F Wilson - Fatal Error

"Then I guess you've got to go."

She nodded, biting her upper lip. "I do. I've just got to see them. But I'll be back Sunday. I promise."

What could he say? All he could do was let her go and hope for the best.

"Okay, but you call me from O'Hare, and again when you land in Des Moines, and then again when you reach your folks' place. Got it?"

Jeez, I sound like a nervous mother.

Well, he was nervous. Couldn't help it. That feeling of growing menace in the air… and these were the two most important people left in his life.

She smiled and wiped away a tear. "Got it."

He walked her to the security check line, kissed her and Vicky good-bye, then watched until they were passed through and headed for their gate.

He avoided the baggage claim area on his way out, but memories rose like ghosts… red memories… blood… his father in a pool of it…

He'd have to face it when Gia and Vicky returned, but for now His phone rang. Eddie? He'd called but got no answer so he'd left a voice mail to call him back.

But this wasn't Eddie.

"My boy!" cried a male voice. "H-h-he cut off-" He broke into sobs.

"Munir?"

"Please… I have no one else to call. He's hurt Robby! He's hurt my boy! Please help me, I beg you!"

"But what-?"

"Okay. I'll get there as soon as I can."

What the hell?

The woman coming her way along Columbus Avenue looked familiar.

Aveline Lesueur had been trundling along, wishing she were about fifty pounds lighter and that it weren't so cold. Her down coat hid her RT uniform. She was proud of the yellow tunic and what it represented-it gave her instant respect in the Dormentalist temple-but it was sleeveless and this wasn't sleeveless weather. Not by a very long shot.

She enjoyed her job as a Reveille Tech. It paid some of her expenses at the temple, but didn't put food on the table. So she was on her way to her second job as a restaurant hostess when she caught sight of this dark-haired woman in her midthirties coming the other way. She was sure she didn't know her but her face The BOLO!

She'd found a Be-on-the-Lookout flier on her desk this morning and was sure this was the same woman. Her hair was longer, her face a bit thinner, but the resemblance was remarkable.

She stepped to the side and stopped, fishing the flier from her coat pocket. She unfolded it and checked the drawing as the woman passed.

Yes. No question. The same woman: Louise Myers.

Aveline did an about-face and followed her. She felt like some sort of secret agent. Well, in a way she was-an agent for the Dormentalist Church. She had no idea why the Church was interested in this woman, but her place was not to question, simply to obey on her road to Fusion.

After a few blocks on Columbus Louise Myers turned onto a side street. She carried a North Face backpack over one shoulder with something bulky and heavy looking within. As she approached a high-rise apartment building she slipped a plastic card from her pocket. Aveline came up close as the card swiped through the slot-just like in the temple-and slipped into the vestibule right behind her. She followed her to the elevator and joined her in the cab.

Her heart thumped in her chest. This was so exciting.

She noticed the Myers woman had pressed the seventh floor, so she pressed a button at random-the eighth.

What to do now? She hadn't thought this out. Couldn't follow her to her apartment-too obvious. Besides, she'd already pressed another floor. How to prove this was the woman when she returned to the temple? If only she had some sort of mini spy camera, she could Her phone!

She pulled out her cell and flipped it open.

"Don't get your hopes up," the woman said.

Aveline froze. She looked up, half expecting to see a gun pointed at her. But instead the woman's finger was pointed at her phone.

"What?"

"No signal in the elevator," the woman said.

Right. Aveline's screen showed no bars.

"My-my phone's pretty good."

She thumbed the camera, framed Louise Myers in the screen, then pressed OK. No click like a regular camera and yes! A bit blurry due to her shaking hand, but it would do. She saved it and snapped the phone closed.

"You're right. 'No carrier.' "

The doors slid open and Louise Myers stepped out. "See ya."

"Yeah."

The doors closed and Aveline sagged against the rear wall of the cab.

I did it. I really did it.

She couldn't wait to get back to the temple and show her photo to one of the paladins.

"Take it easy, guy," Jack said to the sobbing man slumped before him. "It's going to be all right."

Jack didn't believe that, and he doubted Munir did either, but he didn't know what else to say. Hard enough to deal with a sobbing woman. What do you say to a blubbering man?

Munir had been so glad to see him, so grateful to him for coming back, that Jack practically had to peel him off.

He helped him to the kitchen where he noticed a heavy meat cleaver lying on the table. Several deep gouges, fresh ones, marred the tabletop. Jack finally got him calmed down.

"Where is it?"

"There." He pointed to the upper section of the refrigerator. "I thought if maybe I kept it cold…"

Munir slumped forward on the table, facedown, resting his forehead on his crossed arms. Jack opened the freezer compartment and pulled out the plastic bag.

A finger. A kid's. The left pinkie. Rock hard from the freezer. Cleanly chopped off. Probably with the cleaver he'd seen yesterday in the photo of a more delicate portion of Robby's anatomy.

The son of a bitch.

And then the photograph of the boy's mother. And the inscription.

Jack felt a surge of blackness from the abyss within him. He willed it back. He couldn't get involved in this, couldn't let it get personal. He turned to look back at the kitchen table and found Munir staring at him.

"Do you see?" Munir said, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "Do you see what he has done to my boy?"

Jack quickly stuffed the finger back into the freezer.

"Look, I'm really sorry about this but nothing's changed. You still need more help than one guy can offer. You need the cops."

Munir shook his head violently. "No! You haven't heard his latest demand! The police cannot help me with this! Only you can! Please, come listen."

Jack followed him down a hall to the office again where he waited while Munir's trembling fingers fumbled with the answerphone controls. Finally he got it playing. Jack barely recognized Munir's voice as he spewed his grief and rage at the caller. Then the other voice laughed.

VOICE: Well, well. I guess you got my little present. MUNIR: You vile, filthy, pervertedVOICE: Hey-hey, Mooo-neeer. Let's not get too personal here. This ain't between you'n me. This here's a matter of international diplomacy. MUNIR: How… [a choking sound] how could you? VOICE: Easy, Mooo-neeer. I just think about how your people blew my sister to bits and it becomes real easy. Might be a real good idea for you to keep that in mind from here on in. MUNIR: Let them go and take me. I'll be your prisoner. You can… you can cut me to pieces if you wish. But let them go, I beg you! VOICE: [laughs] Cut you to pieces! Mooo-neeer, you must be psychic or something. That's what I've been thinking too! Ain't that amazing? MUNIR: You mean you'll let them go? VOICE: Someday-when you're all the way through the wringer. But let's not change the subject here. You in pieces-now that's a thought. Only I'm not going to do it. You are. MUNIR: What do you mean? VOICE: Just what I said, Mooo-neeer. I want a piece of you. One of your fingers. I'll leave it to you to decide which one. But I want you to chop it off and have it ready to send to me by tomorrow morning. MUNIR: Surely you can't be serious! VOICE: Oh, I'm serious, all right. Deadly serious. You can count on that. MUNIR: But how? I can't! VOICE: You'd better find a way, Mooo-neeer. Or the next package you get will be a bit bigger. It'll be a whole hand. [laughs] Well, maybe not a whole hand. One of the fingers will already be missing. MUNIR: No! Please! There must beVOICE: I'll call in the mornin' t'tell you how to deliver it. And don't even think about goin' to the cops. You do and the next package you get'll be a lot bigger. Like a head. Chop-chop, Mooo-neeer.