The leaves of the surrounding trees had a silvery tinge in the moonlight. Their eerie shadows crawled across the ground and snaked up the side of the old building.
Officer Burke and Officer Henderson sat in an unmarked car on the side of the road. They were supposed to watch the building that night in case anyone came back.
Henderson stretched and murmured something under his breath.
Burke looked at him wearily. "Should we get that coffee now?"
Henderson nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I should. I'll go in the other car, and get some from Dunker Donuts, I'll be back."
A fifteen minutes later, Henderson came back with two cups of coffee.
"Perfect, thanks." Burke took a sip of the hot coffee.
Time passed slowly, and nothing happened. The clock struck midnight. Burke drained his coffee.
The clock ticked on, and strangely, instead of feeling more and more awake, Officer Burke became more and more fatigued. He started to wonder if that coffee he'd had was decaf. He started to slowly slip away into sleep. He tried to fight it, but he felt as if didn't have the energy to even speak. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought he saw Officer Henderson get out of the police car. Then, everything went black.
"Burke? BURKE!" A strong hand shook his shoulder.
Burke squinted in the sunlight. "...What?"
"Fine time to be sleeping!" The gruff voice belonged to Detective Polehaus.
"What happened?" The officer asked, trying to clear the impenetrable fog in his mind.
"You were taking a nap, and let the bad guys slip away from us under the cover of darkness, that's what happened! The men cleared everything out of the building at night while you were sleeping!" Polehaus was livid. "And where's Henderson?!"
Burke looked around as if he expected Henderson to be there. "I - I don't know."
His superior threw his hands in the air. "Oh, this is just perfect! We're now two short of the three stooges!"
"I guess that the coffee Henderson gave me was decaf." He remarked. "I'm sorry Detective."
Polehaus looked at him for a moment. "He gave you the coffee?"
"Yeah."
The man rubbed his chin. "Now isn't that interesting. Do you still have the cup?"
"Uh, yes, I think so." He looked over and got it out of the cupholder. It still had a little coffee left in the bottom.
Polehaus studied the cup. "I'm going to have the analysts check this out and see if it was drugged. It's the only thing that could explain this."
"Ugh, this place is so dusty!" Coughed Bennett Charles.
He walked across the room, the floorboards creaked slightly under his heavy steps. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the dust particles that floated in the air.
There were boxes stacked all over the place. To anyone looking inside, it would appear like someone was just moving in. The gang members were idiots, but they did have a good idea when they decided to relocate here.
This place belonged to one of the older gang members. According to him, it was owned by his parents, but they didn't come up here anymore. He told his parents that he and some friends were staying there and they were fine with it.
He had to admit, it was a smart move.
"It was about time they started doing their job right." He muttered under his breath.
He eyes the precariously stacked boxes. Considering what's inside them you'd think they'd be more careful.
Charles lifted the top box and gingerly placed it on the floor. He did the same with the next one, so they wouldn't topple and break what was inside of them. He noted that the biohazard symbol was still emblazoned on the side of the box.
The next thing he did was pick up his phone. The reception was excellent out there. He dialed a number. The person on the other end picked up almost immediately.
"Hello?" It was one of the members of Vance's gang.
"Yes, it's time. You know the woman you're after?"
"Yup."
"And you know how to get to her? And where to bring her?"
"Yeah, yeah, I know."
"I hope you don't screw this up. Rolland had to leave, otherwise, she would have been the one to do this."
The punk on the other end of the line gave a low, grating, chuckle. "No worries. This isn't my first time."
"Good," Charles growled.
He hung up. "Once we have Monica under our control, the final step will be much easier." He put his phone away and walked to the door. Before he closed it behind him, he set the burglar alarm. He shut the door. Pretty ironic, considering by most standards they were considered 'burglars'. "More like revolutionaries," the boss always said. What they were doing would change the world. If this plan went through successfully, the world would never be the same. Despite the setbacks and the meddling Whitakers and their friends, the plan was still in motion and was heading full speed toward their ultimate goal.
The house was quiet for a few moments until the door opened once more and Charles came back in. He picked up a pen and went over to the notepad that lay on the kitchen counter.
He grabbed a pen and scribbled down: Remove the labels from the boxes and burn them!
Jason closed the supplies closet door behind him. He sprayed the cleaner on the marble countertop and started wiping it down with a blue cleaning cloth, making the counter visibly cleaner. The morning sunshine poured in the newly installed front windows. Jason took a deep breath and smiled blissfully. The quiet of Whit's End was comforting, considering all the chaos that had been surrounding them these last several days.
Jillian came in through the kitchen door. "Good morning, Jason!"
So much for the quiet. "Hey, Jillian," Jason turned around. He started. "Oh. Uh, your hair..."
She fluffed her now red hair and smiled like she was doing a TikTok hair tutorial. "You like it? I LITERALLY just got it changed last night."
"Oh, I see," Jason's eyebrows rose slightly, "Any particular reason?"
"No. I just felt like something new, that's all."
"Uh-huh, right. And it doesn't have anything to do with Monica."
Jillian tittered in a way that sounded like Gertie Cummings' laugh from the movie Oklahoma! "Why would you think that?"
Jason crossed his arms and propped himself against the counter. He leaned forward. "Do you really want me to jump into all that?"
Jillian shook her head quickly. "No."
"Alright then, in that case, will you please put on a hard hat, then finish cleaning the counter while I go and-"
The front door opened and Monica walked in. She already wore a hard hat. "Hey Jason, I'm here to help."
"Hey, Monica, thank you. Do you want to start in the kitchen?"
"Sure." She walked through the entrance to the kitchen. "Where should I start?"
Jason walked in with her. "There's still a lot of glass on the floor, so if you get out a broom…" the door swiftly closed behind him.
They worked for a couple of hours, and Connie came over to help for a while. They cleaned and got ready for the workers to come.
Jillian took off her hard hat. "Alright, Jason I have to go. Since you gave me the day off, I made a mani-pedi appointment."
Connie was putting her supplies away in the closet. "I have to go as well, Blair is getting discharged and I'm helping her get settled back into her apartment." She decided not to mention that Richard was coming to help as well.
"Okay, thanks for your guys' help," Jason called from the library.
Connie turned to Jillian and frowned. "Another mani-pedi? You just had one less than a week ago."
Jillian grinned. "Yeah. I'm getting them done from the most expensive salon in Connellsville," she leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "If I don't win over Jason with this, I'll get Richard for sure."
Connie cocked her head. "Do you think it will? I don't think that fancy nails and hair will win them over."
Jillian looked at her like she was crazy. "What are you talking about? All the other men I've met were like that," She shrugged, "They're literally all alike that way."
Connie put her hands on her hips. "Has it ever occurred to you that the reason Richard and Jason haven't -" she put up air quotes " -"fallen for you" is that they're looking for a woman that has something that runs deeper than just their looks?"
Jillian blinked. "What?"
Connie was taken aback. She didn't expect her to not understand. "Well - I - it's complicated. They're ..looking for girls who are beautiful on the inside, not just the outside."
Connie was about to say more when an alarm on Jillian's phone went off. "Sorry, but I have to get to my appointment." She grabbed her purse and quickly walked through the door.
"We'll finish this conversation later." Connie followed her through the kitchen door, "Why are you going through the back?"
"I parked out in the back. It was less crowded that way."
"Oh, okay then." Connie shrugged, "See you later."
"Bye."
Jillian walked through the back door. She absently studied her lime green nails. She was thinking about getting neon pink and yellow stripes this time. That would make a statement for sure.
She rounded the corner, exiting the alleyway between Whit's End and the shop next to it.
Suddenly, a hand clapped over her mouth and someone grabbed her hands and forced them behind her back. She tried to scream but she felt something sticky keep her mouth from opening. Her mouth was taped shut. The other set of hands placed a sack over her head and she felt something that felt like plastic tighten over her wrists by the other set of hands. She felt something wrap around her legs several times.
The kidnappers (there were presumably two of them, but it seemed like there were dozens of them.) lifted her and started carrying her to the car. Jillian struggled and kicked but her pilates training wasn't helping her in this situation.
They threw her into the back of a car and her head hit the opposite door.
The car rumbled to a start. Jillian recognized the rough motor of this car. She was being kidnapped and they were using her car.
That's what I get for leaving my keys in my car. But after all, this WAS Odyssey.
The two men were thinking the same thing. "I can't believe she left her keys in her car."
She felt the car lurch as the one at the wheel shifted into reverse.
The other kidnapper grunted. "What do you expect? This is small-town America. They probably leave their houses unlocked too."
"Not only that, they probably lost their keys a long time ago too."
They both laughed as they drove off.
Connie pulled into a parking space at Blue Sky apartments. She put the car into park and opened the door.
Blair got out of her place in the shotgun seat and started to get her bags out of the car.
"No!" Connie ordered. "I'll get your bags, Richard, you help her get up the stairwell." she pointed to the stairway that led up to the second flat of apartments.
"You got it," Richard nodded.
Blair objected. "I don't need any help Connie, it's just one flight of stairs."
Connie gave her best 'mom' look.
"You broke your arm, cracked two ribs, and have a limp from the bruises on your leg, all of which you got while you fell down one flight of stairs. I'm not taking any chances."
"Okay then." She consented.
Richard and Blair got out of the car and started carefully making their way up the stairs. With every step, her leg racked with pain. Her arm ached too. She didn't want to become dependent on the meds used to relieve the pain in her body, so she had stopped taking them.
About four steps from the second floor, Blair's knee buckled, she lost her balance and almost toppled backward. Richard swiftly reached and caught her left hand, steadying her.
She breathed a sigh of relief. "Maybe Connie was right."
Richard laughed and smiled warmly. "Maybe - just maybe."
Blair chuckled, looked down, and suddenly realized she hadn't let go of Richard's hand. She quickly let go and blushed. "Um, thanks," she muttered.
"Sure." He suppressed a smile.
They continued up the stairs with Connie not too far behind. They walked to her apartment.
Connie walked to the door, and reached under the welcome mat, finding the spare key. She unlocked the door and walked inside. The place was sparsely decorated and didn't look like it had been lived in, which was true. Blair had spent more time at her campsite than at her apartment in her time in Odyssey.
Blair glanced over and saw a pile of camping gear stacked up by the door. "Oh! I almost forgot about the campsite! Who brought all this stuff back?"
"Jay and Buddy," answered Connie. "They brought it back yesterday."
"That's so sweet! I'll have to thank them."
She picked up the duffel bag that Connie had set down by the door.
"No, you don't have to do that, me and Richard can take care of it. You have a seat and get comfortable."
Blair started to protest. "Connie, I'm a big girl, I can take care of-"
Connie held up her hand. "Don't say another word." She put her hands on her hips. "Mitch said to watch out for you and make sure you took care of yourself, now I know why," she said playfully.
Richard picked up her bag and took it upstairs.
"You're going to take it easy, and get well." Connie put her hands on Blair's shoulders and gently sat her down on the couch. "And don't even think about doing otherwise for the next few days." she smiled. She walked up the stairs, passing Richard as he came down.
"Is she like this to everyone?" Blair nodded in her direction.
He gave a half-smile and sat down on the opposite end of the couch. "Yeah, kinda. She's a mom-friend, and it doesn't take long for her to count you among her number of close friends."
Blair wore a wistful expression. "I wish I was like that."
Richard smiled, "If it makes any difference, I think you're pretty awesome the way you are."
"Thanks," she looked at him sincerely, "But seriously, you all have made me feel so welcome here these past couple of weeks. You, Whit, Connie, Jason, Eugene, all of you."
He shrugged modestly, "It's our pleasure."
She took a deep breath and continued. "To be honest, I wasn't planning on staying after Al Seigel was put behind bars, but- I'm beginning to rethink that."
"Hey, do you have any spare blankets and pillows?" Connie called from the bedroom upstairs.
"In the closet by the bathroom, I think." Blair shouted back, "I'm embarrassed to admit I'm not sure."
"Oh, don't be, I just found them."
Richard's heart rate sped up a couple of hundred beats. Was she going to stay? "Really?" he asked, not trying to sound too excited.
Blair nodded. "Yeah. Odyssey feels like a place I could call home. And I haven't had a home in a while." She recalled all the places she had been in her pursuit of Seigel over the last year. New York City, Washington DC, Chicago, and several others. She had been a nomad for quite some time now, being in one place one day, and shortly after, leaving for the next. She didn't bother to make too many connections and friends because she came and disappeared so quickly. She didn't realize how lonely she had been….until she came to Odyssey. She wasn't sure if she knew how to live normally anymore, but she was willing to give it a shot.
Connie came downstairs, with an armful of pillows and blankets. "I'm bringing these down here in case you don't want to go upstairs."
"Thanks, Connie."
"Okay," she looked around, "Is there anything else I can do?"
"No, I think I'm good, thanks."
"Are you sure?" Connie asked.
Blair nodded. "Yes."
"Alright then," Connie started for the door, and Richard got up to follow her. "You have both our numbers, if you need anything, or are in pain, or just want some company, call us."
"We're available twenty-four seven," Richard added, personifying a person on a phone helpline, "And we don't play annoying hold music."
Blair laughed. "I know. Thanks, guys."
Robert Mitchell and Peter Bourland sank into the seats of their car.
"This is ridiculous." sighed Bourland.
Mitch took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I know. It's like he just disappeared."
"It doesn't make sense. He just ditched his car in an abandoned mall parking lot in Odenton. So much for our APB."
"Then, we set up a citywide search in Odyssey, Odenton, and Connellsville, and he's nowhere to be found."
"It's like we've hit dead ends no matter where we turn," Mitch noted, remembering the earlier attempt yesterday when they tried to interrogate the now-conscious thug that Blair had knocked out. He was just a lackey, he didn't know anything.
"The only thing that makes sense is that he left the area, or possibly the country. And we don't know where that would be."
Mitch rapped his fingers on the dashboard for a few moments, in deep thought. "If that's the case we could check around at rental car companies, bus stations, even the airport." His mouth twisted with doubt, "You don't think he'd be dumb enough to leave his actual name any of those places, do you?"
"You'd be surprised at some of the slip-ups I've seen in my time."
"I never fail to be surprised at them though, no matter how often it happens."
Bourland nodded. "Exactly." He started the car and pulled out his phone. "Alright, let's call some of our men, and have them divide and conquer. The sooner we get started, the closer we'll get to finding Jellyfish."
Monte Whitaker sat down in front of a desk. He glanced down at the notes on the legal pad in front of him. He ran through the questions in his mind he was to ask this man. He glanced around the sterile room, familiarizing himself. The fluorescent lights reflected on the light blue walls, making it look unnatural. The blinds that hung over the windows were closed tightly, preventing any outside light from entering the room.
He was grateful that the Connellsville Assisted Living Center had agreed to do this. They had also been willing to temporarily give up one of their rooms so they could hold this meeting with one of the patients who was living here.
Monte checked the wire that was attached underneath his jacket collar. "Testing, testing, is this thing working?"
"We can hear you loud and clear, Whitaker." A male voice on the other end of the mic answered. "We'll be able to hear the other side of your conversation. We'll send him in shortly."
"Perfect. Will the doctor be there too?"
"Yes. His attending physician will be listening and ready to intervene if he is needed. Before we start, can you please reposition those books on the desk so we can see you and the opposite chair?"
"Sure." He shifted the "stack of books" in a better position. This was no ordinary stack of reading material. Hidden in the second "O" of Strong's Exhaustive Concordance was a small camera. Those who were in the other room could not only hear what was going on, they would see as well.
"Perfect. Hopefully, this conversation will help us find a breakthrough," The Agent on the other end paused, then spoke up again, "One caveat. The man you're dealing with has been battling deep-seated paranoia for several years because of his experiences with the man we're after and the company he used to work with. Proceed very carefully and let him lead the way as much as possible. I and the doctor will be here to direct you and we'll step in if things get out of hand."
"Gotcha. I'll be as diplomatic as possible."
"We're sending him in. Good luck Whitaker."
A few seconds later, the door opened.
Monte straightened up and folded his hands in front of him.
A lanky man with graying brown hair and spectacles walked in. "Good morning." He spoke with a cultured British accent.
"Good morning, sir." He quickly scanned the paper, "Arthur Dent, I presume?"
"Yes, that's me." He answered pleasantly.
Monte gestured to a pitcher of water and some glasses. "May I interest you in something to drink?" Stop sounding like a waiter. He internally scolded himself.
"Yes, that would be lovely."
He poured two glasses of water and handed him one.
"So far, so good Whitaker. You're putting him at ease."
Monte casually took a drink. "So, have you been keeping up with the news recently?"
"Not as much as I used to, I'm afraid," Dent confessed.
"Have you ever heard of a company called Revolution Enterprises?"
"That's a large business in Chicago, right?" He brought the cup to his lips.
"Yes. Recently, there's been a lot of suspicion surrounding some of their business practices. Counterfeiting, money laundering, among other things."
Dent looked genuinely saddened by this news. "I hadn't heard that. That's terrible!"
Monte nodded. "Yes, it is."
The Englishman rubbed his chin. "But I'm not sure what this has to do with our meeting."
Approach this carefully. "We've been investigating this company. We did an extensive background check on the CEO and your name was mentioned. You knew him at one point. Is there anything you can tell me?"
Monte could see Arthur Dent's brow furrowed, and he saw a spark of recognition in his eyes. The Agent leaned forward slightly. "Have you heard of - Andromeda Enterprises?"
"I used to work there," Dent said quietly, as though he was recalling a dream.
"Yes, you did. Andromeda and some of its offshoot companies went under fire for illegal business practices and an elaborate mind control conspiracy, remember?"
"That's right…" he held up his hands, "I wasn't involved in that part, I promise."
Monte held up one hand reassuringly. "I never said you were. All I need to know is what you know about the CEO."
"He was a successful businessman. He was shrewd and became a millionaire quite early in his endeavor. It wasn't long before his business extended all over the world. That's where he met me in the UK."
"What happened to him? Do you know?" The agent pressed.
Dent sipped his water calmly. He paused, for a moment, trying to come up with the words to adequately describe what he was trying to say. "The money and power went to his head, to borrow the euphemism."
"Really?"
"Yes. Throughout the next couple of years, it was as though he became a different person. Suddenly, he wouldn't let anything - or anyone - get in his way. It was like the power and money took over his mind." He sighed, "Of course, I see that now. I'm not sure that I did when I was working with him, or at least not as clearly as I do now."
The love of money is the root of all evil, Thought Monte.
"He became involved in multiple illegal activities to get ahead, and to stay ahead, it wasn't long before he began branching out on his own."
"Was that when the mind control scheme went on?"
"That wasn't his first, but yes." Dent nodded.
"You're doing good, Whitaker. He seems to be reacting fine." The man's voice came over the speaker in his ear.
The agent inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. The interrogation was going better than he expected.
"Can you tell me more about Andromeda and your work there?"
Dent took a deep breath and looked hesitant. "Well, I worked with them for several years, I moved from England and when Novacom went to Odyssey, I went there as well and was the public communications representative for them. I didn't fully understand what they were doing, but when I did, I didn't want to have any part of it." He kept his eyes glued to the floor and his right leg bounced up and down, "I slipped some important evidence to a couple that knew John Whitaker. Jack and Joanne Alan. They got away…" He clenched his fists to hide the fact that his hands were trembling, "But I wasn't so fortunate." He began to breathe heavily, and he looked at Monte. A strange light flickered in his eyes. "Why are you asking me this?" The tension in his voice increased.
Monte opened his mouth to answer, but Dent cut him off.
"He mentioned my name, didn't he?" Sweat began to glisten on his forehead, "Is he after me?"
"Mr. Dent, I don't think he-"
Dent was growing more and more agitated. "He hasn't forgotten!" He stood up and slammed his hands down on the desk. The potted plant that sat precariously on the edge of the desk fell over and broke. Dirt and ceramic scattered all over the floor.
"He's going to find me again and this time he'll kill me!" He shouted.
Monte stood up so he was at eye level with him. "He never even mentioned your name. If he was planning to kill you, we would have already had you with witness protection!"
"Even if he hasn't said anything about me, I know he'll find me." Dent whimpered.
At that moment, the door opened and Doctor Whitmire walked in. "Sir, I'm afraid this meeting will have to be adjourned. Mr. Dent needs to rest."
The agent nodded. "Understood, Doctor."
Arthur Dent was escorted out, nervously wringing his hands.
Monte sighed and got out a broom. The door opened once more, and Agent Sharp popped her head in. "Hello?"
"Got pretty rough at the end there, didn't it?"
"Bringing up those memories probably triggered him. He paid quite a sum for his betrayal. From what we know, he was the victim of illegal medical and mind control experiments. Physically, he recovered for the most part, but never mentally."
"At the hands of Andromeda and Novacom?"
Agent Sharp nodded, her curly brown hair bobbing as she did. "Yes."
"Do you think we'll be able to talk to him again?"
"I'm not sure. It depends on if the doctor says he's stable enough."
Monte shook his head as he swept up the dirt and broken ceramic. "It's sad. This man has suffered so much trauma, and may never fully recover. All because of one man whose head was turned by money and power."
Sharp shook her head. "I know." She answered softly, "There will always be people suffering the repercussions from the deeds of evil men." She stopped, internally marveling at her romantic-sounding statement. A small fragment of the poetic young girl she used to be. She perked up. "Oh, I almost forgot why I came in here. I just got a call from our contacts listening to our good man down in Chicago. He met with some of his main hitmen. They're on their way to a town about forty-five minutes away from here. Odyssey?"
"No way!" He shook his head, chuckling. "Perhaps I shouldn't be too surprised." Knowing what has gone on there before, it wouldn't surprise me a bit if Grandpa and Uncle Jason were in the middle of it.
"He never mentioned Arthur Dent, but he did mention one family though, Eugene and Katrina Meltsner. Apparently he's got a vendetta against them and is planning something bad. "Taking care of them," probably." She gave him a you-know-what-I-mean look. "They said he and his comrades are planning to be there within the next twenty-four hours."
Monte's eyebrows rose. "In that case, it's even more important that we find out what we can from Dent, then get to Odyssey as quickly as possible."
Doctor Whitmire opened the door. "Alright, Mr. Dent is resting comfortably. It'll take him a while to fully calm down."
"Do you think he will be able to tell us anymore?"
"We're done for today, that's for sure. And even then, I don't know if he'll talk even when he's stable."
Whitaker and Sharp exchanged glances and sighed.
"We're running out of time," Monte replied.
[Several hours later]
Monte and Agent Sharp approached Doctor Whitmire. He sat at his desk in his office, studying some paperwork.
"Are we able to see Mr. Dent yet, sir?"
Doctor Whitmire looked up from his paperwork. "He's been resting for several hours, but I think we should be done for today."
Monte sighed exasperatedly, "We've played around long enough! We're running out of time-"
Agent Sharp raised her hand slightly and spoke up, "I wouldn't pretend to know what is best for Mr. Dent, but there is something big at stake here." She looked at him with big brown eyes, "Can we please see him, if only for a few minutes? It may be all that we need."
Doctor Whitmire hesitated slightly, "Well, only for a few minutes, and we'll keep it in his room. He may be more at ease there."
Sharp clasped her hands together. "Thank you so much sir," she said gratefully.
The doctor stood up and gestured for them to follow him. They walked through the reception area, and down the first hallway, and through another corridor. They went down the hall to the room labeled 11a.
Doctor Whitmire knocked on the door gently. "Mr. Dent?" He called.
Several seconds passed. No answer.
"That's strange. He usually answers his door quickly, even if he is resting." the Doctor observed.
He turned the knob on the door gingerly and opened it quietly. "Mr. Dent?" he asked once more.
Monte and Agent Sharp peered in behind him.
The room was completely empty. The bathroom door stood open, signaling no one was there.
There was a cool draft blowing in.
Monte glanced at the window. The window was open, and the spring breeze was blowing in freely, making the white muslin curtains swell, then recede rhythmically.
He walked over to it, examining the window closely. The screen had been kicked out. "I can't believe this. Dent has disappeared!"