IX
The Past
Anthony and Dylan
Anthony got off of the freeway and parked in the driveway of an abandoned house next to the off ramp. He turned to Dylan, who handed him the letter she had just read.
"Hope you two enjoyed yourselves at the new Mission. Unfortunately you won't find anything that can help you find me there. Be assured that I've managed to cover my tracks sufficiently.
I feel that I should give you some time to conduct your little investigation; it would only be fair to do so. Perhaps three days is enough time? It will have to be, I am getting impatient.
I shall be contacting you in three days. Good luck with your investigation.
J"
Dylan
When Anthony finished reading the letter, he handed the letter back to me, looking angry.
I took out my cell phone and dialed Alex's number, hoping that she and Natalie had left the FBI office.
"Hey Dylan," Alex's voice said on the other end. "You found something?"
"I.," I said, and then stopped.
Whoever it was that sent the letters was out to get me and Anthony, not Alex and Natalie. I couldn't tell them about this letter, they would get involved and they would probably get hurt.
"Dylan, are you okay?" Alex asked, worried.
"I'm fine, sorry Alex," I said. "There wasn't much at the Mission to find. Only that the land was given to the state by a woman named Jamie Camden. She also gave them money to rebuild the place."
There was silence on the other end, and I knew Alex was writing it down. "I'll call Bosley at the office and tell him to look for that name," she said. "And this will probably make you feel better, Dylan. After three hours of waiting, I was able to look at the list of the O'Grady clan members there were arrested. And Natalie managed to get a list that has where those that weren't arrested are."
"And?" I asked a little impatiently.
"All of the members are either accounted for or dead," Alex answered. "And the ones that aren't in jail are in Boston."
I sighed in relief. "Thanks for that at least Alex," I said.
"You're welcome. So I guess there's nothing left to do but wait until tomorrow and see if Bosley finds anything on Jamie Camden," Alex said.
"Alright, Alex," I said. "Say hi to Nat for me. See you tomorrow." I hung up the phone and glanced over at Anthony, who was staring at me.
"Why didn't you tell them about the letter?" he signed.
"This is our fight Anthony," I replied, taking off the id on my jacket. "I don't want to risk them getting hurt because of me again." I was fiddling with the ID card, not looking at him.
Anthony put his hand under my chain and lifted my head so I was looking at him. "Then you will become just as alone as I have always been," he signed. He then started the car and got back onto the freeway.
Anthony
Back at Dylan's house, Anthony remained withdrawn as he had been driving back from Carmel. He ignored Dylan and went straight upstairs to the guest room. He stood by the window, looking out, and recalled the puzzled look on Dylan's face when he had told her she would be as lonely as him. Then, he remembered the hurt look on her face as he ignored her.
He could not help it, whenever he was reminded of how solitary he was in the world, he remembered his past. A look of determination crossed his face, maybe if Dylan knew what had happened to make him a professional assassin, and then maybe she would avoid it. This way, she would not become a sinner like him.
With that thought, Anthony began pacing back and forth across the room. He also knew that he owed Dylan an explanation for his statement earlier. He spotted a pad of paper on the dresser in the room and picked it up. Taking the pen from his jacket pocket-he began to write about his past.
Dylan
It was way too quiet in my house that evening. Usually when I had the night off I would either listen to music or watch movies. Today however, I was in my living room trying to read a magazine and ignore what Anthony had signed to me earlier.
Finally I gave up on reading and I got up to go talk to him, when I turned and saw that he was standing in the doorway. "Hi," I said, a little startled. "Are you hungry at all?" I then asked lamely.
He shook his head and then handed me some papers.
"What's this?" I asked, confused.
"It's about my past," he signed. When I took the papers he then signed, "I'm going for a walk. Will you be alright by yourself?"
"Yeah, don't worry," I said hurriedly. I was anxious to read what he had written.
He nodded and then left. A few seconds later, I heard the back door close and open- he had gone.
I walked over to an armchair next to the window and sat down, and then I started to read.
It took me forty-five minutes to read all five pages that Anthony had given me. He had written about his life-from the time he was three to just before he had been hired by Knox.
Anthony had been born in Romania and was brought over to America by his parents when he was still a baby. They were gypsies, his parents, who joined a Romanian circus as acrobats when they got here. One day while rehearsing their act, his parents made a mistake in their routine and they both fell to their deaths, Anthony was only three years old.
After the accident, Anthony was cared for by the wife of the ringmaster. When he turned four, he nearly died when he caught pneumonia after playing in the rain. He recovered very quickly, but found that his vocal chords had been damaged by his illness. He couldn't speak; all he was able to do was make screaming ore yelping noises.
As he grew older, Anthony was trained as an acrobat, like his parents. Even though the other circus performers adored him, he did not allow himself to befriend anyone-not even the woman who cared for him after he became an orphan. When he was seven, he became dissatisfied with the circus. And when the group performed in Southern California, he ran away. He then ended up at the orphanage and lived there until he was seventeen. And while there, just like at the circus, he refused to become friendly with any of the other children and most of the nuns.
When Anthony left the orphanage, he worked a series of jobs in order to earn money and to see what he wanted to do for a living. One night, when he was twenty five, he was nearly mugged by a robber. Luckily Anthony was able to fight back, but he then ended up killing the robber. This opened a new door for him-he so enjoyed the killing that he became a professional assassin. Seven years later, when he was hired by Knox, he was one of the most popular assassins in the underground world of crime.
As I was finishing the story, I was struck by how alone Anthony was wherever he went. Then I read the last few sentences and my eyes widened in surprise.
"Let your friends help you Dylan, it is their job and they will help to protect you fiercely. I have no one to help protect me from 'J'. Now I will likely die a sinner because of my past as an assassin, with no one who cares for or loves me. Do not let this happen to you. It would be a crime for a woman like you to die alone and unloved."
The Past
Anthony and Dylan
Anthony got off of the freeway and parked in the driveway of an abandoned house next to the off ramp. He turned to Dylan, who handed him the letter she had just read.
"Hope you two enjoyed yourselves at the new Mission. Unfortunately you won't find anything that can help you find me there. Be assured that I've managed to cover my tracks sufficiently.
I feel that I should give you some time to conduct your little investigation; it would only be fair to do so. Perhaps three days is enough time? It will have to be, I am getting impatient.
I shall be contacting you in three days. Good luck with your investigation.
J"
Dylan
When Anthony finished reading the letter, he handed the letter back to me, looking angry.
I took out my cell phone and dialed Alex's number, hoping that she and Natalie had left the FBI office.
"Hey Dylan," Alex's voice said on the other end. "You found something?"
"I.," I said, and then stopped.
Whoever it was that sent the letters was out to get me and Anthony, not Alex and Natalie. I couldn't tell them about this letter, they would get involved and they would probably get hurt.
"Dylan, are you okay?" Alex asked, worried.
"I'm fine, sorry Alex," I said. "There wasn't much at the Mission to find. Only that the land was given to the state by a woman named Jamie Camden. She also gave them money to rebuild the place."
There was silence on the other end, and I knew Alex was writing it down. "I'll call Bosley at the office and tell him to look for that name," she said. "And this will probably make you feel better, Dylan. After three hours of waiting, I was able to look at the list of the O'Grady clan members there were arrested. And Natalie managed to get a list that has where those that weren't arrested are."
"And?" I asked a little impatiently.
"All of the members are either accounted for or dead," Alex answered. "And the ones that aren't in jail are in Boston."
I sighed in relief. "Thanks for that at least Alex," I said.
"You're welcome. So I guess there's nothing left to do but wait until tomorrow and see if Bosley finds anything on Jamie Camden," Alex said.
"Alright, Alex," I said. "Say hi to Nat for me. See you tomorrow." I hung up the phone and glanced over at Anthony, who was staring at me.
"Why didn't you tell them about the letter?" he signed.
"This is our fight Anthony," I replied, taking off the id on my jacket. "I don't want to risk them getting hurt because of me again." I was fiddling with the ID card, not looking at him.
Anthony put his hand under my chain and lifted my head so I was looking at him. "Then you will become just as alone as I have always been," he signed. He then started the car and got back onto the freeway.
Anthony
Back at Dylan's house, Anthony remained withdrawn as he had been driving back from Carmel. He ignored Dylan and went straight upstairs to the guest room. He stood by the window, looking out, and recalled the puzzled look on Dylan's face when he had told her she would be as lonely as him. Then, he remembered the hurt look on her face as he ignored her.
He could not help it, whenever he was reminded of how solitary he was in the world, he remembered his past. A look of determination crossed his face, maybe if Dylan knew what had happened to make him a professional assassin, and then maybe she would avoid it. This way, she would not become a sinner like him.
With that thought, Anthony began pacing back and forth across the room. He also knew that he owed Dylan an explanation for his statement earlier. He spotted a pad of paper on the dresser in the room and picked it up. Taking the pen from his jacket pocket-he began to write about his past.
Dylan
It was way too quiet in my house that evening. Usually when I had the night off I would either listen to music or watch movies. Today however, I was in my living room trying to read a magazine and ignore what Anthony had signed to me earlier.
Finally I gave up on reading and I got up to go talk to him, when I turned and saw that he was standing in the doorway. "Hi," I said, a little startled. "Are you hungry at all?" I then asked lamely.
He shook his head and then handed me some papers.
"What's this?" I asked, confused.
"It's about my past," he signed. When I took the papers he then signed, "I'm going for a walk. Will you be alright by yourself?"
"Yeah, don't worry," I said hurriedly. I was anxious to read what he had written.
He nodded and then left. A few seconds later, I heard the back door close and open- he had gone.
I walked over to an armchair next to the window and sat down, and then I started to read.
It took me forty-five minutes to read all five pages that Anthony had given me. He had written about his life-from the time he was three to just before he had been hired by Knox.
Anthony had been born in Romania and was brought over to America by his parents when he was still a baby. They were gypsies, his parents, who joined a Romanian circus as acrobats when they got here. One day while rehearsing their act, his parents made a mistake in their routine and they both fell to their deaths, Anthony was only three years old.
After the accident, Anthony was cared for by the wife of the ringmaster. When he turned four, he nearly died when he caught pneumonia after playing in the rain. He recovered very quickly, but found that his vocal chords had been damaged by his illness. He couldn't speak; all he was able to do was make screaming ore yelping noises.
As he grew older, Anthony was trained as an acrobat, like his parents. Even though the other circus performers adored him, he did not allow himself to befriend anyone-not even the woman who cared for him after he became an orphan. When he was seven, he became dissatisfied with the circus. And when the group performed in Southern California, he ran away. He then ended up at the orphanage and lived there until he was seventeen. And while there, just like at the circus, he refused to become friendly with any of the other children and most of the nuns.
When Anthony left the orphanage, he worked a series of jobs in order to earn money and to see what he wanted to do for a living. One night, when he was twenty five, he was nearly mugged by a robber. Luckily Anthony was able to fight back, but he then ended up killing the robber. This opened a new door for him-he so enjoyed the killing that he became a professional assassin. Seven years later, when he was hired by Knox, he was one of the most popular assassins in the underground world of crime.
As I was finishing the story, I was struck by how alone Anthony was wherever he went. Then I read the last few sentences and my eyes widened in surprise.
"Let your friends help you Dylan, it is their job and they will help to protect you fiercely. I have no one to help protect me from 'J'. Now I will likely die a sinner because of my past as an assassin, with no one who cares for or loves me. Do not let this happen to you. It would be a crime for a woman like you to die alone and unloved."