Stones (Data) (7 page)

Matt swallows hard. “What happened next?”

“I was walking around in Times Square, trying to get through to your mother. To warn her.” His voice goes silent. Tears streak down his face.

Trying to look away, Matt’s eyes are pulled back to his dad. “Did you ever hear back from Mom?” He hates himself for voicing the obvious question. He already knows the answer.

“I got a hi-def video message on my jax from an anonymous source. It showed a large transport T-boning her on the driver’s side at high speed while she waited at an intersection. It completely demolished the car in less than a second. There was nothing left but scattered debris.”

Matt feels numbness spread through his body. For the first time in his life, he wants the tears to come, to release him from the coldness and emptiness that descend upon him like a steel dome. Inside his mind, a blurred image forms of his mom inside the car. She turns to look at an oncoming wall of metal. The last thing she sees is the grill of a giant truck. Glass shatters. Broken pieces engulf her in slow motion. And then it all goes black.

He tries to talk, but the words won’t make it past the massive lump in his throat. He stares at the back of his dad’s head.

Kent takes a deep inhale and turns. There’s a look of understanding on his face, like he knows what Matt is trying to say. “She would have died instantly. No time for pain or fear.” Kent shakes his head. “It all happened too quickly.”

The numbness seems to release Matt from its grip. “And after that? What did you do?”

“There’s more, and this is the part I want you to understand,” Kent says. “Four words appeared below that video clip.”

Another long silence.

Finally, Matt speaks up. “What did it say?”

Kent’s lips move but make no sound. He takes another long drink of water.

His words finally come out, almost a whisper.

Your son is next.

He walks back to the kitchen table and sits down. There’s a look of relief in his eyes, like a great burden has been lifted from his shoulders, and he can talk calmly again.

“I called my buddy at the Hawthorne Police Department. He rushed to the school and picked you up a couple of minutes before a half dozen black Cadillacs pulled into the parking lot. A bunch of men with combat gear and pulse rifles poured out and searched the school for you.”

“Really?” Matt says. “I didn’t know.”

“My buddy saved your life. While he was bringing you to the airport, I emptied out my savings account and every other account I could access and put the cash in a suitcase. I abandoned the car in Times Square and threw away my jax. I rode the train to the airport and met you there.”

Matt’s head bobbed up and down. “I remember that. I thought it was a game. We caught a flight to Mexico City, right?”

“That’s right. False identities are cheap there, and I bought a few sets for each of us. After a month of hiding, we hopped on a flight to Japan and melted into the countryside. You know the rest. We went off-grid, found our way to Professor Yamamoto up in Hokkaido.”

“Yeah, Dad, I know the rest,” Matt says. “Always on the run. Always scared. Always worried about who or what might jump out of the shadows.”

Kent takes a glass in his hand and sips water. “I did it to protect you. I saw what they did to your mother. I couldn’t allow them to get you too.”

“But, Dad, that was twelve years ago. I can’t live like that anymore.”

“Son, you don’t understand how deep this runs.” Kent reaches out his hand to Matt, grabbing his arm, as if to pull him back from the edge of a cliff. “They won’t stop chasing me, and you, until they know we’re dead.”

“How do you even know they’re still after us?”

“Look,” Kent says. “They know I’ve still got the report on the Ganges. They know I’ve got the video of Mom.” His voice falls to a whisper. “Can you imagine what would happen if all that became public?” He stands up and looks his son in the eye. “The whole world would see the truth. It would destroy their empire, destroy their power. They aren’t going to sit by and let that happen.”

“Why don’t you just turn the evidence over to the FBI or the CIA and let
them
handle it. It sounds like a simple corporate criminal investigation.”

Kent shakes his head. “You still don’t get it, do you? The corporation has its own people inside the government, at every level. They
want
me to run to the FBI so they can find me. Then it will all be over.”

“Dad, you’ve done a great job protecting me from danger.” Matt feels a lump in his throat. “But this is my chance to move on, to get away from all this. To finally grow up.”

“You don’t know what you’ll be up against.” Kent pleads. “I won’t be there to watch out for you.” His voice drops again. “I could lose you.”

Kent is stooped over, staring down. From the sagging flesh under his eyes, he seems to have aged ten years in just a few minutes.

Pushing off from the table, Matt rises and puts his hand on his dad’s shoulder. “I love you, Dad, but I have to do this.” His hands go down on his dad’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, but I
am
going to Japan tomorrow.”

Kent stands up. He turns and puts his arms around Matt. “I can’t lose you, son.”

For a long time, they hold each other.

Finally letting his arms slip off, Matt takes his jax off the table. “I’ve got to go pick up Jessica. We’re already late for the concert.” He starts to walk away, and then turns back. “One more thing. What’s the name of the company that wants us dead? At least tell me that. I can’t seem to find anything about it on the Mesh.”

Kent looks at his son.

“MX Global Corporation.”

A
s the disgruntled director storms out of the MX Global boardroom, the crisp clicking of his hi-carbon shoes grows fainter down the hall.

Ryzaard sits with arms folded across this chest and stares at Van Pelt without so much as lifting an eyebrow.

Beads of sweat stand out on Van Pelt’s forehead. “This meeting of the Board of Directors is hereby temporarily adjourned.” He clears his throat and reaches for a handkerchief to wipe his forehead. “I respectfully request the remaining directors to stand by in this room. I shall get back to you shortly.” He glances over at Ryzaard.

They both stand and leave the room on the heels of the director. A loud chime tells them that he’s just disappeared into an elevator.

Waiting for the next one, they say nothing as they stand shoulder to shoulder.

As soon as the doors part and they step in, Ryzaard turns to Van Pelt. “You gave me your assurance that
all
the directors would be compliant.” The doors slide shut, and Ryzaard swivels so that he’s towering over Van Pelt and staring down into his eyes, noses only inches apart. “There is no room for error!”

Van Pelt wipes his forehead again. “Yes, of course. That was my intent.”

“Good intentions are the domain of losers and weaklings,” Ryzaard says. “Fortunately, there’s a tried and true method used by the corporation for this type of situation. For some reason, which I can’t fathom, you’ve allowed the old ways of your father to fall into disuse in the last few years. I learned about it shortly after coming here. It seems to have been a long and honored tradition which I intend to revive.” Without taking his eyes off Van Pelt, Ryzaard pulls out his jax, traces a line on its side with a finger and raises it to his mouth.

“Who are you calling?” Van Pelt says.

“Hello, Ivan.” Ryzaard talks directly into the jax. “I need your help.” As he speaks, he continues staring into Van Pelt’s eyes. “A certain car will be leaving corporate headquarters in a few minutes heading for New Jersey, I believe. You’ll be jax’d the tracking information. Please have the car intercepted with the usual protocol.”

Ryzaard puts the jax in his pocket. “Don’t worry. Ivan is very good at what he does. He’s worked for the corporation for many years. Now go have a drink. Take a nap. I’ll call you when we are ready. Maybe you can learn a thing or two.”

When they return to the boardroom, three hours have gone by.

The directors are milling about the room, talking in loud voices, arms waving, venting frustration. When they see Ryzaard and Van Pelt enter, they quickly find their seats, but the chatter continues.

The looks of anger on their faces are unmistakable.

“We’ve received some distressing news about Mr. Johnson, the director who left earlier this evening.” Van Pelt looks out over the directors with a quivering lower jaw. His eyes sweep past Ryzaard, lingering for just a bit too long, and move through the room as he clears his throat. “His car was run over by a large transport on his way home to New Jersey.” All eyes stare at Van Pelt as he looks down in a display of emotion. “He was fatally injured.”

Ryzaard surveys the directors. Here and there, a hand goes up to a mouth. Color drains from their faces. Their eyes glance at the door.

Good,
Ryzaard thinks.

An old Chinese proverb comes to mind.

Kill the chicken to scare the monkeys.

Van Pelt clears his throat. “I just spoke with Mrs. Johnson and expressed our deepest sympathies to her and her young children.” He leaves a suitable pause before moving on. “Let us observe a minute of contemplation to honor our esteemed colleague.”

A deathly quiet follows. As he bows his own head, his eyes glisten with just the right amount of moisture.

Ryzaard works hard to suppress a yawn.

Finally, the silence ends.

“It now falls to us to carry on the important work of the corporation.” Van Pelt’s head rises up. “With the untimely death of Mr. Johnson, we now have 19 remaining directors on the board, of which ten are present tonight. Accordingly, we have a quorum and will proceed with the business that is before us.”

Ryzaard looks down so that the directors can’t see the grin threatening to take over his lips.

“R
emind me again why I like Mozart so much.” Matt stretches his body in the direction of Jessica as they nestle together in a window booth of the all-night café across the street from Amazon Hall. The concert has been over for an hour, and they are enjoying pancakes topped with whipped cream and peaches.

The café is empty except for them.

“Mozart was the King of Pop in his day.” Jessica bites into the pancake and looks at Matt with white lips.

“Somehow I missed the part about the concert being a symphony.” Matt slips a succulent peach into his mouth. “I thought we were going to see the Slayers tribute band playing over at the X-Center.”

The truth is, he doesn’t care where they are going or what they are doing, as long as he’s with Jess.

“Didn’t you have something you were going to show me?” Jessica runs her fingers through Matt’s long hair. “I’m guessing it has something to do with those marks on your face and a chance meeting with a boulder up at Powder Puff.”

Matt reaches into his pocket and pulls out the rock he’s been fingering all night. As soon as he sees it, his hand jerks and knocks over a glass of milk, spoiling some perfectly good pancakes.

“What the—”

The rock is eggplant purple with a distinct faint glow in the darkness of the café. Matt turns it over and over in his hands.

“Nice crystal.” Jessica’s hand moves forward. “Let me have a closer look.”

Surprising even himself, Matt’s hand pulls the rock away from Jessica. “Hold on.” He stares down at it. “Is it possible for a rock to change color in a few hours? I swear this was jet black when I picked it up off the snow.”

“Probably just the light.” She raises an eyebrow. “Or maybe magic.” While Matt is staring down, she snatches the rock from his open palm before he can react. “Kind of looks like a large animal claw. Maybe I’ll keep it. It’ll remind me of you while you’re in Japan.” She drops it in her purse.

Matt is speechless.

“Just kidding.” She shoves it back toward him and presses the point into his chest. “Take it with you for good luck.”

His fingers come up and wrap around it. “According to my dad, I’ll need all the luck I can get.”

“He can’t stand the thought of you going, can he?” Jessica leans closer with her chin resting on her hands. Her brown eyes turn up to him.