Catch & Neutralize (22 page)

Tiffany laughed through tears. “Sounds good. I’ve been feeling a little overwhelmed lately.”

Chapter 41

The cleanup crew arrived thirty minutes later in hazmat suits, hustling to get rid of evidence. CAN Institute Medical Traveling Division had flown Tiffany away fifteen minutes prior. Angie, Laura, and Kyle headed to the kitchen for three reasons: avoid contamination, get out of the cleanup crew’s way, and assess their current situation.

Angie could hardly believe the events of the past hour. She focused her attention on Laura, shooting off a line of questions. “So, what about the issue of Tiffany trying to kill me? I mean, if she’s going into mental rehab, does that mean I may have to work with her again at some point? How am I supposed to trust her? How can I be expected to work with a person like that?”

“You won’t. Tiffany is done as far as The Institute is concerned. She’s no longer fit to be a part of our organization. We’ll keep an eye on her, help her get adjusted and back on her feet, assuming the toxins can be removed from her system. But, essentially, she’s been let go.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Angie said getting up from the table to fix a cocktail. “Does this kind of thing happen often? Do very many agents just lose it like that?”

“No. Tiffany is not the first, but it’s been over fifty years since we’ve had to dismiss an agent.” Sadness reflected in Laura’s eyes. “Tiffany’s been lying to you about everything. Just so you know, I wasn’t the one Stockton captured. That was Tiffany. He got her when she was fourteen. The entire neighborhood, people from all over the country, searched for her.” Laura shook her head. “It was tragic for everyone. When Tiffany was found, she was a different person and understandably so. She never should’ve been considered by The Institute. Like I said, that was my fault.”

“You couldn’t have predicted what she’d do or what she’d become. And there’s that toxin to consider. It could be messing with her mind.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is. Toxin Gina, the worst of its kind, but Tiffany went wayward before coming into contact with it. Months before.” Laura spoke in a tough tone and without feeling, but sadness shone in her eyes. “The Institute was already investigating Stockton Wood. But, Tiffany just couldn’t let it go. She started stalking him, managed to talk him into dating her. She looks so different than she did as a kid, a late bloomer. It was a brilliant plan, but it’s against the rules, absolutely forbidden, to use The Institute’s power for personal use. At least we got to him in time.”

“I’m happy to hear The Institute stands by their rules. Have there been any exceptions that you know of?” Angie was interested in knowing all she could about her mysterious employer.

“Not many.” Laura seemed reserved about giving more than that. “We’ve started identifying targets, my idea actually, by leaving a message. Usually on a mirror for easy removal: ‘You Are Next.’”

“I’ve seen that. The bathroom in the kitchen…”

“Yes, I put it there. The message is being used so any agent that sees it will know. We kept it from Tiffany for obvious reasons. It’s in trial stages right now. You’re the first agent to experience it. You were supposed to have been informed, but circumstances with Tiffany spiraled out of control too fast for explanation. My apologies for that. Those stupid compacts are outdated, and my aunt refuses to…” Laura paused, took a deep breath before going on. “Anyway, The Institute will inform everyone once they’ve voted on the mirror message system. I believe it will get rid of unnecessary confusion while putting fright into our targets. If it works the way I predict, the message will become The Institute’s calling card.”

“Sounds sneaky. I like it.” Angie downed most of her drink and turned to face Kyle. “You’re an agent as well, I take it.” It was not a question. “What’s your story?”

“I’m not an agent, more like a contractor. I’m working on my seventeenth year with CAN Institute. I handle most of the trials that come up. I help…” Kyle paused, giving the impression he wanted to choose his words carefully. “I help prove that those who need to be imprisoned get into prison.”

“That can’t be good for your private practice, losing law cases.” Angie gulped the last of her drink.

“I don’t like losing cases, no good attorney does. I win nearly every case I take. I only take those cases I strongly believe in. You win some, lose others. It’s just the way it is. I help get bad guys, the
really
bad ones, where they need to be. I do that by losing. It keeps my track record believable. The agreement I have with The Institute is not more than one planned loss per quarter.” Kyle waved his hand dismissively. “I do what I can for the greater good, so to speak.”

Preparing another drink for herself, Angie asked the others if they’d like one. Both declined.

“I’m surprised by all the agents and contractors The Institute employs. They have their hands in every piece of business.” Angie stirred her drink with a finger.

Laura spoke up: “That’s the only way to keep our work going in the right direction.”

“Makes sense how all those conspiracy theories got started.” Angie licked the liquid off her finger and took a sip of her cocktail.

“Guilty.” Laura smiled. “But, just so you know, The Institute had absolutely nothing to do with the JFK shooting. We did, however, take care of the shooter.”

“Really?” Angie was moderately surprised. “Who was it?”

“Classified,” Laura said firmly. She obviously was not going to give out any unnecessary information. “But, I can tell you this: all the theories out there, all the things you’ve heard about the shooter are incorrect. It was a two-person job. Oswald, as you know, but he was just a pawn, a decoy. We had the real killer within a day after the shooting. She was eliminated shortly after. Before either one of us was a wish for our great grandparents, let alone our parents.”

“She? It was a woman? Jeez. This job gets more interesting by the second.” Angie set her glass on the counter and rubbed an earlobe.

Kyle wore a look of intrigue, blue eyes gleaming with possibility. “Agreed. I love the role I play for The Institute. Seeing Officer Wood again is going to be incredible. We knew each other before this on a professional level. He’s going to be thrilled when he finds out I’m his lawyer. That is, until the verdict.”

Angie grabbed her glass and headed back to the table, sat across from Kyle. “This is going to sound strange, but you look almost exactly like my husband. Same build, same skin color, same eyes. Do you know Dr. Mark Carter?”

Laura coughed, looked away chewing her lip. Her hands rested on the table, folded together.

Angie had an uncomfortable feeling of something significant floating just out of reach. Something strange was definitely going on. “Well?” she prompted.

Kyle took a deep breath and let it go noisily, rubbed a hand over his face. “That’s why I’m here tonight, to give you the news. The Institute keeps an eye on not only agents but on agents’ spouses. It turns out—and I’ve only recently found out myself—Mark and I are brothers. Twins, actually.”

Angie stared at Kyle saying nothing, her mind swirling.

“There’s some concern with Mark. He thinks you’re having an affair and wants to catch you in the act.” Kyle leaned back folding his arms over his chest. He tilted his head, watching Angie’s reaction.

“I would say that’s ridiculous, but you know the job. I’m away frequently, overnight sometimes, and gone for days. You can’t blame Mark for…”

“Nobody blames Mark, Angie.” Kyle’s interruption was gentle. “He’s following leads, snooping into CAN Institute business that could get him in trouble, maybe even hurt. We’ve got to confront him together, set things straight. The Institute has authorized us to tell him the truth about you and your job, me and my job.”

Angie nodded. This was a lot to take in all at once. She put her hand up as though requesting a timeout. “Just a second, please. Just give me a second to get my mind around all this. All right?”

Laura pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one and inhaled deeply. She held the rest of the pack out as an offering.

Kyle lifted a hand shaking his head.

Angie blinked twice, arms crossed, contemplating. “No thanks. I haven’t smoked since high school. I’m not going to let a little stress put me on the path to cancer. No way.” She let her arms fall to her sides. Gentler this time, apologetically: “No thank you, Laura.”

Laura blew out a gray smoke cloud and slid the pack inside her pocket. “I’m not a part of this new mission,” she said standing. “I’m going to head out.” Turning to Angie, she asked, “Will you drop Kyle off when you’re finished?”

“I haven’t received confirmation from The Institute yet.” Angie looked at Kyle. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I’ve learned a hard lesson today from Tiffany about trust. You understand.”

“Yes, of course.”

“I need to go home and get cleaned up, spend some time with my husband. I’d rather ease him into information about what I do, than you and I pounce on him with it.”

Laura spoke to Kyle: “All right then, let’s go.” To Angie: “Grab your things. We’ll all leave together so I can lock up.” She blew a string of smoke towards the ceiling and dropped her cigarette in Angie’s empty glass.

~

Mark was still out of town and wouldn’t be home until tomorrow evening. Angie hadn’t seen him in what felt like months. They’d never spent this much time apart in a single chunk of time. She sat in her recliner with drink in hand, her fourth since arriving home.

She pulled Kyle’s business card from her purse and dialed his cell number. He answered on the first ring.

“Hello, Kyle Caldwell speaking.” His tone sounded professional, his voice friendly.

“Hi, Kyle. It’s Angie. With today’s excitement, I’d forgotten Mark’s out of town until tomorrow. I was hoping you’d come over tomorrow evening to meet him.” Angie took a sip of her cocktail. “I’ve changed my mind. I’d rather tell him about The Institute while you’re here. It seems better to hit him with having a brother as well as a secret society soldier for a wife at the same time. Would you mind?”

“Of course, does six thirty work for you?”

“Sounds good. See you then. Thanks, Kyle.”

After disconnecting, Angie poured another drink and added a log to the fire. She leaned back in her chair, thinking about Mark.

A scraping noise from upstairs startled her. Angie pulled her gun and maneuvered the stairs, carefully skipping the squeaky eighth step.

The upstairs was too dark to see. She didn’t want to turn on lights, but there was no other choice. Clicking the switch, Angie’s eyes scanned the hallway. Empty, nothing out of place. All doors shut as usual.

All doors except for the one at the end of the hall, her bedroom.

Closed doors could be a trick, Angie knew. Slinking down the hall, she opened the first door and turned on the light. Clear.

Alternating sides of the hall, she checked the six additional rooms. Each appeared untouched: three guest rooms, Mark’s office, and a bathroom.

The final room, her bedroom, loomed at the end of the hallway. It’s door wide open, beckoning. She didn’t remember leaving it open.

Anything’s possible, right?

Firearm ready and filled with caution, Angie made her way to the open door. She reached into the darkness, feeling for the light switch, ready for combat. The temperature inside felt lower, chilly and damp against her skin.

With the room fully lit, the only things out of place: windows across from the bed opened, blinds pulled to the top, curtains billowing.

The mirror!

In the master bathroom, Angie felt relieved to find her mirror word free. There was, however, a tiny box next to the sink. It looked like a carefully wrapped present, complete with white bow. A blob of melted red wax rested on the box’s center. It was stamped with Pilfer’s symbol: a fox holding a cigar, wearing sunglasses and a sneer.

So, he knows who I really am and where I live.             

Angie examined the box without moving it, uncertain of its contents. Bending closer, she sniffed it and stood up laughing at herself.

It’s not like I’m a dog.

She leaned towards it listening, but it emitted no sounds.

It’s not like bombs tick these days.

Angie sighed, rubbing an earlobe. Holding her breath, she poked the package with her gun. The box slid back, nothing else happened. Exhaling, she set the gun on the counter and tore the wrapping off. A tiny box the color of baby blue with the Tiffany’s logo on top.

“Oh, Mr. Pilfer, you shouldn’t have,” Angie said removing the top and collecting a small blue pouch.

Tucked inside lay a white and yellow diamond-studded star key pendant made of platinum and gold on a fancy chain. Angie inhaled loudly, her skin tingling. This was the same necklace she’d admired six months ago at the Tiffany’s store in New York City, worth approximately twenty-two thousand dollars. She slipped the chain around her neck, admiring it in the mirror, caressing its rounded edges.

Angie checked the box again and found a handwritten note along with a hotel key card. The note read:

A~

You are a fascinating woman. Time to discuss our relationship and future endeavors. Please join me for drinks at The Corner Stone, top floor, this Tuesday at 8 PM.

~T