Mindsurge (Mindspeak Book 3) (23 page)

“It appears so. My father’s biggest mistake was trusting the wrong people.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you found out about your inheritance.”

“It’s okay. I forgave you for that a long time ago. We’ve both made our share of mistakes.”

“I don’t want to make any more.” He tucked an errant strand of hair behind my ear. “Can’t we just use this money to run away?”

I cocked my head. He and I both knew we couldn’t just run. “I’d love nothing more than that, but Jonas needs us.”
 

Jack nodded. “That he does.”

“And Sandra has the backing of the government on her side.”

Jack took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So, we meet with and threaten that same government? That’s your plan?”

“More or less.”

“Well, then…” He gestured with his hand out. “Lead the way.”

~~~~~

At five feet two inches, there were times when I had to be bigger than myself.

Several men and one woman gathered in Wellington’s conference room, and almost all of them carried guns. They were dressed in dark suits and held small Styrofoam cups. The smell of coffee filled the air. I’d never understood the lure of hot coffee in the afternoon.
 

Not one of them looked our way when we entered.

“Oh, good, you’re both here.” Alyson walked in behind us, along with Coach. “Are you sure about this?” She placed a gentle hand on my arm.

I nodded. It was surreal to have my mother ask that question and touch me with a gentleness that I was coming to know in her. Had I forgiven her? Or had I simply put my anger on hold while I conquered the real monster?

Coach cast me an uneasy smile. “This isn’t going to be easy. I called in all my favors. You’ve got a tough crowd before you.”

I scanned the room, studying each person. My eyes finally fell on a woman dressed in a lovely dark red suit. Evelyn Meyers, the president’s deputy chief of staff. She was flanked by two men in navy suits—Secret Service, I presumed. “I’m ready,” I told Coach.

“Okay, then. Let’s do this.” He faced the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you could, please take your seats.”

“Actually,” I stepped forward, placing a hand on Coach’s arm, “there’s no need for all of you to sit.” I met each of their stares before landing on the one female in the room. “Ms. Meyers, I believe? I would love it if you and I could have a private conversation.”

The other suits in the room traded raised-brow looks. One of the men chuckled under his breath, then with a toothy grin, said, “And who might you be, pretty lady?”

“I’m Lexi Matthews. Who are you?” I answered with a smile to match his, though mine had a touch of smart-ass to it.

He glanced to Coach Williams, then back to me. “Agent Mackelroy, FBI.”

“Agent Mackelroy is the agent who is working your father’s case,” Coach explained. “He also was nice enough to call the office of the president’s chief of staff, which resulted in Ms. Meyers and a couple of Secret Service agents attending this meeting.” Then he added, “As you requested.” There was a touch of warning in his voice not to piss these people off.
 

“I see. Well, Mr. Mackelroy, I appreciate you being here. I’m thankful that you’re still trying to solve my dad’s murder.” Though I still hadn’t heard if they had done anything about the video I’d sent them. “I’m even more grateful for the call you made to the president’s chief of staff. For now, I need to speak with Ms. Meyers. Alone. You and your friends are invited to take a walk over to our campus coffee shop and have a latte on me.”

One of the men standing directly next to Ms. Meyers spoke up next. “We’re not leaving Ms. Meyers.”

“Why? Do I look like I’m a threat to her?” That got an amused grin out of Ms. Meyers.

I made eye contact with each of the men, one by one.
I need each of you to exit the room. You will walk across campus and find the coffee shop there. Have a latte. Otis, the barista, is expecting you.

They each made their way to the doors behind me. Ms. Meyers looked on as the men filed out of the room, leaving Jack, Coach, Seth, Alyson, Ms. Meyers, and me.

Ms. Meyers’s eyebrows slanted inward, almost touching. “What just happened?” She was a middle-aged woman, African-American, and by her size and build, I suspected she was an avid runner.
 

“I asked them to leave.” I pulled out the chair next to her and sat.

A knock sounded behind me, and the door opened slowly. “Sorry I’m late.” Briana entered, looked around the room, and headed over to stand beside Jack.

How’s your head?
I asked.

Better, thanks to you. Any word from Jonas?

I shook my head.

Ms. Meyers clasped her hands together. “I think it’s time someone told me why this meeting was called.” Irritation was evident in her tone.

I drew in a sharp breath. “Ms. Meyers, have you ever heard of Palmyra Atoll?”

“I know it. A small island in the Northern Pacific Ocean.”

“That’s right.” I could feel Jack’s eyes on me. We had talked about how much or how little to divulge to anyone in the government, which is why I’d asked everyone but Evelyn Meyers to leave. I had researched her online and found her to be trusted by her colleagues and respected by the news media. She was married with three children. A career woman who still made time for family. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but this island is partially owned by the Nature Conservancy. The other part is owned by the United States and run by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Department.”

“I believe that’s correct. It’s an unorganized, uninhabited territory.”

“Unorganized, maybe. But there
are
residents of this atoll.”

“All right. Why don’t you tell me why we’re discussing this island?” Her smile told me she was struggling to take me seriously.

“The secretary of the interior is responsible for whatever happens on Palmyra Atoll. And the secretary, who sits on the president’s cabinet, answers to the president. This indirectly makes the president responsible for what happens on this atoll. Isn’t it partly your job, as deputy chief of staff, to protect the president?”

“What exactly do you want, Miss Matthews?”

“I want to purchase Palmyra Atoll.”

Ms. Meyers’s face turned stoic. “Let’s pretend for a minute that you could possibly have enough money to purchase a private island. Palmyra Atoll is not for sale. Even if it were, why would the United States of America sell it to you?” She enunciated each syllable. “Besides, what would a young girl like yourself want with an uninhabited island in the middle of the Northern Pacific?”

I chose to ignore the “young girl” comment for now. “I assure you, money is not a problem.” I nodded to Seth. He flipped on the projector, and Alyson dimmed the lights. I gestured for Ms. Meyers to direct her attention toward the screen now lit up with a photograph. “This is a satellite photo of the atoll, taken yesterday.” I picked up a laser pointer and walked to the wall. “As you can see here and here…”—I pointed to a few fuzzy spots in the picture—“…people are, in fact, currently on the island.”

“Okay, so what?” She turned her hands out, then let them fall back to the table. “I obviously am not completely in touch with the goings-on of this island. The Nature Conservancy might have a project in progress.”

“I mean no disrespect when I say this, but I’m willing to bet that no one working under the president is aware of what’s happening on Palmyra Atoll right now.”

She shifted in her seat. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m not suggesting. I’m
telling
you that there is something happening on this island that I plan to put a stop to, and the International Intelligence Agency is covering it up right under the president’s nose. And because the president is ultimately responsible for this island—and for what the IIA does on U.S. soil—a political and PR nightmare will erupt if, or should I say
when
, the American public finds out.”

“And just what is happening on Palmyra that you think is so serious?”

“The IIA is allowing a group of doctors and scientists to clone human beings and experiment on them.” I decided not to add the fact that this was being done in exchange for robotic and cloned human weapons to be sold to military around the world. Not yet, anyway.

A hysterical laugh passed Ms. Meyers’s lips. “Human cloning. That’s not possible. Where would you get such an absurd idea?”

“It
is
possible. I’m proof.”

One, two, three beats passed while she tapped a manicured fingernail against the table. “What do you mean, you’re proof?”

I nodded to Seth. He changed the slide on the screen to show three side-by-side pictures. With my laser, I pointed. “This is a photograph of me. The next one is Dr. Sandra Whitmeyer when she was my age. And the third is Sandra Whitmeyer today.” A chill produced goose bumps across the back of my neck and down my arms. It was the first time I had seen myself directly next to the donator of my DNA.

“That doesn’t prove anything. You could have created an age-enhanced photo.”

“I could have, but I didn’t. I can prove that my DNA is nearly identical to that woman’s. Just as I can prove that Jack’s DNA”—Jack nodded behind me—“is identical to Dr. John DeWeese’s DNA. Dr. DeWeese is the man who raised Jack, and he’s this woman’s partner in every insane thing being done on Palmyra Atoll. The FBI agents who were here today also know this information to be true. They’ve simply not been able to prove it fully.”

Coach, who had been leaning against the wall the entire time, stepped up to the table again. “What Lexi is failing to mention is that Sandra Whitmeyer and John DeWeese have repeatedly asked Lexi to join them. When she has declined their request, they have threatened her life. They need Lexi as a subject, in order to enable the types of DNA modifications they want to make to the cloned humans they’re creating.”

“And they’re killing hundreds of embryos for every one that survives.” My heart ached just saying that out loud. As if voicing the horrific truth made it even more of a reality.

“If what you’re saying is true, I’ll take this information to the president. We’ll launch an investigation. The U.S. government will not allow this to continue. If necessary, the military will get involved.”

My stomach tightened. “No. That won’t work.” The military was liable to take the entire island out if they discovered the kind of craziness that was happening there. “Doing that brings attention to the island. Too many people will discover the horrific experiments these doctors are doing. Neither the president nor I have any interest in the public knowing anything about what is going on there. That’s why I decided to bring it to his attention—to
your
attention—before the public discovers this unfortunate information and forms their own opinion.”

I was taking a risk by bringing this to her—if the military were to get involved, I would fail.

Ms. Meyers stood. She was at least five foot eight, a good six inches taller than me. “Are you threatening the president, Miss Matthews?”

My pulse was sprinting at full speed. “On the contrary. I’m trying to protect him. And myself. I’m saving your boss from a public relations disaster if news of the experiments being done to Americans on this island were to leak to the press—experiments that have nothing to do with the mission of the Nature Conservancy or U.S. Fish and Wildlife.”

“And what makes you think anyone in the press would believe anything you were to say to them?”

“Because I have proof of every experiment ever done by the IIA’s Division of Human Cloning. And I have proof that at least one segment of the U.S. government has allowed immoral and unlawful experiments to take place in exchange for the creation of unorthodox weapons.” Not to mention that those weapons were being sold to other countries’ military.
 

Though I wanted to retreat backward into the dark corner behind me, I took two steps closer to the deputy chief of staff. “I also have proof of murders, and attempted murders, committed by representatives of the IIA or by people currently protected by the IIA. These murders have been covered up by agencies of the U.S. government, as have the repeated threats on my life.”

Panic erupted in Ms. Meyers’s eyes and across her face. “Do you realize you are blackmailing the president of the United States?”

“I’m not blackmailing anyone. I’m offering our government the chance to do something right before the public discovers the truth. The truth about the American lives that have been lost due to the horrific experiments being performed by the doctors on Palmyra Atoll.”

Ms. Meyers frowned. “I can see that you’ve put a lot of thought into this. But this is not a job for a little girl. This is a job for the U.S. military.” She stood and placed her hands on the table to brace herself. “I appreciate you bringing this information to the president’s attention, but this meeting is over.”

I glanced behind me to Alyson, Jack, and Briana. Jack nodded encouragement. “Before you decide to turn your back on us, we need to show you one more thing.”

She stared at me a few seconds, then sank back down into the leather chair.

Jack and Briana stepped up to the table. “The reason I know so much about the experiments being done on the island is because Jack, Briana, and I are just a few examples of what these doctors are capable of creating. We have… supernatural abilities that these doctors want to reproduce—even if it means killing one hundred times the number of humans in the process, including small children.”

“
Supernatural
abilities?” she repeated. “Like flying? Running faster than a speeding bullet?” She laughed, but I could tell she didn’t really mean it.

“Our abilities are more of the mind control and medical healing kind.”
 

It was time to bring out the big guns.

Ms. Meyers, please tell me something highly sensitive the president is planning right now that the public doesn’t know about.

Ms. Meyers cocked her head. “The president has invited Palestinian-Israeli leaders to a summit to take place at Camp David next week.”

“Interesting.”
And the press hasn’t gotten wind of this?