some sort of boat. His mouth had been taped shut with duct tape, his hands were bound behind him with plastic restraints, and his feet were likewise bound.
He re-positioned himself, pushing himself up on one elbow and then into a seated position. It was then that he saw the armed guard dressed in black, staring at him from across the room, and the two other bodies lying on the floor near where he was positioned. At first he could only see their backs, but as they too began to wake up, and move around a bit, he realized with astonishment that J.T. and Laura were his fellow captives.
Laura's eyes grew wide with fear as she began to look around, but as she saw James and J.T., her panicked look gave way to confused bewilderment. J.T. came around a few minutes later. His look betrayed neither fear nor confusion, and James wondered what thoughts might be running through his mind at this very moment.
After all three were fully awake, the guard spoke into a two-way radio.
"Leader 1, they are awake."
He said nothing else, but continued to look back and forth between the three of them as if trying to determine exactly how coherent each of them was. A few minutes later, another man dressed in black came through the door. He was big and burly, with a shaved head that was beginning to show signs of hair growth stubble where his sparsely spaced hair was beginning to grow. His three-day beard growth offset the unlit cigar now protruding from his mouth.
He knelt down beside Laura first, and with a huge thumb, he attempted to push her eyelid upwards to get a better view of her eye. Laura shook and pulled away, glaring at him with daggers. The big man abruptly grabbed a fist-full of her hair and held her still, repeating the maneuver with this thumb as he spoke.
"Be still, you little tramp. I'm just trying to see how dilated your eyes are."
James could tell Laura was seething, but she didn't try to pull away again, not that it would have done much good if she had. He then removed what appeared to be a neck-brace from Laura's neck similar to the one he was wearing. The big man repeated the procedure on J.T. and James. Once this was done, he appeared to be satisfied and stood up again, addressing them all.