Sweet Dreams (26 page)

"So, Detective, what can I do for you?" Isis folded her hands and looked at the two men across from her. Detective Weston was dressed in a white T-shirt and blue jeans. His 234 AARON

leather jacket was tattered and was in dire need of replacement, but he looked much better than the last time she saw him.

"We just want to ask you a few questions." Pulling out a photo, he placed it on her desk and slid it toward her. Isis picked it up and looked at it and without expression, she handed it back to the detective.

"Is that you, Miss Meskhenet?" Kirk asked although it didn't sound like a question, at least not one he didn't think he knew the answer too.

"May I ask what this is regarding, Detective?" Isis avoided the question, hoping that the detective didn't notice her evasion. She knew that the trail to her was cold and the case was closed but something in Kirk's eyes told her that this would not be the last time she saw him in her office asking questions.

"That's confidential Miss Meskhenet, but I do have a photo that looks a lot like you driving away from a crime scene and into this very office building. Can you explain that?"

She could tell that this would get out of hand, if she didn't give them something he thought was a help or maybe she should shut him down so hard that he had no reason to ever come looking her way again. She was a smart and complicated person but she was not careless, quite the opposite, she was detailed and covered her tracks in every situation. Now with a cop in her office poking his nose in a high profile investigation she was glad she was so thorough. "When was this taken, might I ask?"

The detective looked over to his partner and then back to her with a knowing look in his eye, he knew now that she

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knew he was chasing a cold case and had nothing on her other than a blurry picture. "Last year in October, October Fifth, to be exact, can you tell me where you were on that day?"

"I am not sure where I was a year ago, do you remember where you were a year ago detective Weston?"

Kirk grinned at her and nodded. "Actually yes I can tell you exactly where I was," Isis regretted asking "that question"

the moment the words came out of her mouth.

"Let me see what I can do," Isis pushed a button on her phone, signaling Biba. "Biba, can you please pull everything on my schedule from October Fifth of last year?" She smiled at Kirk and said. "I keep very good records due to how much I travel with the company, it's a quirk of mine."

The intern came into the office a few minutes later with a folder marked October. He glanced at the two men sitting across from his boss, handed the folder over to Isis, and left the room without saying a word.

"Okay," Isis flipped through the folder until she came to the Fifth. "Here it is, you said the fifth of October right? I was in Baghdad working on a story about oil drilling and its effects on our environment; here is my hotel receipt and a few from a local restaurant." Isis smiled politely as she handed over the contents to the detective.

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KIRK TRIED TO HIDE his disappointment as he looked through the folder. Everything was signed and date stamped for the Fifth of October. This had to be wrong, it didn't feel right and there was no way she had time to manufacture the documents without her even knowing they were coming. Isis 236 AARON

was his only real lead, and now it was turning up to be a big waste of time. Maybe this woman wasn't Isis Kanika, and just a wild goose chase. He thought back to her file; he couldn't remember if they had fingerprints on Isis or not.

"Well, this seems to be all in order. So do you have any idea who the woman in this photo is?"

"It is a little fuzzy, but I can understand how you could mistake her for me, same hair color and skin tone and the fact that she drove here to my building is very strange, but this is a big parking garage, and maybe she just went in to drop something off."

Geoff sat silent and watched the whole thing from his chair and Kirk looked over at him, hoping that he had something to offer the situation, but got nothing extraordinary from his expression. "Well, sorry for wasting your time."

"Not at all, if I can be of any help, you just let me know."

Isis stood up and walked them to the door. As they were about to leave, Kirk turned and asked, "Oh, one other thing: Does the name Isis Kanika ring a bell?"

Katrina thought for a minute and said in an unwavering voice, not betraying any hesitations or breaks signifying that she was lying. "It sounds Egyptian in origin, but, no, can't say that it does."

Kirk nodded. "Thanks anyway," As they made their way down the hall toward the elevators, Kirk thought about the interview. Man, everything fit so well, the picture leading them to the building and then this woman looking just like this Isis woman.

"Geoff, I think we're being played with,"

"How so, boss?"

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"Everything fits too well, the picture, the building, and this Katrina looking like our suspect. I think we were set up to think that it all came from here. Something is going on here, and we need to find out what it is!"

"I guess we're back to square one, huh?"

"No, we ruled out this Miss Meskhenet woman, which leaves us with one other option,"

Geoff looked confused, and then his face lit up as he figured out what Kirk had in mind. "Follow the file, right?"

"Yup, the file was sent to the FBI, and then from there the case was ruled as a freak food poisoning accident, something went wrong, or should I say someone! We find who touched that file, we find our guy."

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ISIS SHUT HER OFFICE door and sighed in relief. That was too close for comfort, but at least she convinced them... or did she? Sitting in her leather chair, she spun around to look out the window. The sun was shining on the frost-covered ground, sparkling like a gem in a clear stream. She could see the outline of Central Park with the trees, the faint sparkle of the light as it hit the water, and she saw a few ducks sunning themselves in the sun's calming rays. Picking up her phone, she dialed Big B. He answered with concern in his voice on the first ring.

"Its okay, Big B, they're gone, can you text me when Mark is out?"

"No problem."

Hanging up the phone, she closed her eyes and leaned back as the sun warmed her face. She wondered just how 238 AARON

much of her story the detective believed. Was he on a vendetta now that he was free and out for blood? She hoped he wouldn't be a problem and made a mental note to bring it up in the next meeting, they might need to intervene again in the life of detective Kirk Weston.

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THE MAN WHO SAT in a big overstuffed chair turned around to meet Mark's gaze. He had on a tailored black pinstriped suit and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Mark looked stunned as the older man rose from his chair; it was as if he knew him, but just could not remember who he was or when he had met him before. The thought bothered Mark because it was happening a lot these days. Was his memory going or was he in some sort of twilight zone show where everyone in this building knew him and the only one who could not remember was him?

"Who are you?" Mark's simple question broke the silence and made him feel a little better to know that no matter what happened he did still have some sort of control, as slim as it might be. The man seemed to be in his late fifties, with thick silver hair and a cane that he leaned on that had a bright-red ruby on the top, it sparkled and glimmered looking at him like an all-knowing eye.

"That's a loaded question, Mark, and, in time, you will remember everything." He walked over to where Mark stood and held out his hand. Mark looked down at the strong hand and took hold of it. It was firm and warm to the touch, this made him feel a little better in spite of everything in his mind telling him something was wrong.

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"I'm the leader of the World Justice Agency; you can call me Solomon. Now, I know you have many questions, and we will try to answer them all in due time. Just be patient with us, if I might be so bold."

Pointing to a chair, he motioned for Mark to sit down. Mark walked over to the wood-lined chair. He sat down and watched this boss or mastermind or whatever he was pace back toward his desk clicking his cane, which from the looks of it he did not need, but used anyway. He stood with his back turned to Mark and stroked his neatly trimmed beard as if to gather his thoughts.

"I am going to tell you about who we are, and what we do. After I am finished, you may ask any questions you like. Does this sound okay to you?"

Mark nodded without saying a word. He looked around and marveled at the tall bookcases wondering what wisdom they held and the years it must have taken to collect this many books. It was more books than Mark had ever seen in one place, there had to be thousands, hundreds of thousands covering every wall, all around the great room.

"The world is filled with violence, evil, and hate. For thousands of years, justice was up to kings or judges... or in our current situation, the government. In centuries past, the people would be driven to rise against their own government to restore justice once it had been lost," Solomon walked over to the bookshelf in front of him and pulled out a leather-lined book that looked old, and about to crumble if not handled carefully.

"The history of this great country was founded on the rights of the people, where the people ruled themselves in the 240 AARON

light that everyone had the same basic values of what was acceptable, and what was considered a crime or a sin if you will. Today we are losing our rights with every perverted law that is passed in the name of saving us from ourselves and then the Supreme Court houses judges who crave power and over turn whatever laws they are not paid to support! We have lost the passion and the common sense to see the difference between what and a why."

Turning and looking at Mark, he leaned down and looked deep into his eyes. Mark felt like he was looking into his very soul and the feeling unnerved him so much he wanted to turn away but couldn't.

"Do you see the murder, the rape, the evil going on all around you? Do you feel the fear of a dark alley where a woman is raped and killed without retribution? I do, Mr. Appleton. I see that our justice system is
not
doing what it should. I see where they are understaffed, unable to keep up with the amount of hate that is splashed across our streets every day!"

Standing tall, he raised his voice as he paced the room.

"Throughout time, there were groups of people who were appointed judge and jury. In Bible times, it was the Levites, and in the reign of the British Empire it was Parliament and in our great country, it is the Supreme Court."

His eyes blazed with passion as he slammed his cane on the floor. "We are here to bring balance to the court that thinks they are supreme! We, the World Justice Agency, carry out justice! We are here to uphold the law that says that if you kill, then you will pay with your own life. The only thing that criminals fear is the wrath of the people. This is our country,

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and we going to take it back!

"We have two choices: Sit by and let our country burn under the flag of tolerance, or we take it back and have a world where our children and grandchildren can live in safety."

Sitting down in the oversized chair behind his large desk and turning his back to Mark, Solomon sighed. "You see, Mark, we are the last thing holding America together. We are involved in every part of government and in every agency, and the reason you are here today is because of us. I'm your father, Mark."

Mark sat stunned, not knowing what to think. His brain went numb as he tried to think back to his childhood. He never could really remember his parents or much of anything before the age of twelve. He lived with foster parents most of his life; his parents had died in a plane crash when he was a baby.

"What are you saying?" Mark managed to get out a few words.

"I'm not your blood father as you know it, but I'm the one who rescued you after your parents died. You lived here with me until you were eleven years old. I taught you and trained you from a child."

Mark looked up at Solomon in utter shock. "I don't remember, why can't I remember?" He stood up and tried to walk, but he was too lightheaded to stand. He plopped back down in his chair with a thud feeling his stomach turn and a lost confusing loneliness washed over him.

"Try to relax; it will all come back to you." Standing up, Solomon walked over to a dial on the wall and turned it on. The room filled with music, and the strong voices of someone 242 AARON

singing--opera! When Mark heard it, he closed his eyes and lay back in his chair. It was so soothing, it felt like...like home.

The music filled his ears and his mind making everything come into focus, the fear and confusion left him and he could feel a sense of peace fill him. As Mark thought of his wife and daughter, he suddenly felt different.
He could remember
. His memories, which were buried deep within his subconscious mind came to the surface. He remembered!

It felt like a movie in fast-forward. The images of his childhood flipped through his mind, skipping from one event to another flashing through his mind taking him back into a world he had forgotten. What felt like days took only seconds. Mark opened his eyes to see Solomon standing in front of him with a kind smile on his face.

"Welcome home, son!"

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THE REST OF THE evening, Mark spent walking through the underground buildings guided by Solomon, Isis, and the rightfully named Big B. Isis was quiet and stood back just looking at Mark taking it all in and not missing a thing. Big B was loud and happy, rather cheerful in an intoxicating way. Mark smiled at him and as they went along, he would crack jokes here and there and slap Mark on the back almost knocking him down on a few occasions.