Fiction
Two Before The Wedding Part 2
A Sunny Alexander-Johnson And Henry James Series
My name is Sunny Alexander-Johnson, and I’m Henry James, and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.
After finishing lunch at Johnson’s we both agreed it would be best if we at least knew who we were dealing with. Instead of going back to Dark Sides, we headed toward the offices of Robert Johnson and Manny Hermanos.
Protocol required we call ahead, and based on the hard time Manny gives anybody for not calling in advance, neither of us felt up to receiving a dressing down by the man.
Using a Bluetooth connection in the car, we dialed the office number.
“Manny Hermanos speaking.”
“Hey, Manny, how’s it going?”
“Afternoon Henry. What’s up?”
“We’re heading in your direction…”
“We? Roberto with you?”
“No Manny, it’s Henry and me.”
“Hey, Sunny. How’re the twins?”
“Kicking the hell out of me.”
Manny snorted a laugh and then said, “let me guess. You two are on to something, and you need Donnie and Becca’s help.”
“Guilty as charged dude. All we need is for them to run a phone number for us. We’d like to see what they come up with.”
“Hell, Henry, you two don’t have to come over for that. Just give me the number. I’ll have Donnie or Becca call you guys if they hit something.”
“And miss out on a chance to see your smiling countenance? Oh, heaven forbid.”
“Whatever, James. Fine, come on then. I’ll let everybody know.”
Ten minutes later, we rolled into the strip center parking lot and rolled to the front of a long line of offices and shops. It still seemed a little strange the NSA would allow cybersecurity field operatives such as Robert Johnson and Manny Hermanos to work out of a tiny shop in a nondescript strip center.
Our guess has always been it’s kind of like a spook hiding in plain sight. Probably section twenty of their spy playbook.
We depressed the call button beside the heavily barred glass door and waited. We knew it would take a minute or two for either Donnie or Becca or maybe even both to scan the sidewalks on either side of us and the parking lot behind. When the door opened, Robert Johnson stuck his head out and then grinned.
“Hey baby. Henry. Come on in.”
We followed Robert across the tiny lobby, skirted the always vacant receptionist area, and stopped at a steel plate door set in a wall. Without the benefit of a handle, it was impossible to open it from the outside.
Robert leaned his face toward a rectangular box to the right of the door and held his thumb against a square plate of dark glass.
A faint light passed at eye-level from the right side of the man’s face to his left, and we saw a tiny light bulb change from red to green. At the same time, the metal door latch popped, and the door swung out just enough to get a hand through the opening.
“Okay hon, that’s new.”
“Yeah, baby. We had it installed last week. Pretty neat, huh?”
“Yeah, if you’re into all that spy shit.”
“Henry, I believe you’re just jealous.”
“Really, Robert? You think I give a…”
“Henry, remember what we came here for. You two can argue later.”
We followed Robert through the doorway, waited until he was confident the door had latched closed, then walked the corridor stopping outside Manny’s office. Manny was on the phone, but he acknowledged us with a smile and a wave, then returned to his conversation.
Donnie Martin and Rebecca Wu were the two people we really wanted to see. Although they worked in an extremely spacious office, most of the space had been consumed by rows of computer equipment.
When we stepped in, they both spun in their chairs in unison and smiled.
“Welcome to spy central, you two.”
“Hey, Donnie. How’s it going, Wu?”
“Pretty good Henry. How’re the twins, Sunny?”
“Why in the world does everybody keep asking how my babies are? What about me?”
“You’re just the baby factory princess. We’ll start worrying about you after the kids are born.”
“Put a sock in it, old man. The babies are fine, Becca. Look, here’s a phone number we need you two to run down for us.”
Becca briefly examined the card, frowned, then handed the card to Donnie.
“That’s it? No name, no company name or address? Just a phone number?”
“Yeap. That’s all we have.”
“Okay give us a couple of minutes. We’ll see what we can do.”
“Thanks Donnie. Baby, you and Henry want to wait in my office? You should try to stay off your feet as much as possible.”
“My feet are just fine little brother.”
“I meant my wife doofus. How in the hell do you put up with this man, Sunny?”
“Oh, trust me honey, it’s an acquired taste that’s for sure.”
“Bite me both of you.”
We’d hardly settled in Robert’s office before the intercom buzzed. Robert got up from the couch where he and his wife were sitting, stretched across the desk and punched a button on the phone.
“Okay, whatcha got?”
“It’s a burner phone, Robert. It could have been purchased at one of a hundred thousand places in town.”
“But it is local, right?”
“Yeah. Whoever’s using it purchased it somewhere in Austin.”
“Any idea where?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“You know I don’t kid, Donnie.”
“Robert, unless the phone’s turned on and pinging a tower — which Becca says it isn’t — the only way we’re going to get the location is by triangulation.”
“Donnie, how long would you and Becca need to do that?”
“Probably about three maybe five minutes. Why, Sunny?”
“You or Becca have any plans tonight?”
“Something tells us, probably not.”
“Okay then. We’ll be here around five-thirty. We have to call that number at six.”
We returned to Dark Sides and puttered about with routine and incredibly boring administrative tasks until almost five and then shut down, packed up, and headed to the elevators. This time, we each took our own cars. By the time we finished making the call, we intended to go our separate ways for the evening.
At precisely six on the dot, we made the call. Whoever was on the other end of the call answered on the first ring.
“Exactly six. I certainly approve the punctuality.”
“So, who are we speaking to?”
“No, Ms. Johnson. Not how this conversation will go. I do the talking.”
“Fine then this conversation is done.”
We listened to several seconds of phone white noise and then the caller spoke.
“Okay, then Ms. Johnson. Let’s just call me the fixer. I often get called in to fix things that often aren’t how shall I say it, fixable. I’m certain if you and Mr. James are as good as I think you are, by now you’ve checked out the phone number and discovered it’s a burn phone.”
We all stared at one another in silence.
“Ah, you’re silence tells me everything. Good. The client I represent has a particular interest in some Austin property. Unfortunately, it seems as if another company is trying to purchase this property. If they succeed it represents a loss of billions of dollars in revenue for my client. We’ve already warned the company it’s not in their best interest to continue, but it seems as if they’re not willing to listen. This is where you two come in. Find out who is leading the charge, so to speak and persuade them to stop.
“And if we can’t?”
“Then simply put Ms. Johnson, someone will die. You have five days.”
“Hang on, dude. We don’t even know where to start.”
“Start at the beginning, Mr. James. Remember. Five days.”
We all heard a distinctive click and then a rapid beeping on Robert’s phone. He leaned forward and disconnected then punched the intercom button.
“Yes Robert.”
“Did you get it Donnie?”
“No. Whoever it was, he must have known we were trying to trace the call. He was on the phone for exactly two minutes and twenty-three seconds. Not nearly enough time.”
“Damn. I don’t like where this is going, Henry.”
“I hear ya, princess. This is going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“Yeah, and if we don’t find that needle, somebody’s going to die.”
Read On — Two Before The Wedding Part 3
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